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bearseokie · 3 years

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boyfriend! oneus

[ gender-neutral! ]

oneus m.list | navi. | nsfw! bf! oneus (M)

Ravn:

selfie game, strong! between his insane visuals and like-minded camera angles, you're never let down by his pretty selfies that he sends you throughout the day. mainly paired with his chin to his chest while he's pouting and a silly caption.

if you think his selfies are good, the way he takes couple pictures? chef's kiss. you're never low on pics to post to social media or to put on your fridge. even the embarrassing ones, but he'll whine about those later.

matching onesies or couple pajamas.

walks up to you just to rest his chin on your head or shoulder and breathe you in.

holds your hand in the way that his entire hand envelops the width of your fingers while you hold on to his thumb.

asks for you to buy him flowers more than he gets them for you. you can't help but want to see his eyes sparkle at the sight of a dozen roses, though.

is probably biting his lip unwillingly but also on purpose. it's a habit you learn to enjoy. he does it when he's focused too, so you always know if he's paying attention or not. as confident as he is, he blushes when you call him out for it.

wraps his arms all the way around your torso and picks you up in a hug just because he can.

will see something out of the corner of his eye and make a whole circle to turn towards it. usually it's a gift of a random item he thinks you'll adore, and you always do. you'll gain a little collection of things you never imagined you'd own being with him.

genuinely not used to physical contact and tends to be rougher than he means to be. he's a temperate boy that has a habit of patting your head or kissing you a little too hard because he's in love and is still learning.

talks your ears off when you're alone. if you don't pull his beanie over his face, he won't shut up.

comes across as intimidating, but is literally the most considerate person. like he will physically reel you backwards just to gently push away an eyelash from your cheek and kiss your lips.

big pant, big shirt. aka his and your big pant and big shirt. sharing is caring. he gets butterflies in his stomach watching your hand caress over the clothes hanging in his closet as you search for something to wear.

unintentional - but completely intentional - lip locking. like he'll bend over to reach across your form laying on the bed when you’re distracted and he’ll be right in your face. before you know it, you're sitting up and your lips are colliding. especially loves doing this in public because your warm face is his rapid beating heart.

will admit to others how much he loves you but will be so stubborn behind closed doors. says things like "are you sure we're talking about the same person? me, wait— me? I'm in love with you? no— no, you're right. I'm guilty."

pouty boy with big, pleading eyes all the time.

runs his fingertips over the lines of your hands. you catch him mimicking them on his own and smiling like an idiot when they match.

take his flannels. do it.

late nights where he bursts through your door while you're sleeping and shakes you awake to run a few lyrics by you. always second guesses himself, but when he sees that you're actually taken back by the words, he gets all smiley bolts back to work.

snuggles into your pillow until you lay down with him, then you're his true cuddle buddy.

Seoho:

dramatically pulls his coats off to put over your shoulders. his constant body heat can warm you up immediately.

takes you on movie dates just to sit in the very back and have heavy make outs with you. like panting, fingers laced in each other's hair, bodies fighting to get into each other’s seats — make out sessions.

his! laugh! the way you can get him to laugh is definitely one of his favorite things in the world, and his smile could light up a room. also has the tendency to laugh at you even when you're not being funny.

pushes his face into the crook of your neck to fall asleep. his breath on your skin can make you feel weird and loved at the same time, but his sound sleeps are worth it. also pushes you to lay on your back so he can curl up beside you and rub his forehead against you.

more chaotic dates where he does things you're afraid of just to show you not to be so scared. hugs you like a koala for the rest of the day.

matching outfits like crazy. even down to the accessories. loves spoiling you with new outfits even if you tell him you hate getting gifts so often.

hugs your waist and lifts you up to reach something instead of getting it down himself.

will have the same pic of you and him set as everything. his phone’s lockscreen, wallpaper, his laptop’s lockscreen, wallpaper, profile pics, it’s the only post on his social media.

so in love that it can come across as icky. blushing cheeks, sweaty palms, a bounce in his step.

mocks you like you’re already an old married couple. but his loving banter comes off as charming.

the saying 'know you like the back of my hand' had to have been written by him, himself, because he does, in fact, know you that well. he knows the different sounds of your sneezes - aka whether you have a cold or not. he knows the change of your morning voice versus the tone you have in the middle of the day. anything going through your mind, this man has down pact.

random night calls where he just goes 'I'm at the door, let me in." because his hands are too full to reach for his key. stumbles in with bags full of snacks and treats just to have you both sit on the floor eating and ranting until dawn.

the softest kisses. and I mean the softest kisses. like michael angelo adding details to his paintings, type soft. you can hardly ever feel them and barely knows he's there until he starts laughing or vibrating from the sudden eye contact you're giving him.

would rather waddle side to side in a back hug than let you go to walk somewhere alone.

has a list of everything he loves to share with you over time. movies, music, random memos in his phone.

included in those phone memos are literally so many details about you that it can make your eyes roll. he has the smallest details noted and little asterisks to remind him to write them down in a physical journal one day, but you might have to do that for him.

a lot quieter than he makes himself out to be. is basically a ghost when you're around him. the only way you really ever know where he is is if he's lugging around a bluetooth speaker with music playing.

messy! hair! he will literally refuse to brush his own hair until you do it for him. loves it more if you just use your fingers to comb his locks.

squinted eyes because he's smiling at you so hard that he'll probably bump into something in the process.

lets you hold both sides of his face in your palms. especially if he's cold. sometimes you can squish.

Leedo:

being with gunhak — it is literally a love novel.

warm eyes that sparkle when he looks at you. you notice it and keep quiet just to bask in his affection, but it’s always the first thing people mention when they talk about your relationship.

can’t help but reach his hand across the table to hold yours while you eat.

scrunches his nose when you say silly things.

the most attentive person when you’re telling a story. will sit with his chin in his palm and his eyes going between your gaze and lips as you speak. makes constant “mhm” and “ohh” sounds to let you know he’s right in the story with you. stops you to laugh at the way you say a specific word. you both spend hours sitting somewhere together just telling stories back and forth until the sun rises or sets.

can’t go a single day without throwing you over his shoulder and carrying you around.

has his hand on your lower back all day. like all day. in public, at home, in bed while you're sleeping. as long as his hand is on your back, you know he’s next to you.

his face is always a hotter temperature than the rest of his body, especially if you’ve been looking at him all day. crimson cheeks, red-tipped ears, reddened lips because he can’t stop kissing you.

sleeps with you laying in between his legs and your head on his chest. you fall asleep to the beat of his heartbeat while he plays with your fingers and listens to your breathing.

puts you in the shopping cart before any items just so he can wheel you around and listen to you laugh when he pretends he’s going to ram into something.

will pull the shirt/jacket/top he was wearing over his head and toss it to you to wear or hug if he’s leaving so you don’t miss him too much.

isn’t extremely good with speaking words to express what he wants to say, so oftentimes you find little notebook pages folded around the house with love notes written on them. him telling you how much he appreciates how much you do for him. him saying ‘i love you’ in different colored ink in different kinds of ways. sometimes a smashed flower in between the pages just for added scents. completely a cheesy romantic with love notes.

likes to let you drive so he can put his elbow against the window and stare at you from across the front of the vehicle. while you’re focused he’s grinning and giggling because it’s ‘super adorable’.

sends flowers to your work at the most inappropriate times in order to keep anyone that’s been flirting with you in their place. very subtle about being protective, and thankfully never has to make large leaps to have others understand you’re unavailable. thinks it’s the best thing in the world when someone is eyeing you and you come running to him to dramatically toss your arms around his neck and place a kiss on his lips.

enjoys having cleverly matching pieces. a pair of earrings shared between the two of you. matching bracelets. soft cotton shirts you can wear on your days off. two blankets of the same designs but different colors.

severely embraces breaking his shyness when it comes to pda. will pull you into his arms and kiss you while walking down the street. lets you sit on his lap in a busy place. carries you on his back around big stores.

works out with you around him. if he wants to do sit ups, you're holding his feet. if he wants to do push ups, you're laying under him giving him kisses every time he comes down.

forehead kisses. temple kisses. cheek kisses. literally all of the softest kisses.

terribly difficult to wake up, but the sound of your voice will draw his lids to open in an instant so he can see your smiling face.

super nervous about the entire relationship so you have to guide him at a reasonable pace. hold his hand first, kiss him first, even say 'i love you' first, but he'll return it all in a beat after you express your love.

Hwanwoong:

would be the one to have that situation where you met by running into each other at full force and had to laugh it off despite how much pain you were both in. he does something like offer to buy you a drink as an apology and then he never leaves your side.

sits with him between your legs and his back pressed into your front so you can hug him around his waist and lean on him.

smells are a huge deal to him. hoards light scented candles and renames them with comic titles or references to your relationship just to make you laugh when he calls them out in conversations.

runs his fingers through your hair as a way of showing affection on a regular basis. if you’re in public, he’ll sneak in a quick kiss just because he isn’t huge on pda.

but not liking pda doesn't mean he won't cling to you behind closed doors. he can't go very long without brushing his skin against your own, even in a subtle way.

physically capable of making meals on his own, or with you, but he's too lazy. enjoy the take out! also huge on getting snack foods to feed you in a romantic way without it being intentional.

quiet. very quiet. he enjoys silence while holding you or waking up in the midst of the night just to hear you sleeping peacefully. it's his solace.

although he gets whiny, he will let you do anything you want to him. test out makeup looks on him, play with his hair, make him dress up for you. just as long as you can reciprocate by going on sweet dates with him or let him read his favorite stories to you, he's all for it.

gets you random, very personal gifts. his attentiveness is insane, so he'll give you something like a better-formed pillow to help you sleep or a journal of your silly inside jokes to keep around when you have to be apart.

pretends he's not emotional during the day only to spill the deepest things to you at night. you're his diary and he loves you for that.

but with his distant state, you're still the one to notice things first. if he's too tired, if he's hungry - you know the tell-tale signs and can quietly get him back on his feet. you’re basically his weakness and muse all at once.

he might be the last one to wake up, but that's just because he enjoys knowing you slept by his side all night.

tilts your head to the side to kiss you because he thinks it's romantic.

doesn't care who you think you are, he will give you a piggyback ride.

does that thing where you'll be doing something important and he'll be sat next to you whispering jokes into your ear to keep you from getting stressed. also has to hold your hand the entire time or else he'll get up.

intuitive to your emotions and feelings. if you're in pain somewhere, he's in pain. if you're laughing, he's laughing.

the most pleasing, deep morning voice ever. doesn't even have to try. it's like two octaves lower than his regular voice and will always give you the shivers.

instead of big things for dates he does tasks like have all of your house chores done when you return or studies up on your school work to help you out. it's his way of showing affection and appreciation. but he does bigger things too like cover your bathroom in flower petals with a nice bath running when you get home.

has a tendency of saying your name the most when he’s sleeping.

makes choreography and dedicates them to you all the time. will tug you into the practice room to show you moves. but then he's giggling uncontrollably and starts complimenting you until you kiss him.

Keonhee:

records everything all the time. has backup storage just so he can film everything you both do or take a thousand pictures. spends literal hours printing out the pictures to make photo albums or put them on his wall so he never has to go a moment without seeing you. carries around a physical, mini album just to stare at while he’s traveling or feels lonely.

loves showering with you. will take the showerhead off of the wall and hold it over you while making lightsaber sounds.

loves the sound of you saying his name more than anything. when he's happy, upset, angry - just a call of his name can settle his emotions. and maybe a kiss too.

will sit or lay somewhere and just stare at you with a big, goofy grin on his face and loving sparkles in his eyes for no particular reason.

claps your hands together before he holds them.

makes music playlists titled with hysterical names that are more distracting than the chaos of the actual list. names them with emojis and such to see if you can code his secret love messages.

his lips are always redder than normal around you. quite literally doesn't know when or how to stop kissing you.

cannot comprehend how he could love someone more than you. it's that dumb love like he'll trip over his own two feet, say your name instead of his own when ordering something, or even intentionally get something he hates just because you like it.

changes the color of the led lights to define the mood. happy, sad, sexy time. the room is a rainbow every week.

contrary to popular belief of the cancer man, he's not clingy until you tell him to be. postpones all physical contact to the last moment when you ask why he's distant and give him consent to holding you whenever he wants. then he never lets you go.

has to be even in height with you ninety percent of the day, even if you're off by a few centimeters. helps you sit on the kitchen counter, hunches to kiss you, lifts you up by your waist.

being on opposite ends of a room while he's doing hand gestures and silently singing you the song stuck in his head.

his most genuine habit is giving away all of his emotions in his eyes. one glance and you know exactly how he feels, even if he isn't speaking about it aloud.

thinks being out in the rain is extremely romantic but will pull you back inside at the first drop because "you might get a cold".

hardly wears clothes when he starts getting seriously comfortable with you. no shirt, maybe some pajama pants, maybe some socks with random patterns on them. if he gets hot at any point, shield your eyes.

pouts without actually pouting. you'll hear a little huff from beside you instead.

put your belongings into the rips of his jeans instead of his pockets. they're 'safe'.

visibly shudders when he gets to hold your hand after a long day.

so many shoulder kisses you can't even keep up with them anymore.

you have a collection of him scrunching his nose when you're trying to get soft couple pictures because he can't take it seriously.

Xion:

if you fall asleep on him at any point during the day, he'll wrap you in his jacket or a blanket around you and carry you to bed. he'll let you rest comfortably while he lays beside you and watches you sleep while running his fingers across your face in a loving way.

sleeps holding your hand no matter what position you're both in.

dates are basically: carnivals to sit at the top of the ferris wheel and make out peacefully, picnics in the park to pick flowers and put them in your hair, going to bookstores just to shuffle through the comics and mangas.

bites you. slowly. he’s not the type to just bite into your skin randomly, more like you’ll get big puppy eyes and know he’s up to something before you feel a little nibble.

competitive in an ‘i’ll let you win if you give me a kiss’ way. guess who always wins. sike it’s him because he can use it as an excuse to make you pouty and then kiss you until you can’t even pretend to be angry anymore.

loves singing to you and only you.

hand-makes you jewelry because he finds it more endearing than buying them. plus it's sentimental.

hates blushing in front of others, but you can make him blush from a few words. loves the pet names you come up with. they sound like common conversation pieces so no one questions why you said them until they notice his face is nearly crimson.

unintentionally does romantic stuff. plays ballads over a speaker while prancing around until you take his hand and dance with him. finds a rose bush and gently clips a single flower to put in a vase for you. absentmindedly kisses your knuckles when he sees you for the first time in a while.

has the hardest time showing emotions, but does have the tendency to cry when parting or send you chain texts about how much he misses you when he's away.

random cheek kisses throughout the day.

sweater paws because you're both wearing his large hoodies and holding hands.

has more soft objects than you've ever witnessed a person own. now they're partially yours, so choose a stuffed animal.

random store dates where you go inside and find the strangest items you both fall in love with and get to put on display at home. you know when you go to someone's house and see an object that makes you question how it got there? he gets a lot of those for the two of you. 'conversation pieces', he says.

remembers cheesy quotes to tell you throughout the day to make you smile. if he wasn't in love, he'd never think twice about memorizing them.

probably thinking about kissing you every second of every day, but he uses his kisses wisely.

steals your shirts to sleep with when he's away because they smell like you.

cannot handle more than holding your hand in public at first, but he'll learn to love pda very quickly if you enjoy it.

where has all his phone's storage gone? oh, they're just pictures of you sleeping.

so adorned by you that his eyes literally sparkle, even if you're in his peripheral.

#oneus #oneus headcanon #oneus headcanons #oneus imagines #oneus scenarios #ravn #kim youngjo #seoho #lee seoho #leedo #kim gunhak #kim geonhak #hwanwoong #yeo hwanwoong #keonhee #lee keonhee #xion #son dongju #oneus.headcanon

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hargrove-mayfields · 3 years

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Growing up in the Harrington’s mansion, there was a beautiful grand piano in the upstairs salon, deep mahogany with gold trim to contrast meticulously polished ivory keys.

Steve’s parents would let him play it whenever he wanted, ignoring the off key banging on the keys until he was old enough to do it right, and eventually, when he’d proven to be somewhat proficient in the skill with nothing but his own messing around and a few stray pieces of sheet music to go by, he’d been signed up for professional lessons.

Every other weekday at four o’clock, he met with an instructor, a strict woman about his mother’s age, to be taught discipline and control. How to channel himself into an outlet and use his hands to make something beautiful, melodic, powerful.

It was being able to use what he’d learned to create that got him through some of the hardest moments of his life. His frustrations and his fear and his pain were just between him and the ivories, pouring out through gentle musicianship rather than a more destructive habit he might’ve favored without the skill.

So when Billy Hargrove, permanently hooked up to an oxygen tank and in a back brace, gets out of the hospital and moves into Steve’s place without the motivation or the trust in his own body to do much of anything, Steve thinks about his lessons. About all he learned about himself when he got to just sit and create, and he decides to share that with Billy.

He doesn’t take to it very well at first. When Steve went to play, Billy would just sit on the bench beside him while he did his thing, his hands shoved in his hoodie pocket and not paying him a smidgen of attention. That’s okay with Steve, he gets it.

The circumstances that landed the two of them in one place were strange enough, doctors orders were to keep him out of the abusive situation he’d have been in had he gone back to his own home, and governmental orders were for him to stay with someone aware of the conspiracy that got him hurt in the first place. So Steve didn’t exactly expect him to be open to the idea of playing the piano, and especially not with as many ailments as he suffered through.

When Billy was in the hospital, the nerve damage to his chest combined with fibromyalgia setting in after one too many surgeries had been so severe he hadn’t been able to even raise his arms or close his fingers to make a fist. Even still his mobility was rather limited.

Steve got it if he didn’t want to hurt himself, so he gave him his space, hoping that through observation alone of Steve’s playing he could feel that soothing of the melody that he had so often chased when he wasn’t feeling his best.

Overtime, Billy becomes more interested, his tired gaze attentively following every last movement of Steve’s thin fingers across the keys. Steve feels himself get more showy, just the tiniest bit more dramatic in his movements because he knows Billy’s paying attention now.

After Steve finishes out the melody of a song he knew by heart from those long days in his lessons, he turns to look at Billy, to see what he thought.

Billy’s already looking at him, and he clears his throat and says in a voice that’s scratchy and quiet, “What song was that?”

It’s the first time Steve’s heard him speak since he’d been discharged, even in the hospital he’d only ever talked to his sister in whispers for nobody’s ears but hers.

She told Steve not too long after Billy had moved in that he had been too scared to talk, in part because of the chemical burns in his throat, but mainly because he was scared of himself. Of what his body had been used to do.

Steve stumbles over his words, shocked to hear Billy break his vow of silence. “It’s uh- it’s Rainy Days and Mondays.”

Billy clears his throat again, takes his hands out of his pocket and says, in a voice determined and strong as it can get, “I wanna play that.”

It takes a long, long time of practice, with Billy’s hands shaking the way they do from the effort, and with Steve being a less than perfect instructor, teaching solely from the knowledge he’d acquired when he was 8, but he gets there, slowly.

They sit at that grand piano for hours on end, working through scales and trying to get Billy to remember the keys, doing warmup after warmup as Steve did his best to drill the fundamentals of playing piano into Billy’s mind to make this a little easier.

It doesn’t go terribly, he’s good considering what they have to work with, but Billy gets frustrated very easily.

When his hands just won’t do what he wants them to, he loses his confidence entirely. Steve tries to remind him over and over that he’s just starting and that musicianship is a difficult skill to pick up, even more so at 19 years old with no experience and a former prodigy as his teacher. But Billy is too in his own head, he equates the difficulty of playing with being unable.

It makes him feel stupid for ever even trying, for thinking he could be more than his injuries, so he gives it up. Goes back to just brooding on the bench with his hood drawn up, pretending like he doesn’t care.

Steve knows that he’s not going to let him give it up. Not when he saw how Billy’s eyes would light up in a way they hadn’t since before he got hurt every time he’d play a progression, or even just a trill. This was far too important to let him be discouraged.

The solution he finds is to show Billy something he already can do instead of jumping straight into teaching him new things, and that something is dueting Julie Andrews’ Do-Re-Mi back and forth with him.

It starts like this. Steve plays through it first, starting with doe a deer and coming back ‘round to do, and asks Billy when he’s through with it, “Do you want to try?”

Billy doesn’t even look at him, just slouches his posture as much as is possible with a sheet of plastic strapped to his back to keep him sitting upright, and shakes his head no. His dejection only makes Steve more determined to get him to do this.

So he plays it for him again, just a hair slower than the first time, and watches Billy’s face instead of the keys while he plays. This time through Billy’s trying too hard to look like he’s not watching, so Steve plays through it again.

Steve looks over at him expectantly, and Billy looks like he’s thinking hard about something, worrying his lip between his teeth, until he lets out a shaky breath and shifts forward on the bench, resting unsteady hands below bass F and treble C until he has the courage to move them.

Delighted by the attempt, Steve sings the words for him so he has something to keep up with, keeping his voice soft while Billy stumbles his way through the notes.

For a first attempt without sheet music, it’s not terrible, and he can tell from the way Billy’s cheeks flush that he doesn’t think so either. Steve offers him a smile that he hopes is encouraging, and starts his turn again.

That becomes their thing to get Billy back into playing. Everyday they sat down on the bench and bounced back and forth playing through Do-Re-Mi as many times as it took for Billy’s confidence to be up, and for him to give Steve the okay to try to teach him something new.

He learns how to play Rainy Days and Mondays and a handful of other songs, and though he still has trouble with certain things, like keeping his wrists too tense and never getting sharp notes quite right, fumbling with straddles and playing much slower than Steve could, his confidence is up, and he understands that feeling Steve described.

That liberation of being able to make something with hands that had destroyed, that had hurt and taken away, and he feels free of it, not just when he plays. He’s lost in the good of the music so as not to dwell on the bad.

Billy sings on his own for the first time a year in, his voice still strained ever so slightly as he carries the tune by himself. It’s unexpected, and though it’s a silly thing to get emotional over, Billy singing Julie Andrews off-key, Steve would be lying if he said he didn’t tear up, just a little.

It’s Billy’s turn to try to gauge Steve’s reaction, a shy smile playing at his lips as he eyes the look on Steve’s face, the shock he finds there and the tears welling in his eyes.

High on the courage it took to let his guard down and sing, he takes another chance and leans over on the bench, and presses his lips to Steve’s. Captures the words unspoken in a kiss that is in every part as beautiful, melodic, powerful, as the music they make together.

Steve taught Billy to play the piano, but he also showed him how to cope, how to forgive, how to feel. More than anything, Steve taught Billy how to love.

#harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #ej writer #story by ej!#this was supposed to be a little drabble but then I got carried away #do I even want to admit how embarrassingly projectiony this is?#bc it’s a lot #there is a part two to this that should be up soon!#the plan was to post them together I’m just having a little trouble writin it so here y’all go!

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yoondoze · 4 years

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make a wish | jjk - 2

jeongguk didn’t know it, but his wish came true. as the best things in life do, it comes back around.

alternatively: a compilation of scenes in the after of “make a wish” and how they pile up and weigh you down until it’s too much to handle.

pairing: jeon jeongguk x reader

word count: 6.4k

genre: angst, fluff, romance, best friend!au, mutual pining... shh

warnings: language. besides that, this is pretty tame! only slightly edited bc its 2 in the morning and i just want to get this up lol

a/n: didn’t mean for this to be so long but i got a little carried away. this wraps up make a wish, so i hope you guys like it! also, feedback is always appreciated in any way shape or form <3 muah!

It’s just as you’re leaving when Jeongguk’s phone rings. His eyes widen in disquiet as he stares at the number displayed at the top of his phone. In preparation, he shakes out his limbs dramatically and takes a deep, exaggerated breath. Considering it’s for your entertainment, you roll your eyes and wave him on.

He picks up.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other end is muffled as you try your best to listen in. Your heart pounds in anticipation, gripping onto the straps of your purse with white knuckles.

“Yeah. Okay. Okay, great.”

He paces around the room aimlessly. His fingers fiddle with a loose thread on his sweatpants as he listens closely. You’re sure he’s already sweating, more nervous than you could imagine despite the playful act he put on before answering.

“Yeah. That’s fine! Okay, thank you so much. Alright, bye.”

He’s facing away from you as he clicks the end call button. Just as you’re about to ask, he spins on his heel, lips pursed as he holds back a grin.

“Guess who got the job?”

A toothy grin spreads across his face as he singsongs. Jeongguk’s expression of pure excitement is a privilege to see. It’s impossible to deny how it lights up your own.

“Oh my god, you got the job?”

“I got the job!”

His bangs bounce as he jumps with both fists raised in glory. You squeal, going in for a tight hug and swaying back and forth as you congratulate him.

“I’m proud of you, Gguk,” you say into his shoulder. “Really, I am.”

And when you say it, you mean it. After so many months of struggling at his old company, he took the leap and applied for a position at a more well-known film studio. The late night introduction practices with you, which included him reciting prepared resume-esque lines and weeks of tiring interviews had paid off like you knew he deserved it to.

“Okay. I should get home,” you try, voice strained as his arms crush your diaphragm like walls in a deadly escape room. Upon hearing your winded sentence, he loosens his grip.

You don’t even think about what it might mean before you place a departing kiss to Jeongguk’s cheek, fueled by the elation running through you at the upward turn of events. It’s an accident, it just happens naturally as if it was something you’ve done a thousand times. It only hits you that you shouldn’t have after it’s already done.

Sure, you make out and kiss all the time, but the difference is that’s only when you’re taking advantage of the benefits you worked out. That kissing is all attraction, nothing chaste or romantic like this. So when you pull away from the hug, you expect to see his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and giving you a look of disgust.

“Uh-” you sputter, ever a wordsmith, trying to think of some rational explanation to excuse why you might have kissed him like that. The previous bouts of joy sparking in your heart fly out the window.

However, his eyes only show a mild, innocent surprise. At his silence, it doesn’t seem like he’s going to address it, and you assume he’ll assume it was just congratulatory. You can work with that.

“Bye. I’ll text you when I get home,” you blurt as untroubled as it can come, spinning on your heel and hurrying out the door. After closing it behind you, you slump back against it for a breath.

God, what were you thinking? Were you fucking stupid? Your fingers find your forehead finds as you try to convince yourself it wasn’t that bad. You’re prone to over analyzing, anyway. Jeongguk’s too occupied to think about it like that. He just got his new job, he has a thousand new things to worry about. He won’t read into it. If he does, he’ll think of it as a heat of the moment sort of thing.

Right?

Inside, Jeongguk pauses, staring at where you were standing just a second ago and scratches the back of his neck. The corners of his mouth turn up slowly.

He finds himself checking his phone every five minutes for a text from you, which never comes.

☆☆☆

At the end of the day, it was your fault.

It was your thoughtless action that made Jeongguk think that incorporating romantic gestures like that into your relationship could still be platonic. You rocked the boat with that one, but it wasn’t enough to completely capsize your vessel, and for that you were grateful.

Still, your heart now tore itself into smaller and smaller pieces every time he kissed you goodbye or grabbed your hand to swing it back and forth or wrapped his arm around you after cleaning up.

“By the way,” he says, tossing you one of his shirts from his place in front of his dresser. He pulls on a clean pair of boxers as you cover up. “There’s this work dinner I have to go to next week for networking and stuff, and it’s a buffet-type thing so they charge you for a spot. But, I found out that there is a couple’s discount and was wondering if maybe… you’d want to come with me?”

The hopeful sparkle in his eyes is one you just can’t ignore. Doing so would feel like a one-way ticket to hell, the only valid consequence for such a rotten crime.

“Yeah, sure.”

His smile at your compliance takes away all the apprehension you might have had, at least for a second. He wears it like a medal.

“Okay, good. I have to talk to a lot of people so I’d just feel better if you were there.”

Your brows draw together as you watch him get dressed. “But Gguk, you’re good at talking to people,” you say, going as far as to admit teasingly, “You’re fairly charming.”

He laughs, hopping into his slacks. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I don’t freak out inside. It’s scary!” The dark brown mop of hair atop his head jostles into his eyes as he adds, “There’s gonna be a lot of well-known people there so it’s my chance to make some connections.”

Despite that, you’re sure he’ll be just fine. By nature, Jeongguk is inviting and easy to talk to. That is one of the reasons why you became such fast friends, and probably why you lasted so long. Along with his agreeable presence, his captivating looks probably wouldn’t hurt in striking up a deal either, though you’d never say that to his face.

“What’s the dress code?”

“Semi-formal I think?” He says, looking out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know what that constitutes in terms of dresses but…”

A certain memory tugs at the back of his head. He considers just leaving it there, maybe slightly sentimental for his usual image, but what’s the harm in bringing it up?

“Do you remember the dress you wore for my brother’s graduation dinner? The blue one?”

You, on the other hand, are just surprised he remembers something like that. It must have been years ago by now. Still, it’s a good memory. It was a breezy evening by the shore to celebrate his brother’s graduation from college. The dinner was nice, but the best part was when you and Jeongguk ended up sneaking off to go sit on the beach later on in the night.

Jeongguk is intertwined into nearly every lasting memory you make. It’s hard to imagine a world where he isn’t a part of each story you retell or each thought that crosses your mind.

“Oh, yeah, of course. It’s probably buried in my closet somewhere.”

He’s relieved you don’t question him.

You might have to do some digging when you get home to find it, but you definitely still have it. It’s not like you have the money to be purchasing new semi-formal dresses for every occasion.

“That would be good. Or something like it, I don’t know.” He finishes buttoning up his shirt and tugs on the cuffs to straighten them out. His reflection in the mirror sends you a beaming smile, at this point accepting how his heart rate seems to spike every time he sees you in one of his shirts nowadays. He’s gotten very good at lending them to you casually.

He continues after a glance at the clock tells him he’s been letting his time with you slip on for more time than he can afford even though he wishes he could stay. “Anyway, I have to get going so make sure you lock the door behind you when you leave.” And then he’s padding out the door, car keys jingling in his hand as he picks them up from the dish on the kitchen counter.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He pokes his head around the hallway entrance to see you. “There’s coffee out here for you when you want it.”

He dashes off before you have the chance to react or even say thank you, a sheepish grin tugging at his features as he walks to his car. When you go out to see, it’s already made with cream and sugar, just the way you like.

☆☆☆

“You look really pretty tonight, Y/N,” Jeongguk says, voice soft as ever, eyeing your dress as you step out of the car. “Seriously, I mean it.” The heels you wear click evenly like a metronome’s beat on the pavement as you walk around to join him at his side.

You ignore the heat in your cheeks, rather offering an endearing grin as you grip the clutch in your hand. “You too, Gguk. You’ll do great tonight. I wouldn’t be surprised if you made everyone here fall for you while you’re at it.”

His initial thought is to ask if that includes you, but his better judgment tells him it’s too bold. Instead, he just laughs and hands his car keys to the valet.

The dinner is a week later at a stunning three-floor, dimly lit fine dining restaurant decorated with dark hardwood and intricate chandeliers that make the soreness in your neck seem worth it while observing them.

Jeongguk cleans up nice, and even though you’ve already known this for a long time, you consider it a treat since this attire rarely, if ever, sees the light of day.

He props out his elbow and nudges for you to take it, which you so graciously do. Together you walk to the glass doors, through which you can see the party has just started. You can already hear the muffled music and chatter in the background.

“By the way,” he says, leaning down to your ear, like what he’s about to tell you is no big deal. “I… might have told my coworkers that we’re engaged-”

“Engaged!?” you whisper, eyes wide and staring at him incredulously.

So maybe he should have told you earlier. In his defense, he needed the extra time to produce an irrefutable excuse. In the end, it was only sort of reasonable, but he was hoping you would just roll with it. Isn’t that what the two of you always did?

“I know, I know! But listen. It just makes more sense in terms of you being my plus one and it also makes me seem like I have my shit together. And it’s always good for me to seem like I have my shit together, right?”

You sigh, narrowing your line of sight at him. “Okay. What do I do if someone asks why I’m not wearing my ring then?”

He mutters, “Oh, yeah.” Then he’s fishing through his side pocket and out comes a shiny silver ring with a small diamond placed into the center, held so flippant between his fingertips. “It’s my grandma’s. Borrowed it from home for this weekend.”

His heart pounds. Was that smooth enough? He has a lot of talents, but he isn’t sure if this was one of them just yet. Jeongguk tenses as he waits for your reaction. Best case scenario, his carefree attitude about it will rub off onto you.

“I figured it’d fit you,” he adds.

When it slides on perfectly, you know there’s no going back. Yet somehow, it is completely in character of him. You should have expected something like this because Jeongguk always has and always will be a man of spontaneity.

You’ll have to ask him how he knows your ring size sometime.

Inside, he introduces you to his coworkers. There are too many to remember but you catch a few here and there that you recall him talking about before, like Namjoon, the diligent Production Assistant and Taehyung, another member of the crew who he often eats lunch with. It’s an initial blur of faces and few-worded exchanges before you can take a breather off to the side.

“Not bad?” he asks, his thumb tracing circles over your knuckles. The way it makes your heart flutter is addictive. He has you in his palm and he doesn’t even know it. Unfortunately, you don’t know if it’s something you can give up yet, not without it being messy.

There’s a short line behind a board that displays the seating arrangement, and though it’s moving quickly, it allows you a moment of space from the other guests.

A tired smile pulls at your lips. “Not bad.” You squeeze his hand in yours.

The people in front of you move from the board into the dining hall so both of you can inch up. Jeongguk’s eyes trace the small handwriting, eventually spotting the two of you in the far corner of the room.

Dinner goes well, and Jeongguk does the most of the talking. It’s nice to see him so bright as he laughs with his coworkers. It’s that part of him that he’s had since he was a kid, the part that made him fit in so naturally and charm every person around him. Seeing it out in the open and no longer repressed from emotional baggage is heartwarming. Compared to a few months ago, you might not recognize him at all.

After a while, Jeongguk wipes his mouth with his napkin and pushes his chair out from the table. “Alright, I’m gonna head to the bar lounge for a little while and see who I can talk to. Are you gonna be fine on your own?”

He’s nervous, you can tell. By the way his eyes dart around the room, the way he’s biting the inside of his bottom lip.

“Yeah, go ahead,” you nod, taking a sip of water. “I’ll just stick around here.”

He gives himself a once over and wipes his palms on his slacks.

You tap his shoulder, bringing him down so you can whisper to him a small, “You’ll do great.”

He pulls back with a shy, one-sided smile. “Thank you. I hope so. Text me if you need anything.” Effortlessly, he plants a chaste kiss to your cheekbone that has your face ablaze and excuses himself from the table. The feeling of his lips on your skin sticks well after he’s gone.

Ryujin, the script supervisor, puts down her drink with a roll of her eyes. “Finally, all the boys are gone. I’ve been trying to talk to you the entire time but he’s always butting in!”

It pulls a laugh from you. “No, no, he’s just trying to help,” you explain, “I’m new to everyone here so he just doesn’t want me to feel awkward.”

“Yada yada,” says a bubbly Chaeryoung, a PA, waving it off with her hand. “I expected him to be protective with how much he talks about you, but wow. It’s cute though. Sometimes I wish I had someone like that.”

“Yeah, I’m really lucky,” you nod, reminded that you’re just pretending. You’re lucky, but not that lucky. “But… wait, what kind of stuff does he say about me?”

Ryujin chortles at your worry. “Oh, only good things. Just stuff you do together, jokes, those kinds of things. You’re involved in a lot of stories in some way or another.”

“Like, “This one time in high school, Y/N and I got in a fight...” or “Last week, we went to this new brunch spot and Y/N got this sandwich…’” Chaeryoung clarifies, but it only makes you want to pry further.

As she says it, both of the memories come floating back clear as day. You can’t remember what exactly you argued over, but it had been when you were paired as partners in a history class. The sandwich, you recall, was heaven on earth. The images are picture-perfect despite how they’d been buried.

The fact that Chaeryoung remembered things you didn’t is mildly startling, but you’re more surprised that Jeongguk shared so much. Not that it’s an issue, you just didn’t think you’d find yourself being perceived by so many people you had no prior knowledge of. The idea of him spilling your high school gossip fits like a puzzle to his persona, but the thought never occurred to you that he might think about you when you’re not there.

But you won’t let yourself become too optimistic.

“Yeah,” you laugh, “I think it’s different since we grew up together as family friends. He’s in a lot of my stories, too.”

“Ugh, that’s cute,” Ryujin sighs. If only. “So when did you start liking each other? Or start dating?”

You take a deep breath as if you’re looking back on the day when in reality you’re just trying to come up with the most believable love story you can manage. It’s also your most ideal. Maybe if your current situation went the way you wanted.

“I think we liked each other at different times over the years. Y’know, I liked him when we were kids, he liked me when we were teenagers, kind of on and off like that. But sometime after college, I think the cycle lined up once and for all and…“

Do you think you could manifest it by speaking it into existence?

“...here we are.”

That thought was stupid. You make yourself forget about it. Stop with the hope, remember?

When you finish your spiel, you think you’ve finally made it in the clear. Until another question comes.

“So what was your first date like? Was it weird?”

You know they’re just trying to make conversation, but god, you’re not ready for this. You’re preoccupied with other problems. If only they knew how your brain was short-circuiting in an effort to think up an explanation that will make you sound versed and most importantly, convincing. You go with what you wish had happened.

“Um, a little bit, but since we had been close friends for such a long time, I think we had that mutual understanding of how things were so we could laugh about it. We just…” you say, shaking your head along, lips pursing as your train of thought rolls through the detailed daydream you know so well. “...went out to dinner one night... and it was sort of a process to transition to something more romantic, I guess, but it just kind of happened.”

But it feels nice to be Jeongguk’s girl. Even if you’re just playing a part. If you sink yourself into the atmosphere, tune into the clinking of the glasses, and the relaxing jazz in the background, you can pretend you’re really engaged and sharing your love story to whoever will listen.

Would it hurt too much to hold out on it one day become reality?

“I’m always so happy when the company hosts these events,” Chaeryoung comments, leaning back in her chair to take in the room. “It’s the only time I can come to a place like this since you know I can’t afford it with my own money.” A small talk sort of laugh bubbles up from her as she says it. There is an inkling of confusion that strikes you at her words, but you think you’ll just brush it off for the sake of being casual.

Ryujin looks to you as she adds, “And they even let you bring a plus one for free! You know, I was thinking of bringing my boyfriend, but I just felt like it might have been too soon…”

Your brows furrow as you recall the conversation with Jeongguk. Didn’t he say that it was a pay per guest scenario?

“So the company pays for these dinners?” you ask out of pure curiosity and with no hint of suspicion weaved in your tone.

“Yeah!” says Chaeryoung. “It’s all from the company’s budget since this is technically a networking event. Usually, people swap ideas or come up with deals that turn into projects a couple of weeks down the line.”

You nod along as she explains eagerly, but all you can hear is that there never was a price to pay to begin with, and more importantly meaning that there never was a discount. Not one that Jeongguk needed you around for.

But why would he lie?

Maybe Jeongguk was embarrassed asking for your company or didn’t want his ego bruised by telling you it was free and he wouldn’t have to pay for you. It’s the benefit of the doubt for your best friend (and love of your life, but that’s a separate issue) that makes it your first thought. In reality, thinking about the boy you know, it doesn’t make sense. At this point, he shouldn’t have to feel like that when it comes to you.

Whatever the case may be, you hope that he knows he’d never need an excuse to invite you somewhere. It’s not like you’d ever refuse. You’d never refuse him, not in any life.

☆☆☆

It’s the middle of the night when another bad dream jolts you awake with a pounding heartbeat. Your eyes flutter open, brimmed with tears, to reveal that the moon is still high in the sky above the towering buildings, and a shift to the side facing the nightstand lets you know you have another three hours before you have to start your day and leave Jeongguk’s apartment.

The last few weeks, the dreams have been growing more and more common. Not enough for you to dread going to sleep just yet, but definitely something you’re quickly getting sick of. At this point, you’re tired of going to sleep just to wake up freaked out in a cold sweat. You chalk it up to the stress piling on you, not only that of regular adult life but that of your messy relationship with your best friend.

How ironic that must be, considering the whole reason it started was to relieve stress when now it’s your main source.

You empty your lungs with a shaky sigh and slide to the edge of the bed, intending to fetch a glass of water to calm yourself down. Before you can reach your feet, Jeongguk’s arm catches you at your waist, and then you’re being reeled back under the covers.

“Easy,” he mumbles, his voice grainy and low from sleep, “You’re fine. Talk to me.”

You swallow thickly, the scenes from your subconscious flashing back to you. “Um, that’s alright. Not a big deal.”

You wish he’ll just leave it at that and fall back asleep like he usually does. When his breathing steadies, you think you’re in the clear, but you are horribly mistaken when he yawns and adds, “You’ve been having a lot of nightmares recently.”

Is it another prompt for you to talk? You’re not sure what to say.

In fact, you’re never sure what to say anymore. Never sure what’s too much, what’s too little, what the difference is between what you say and what you mean. The line blurred months ago and now you’re wandering blind.

You’d enjoy moments like this if it wasn’t for the stark fact that the person you’re with doesn’t love you like you love him.

“Yeah…” you agree. Right now, your chest is heavy and not strong enough to support a conversation. You hope that he’s not too drowsy to take the hint.

A small sound from him makes it seem like another sleepy sentence is in the works, but fortunately, the tension in your chest begins to fade when nothing comes out. His hair shuffles against the pillow and he presses a featherlight kiss to the back of your neck, lips lingering there for a second too long before he sinks back into his position.

When you’re sure he’s slipped under the veil of slumber again, you carefully slide out of his grasp and squeeze into your own space at the edge of the bed. You don’t know how much longer you can last like this.

☆☆☆

“She texted me.”

The sentence makes you stop chewing. Your movements stop aside from an absent blinking, gears spinning overtime to process it.

“She uh, she wants to meet up,” he tacks on. “I think I should go.”

“Why would you do that?”

Jeongguk slowly twists the pasta around his fork, taking a blatant newfound interest in his dinner. He takes a deep breath, but when he opens his mouth, the words catch in his throat.

“I don’t know. I think we need to talk about what happened.”

You scoff, and he takes an immediate offense to it. His eyebrows knit together as a wounded expression takes form on his features.

“What happened? Gguk, she dumped you because you were going through a hard time and she didn’t want to ‘deal’ with it.”

It’s not just you playing the protective best friend role and trying to talk sense into him. It’s not jealousy, either. And sure, maybe you never liked her to begin with, but for good reason. She ended up doing exactly what you thought she would - shattering his heart into a million pieces and leaving it for someone else to pick up the pieces. And considering that’s been you on a multitude of occasions, you think your point of view is valid.

“Listen, I don’t blame her… That can be really hard on someone.”

“So it’s okay for them to just pop in out of the blue, say they can’t handle your emotional issues and bounce? Someone who they claimed to love for over a year and a half? Someone who they were thinking about marrying?”

Jeongguk purses his lips as you speak, a hefty exhale coming through his nose in frustration.

“I just miss her sometimes!”

And you really wish Jeongguk would love you back, but we can’t all get our way, can we?

Not to throw yourself a pity party, though. It’s not like he owes you anything for what you do because you brought it on yourself. He doesn’t control your feelings, even when you want to blame the nerve he has for smiling because it makes you get all jittery.

“She doesn’t even give a shit about me anymore! She’s out with other guys, doing all this shit, posting it everywhere. I… I loved her so bad and she acts like she has no clue.”

You give him pep talks when he’s about to go out with someone else. You comfort him when he’s distraught over someone else. You love him when he loves someone else.

And then-

“You don’t know what that’s like.”

You freeze. Your heart leaps to your throat, closing the gate on your lungs until you forcibly open them again as subtle as possible. A stinging feeling you know all too well burns in your eyes as you try to hold back. Jeongguk doesn’t notice in the slightest as his gaze is still fixated on his food.

Your initial reaction is anger. All you want to do is yell, tell him wrong, tell him that you know it all too well because you love him and he’s pathetically oblivious whether by his nature or by choice. Everything you want to say, shouts and confessions, float across your mind and bounce around the walls as each one brings you further to opening your mouth and letting them spill. Then you just want to cry.

But you won’t do any of that. Your situation won’t allow it, not if you want to risk losing him. It’s not a risk you’re willing to take, even if it means suffering in it by yourself and letting the irony of his words go unrealized.

“Yeah, you’re right,” you sigh, the fork gripped by your white knuckles tapping mindlessly against the side of the bowl as you swallow the feeling back down. Your hand comes up to scratch at the corner of your eye, wiping away the wetness beginning to pool composedly so he won’t notice.

“I don’t.”

☆☆☆

It’s on a Tuesday evening a couple of weeks in the future when you next see him.

Maybe more than a couple. Maybe a few. Maybe too many. Just enough for his tone to turn to something more confrontational than just casual when he sends you a text saying that he wants to see you again. Particularly when he specified that no, he needed to see you again.

He suggests the park by the river. You’ve been there a few times with him for lunches and to hang out, but the energy is different this time around. Both of you know why you’re here, even though you never thought you’d have to be.

For a while, you didn’t want to make things weird, so you’d come over when he’d ask and leave as soon as you could in an attempt to curb the damage on your heart. It wasn’t until three weeks ago that you actively started flaking on him. You’d let his calls ring until he hung up or left a message and say you were busy when there was absolutely nothing going on.

He stopped by your apartment at one point, too. You were freaking out after he texted you he’d be visiting, pacing around and wondering what to do, what to respond, if to respond at all. The knock at your door came sooner than you expected. Before you were about to pull it open and face what you’d been so casual about denying for so long, it occurred to you: You could simply not open the door.

So you waited. He knocked a few more times, sighing so loud you could hear through the door. He called out your name softly, as if he knew you were right on the other side. He stayed for a few more minutes. Then came the sound of his footsteps padding away. You were safe for another day, but the awful feeling stuck in your chest for days.

It stuck in his, too. He knew he should have never gone that far, never said anything that night, but he also wondered if he could have done it any other way. Standing at your door and having to face the fact that you were undeniably steering clear of him, because of him, was a nightmare. It was stupid of him, but you’d see past it - wouldn’t you?

And now you’re seeing him live and in person for the first time in god knows how long. It’s a foreign feeling you’ve never felt with Jeongguk before, and you hate it. It’s been long enough for the sense of familiarity to fade, or at least be buried by time.

Is this how a comet feels when it passes earth again after so many years apart? Does it feel new every time seeing how things have changed, or are they old friends who pick up where they left off?

“ So… what’s been going on with you?” Jeongguk asks nonchalantly, leaning back on his elbows and shaking the hair out of his eyes. “It’s been a while.”

“Uhh, I don’t know,” you shrug, vision focused on the calm waters in front of you. You tug at the grass under your fingertips, loosely hugging your knees to your chest as you sit beside him. “Not much I guess. Just work as usual, you know.”

“Yeah, but how are you?” he presses, trying to find your eyes as you avoid his.

He knew something was wrong from the evident distance and your attitude, but he didn’t think it’d be this bad. He didn’t think he’d fucked up this bad.

Your laugh is awkward and forced. “I’ve been fine. Been good.”

Thinking about the past few weeks, it’s not hard to remember but incredibly hard to grasp. It’s the same moments over and over, sourced from a lonely routine. Day by day spending time with yourself, missing Jeongguk, thinking about texting him but never doing it. Wash, rinse, repeat.

His face turns from you and you miss it the second you can’t see it. The feeling is off and both of you know it. He sucks his lower lip into his mouth, biting at it as he thinks of what to say. If the wrong thing comes out, he’s worried he’ll chase you even further away. It took so much to even get you here.

“Listen, can I be honest with you?” he says.

Honesty is the best policy, isn’t it? He’s tired of beating around the bush. The two of you know so much more than bland small talk.

“Sure.”

He takes a deep breath. “I always thought that nothing could ever be uncomfortable with you and me. Like we could be straightforward and blunt without it being weird. But things right now are really weird and I don’t know what happened. You’re avoiding me and you don’t want to see me. It’s not like it used to be.”

Your nails scrape beneath each other, entangled in your lap. Clearly things aren’t the same, but you don’t have the energy to be snarky. There are so many things to address and you’re ignorant on where to start.

“I know there wasn’t a discount for the work dinner.”

He nods, looking out over the river. “Yeah, figured.”

“So why’d you lie?”

It’s his turn to shrug. “I just wanted you there and I didn’t know how to ask you. I… was starting to feel the shift and I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Saying that just gave me an excuse to take any of the weight off.”

He adds quietly, “Your turn.”

“Gguk,” you start, shaking your head as you try to find the right words. You think of the kiss, the dinner, the ring, the argument.

“We act like a couple. We do things couples do. We pretend we’re a couple. But... we aren’t a couple.”

He’s silent. He knows where you’re going. He knew it before you even got here because if you didn’t bring it up first, he would have.

“I think you already know what’s going on, but if you need it spelled out for you, I kinda caught feelings for you. And then you give me your grandmother’s wedding ring and tell me you love me and it hurts so fucking bad because I know you don’t mean it like that. Not the way I wish you did.”

The words dissipate into the fresh evening air, soon filled by delicate chirps and birdsongs. Distant laughter floats around the park, with muffled ferry horns layered behind it all.

“How do you know?”

Your hand pauses, chlorophyll green blades pulled taut between your fingers. No fucking way.

“What?”

He scratches the back of his neck before locking his eyes with yours. “How do you know... that I don’t mean it like that?”

He’s not playing with you, is he? No, he wouldn’t. You respond slightly confused, hesitant to lean into his words just yet.

“Are you saying that you do?”

He laughs and it makes your chest feel like it might burst open. “You’re kidding, right? I’ve been saying it. I mean, I thought I was being obvious.”

You suppress the excitement bubbling in your stomach for a second longer to throw him a questionable expression with an extended palm for emphasis. “You told me you wanted to go see your ex-girlfriend and were talking about how you loved her.”

He exhales through his teeth as he squints at you. “Yeah, that went a little far...”

“Only a little?”

“I’m apologizing, so let me, please?” He says, eyes wide with a small smile tweaking up at his lips. “It was stupid. I wanted to see what you would say or if you would get jealous. ‘Cause I thought you might have felt the same and at the time that was the only thing I could think of doing.”

Your expression falls.

“Wait, so did you actually meet up with her?”

“No, no!” He exclaims, rushing to refute such a bizarre idea. “Yes, she texted me, but I said no. Everything you said was right, so… it wasn’t worth it.”

He thinks he’s done, until he sees your stare still lingering on him. What’d he miss? He flops over on his stomach, elbows in the grass as his chin rests on his palms to look at you.

“You also said I didn’t know what it was like to love someone who didn’t love me back.”

A cheeky grin grows on him. “Okay... but technically you don’t because I loved you back the whole time.” One of his arms lowers to the ground, his fingers finding your own. He weaves them together with an affectionate squeeze. “You just didn’t know.”

The way your heart flutters is different this time. Gone are the tiring nerves and teary eyes and the weight of stress on your shoulders. It’s a comfortable sort of excitement, one that you’re in love with almost as much as you are with the boy himself.

“Since when?” you ask shyly, feeling the tingle in your cheeks.

It’s a relief to have Jeongguk back. A life without him wouldn’t be one you could ever get used to.

He was there at the start, he’s here now, and he will be here for as long as he possibly can. When it comes to you, there’s no doubt. He’s yours every time.

His deep brown eyes sparkle under the setting sun, golden and glowing, as he makes a point to find your own. Tone dulcet and tender, he says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Since always.”

#jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #btsguild #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x reader #jungkook oneshot #jungkook x you #jungkook fic #jungkook imagine #bts fanfic #bts angst #bts x reader #yoondoze

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fandomsilhouette · 4 years

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the stars will always fly

There was a star that burst under the pressure of all the love it carried and its stardust ended up in my veins and yours, and the iron in us knows we were one, once, and reaches for itself in each other. It finds its way into every step Felix takes, and every choice he makes.

Love is a choice. Felix chooses it.

Happy @felixmonth, y’all!

High school is bigger, busier than Felix was used to. Marinette is always rushing off someplace or another, and she always finds her way back to him at some point, but there are hours in the day where Felix finds himself spending a lot more time alone with Nino, getting slowly sucked into a spiral of analysis over musical techniques and their application in theatre and media. He hadn’t realized Nino knew anything other than whatever popular songs were playing, that he had his headphones in listening to the radio, but Nino actually writes music, and while he might not study in class, he’s learned a lot about musical theory. Nino seeks it out, no matter how tedious and mind numbing it might be. Marinette slots into these conversations easily, dropping down onto the bench in the middle of a heated discussion and picking up the thread like she’d never left. She’s picked up a fair bit of knowledge just existing next to Nino and Felix is… impressed, and a little jealous.

He likes how applicable this becomes to the speech and debate team he chooses to join, partly to fill the time when Marinette is busy with art club and commissions (with her other friends, with the people she likes more than she likes him, whispers the worst part of Felix), but also partly because when he walked by the club room at the beginning of the year, he watched a girl take down someone twice her size with nothing more than a casual recitation of brutal, weaponized facts, swinging her legs perched on a desk and casually checking out her nails. Her opponent ended the match falling dramatically to his knees, exclaiming over his wounds and flailing and throwing himself across the floor, and the girl finally broke character to laugh with the rest of the club. Felix found himself laughing too, and when someone waved him in, he followed.

Felix likes it, likes getting to use his words to hurt people and tear them down and still laugh with them afterwards. He likes the way Nino’s points about key changes and pitch bleed into the way he modulates his voice and intonation to pull pathos from his audience as he gives a speech, likes the way Marinette’s rambles on color theory find their way into the presentations he pulls together.

He likes the way he has friends at school now, people outside of Marinette and Nino, people who are his and who like him for more than who he knows.

He also likes the way speech and debate usually ends around when art club does, so he can walk home with Marinette afterwards. He finds himself lingering to finish conversations more and more, the way she does with her own friends, and likes the way that she’s always waiting for him once he’s done. She makes a point to leave a note in his texts if she has to leave, and every one sends his heart racing. She walks him to the library on the days they don’t have extracurriculars, and finds herself getting to know his kids, getting to fall in love with each of them as she drafts commission projects as he reads. Later, she tells him his voice is soothing and asks him over and over to read her to sleep until he caves. It doesn’t take very long. Every now and then, he'll pop into art club to say hi to Marinette, or she'll do her homework in the back of the speech and debate room, and being able to exist in the space as her without being fully engaged in what she’s doing is healing in a way he didn’t know he needed.

The most unusual part about having friends outside of Marinette is how oddly disengaged it feels in comparison: it’s not that he doesn’t care for them; when it’s just them Felix feels the affection lapping at his ankles in steady persistent waves and it’s good. But with Marinette, he’s drowning in the intensity of what he feels.

Felix starts to reconsider the words he chooses to put on that feeling.

It’s something he chews on throughout the bus ride to camp, throughout counselor orientation and the first few tentative weeks of learning how to be an adult to children who don’t know yet that he’s not. Being responsible for them makes Felix feel incredibly mature, and also incredibly young, the way that he sees himself in them, the way that he can’t anymore.

The first night the campers come to camp, Felix and Marinette take their group of campers up the mountain trail to see the night sky, unfiltered by pollution for the first time in their lives. When they pass through the clearing to the open horizon, a hushed awe falls over the group, same as seven years ago when Felix first walked this path. Then, he crossed his arms and refused to let the beauty of the night shape his features beyond anything more than a scowl. Now, the light plays over his features and he tilts his face up to meet the starlight.

It doesn’t last long. A cloud passes overhead, and one of the youngest campers starts crying, overwhelmed and missing home and scared by the dark. Marinette pulls them into her arms and starts bouncing them back and forth, and Felix stands there, at a loss. All he’s ever done is tell stories. That’s all he knows how to do.

Something shimmers in the sky, and the north star catches his eye. Words spill out of Felix that he didn’t know were there, and he refuses to hold them back.

“There have been stars in the sky for as long as the sky has existed. They’ve been called gods, fairies, balls of gas that shimmer when the light refracts against the atmosphere of the earth, a conspiracy, something beyond our comprehension, something a part of us. The sky you see tonight won’t be the same sky that you see tomorrow. You’ll never have this view again.” Someone whimpers behind him, and he rushes to continue.

“But every time you look up, the stars will be just as beautiful, if you care to find the beauty in them. Maybe it’ll take a moment before you find one winking at you. Maybe you’ll see them all, bantering back and forth on the horizon. Maybe you’ll point at the north star, and know that it is always there to guide you home, that it will always come back even if it’s hidden right now.” The sobs are quieting into messy hiccups, and Marinette adds her quiet hum to the rhythm of the story.

“Look at the stars, the moon, the sky. Let them change, and let them be constant. Find it in yourself to give them space to do both, and you will find that they will give you the same.” At that, Marinette picks up the thread, kneeling close to the campers and pulling them all in as best as she can.

“You are all made of stardust. Feel it, here, in your pulse. Find it when you feel lost, and let the stars remind you that you are so much, that you can be multitudes, that finding change and constancy both within yourself is not contradictory but human.”

They walk back in the dark, in silence. No one is scared. Felix can feel it in the air. He revels in it.

He's not much older than them. But he has to try to be the kind of person that keeps them safe, and Felix has seen so many kids get hurt in ways that don't show up on their bodies. Felix has been one of them. He wants to show them how to love and to do it safely. He wants to show them how to be messy, and vulnerable, and kind.

Felix wants it so much, so badly, that it consumes him. It pushes him into making friends, talking to people, calibrating his emotions one conversation at a time. These skills have atrophied for so long. He will build this muscle: for himself, for his kids. For Marinette.

They dance around each other all summer, building their friendship, edging into something flirty, something vulnerable. Sometimes Felix hears the older campers whispering and giggling about how he and Marinette are "like, definitely dating, right?" He doesn’t know how to answer.

He wishes he were, kind of. He loves Marinette. It’s taken him seven years to realize, or seven years to fall in love and maybe one year to realize, or something unquantifiable by any means he has. She fits so perfectly into his side by the campfire at night. She exists in her own light but never hesitates to pull Felix into her space, never hesitates to let him pull her into his. They exist outside of each other but cherish the spaces they share. But he loves her, so he worries about what it means, to be fourteen and in love, to be fourteen and just learning how to make friends. He worries about trying to put words to something that is bigger than human labels and breaking it with the weight of expectation.

He tells her, the night before camp ends. The campers have been sent to bed, and the counselors are enjoying the dying embers of the summer’s last campfire. There’s no urgency, no pressure in his heart to push the words out. He does it anyways, and it feels right.

“I love you, Marinette.”

“I love you too, Felix.” Her voice is soft and warm, and Felix basks in it.

“...what does this mean?” And then, before she can respond, he adds: “What does it have to mean?” He feels her shrug by his side, and grins.

“I don’t know. I don’t think it has to mean anything. I want to… keep loving you, and keep being your friend. And just… see how that goes. See where we end up.”

“What if we end up apart?” He’s too safe with her to sound timid. He puts the question out into the world, and waits.

“Why would we?”

“If we stop caring about each other, maybe.”

At that, she turns to him.

“I won’t. I promise. I’ll always care about you, Felix.”

“How do you know?” It comes out insecure and Felix makes no attempt to hide it, just leans in closer to Marinette.

“"I'll work at it. I promise to be here for you when we need to be, and we'll grow as people and find the best in each other. I'll make you a pillow if I need to," and she bumps into his shoulder.

"What if you like someone else?"

"What if you like someone else?" Felix wants to say he can't, he won't, he never will. Nino walks by and waves, and Felix knows that isn't true. There are so many people in the world. Felix wants to get to know them all, find out the ways he fits with them, find out what they bring out of him.

"...I guess... we'll date them. And love each other too, in whatever way we can.”

“What was it that you said? That the stars are constant and ever-changing, always there no matter how they move or shift. We’ll love each other like the stars, Felix.”

He hooks his pinky into hers. When she falls asleep on the bus ride home, sun shifting on her lap and glimmering against her hair as she leans on his shoulder, Felix squeezes her hand thrice.

“We’ll be starmates.”

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insomniac-dot-ink · 4 years

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Just Beyond the City

Genre: wlw urban fantasy

Summary: a young woman moves to a new city where she begins exploring fresh hiking trails, only to hear of something strange in the woods there. Something ancient and dark and that doesn’t belong.

The hiker starts seeing a witch in the woods and wandering closer and closer to whatever this malevolent presence is. A story in three parts.

PART ONE

I liked hiking. I liked it since I was a kid and my mom had to tighten the laces of my boots with both hands and my baseball cap flopped right over my eyes. I liked following her bright purple backpack up the trails with the sound of my shoes crunching on the rocky path. I liked slathering sunscreen on my arms in large creamy dollops. I liked pushing my body up and up and up and feeling those small complaints in my muscles telling me I was moving. I was here. I was living.

Most of all, I liked how inexplicable things were. My mom raised me by herself and I was not an easy kid. I often talked so quickly I bit my own tongue and then cried about it. I was well-liked, but if anyone even looked at me wrong I would come home in tears. I hated being apart from her and the school nurse would often call in the middle of the day saying I demanded her come pick me up. I asked a thousand questions wherever we went: why did the movie end like that? Why does that woman carry her dog that way? Why can’t I be wheeled around in a chair like that person?

I was overly curious. I was sensitive. I was over dramatic. I was clingy. Very few things made sense to me. The outdoors didn’t make sense either, but they did so in a way that was enchanting.

I liked the sounds of birds trilling to each other in a language I couldn’t possibly fathom. I liked the way the wind blew in directions I would never be able to follow. I liked how the trees knew things I never would and how the roots went in thousands of directions at once that I would never fully grasp.

In those mountains, in the trees and the dense forests, and in everything else, I was okay with not knowing.

When I was 26 I moved away from my trees and my mountains and my snow and I found myself on the outskirts of a sprawling metropolis. Normally, people move to LA to try and become starlets or script-writers or big-time directors. I had never dreamed of being an actress since I threw-up if too many people looked at me at once and definitely didn’t think I was pretty enough. I simply went because the Franklin Law Firm was the first one that offered me a position.

There were plenty of lawsuits in California, enough that even a small-town girl from Montana could find work right out of law school. It took their bar exam. I passed. I applied. It was a change.

The sky was piercingly blue and the air thick with smog and people all moving and chatting and absolutely littered everywhere. It reminded me of watching ants troop back and forth on their hills, making lines, and zig-zags, and following invisible cross-walks. Things were busy.

I felt it in my veins and through my head and just underneath my tongue, like a metallic aftertaste, as I drove through the slow-moving traffic. That “busy” was everywhere. The streets were sun-soaked and warm with thumping feet. The wind carried noises of dogs barking and music playing and life going on. I had to take deep breaths until I took a right and started driving away from the “busy.”

I was so grateful that instant for being a hiker. My mom had suggested it, she had always been my beacon to follow, and I took an apartment almost forty-five minutes away from my work on her advice. The commute wasn’t going to be fun.

However, it was worth it. Away from the thick smoggy crowds of buildings and youthful men in cut-off jean shorts and beautiful women in shirts that showed off their flat bellies. I passed residential neighborhoods with immigrant families and struggling playwrights and then up past gated communities with green cut lawns and paychecks that looked like lucky numbers on fortune cookies.

Finally, I passed right up toward a ridge outside the city. I would bite off my own tongue before I’d call it a mountain (as some people there did), but it was luckily a little bigger than a hill.

I exhaled as I got closer to the hiking trails and there were finally bigger gaps between the houses. I was so grateful I chose this over convenience. It was different of course, the bushes were dusty and barren, and the trees were squat and barely greened. But it was outside the business of the city.

I smiled at the trails as I pulled up to a grey apartment building with concrete balconies and four stories just below it. I got out of my little Nissan and peered up toward my new home. It would have to do. I got out the keys I had received earlier that day and found my way inside to the fourth floor.

It was a decent modern building with air-conditioning on high and big mirrors in the elevator with shiny metal panels on the sides. I found my way to my room where I opened it to find the same modern aesthetic with a sleek silver refrigerator and a simple metal bed frame left behind from the last tenants. I wondered around the boxy rooms each with one or two windows and bare floors. It had the feeling a bit of pre-packaged meals, neat, and tidy, and underwhelming, but it would do the trick.

I went back outside and started unpacking.

I heaving up boxes from the trunk of my car and it was only on my second trip up that I realized someone was watching me. He was outside on the sidewalk and stood perfectly still as I got out my next box. He had a strong jawline thick with stubble across his face and neck. I looked to either side of me to check that he was staring at me and not some other girl in a bikini standing behind me.

“Need some help there, new neighbor?” He finally called out with a wave. “Uh,” I fumbled with the box for a moment and tried to come up with an excuse to shake him off.

“Don’t worry.” He smiled. “Not a stalker. I just knew I’d be getting someone new across the hall from me. I was just checking to see if you needed anything.” “Uh,” I repeated again elegantly. I was definitely a lawyer. “Sure.” I said after a long pause. “Always nice to meet... neighbors.” He came over and helped me with another box. I wondered if the stranger danger alarms in my head should start going off at that point, but they never seemed to. He was wearing North face gear and smelled like the ocean and was relatively benign.

He just took a box and started chatting, “yeah, I can tell you about all the good restaurants you have to drive thirty-minutes to in order to reach from here.” “Ah,” I said as he slowly made our way back inside. “I thought it’d be pretty far away from things. Yeah.” “You come in for Hollywood?” He said with interest.

I just snorted. “Not even.” We talked about work and the price of gas and the area for another few minutes. His name was Doug and he had lived there for three years and was still a waiter/aspiring actor himself. He liked my leather bracelets.

“So,” I finally brought up what I really wanted to talk about. “How’s the hiking around here?” “Dunno.” Doug shrugged. “I wouldn’t go near the stuff nearby. Like I said, most good things are a thirty-minute drive at least.” I furrowed my brow and looked over my shoulder at him. “You don’t go up Timber Ridge? Online said it had some nice views.”

He looked away and waved a hand through the air. “Nah.”

“Why not?” I asked a little too hastily.

“I mean,” his eyes darted left and right. “Look, I’m not superstitious or anything, but...” “But?” I gave him a focused look.

He shrugged again, “I’ve heard some weird stuff about it.” His eyes darted back and forth, “weird even for this place I mean.” I made a face, “should I be worried about a serial killer on the loose?” One of my mom’s new favorite hobbies was reminding me about all the serial killers that came from California. “No. I mean like,” he placed my box down outside my new apartment door. His brow bent innards and he whispered slowly. “They’ve been finding... stuff.”

I bounced my eyebrows up and down, I tried not to smirk, “monster stuff?” “Bloody rags.” He said solemnly, “rocks with strange symbols, plants that shouldn’t be here, bones, and I dunno... bad vibes.” He cleared his voice and leaned forward so much so that the air hummed with his discomfort. “They say it’s a witch.” “A witch?” I tried not to laugh.

Doug sniffed, “just saying.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Though I’d rather be eaten by her than take the interstate 405 again.” He changed the subject back to complaining about traffic after that and I let him.

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

I didn’t see any witches the first time I went up Timber Ridge. I didn’t see much of anything actually.

The path was dusty instead of crunchy, the bushes were low to the ground and mostly leaf-less and dry, the trees were tiny and hid nothing from the eye. If my tall forests back home were thick with greenery and secrets, LA nature was brittle and easy to digest.

There weren’t that many bird sounds, but even from that high up sometimes I still heard honking and sirens and voices from someone’s open window. I still wasn’t that far from the city.

I ached from sleeping on the floor in my sleeping bag because I hadn’t bought a new bed yet. I had also for some reason given Doug my number and he kept texting me-- which felt like a game of jeopardy I accidentally entered where I didn’t know any of the right answers. I was sore and not particularly impressed with my new living situation. I missed my mom. I missed my dog.

I missed my mountains.

I frowned at it all as I climbed. The path was long at least and for moments at a time dipped down far enough that the city itself disappeared. After an hour I finally climbed up far enough that I reached the top of the ridge and I did have to stand there in awe.

My mouth fell open gently and the weight in my chest shrunk to nothing. It was probably because it was dawn and there was always something selfless about dawn: it gave and it gave and it gave.

The sun shimmered in long pink and orange streaks behind me and just beyond the city was an expanse of ocean that ate up my vision. An ocean vast and smooth and heart-stoppingly creamy blue. I had gone to the ocean once when I was a kid, but it had been cold and unfriendly and the waves were too big. Now, it was the backdrop to something that made my eyes water.

I sniffled and wiped at my tears as they fell. It was probably because I missed my mom and my dog and hated my new city, but that didn’t stop me from wiping at my cheeks and tasting salt. I cried at that sunset on the first day.

Finally, I turned around and something flitted dark and swift in the corner of my vision. I jerked my head around and there was something on the ground. It was transparent and yet tangible, like clothe. Dark. It was something I could only call a “shadow” that lingered long and twisted across the ground. It seemed to dance across the path with no end for a long second. I looked up quickly to try and catch it’s source, but nothing but the small trees and dusty bushes remained.

“Hello?” I said, but nothing responded.

I touched my left elbow and turned around in tight circles. When I stopped I got one last look at it slipping away. There was a shadow staring back at me: hollow eyes and hollow mouth and a gaping frozen expression caught in some unknowable stomach-clenching emotion. I gasped lowly, took a step back, and when I blinked again it was gone.

I hurried away from that spot. I chalked up the strange vision to too much crying and not enough breakfast that morning.

I didn’t see a witch on the ridge that first day or at least or, at least, I didn’t think I did.

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

part 2 coming soon!

So all of my hours were cut at my job bc of coronavirus, if you enjoyed my writing please, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi or becoming a patron I could really use the help!

#wlw #witches #sapphic #writing #femslash #f/f #short story #girls love #Just Beyond the City #story in 3 parts #it ended up being 15k so I decided to split it up this time

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anonbebe97me · 4 years

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𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕚𝕥 𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕜 (Ch.8: Bikini.)

A/N: This was a fic I’d originally posted on Wattpad last year. Hope you guys enjoy!

Description: Working for Mr.Yoo Kihyun was an absolute nightmare; Y/N hated everything about him, and was convinced he was either part demon or at least some sort of reptilian hybrid- never in a million years would she have expected to learn that he was, indeed only human, and even worse; that he might even be…likeable?

Link To: || 1 || 2 || 3 || 4 || 5 || 6 || 7 || 9

The weekend went by torturously slowly, though I managed to fix the errors in the documents. I stood outside of the building for a long time- maybe ten minutes before I dared to walk inside. My skirt was just below my knee, which I made sure of.

"I can't stand out here all day..." I whispered to myself, trying to build up the courage to go in.

I slowly walked forward, my hands gently pushing the heavy glass door open. The smell of coffee filled my nose from across the lobby. I bit my lip, wondering if I should stop for coffee, or just rip the band aid off and face Kihyun.

"Black coffee it is." I'm a coward.

I walked over to the bar and waited as Shownu finished up with another customer. He saw me and smiled warmly. I smiled back politely, too lost in my thoughts to let him brighten my morning.

"Good morning, Y/N," He greeted as i approached.

"Good morning, Shownu," I said, grabbing my wallet from my bag.

"One black coffee please," I said, looking down.

"...rough morning?" He asked.

I looked up at him, "Yeah...how'd you know?" I asked.

"I'm not a mind reader... just saw you standing outside for like, ten minutes with," He pointed at me, "that look on your face..." He chuckled.

I blushed, "Yeah... well, it's definitely been a weekend," I said.

He poured my black coffee into a large cup, "To lift your spirits," He handed me the cup.

I sighed, "I have money, Shownu..."

"And I have more customers," He said, waving up the person behind me.

I was shocked by how nonchalant he was as he shooed me away, though not before giving me a wink.

I smiled and walked slowly over to the elevator, coffee in hand.

I swallowed hard as I saw the numbers get higher and higher on the small screen in the elevator. It felt like that scene in Hunger Games when the tributes were being lifted up into the field...to their deaths.

Dramatic, but that's how it felt.

The doors opened with a ding and I stood there for a moment until the doors were threatening to close once more. I finally walked out and headed straight to my desk. The office was buzzing, people were walking back and forth, and a low rumble of conversations sounded throughout the floor.

I pulled the documents out of my bag and set them on my desk. I wanted to get it over with- seeing him. I just wanted to give him the papers and go back to minding my own business.Just then, the elevator doors opened, and the office got a little quieter.

Kihyun stepped forward, his brief case in one hand and his phone in the other. He kept his eyes on the screen as he walked straight ahead. Without a word, he set his brief case down and grabbed his key out of his back pocket, putting it into the door handle.

I held my breath as I waited for him to turn to look at me, but it didn't happen. He simply opened his door, grabbed his brief case and walked into his office, closing the door behind himself.

Everyone went back to their business, but I felt stuck. I looked nervously at the stack of papers on my desk, and decided to just get it over with. I picked up the papers and knocked softly on his door.

"Mr.Yoo?" I tried to be loud, but it felt like my voice was catching in my throat.

"Come in."

I opened his door slowly, peeking my head inside, "I fixed the mistakes in the permits and Mr.Lee's contract."

"Oh yes, bring them here," He said, motioning for me to come inside.

I nodded and walked into the office, "You were right, there were a lot of errors," I said, trying to sound as casual as possible as I set the papers onto his desk.

He nodded, "It happens... no harm done," He said reassuringly, though he didn't make eye contact.

He wasn't being aggressive, wasn't upset, and didn't even seem to be even mildly irritated.

I almost didn't know what to do next until he finally looked up at me, a questioning expression on his face.

"Was there anything else?" He asked.

I swallowed, "No, just...just that. Alright, I'll get out of your hair..."

He nodded, "Alright..."

I turned around and walked to the door.

"Wait-"

With my hand on the door knob, I looked back, "Yeah?"

He stood up from his chair and buttoned his blazer carefully, walking over to me. He came really close, only two four feet or so away, sending my heart racing, anticipating his next move.

"I almost forgot," He reached his hand into his back pocket and pulled out an envelope.

"Huh?" I asked, feeling slightly irritated- though Ii wasn't quite sure why.

"Your...plane ticket?" He handed it to me.

"Oh yes, of course," I grabbed the envelope from his hand, "Thank you..." I said, looking up at him.

He clears his throat and then takes a step back, "Yeah, well... It's part of your job, you don't need to thank me," He said, awkwardly scratching his neck.

"Right," I turned back around to open the door, and before it behind me, I looked back once more, "Still...thanks."

I sat back down at my desk and put the envelope into my purse, feeling a rush... Excitement? Though only a few days before, I was agonizing over how boring the trip would be.

What is going on with me?

My eyes kept flicking back and forth on my computer screen, from the spreadsheets to the time in the corner. My knee was bouncing up and down in anticipation. I hadn't even packed a single piece of clothing, and still had to run to the store for things I needed.

Finally, everyone started getting up and gathering their things. "Yes!" I muttered, hurriedly grabbed my bag and stood up. As I was about to start walking, Kihyun's office door opened, startling me.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you..." He said, a slight smile at the corner of his lips.

Embarrassed, I nodded, "It's okay... you heading out too?"

He shook his head, "Not just yet. I have some work to do here still, just going to get some coffee."

"Oh, yeah...gotta...get that cup-o-joe, you know what I mean?" I quickly looked away, wanting so desperately to slap my forehead for being so awkward.

He laughed, "Yeah, cup-o-joe..."

"Shall we walk?" I asked, trying to ignore the fact that I'd just said that.

"Yeah," He motioned for me to go first.

There was still a decent group of people standing outside of the elevator, waiting to pile on in, but as soon as they saw Kihyun, they all moved to the side and pretended to be on their phones or in conversations. They were afraid of him.

He didn't seem to notice, but as the doors were closing, everyone was sneaking glances at us.

"I guess that's one of the perks of being the boss, huh?" I asked, trying to avoid standing in silence on the way down.

"What is?" He asked.

"Just that...nevermind," I smiled and looked straight ahead, willing for the doors to open.

"Ah, you mean the empty elevator?" You asked, turning to me.

I nodded. You chuckled and then shrugged, "The boss is always the monster," His smile faded and he looked down for a moment.

The doors opened and I walked out first, "Not always..." I glanced at him, our eyes meeting.

He smiled widely, but then caught himself. He cleared his throat and extended his arm, "Well, I will see you tomorrow at the airport."

I nodded, "Yes you will."

When my hand touched his, I remembered when he'd helped me up that night. What was weird was... that night, I thought it had been the closeness of our faces that had brought this feeling... but I had that same feeling at this moment, merely shaking his hand.

And as I looked up to meet your eyes, I could tell you felt it too.

When I got home, I grabbed my suit case and threw it onto my bed, along with the backpack I'd take as a carry on. I walked over to my laptop and put on some music to relieve the mundaneness of the task at hand, and then made my way over to my closet.

"This is so daunting..." I let out a sigh as I looked at all the clothes crowding my small closet.

I started withe the basics- two pairs of jeans, two pairs of sweats, some tees. Then, my phone started ringing. Lizzie's name popped up on my screen and II answered.

"Yo."

"So!?" Lizzie and Karina said in unison.

"So...what?" I asked, pretending not to know what they were asking about.

"Stop being stupid. How'd it go with Mr.Yoo?" Karina yelled into the phone.

I couldn't help but smile, but I tried to play it cool, "It was fine."

"Fine?"

"Yup."

"So, we've been waiting all weekend long to hear that it was 'fine'?" Lizzie's voice was flat and I could almost see her rolling her eyes.

"Well, what else can I say? It was good."

"Ugh..." Karina groaned.

"Well... I mean, there was a difference-"

"What kind of difference?" They squealed into the phone and I laughed.

"I mean, I don't know... he was just different today... He's usually very collected and aggressive, but today..." I trailed off and bit my lip, thinking of when we shook hands.

"Do you think he might...like you?" Lizzie's question seemed ridiculous as I heard it.

"No way," I scoffed.

"I don't know, Y/N, I mean...think about it. You guys were out until really late the other night. He sang to you."

I rolled my eyes, "It doesn't mean anything. He would've sang to any girl who would've been picked."

"True, but he didn't get another girl. He got you. Maybe that shifted something."

I thought for a moment, "Well... If he does, which I highly doubt, then...I guess I'll find out soon..."

"You wanna know what I think?" Karina said, her tone low and mischievous.

"What?"

"I think that you should pack that cute little pink two piece, just in case..." Her words made Lizzie giggle.

My face got hot, "What? No. He's my boss."

"So hot," Karina laughed.

"That's my cue to hang up. Alright, I'm gonna finish packing."

"Alright, Love you!" Lizzie said.

"Pack the bikini! And sexy underwear!"

I pressed the end button and put my phone on my desk.

Staring at my dresser, I stood there for a moment, hands on my hips, lips pursed. I walk over and open the top drawer. There it was; the little pink bikini I'd bought last summer but never used. It was almost as intimidating as Kihyun.

Should I?

I picked it up, almost embarrassed? I never would've bought it, except Karina and Lizzie had gotten me drunk on vacation and I was feeling bold. I quickly walked over to my suitcase and shoved the little scraps of fabric into the little side pocket of my backpack. "I'm not gonna need it," I whispered to myself, trying to bring myself some sort of relief.

I'd finished packing relatively quickly, mainly focusing on business attire since I knew we'd be in meetings every day, though I did pack a few leisure pieces. "Finally done," I sighed as I threw myself onto my bed.

And then, feeling exhausted from all of the excitement and anticipation, I'd drifted off to sleep.

#Monsta X #monstax #mx #shownu #wonho #Minhyuk #changkyun #hyungwon #jooheon #kihyun #kpop #kpop stans #smut #monsta x fluff #angst #fanfiction #fanfic #monsta x reader #monsta x scenarios

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botan-shirabuki · 4 years

Text

Kyoichiro and Fuchi HCs 🦊+🤡=❤

I thought I’d try and write some hcs about Kyoichiro and my ninja MC! These are extremely self-indulgent so I Will Not Cry if you skip over them.

SFW

- They work really well together in the shop. It basically boils down to “Kyoichiro tells Fuchi to do something and she does it” but they’re so efficient now. Sometimes Kyoichiro finds things go almost too smoothly, and can hardly remember what working was like before her.

- Their regular customers really grow to like Fuchi. Sometimes one will pry and ask how a girl like her got a job at this shop. Fuchi just looks at Kyo with a raised eyebrow like “Yeah…how did a girl like me get a job here?” Kyoichiro just shrugs and says “The store will close before I finish telling that story.” Fuchi just rolls her eyes and the conversation moves on, but that interaction tells them all they need to know.

- Fuchi is so used to being uptight and tense and nervous that she likes to let her hair down and be straight up goofy around him. She’s a naturally funny person just from her facial expressions and mannerisms, but when she’s actually joking around she takes it to eleven. It’s literally impossible to not laugh at her jokes

- She likes to sing really silly songs (she can’t sing) when she’s cooking (she can’t cook). Kyoichiro can hear her in the next room over, but he can’t bring himself to tell her to pipe down. Later, he finds that the song is stuck in his head.

-They decided to temporarily give up on Fuchi’s cooking practice bc she nearly set his kitchen on fire. Now they have to incorporate eating out in their budget.

- On top of her being a total goof, they just have SUCH good banter. They can go back and forth for hours about anything and whoever is around to witness it finds it highly entertaining. If they point it out, Fuchi gets really bashful and she looks at Kyo like :3c but Kyo gets all flustered bc he’s mad that someone witnessed him having a moment with her.

-They take turns sleeping in each others rooms. They would move into one together but Kyo’s has the better view and Fuchi has so much stuff that she needs her own room. Raita has grown accustomed to this routine and knows which room to go to for cuddles.

- Fuchi loves annoying him bc she thinks it’s funny. He’s also pretty sexy when he’s scowling and trying his hardest not to tell her to shut the fuck up. Two wins!

- Often times, people will come to the store to shoot their shot at Fuchi and Kyoichiro has to beat them away with a bat. Mainly the magistrate, oh my god. He got robbed twice since he wants to be bold lmao

- Kyoichiro doesn’t like it when she drinks around guests. Especially around Sasuke and ESPECIALLY around Hideyoshi. More on that later.

- There are often times where Kyoichiro finds himself thinking about how amazing Fuchi is and how he doesn’t deserve her in his life. How she saves him from his own darkness. How her infectious laugh makes him feel warmer inside than sunlight ever has….only to be brought back to reality by her asking him the dumbest shit he’s heard all week.

NSFW

- They’re pretty vanilla for the most part but Kyoichiro has found that he needs to be a bit of a brat tamer from time to time. Sometimes Fuchi takes the whole annoying him thing in a completely different direction and does whatever she can to turn him on, often during shop hours when there aren’t any customers. He’ll grab the wrist of her hand that was reaching for his dick and her chin in the other and tell her that it’s in her best interest to behave until the store closes, because there’s nothing he hates more than interruptions. She raises her eyebrows and backs off, knowing she secured the pounding that she wanted for tonight.

- Neither one is necessarily dominant or submissive. They just take things wherever they go. That being said, Fuchi often initiates things, because she wants to and Kyo is low-key worried about coming off as aggressive and scaring her away (he wouldn’t). She usually gets in bed before him, but once he’s in she’ll casually roll over towards him and starts kissing his cheek and jawline. He’ll ask her if she knows what she’s starting and everytime she looks him dead in the eye and says yes I do. Its AWN from there. There are occasions where Kyo will initiate things. If they’re fighting over something stupid, he’ll kiss her to shut her up. If the adrenaline is high after a Goemon raid, he’ll dramatically swoop in and scoop her up to drown her in a sea of kisses and then he’ll fuck her in the cape.

- Fuchi gets straight up flagrant when she’s drunk. So much so to the point where Kyoichiro doesn’t like to let her drink too much around guests. She’s always climbing in his lap, kissing and rubbing up on him while her breath smells like booze, literally begging him to put his dick in her mouth with slurred speech. He gets hard from it every time but he knows he’s gotta get her to sleep it off. Then he has to walk through the house with her clinging onto him kissing his ears telling him every single thing she wants to do to/with him. Then he has to pry her off of him and tuck her under the covers so she doesn’t get out. It’s hard work, but he always ends up with a pretty fun checklist for once she’s sober.

- He loves fucking her while she’s in her ninja clothes. It’s absurdly sexy when she pulls her mesh leggings down just enough so that they frame her ass cheeks really nicely as he fucks her from behind. Or if they’re really in a mood he’ll use the blade in his kiseru to cut them open…

- They’re both very vocal. What starts out as taunting and egging each other on turns into filthy dirty talk which turns into breathless “I love you"s and "I’ll never leave you"s in between desperate kisses.

- Both of their favourite positions are with Fuchi on top. Kyoichiro likes when she’s facing him because he likes to a) watch her tiddies bounce and b) if he’s sitting up he can hold her close to him. Fuchi likes to be in reverse because she can grind against his thigh (and sometimes she feels like she makes stupid faces which is embarrassing)

- Sometimes Kyoichiro can hardly look at her with her hair down. It reminds him of her lovely tresses being splayed across his bedding, the candlelight accentuating the waves of her undone braid. It’s embarrassing, really.

- Fuchi loves kissing underneath the moonlight, obviously preferring the full moon. As a result, sometimes she waits out on the veranda for him to return from a night of thievery in the thinnest sleep clothes she owns. Then when he gets home, she greets him with a "Hello, handsome!” and then the night goes from there!

- One time they were fucking and Kyoichiro commented that she must have been stressed af bc if her pussy got any tighter it might cut off his circulation.

- They often smoke together after sex. Fuchi picked up the habit from him. She likes to take a drag and shotgun it to him. “Well, well, it seems you are wholly unable to keep that mouth off of me.” “So it seems, but if this is your way of asking me to stop–” He pulls her back in for a real kiss.

#my writing #headcanons #MC: Fuchi #slbp kyoichiro #long post

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teenytinystorage · 4 years

Text

Click Click - A Sanders Sides Fanfic

Words: 2786

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Food mention, Deceit (lmk if I need any more warnings!)

Pairings: None

Enjoy! :)

Click click.

The dreaded noise of a locked door.

Patton lowered his arm that was tugged down to the Earth with two grocery bags dangling from it. He was planning on putting a bag in each hand once he entered, since two trips would be inconvenient, but clearly, he was not getting inside anytime soon. So, he decided it was best to let his arm receive circulation again.

Patton exhaled loudly and turned his back to the door. He forgot his keys when he went out to do errands, and he knew none of the others were home now. He slid down until he sat against the doorframe. He crossed his legs and set the bags down to his right side. He set his hands in his lap.

“Now what am I supposed to do with the groceries?” Patton thought out loud. He turned his head to the two plastic bags that sat beside him, anxiously awaiting for the door to welcome them inside as they melted in the heat. “Ice cream isn’t good as a melty bowl of soup, and Logan and Roman won’t be happy to have thawed Crofter’s.”

Patton sat, watching the breeze blow through the tufts of grass on the ground. He knew Logan would be home soon enough from his break to go to the library, and Logan had his keys on him, Patton was sure. Logan wouldn’t leave his keys at home.

“It appears someone doesn’t need my assistance now,” a bitter voice rang through the window.

Patton leapt up and turned his head.

Two cloaked arms sat on the windowsill as Deceit leaned over curiously, staring down at Patton.

“Ah, Deceit! Good timing! Could you.. let me in?” Patton asked, leaning over to pick up his grocery bags.

“I’ll take the groceries in,” Deceit answered.

“..But will you let me in?”

“What didn’t I just say?”

Patton shook his head as he mumbled to himself while picking up the grocery bags. “Well, I suppose that’ll be good enough. This stuff needs to get into the fridge. I can wait. Logan will be home soon anyway.”

Patton looked up toward the window again and yelled, “So, how are you going to get these bags in, anyway?”

Deceit tossed a rope over the windowsill. “With this.”

“A pulley system? I like your thinking!” Patton chuckled as he tied the rope onto both of the handles of the plastic bags.

Deceit rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I’m totally not doing this to steal the Crofter’s or anything.”

Patton scowled at Deceit as he walked away from the rope. “Deceit, what did I tell you about stealing Logan and Roman’s Crofter’s?”

“I can do it as long as they don’t find out,” Deceit walked backward as he started tugging the bags up into the window.

Patton gasped, holding his hands over his heart playfully. “You know that’s not what I said! I’m ashamed of you!”

Deceit tugged the bags up the rooftop until the glass jars inside clunked against the windowsill. “That’s totally what you said.” He started to untie the bags from the rope.

Patton crossed his arms. “Well, if I see an empty jar lid and a spoon in there once I get inside, you’re not going to be let off so easy this time, mister!”

“Oh? And what are you going to do about it?” Deceit held the bags mockingly out the window in his hands, dangling them over the roof.

“Two words: No. Musicals.” Patton pointed his finger at Deceit.

Deceit growled, “Fine. No promises, though.”

Deceit set the bags down on his bed and grasped his hands on the window’s shudder strings.

Patton nodded. “Mhm! And that threat is real this time. No ifs, ands, or buts!” Patton childishly snickered to himself at his immature remark. “‘Buts’..”

Deceit rolled his eyes.

“Thank you! Put Virgil’s ice cream in the freezer please!” Patton shouted as Deceit slammed the window shut and pulled down the shudders.

“Well, I tried. Sorry Lo and Ro, there’ll be less Crofter’s for the week,” Patton muttered to himself as he sunk down against the door once more.

He felt more relaxed, since he didn’t have Virgil’s ice cream or Logan and Roman’s Crofter’s on the line anymore. He would just have to wait until Logan got home, then.

2 minutes passed.

Patton twisted and fidgeted with his cardigan sleeves, dozing off from sitting by himself for so long. He pulled his phone out to check the time.

3:34 P.M.

Patton heard swishing behind him. He turned his head to see Virgil strolling toward the door distractedly, his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets and headphones on his ears plugged into his phone.

“Hey Virgil!” Patton excitedly smiled and stood. “I didn’t know you’d get home so early!”

“Hey Pat..” Virgil noticed Patton and pulled the headphones off of one side of his head. He shifted his hand that was shoved into his pocket to pause the audio on his phone.

“So, are you feeling better now since..” Patton clumsily fumbled with his words, “..the incident?”

Virgil snickered. “Pat, you don’t have to call it ‘the incident.�� I just got a little overwhelmed with video making and stuff, that’s all. Not too big of a deal. Happens a lot.” Virgil exhaled as Patton frowned slightly. “And to answer your question. Yep, I’m feeling more chill now.”

“Oh goodie!” Patton clapped his hands eagerly. “What’d you do?”

“I went on a walk and listened to an audiobook.” Virgil turned his head as Patton’s smile widened, “y’know, since you and Lo were saying I should do that to calm down. It worked real well, more than I thought. Didn’t even realize I was walking when the audiobook was playing,” Virgil tapped the side of his headphones with his left hand.

Virgil took a relaxed breath in, swaying and shifting his weight between his toes and heels as he looked out toward the street. “The fresh air was great for my nerves,” Virgil admitted as he shoved his hand back into his hoodie pocket. “Who knew, exercise is helpful.” Virgil shrugged, turning his head back toward Patton and smirking.

“I’m glad to hear our advice worked!” Patton smiled.

“Mhm…” Virgil nodded. “So, any reason why you’re sitting outside in the heat when there’s a perfectly good house inside?” Virgil tilted his head.

“Locked myself out. Care to join me?”

Virgil’s hand flipped the metallic violet and black, stormcloud-shaped keys in his pocket as the metal clinked and jangled around for a few seconds. He shrugged.

“Got nothing else to do.”

Virgil strolled over to the door and sat down next to Patton. He sat with his knees to his chin and held his arms around his legs. He slid his headphones on once more, pulling his phone out of his pocket and continuing his audiobook. He leaned his head down onto his knees and closed his eyes.

Patton’s smile faded as he turned his head from napping Virgil back toward the street. He tapped his feet on the grass as he kept waiting for Logan to return home.

10 minutes passed, and Logan had not returned yet.

Patton was getting restless, but at least Virgil was sitting next to him and waiting as well. That made him feel a bit better, especially considering that Virgil had keys on him and could very well have gone inside already. That made him feel a lot better.

Pat eventually conceded to use his phone to pass the time, despite wanting to observe the outside to keep himself occupied. He had watched the grass and leaves on the trees sway back and forth and back and forth for a while, but he found it hard to focus because of his jitters and fell victim to the tension of not checking his phone.

Patton scrolled distractedly for a few minutes, until, in the distance, he saw a side approaching from the park toward the house. Had Logan finally returned?

Shielding his katana back in its holder that was slung across his back, Roman waved once his hand was free. His logo-embroidered ruby and gold shield was suspended across his left arm with the help of two gray sequins-encrusted leather belts strapped across his forearm.

He proceeded back home at a quicker pace upon seeing the others. Patton’s smile returned when he saw how ecstatic Roman was.

“Greetings!” Roman announced as he stood in front of Patton and Virgil, a bit weary from the running.

“Hi Roman!”

Virgil looked up, sliding the headphones off of one side of his head once more. “‘Sup.”

“How was dragon hunting?” Patton was practically bouncing from anticipation.

“Alas, no devious creatures were found roaming the woods this evening. I was disheartened to find out I had spent my all my time prowling with no avail!” Roman cried out dramatically, sweeping his forehead with the back of his palm.

Virgil rolled his eyes and pulled his phone out of his pocket to mindlessly scroll social media.

“Well, at least we can rest assured knowing there’s no dragons out there that’ll come to attack us, right?”

“I suppose that hopeful news will have to satisfy me with my lack of findings,” Roman glanced away and slouched. He pulled off his shield and held the top of it, leaning it toward his side.

Roman then glanced back over and a puzzled look came over his face. “Say, why are you two sitting outside the front door, anyways?”

“I locked myself out!” Patton proudly proclaimed.

“I got nothing better to do,” Virgil shrugged, staring down at his phone and scrolling through what appeared to be Tumblr.

Roman pulled back his hair and shook his head. His burgundy, sword-shaped house keys locked onto his belt clinked upon each other as he shifted backward. “I suppose I have no other option but to accompany you two in your loitering. Someone has to stand guard to protect you both from danger.”

Roman crossed his arms and sat down on the wall of the house to the left of Virgil, who sat in the middle. He leaned his humongous, shiny shield on the wall to the left of him.

After a brief moment of pouting, Roman turned toward the other two with enthusiasm.

“While I did find no dragons today, I still do have some thrilling tales! Would you guys like to hear my story of the hieroglyphics I found while searching?”

Patton turned his head and gasped cheerfully. “Yes! Can I hear it? Please? Pleaaaase?”

“Since you asked so kindly,” Roman chuckled. “So, I was on my way to the dragon witch’s cave.”

“When I followed the creature’s footsteps, I found five symbols on the wall: A sword, a sun, two crowns, and a dragon scale.” Roman drew out each symbol while he described them.

Patton listened intently, enticed with the story.

Virgil glanced up, noticing the symbols Roman was making with his finger. Virgil hadn’t been listening this whole time, but these motions were enough to make him slide his headphones down to rest upon his neck.

“They looked suspiciously like claw marks,” Roman pointed a finger up to the sky declaringly, “so I knew they must have been made by the!-”

“Mind explaining to me why you three are outside, in front of the door, when we pay adequate rent each month for an apartment?” Logan stood above the three sides, dangling his house keys in his hand. There were two locked upon the metal ring, one shaped like a pencil with similar metallic colors and the other like a pen, complete with a cap. The three sides glanced over at him.

“Hi Logan!” Patton waved his hand. He paused, stricken with forgetfulness upon the excitement of seeing Logan again (what a dork). “What was the question?”

“Why you three are outdoors was the query I proposed and expect to receive an answer to in the near future.”

“Oh, right! I locked myself out since I forgot the keys. So, I thought I’d wait here until you got home to unlock the door!”

“Not an entirely unexpected response,” Logan darted his eyes between Roman and Virgil. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but you two must have your keys on you. Why are you both not inside yet?”

“Pat was just sitting here, so I joined him so it’d look like we were just hanging out.” Virgil shoved his phone back into his pocket. Patton smiled upon hearing Virgil’s answer.

“I had to protect these two innocent citizens from the dreaded dragons of the forest! I’d be breaking prince honor code if I wasn’t!” Roman gasped, offended that Logan would even suggest him leaving the two sides outside by themselves. Virgil scoffed and exhaled quickly through his nose, stifling a chuckle.

“But you found no dragons today-” Patton started.

“Shh!” Roman irritatedly shushed him. Virgil shook his head, looking down at his phone once more.

“That’s why I’m not inside right now,” Roman nodded.

Logan exhaled through his nose annoyedly. “Then, I assume I shall be the one to grant you all access to the apartment.”

Logan fumbled through his keys and stepped in front of the door.

Patton stood and strolled to stand beside Logan.

Virgil scooted over and sat next to the door.

Roman stood, picking up his shield and holding it horizontally on his arms as if it were a dinner plate.

Logan slid his keys into the lock and twisted them.

Click click.

Logan turned the handle. A creak and an open house awarded them.

Roman stared at Logan confusedly as he approached the door. “Hey, you’ve said before that being outside is good for the mind, and we’re usually cooped up inside most of the time anyway. Why are you so intent on getting us inside?”

“I have acknowledged before that being outside is important. However, I am not being contradictory. We have a house right here, and we’ve been out all afternoon. Shelter is vital, especially in this recent temperate weather. You do not wish to receive a heatstroke, do you?”

“Okay, Nerdlock Holmes, how am I supposed to get a heatstroke from a few minutes of lounging?”

Patton pushed himself between the two, uneasily trying to break up the argument and change the subject. “Well, maybe a heatstroke isn’t the only thing you’d have to worry about if you stay outside too long.”

Logan squinted his eyes and tilted his head upward. “And what else exactly would we have to fret about in that figurative scenario?”

Patton shrugged his shoulders awkwardly, chuckling to ease the tension. “Dee might be eating both of your Crofter’s as we speak.” He glanced down and quietly mumbled, “sorry.”

Logan glared upstairs at the window to Deceit’s room. “How did he get his hands on it again?”

“I miiiiiiiight’ve let him help bring the groceries inside so the jelly didn’t melt.”

“That MONSTER!” Roman cried, unsheathing his katana and wielding his shield on his arm. He rapidly sprinted up the stairs and to Deceit’s room, the thump thump thump of his speedy steps echoing through the apartment.

The three paused for a moment, stunned by the outrageous overreaction. Logan was the first to break the shocked silence.

“Patton, you must recognize that, despite your best efforts to incorporate him into our group, Deceit is not and will never be reasonable when given our personal belongings. You remember what happened last time, don’t you? We didn’t have any Crofter’s in the house for a week,” Logan remarked.

“I know, I know. But he still seems like he could maybe be—”

“Deceit, unhand the Crofter’s now, or face my unbridled wrath!” Roman’s yells echoed from upstairs.

Virgil violently burst out snickering, failing to stifle his amusement behind his palm.

Patton leaned inside and shouted, “Play nice, please!”

Logan shook his head. He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. “While I am discontented with this thievery, I am not going to react that erratically.” Logan gestured to the stairway with his free hand when referring to Roman’s ridiculous reaction. “I presume I should follow Roman upstairs to make sure him and Deceit do not have a jousting-esque confrontation that extirpates-” Logan irritatedly altered his wording once he saw Patton and Virgil’s puzzled expressions, “destroys the whole mindspace.”

Logan lifted his head and trudged inside, marching up the stairs behind Roman, who had already made his way inside Deceit’s room to hear the confession of villainous theft.

Virgil slid his headphones back over his head, snickering to himself. “Drama queens,” he mumbled to himself before treading inside.

Patton strolled in behind Virgil. He closed and locked the door behind him.

Click click.

#hi! hope you guys enjoy #this was made before remus so!! haha #ill try to post as much as i can #since i have a lot of old fics id like to share!#but anyways!! enjoy #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fluff #platonic famILY #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #deceit tw #tw deceit #food mention

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superlative-solaire · 5 years

Text

*[As he watches his brother flip the pancakes, a familiar scent thickening the air along with the sound of sizzling that fills the space between them, Solaire thinks back on the times in the past he has seen this exact sight. How many times has he watched Phthalo's busy back like this, a cobalt jacket clinging to slight shoulders as the usually-shorter skeleton balances on the step stool? How many times have they made easy morning conversation, or none at all, enjoying the telltale sounds of a peacefully shared home? It had been a daily routine, broken up only on occasion-- walking down the stairs with shuffling, heavy feet to be greeted with a quiet smile, and a gesture to sit and wait to be served.]

*[He'd come to accept many of his elder sibling's strange contradictions, his discrepancies. How a monster so lazy could be awake before he was; how they'd share this meal, and he'd tidy the kitchen dutifully like his room upstairs didn't look like a war zone. How he could grin so easily while he worked the batter, treating it like a pleasure rather than a chore, but would groan in dramatic agony the instant he was asked to pick up his sock.]

*[It's the little things he misses about living with someone else. Learning that everyone has their "ifs" and "buts," their moments that show a different side to their SOUL. If the world has taught him anything in 24 years, it's that there is no exception to the rule: everyone has more than one face. And it makes him feel less lonely, that way. To know more than one of someone, to have them know the many sides he has in return.]

*[When the house feels especially empty and lonesome, he even misses the bad days and faces. The days where he'd descend those steps to find the lights still off, and the kitchen empty. The days where he'd make a mess of his own trying to cobble together a decent breakfast, and knock on the door to Phthalo's room. Sometimes greeted by silence, other times a muffled acknowledgement. Leaving the meal there by the door, and finding a cleared plate when he returned home...or on the worst days, bringing it into the room and checking on his family’s well-being. It wasn't often he was allowed in the other's room, a need for privacy understood wordlessly by the two of them. Feeling useful in those times, feeling like family should-- the understanding that just by being there, physically, he could be there emotionally too. He could lend his support, and it was welcome. Appreciated, cherished even.]

*[It doesn't feel as real or as helpful to check on him over a text, or only when they get the chance to meet up like this. He knows he's a good brother, that it's not out of lack of love-- but he can't help but wish, sometimes, that they were still under the same roof each day. That he could be there the instant something goes wrong, aid with his problems, instead of merely offering support and comfort after it's already gone south. It's a present upset at the back of his mind, now that they're living separate lives...]

*[Because he's spent a lot of time worrying up close, and is learning that worrying from a distance is much more stressful. The kind of worry that doesn't feel productive.]

*[As Phthalo plates the pancakes-- bunny-eared, today, just like always-- he takes a moment to rub a hand over his sternum. As if to relieve an ache, or scratch an itch. And Solaire can feel it crawl right back into the cage of his ribs and curl up like a cat, that worry all over again.]

" ...ARE YOU FEELING ALRIGHT TODAY, BROTHER??? "

*[The question has Phthalo stilling his movements a mere split-second before his hands keep moving. When he looks to Solaire, it's from the corner of visible eye. The way his smile is pulled between two points is a tad too taught, too tight.]

* " uh...yeah. think so. "

*[The taller's brow draws inwards, corners of his mouth falling a smidge, and he leans a few inches further over the counter. Hands in his lap ball into loose fists, bare fingers bending into and away from bony palms-- finding the feeling unpleasant, and wanting to write it off as the absence of his favored red gloves. The likely half-truth, half-lie response bothers him more than he'd normally let it. Because if he was there, he'd know for sure. He'd have seen the signs and behavior before now, and could make that judgement. He'd have seen how well Phthalo has slept, or eaten; whether he's taken his medicine yet, today, and how well he's been getting around. It's taken careful observation over the years to pinpoint the warning signs...and now, he doesn't have that opportunity. Now, he's left free floating.]

" ...ARE YOU SURE??? BECAUSE YOU ARE ACTING LIKE IT IS BOTHERING YOU, AGAIN... "

*[Phthalo blinks a few times, owlishly. Stalling, perhaps, or pondering. Looking a little sheepish, a little ashamed, as he raises his phalanges to his collar bone in a telling move. Solaire recognizes the action immediately for what it is: nervous fidgeting. A bad habit that's stuck over many years as they grew.]

* " mean...'m a lil' off today, yeah. but 's no big deal, y'know. nothin' worth killin' the whole breakfast vibe over, heh heh. "

*[Sitting across from the younger of them both, sliding Solaire's plate across the table to him, Phthalo is quicker to take a bite than he should be. It saves him an instance of speaking, and he savors that.]

" ...I SEE. WELL, IF YOU SAY SO! "

*[As they eat, they maintain their usual banter back and forth. The day-plan sharing, the laughs through mouthfuls of food and the bits of pancake thrown here or there in jest. And as it goes on, Solaire fancies himself chewing slower and slower in an attempt to make it all last. Make their time together stretch across the hour, with a watchful eye masked as playful.]

*[Silence returns as breakfast comes to a close, Solaire clearing the table and Phthalo wobbling as he stands on tiptoes atop his bitty stool to take care of the dishes in their abnormally tall sink. Three times the taller offers to take that responsibility on, given he's more physically built to do it; three times he's turned down, albeit gently. When Solaire sets about his work while humming a tune, wiping down the counters, the smaller monster dares to join him-- and it is daring, given his lack of rhythm and the way he treads down an unbeaten, off-key path with a twinkle to the solitary star of his eye. He doesn't care if it sounds good, because it feels good.]

*[Solaire is almost ready to leave it lie, despite his brotherly instinct to meddle and overthink. So close to just letting the world keep spinning on its ass, come what may. But then he's gazing over just in time to see the way fingers tremble faintly as they hold the sudsy sponge, and the thin sweat cooling on a rounded skull.]

*[By the time Phthalo hops down from his veritable pedestal, drying his sore hands on the towel hung from the oven door, Solaire has stopped humming minutes ago. Instead, he seems rather focused on picking at a chip in the wood at the top of the chair, where his hands rest unsure. Without looking, he speaks in a voice that is just as tentative as the first dip of a toe into unknown waters. Like a child asking for permission, or for a treat at the store. Hopeful, but cautious.]

" WOULD YOU...COULD I CONVINCE YOU TO STAY HERE AND TAKE IT EASY, TODAY??? I AM SURE THAT YOU PROBABLY HAVE MOM STUFF TO DO STILL, BUT. YOU KNOW, FOR OLD TIMES' SAKE...??? "

*[-- And since when has Solaire done anything just for old times' sake? Just for the novelty? Phthalo isn't gullible, but he is conscious. He can hear the worry laced into the words, see it worked into the very body language his sibling exhibits. He knows that if he did go now...he'd just be worried about. A weight on the back to be carried, or extra stress to an idle mind. And that's the last thing he wants, because it'd have him worried just the same.]

* " mmh...yeah, i s'pose i really should, huh? "

*[He hadn't realized it was showing on his face, or embodying the tremor to his joints. And yet with Solaire behaving that way, it's clear now that he looks as unwell today as he's beginning to feel. The idea of lying back on that old couch with a plush blanket, and some tea, and the plethora of beanie babies that are sure to be brought down and arranged around him soothingly...it's nice. Madame seems to think so too, choosing then to walk between his legs and rubbing her soft sides against his bones as if to coax him into staying.]

*[And yet, even if it didn't sound like heaven to kick up his feet right now-- even if he did have important things to do today-- he knows he'd still stick around to rest up for at least a few hours. The way that his brother's countenance is now alight with relief, the way the worry exits through the bottoms of his feet and his shoulders bounce back up to their weightless default, is reason enough. To see that genuine smile return, that sunny show of pearly whites, is plenty.]

" REALLY??? GREAT!!! I CAN MAKE THE WHOLE LIVING ROOM A COZY LITTLE NEST, AND BRING DOWN ALL OF THE BABIES, AND TURN THE LIGHTS DOWN SO I CAN SET UP THE LAMP, AND-- "

*[Were it anyone else, Phthalo might feel guilty getting all of this attention and care. Definitely, in fact. But Solaire has said it more than once, each time taken to SOUL-- that he likes to feel like he's doing something to improve others' lives. That he likes to feel needed. That he truly does enjoy looking after this enigma of a skeleton, and getting his shot to flip the script. Today, he gets to play at being the older one. It's healing in different ways than intended, for Phthalo to be offered and accept such doting. To feel worthy of it, to feel like it isn't such a burden that he's sick. Has been sick. Might always be sick.]

*[But that's okay. Right now, it's all okay. Without meaning to, the little ex-sentry is sighing a laugh; warm, and earnest. It has Solaire pausing in his rant, his verbal checklist, and looking a bit embarrassed.]

" ...W. WHAT??? "

*[Response comes in the form of a nonchalant wave of a hand, Phthalo passing by to exit the kitchen into the living room. As he does so, a feather-light pat or two is placed against Solaire's shoulder with opposite hand-- or rather, as high up on the arm as he can reach.]

* " -- ehh, 's nothin'. "

*[But still, he's grinning like it certainly is Something. Making his way to the couch, Phthalo flops down onto it with a force that betrays the tenderness to his body. These cushions used to see so much use from him that he could barely recognize his own scent burrowed into the fabric and filling. But now they smell different, like new people, and places, and chapters in life. As he makes himself comfortable, at home, it all washes and settles over his head. That gaudy old rug that needs replacing, the sprinkle covered rock, even the lone glow-in-the-dark star still stuck to the ceiling that has likely lost its luminous qualities long ago.]

*[Some things change, but others stay the same. That's the nature of the beast, the truth of life. And maybe that isn't so awful? Maybe that's healthy. Because really...how else would it feel so nostalgic to revisit the parts of the past you hold dearest?]

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

*[The clock ticks steady on the wall, a cat's tail swinging left and right beneath. A very real statement, that specific furniture. Curtains are drawn closed, the air pleasantly cool. It's a calm sea Phthalo is set adrift in, stars lit upon the ceiling and walls as the lamp projects them outward. A heavy, fluffy, feline weight rests upon a weary chest that, strangely, rises and falls in steady sync. One ladybug beanie baby tucked under a snug arm. The TV is turned down low, voices and laugh tracks naught but whispers in the afternoon haze. Nearly inaudible snores and lidded eye are proof that relaxation has led to slumber, a needed rest.Turning the doorknob to exit ever-so-quietly, Solaire takes a second look over the scene with a SOUL that feels 3 times larger beneath the protective layers than usual. Madame cracks a single eye open, looking to him for a beat before nestling in further and rumbling a soft purr. Sure, he's hours late to his piano lesson-- but when he called Undyne up to inform her he would be, she was only minimally prying.]

*[As the door closes behind him, and his scarlet boots trudge through snow and ice, he hums cheerful pieces of assorted tunes to himself-- the world is as it should be, in good sorts, and he trusts it to remain that way until the next time it comes calling on its own. After all, he's not the only one looking after his brother, anymore. Right? And you know...that's more than okay too, he thinks.]

#💌 F2F!#💌 BROTHER!#long post #{i'm just saying that solaire and phthalo have the closest relationship of any of my skelebros}#{and that im very soft for positive sibling relationships okay!!!}#{enjoy this little bit of everything}

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inactive-zym · 4 years

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Zymphadora “Zym” Purpura CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT QUESTIONNAIRE

BASICS

1. Height?

5’4

2. Eye color, skin color, hair and horn color?

Completely, moonish white with no visible pupils.

Her skin is light purple like lilacs and her horns darken to near black-purple and lighten as they get longer, however the remaining sections of her horns are mostly dark.

Her hair is a darker shade of purple than her skin.

3. Do they need glasses?

No.

4. Scars and birthmark?

Zym has thin scars on her fingers and knuckles. Her knees and shins are also pock-marked from less than graceful falls from trees and stairwells while exploring her father’s estate.

Her broken horns are still jagged beneath the metal caps.

5. Tattoos and piercings?

Zym’s ears have several piercings, though they aren’t particularly dramatic or gaudy. She has two piercings on each lobe and two in the cartilage of her right ear where a small chain connects the two silver studs.

Delicate tattoos of her her favorite flowers drape across Zym’s shoulders and tumble down her sternum and across her collarbones. They flood down her left arm and across the back of her hand, but her right arm has yet to receive the same treatment and the flowers are limited to her shoulder on that side. Sunflowers, violets, lupins, cornflowers, trilliums, irises, and many more are all carved into her skin.

On the inside of her right upper arm, normally only visible when her arms are raised, is the symbol of her bandit crew, the Lurkers. The crudely drawn symbol itself is of a set of scales with a cartoonish eye sitting in both sides. The black, harsh lines are incongruent and ugly beside the flowers. Next to that is a small, equally crude bird in reference to Zym’s nickname within the gang. They called her their Larker rather than Lurker because larks always sing at daybreak and even while they’re flying unlike most other birds. The sight of a meadowlark is meant to signify abundance and good harvest as is the case when Zym reappeared after a heist.

FLOWER TATTOO REFERENCE

6. Right or left handed?

Ambidextrous.

7. Any disabilities? Physical or mental.

None.

8. Do they have any allergies?

Ironically, she has seasonal allergies and her favorite flowers make her nose stuffy.

9. Favorite color?

All of them, but pink especially.

10. Typical outfits?

Day-to-day Zym wears gathered white shirts that, while occasionally billowing or lacey, can be tucked into her waist or tightened to remove risks of it getting caught during her sneakier deeds. She rarely, if ever, bothers to button them up all the way and the tattoos down her chest and dancing on her clavicle are always in view. Pale rainbows of color, suggestions of what lies beneath the fabric, peek through the white as she moves.

She wears plain, often black or brown pants that are gathered and tucked into her laced boots. Both are unremarkable, but functional. Atop her pants she ties a shin-length skirt of light, breezy, and layered fabric of whatever color she decides on that day. Most often it will be pink, pale blue, or ivory. The skirt itself is not a full circle skirt and instead is much like a cape and ties secure around her waist with a ribbon. There’s always a slit up the side, but the fabric is bushy enough that the slit isn’t easily visible and it acts like a normal, full skirt. She can easily pull her skirt free if she needs to flee or climb, but she’s nearly always wearing it and it’s light enough not to encumber her. The layers of the skirt also hide the large number of small pockets and sheaths strapped along her thighs where she keeps her keys, trinkets, daggers, and her thieve’s tools all secure and easily accessible.

When cold, she wears thicker pants and a jacket that fits snugly to her frame. Alternatively she’ll wear billowing cloaks that are easy to throw off and leave behind. She wears no jewelry other than her earrings.

11. Do they wear any makeup?

She rarely bothers with makeup and her skills begin and end with lining her eyes in black kohl. When she wants to feel festive, or pretty, she’ll apply some.

12. What weapon do they use, if any?

She carries a short sword, a shortbow with a quiver of arrows, two daggers, and her thieves tools. The latter pieces of equipment are secured to her thighs beneath her skirt while the former hang from her waist or her pack.

PERSONALITY

13. Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?

She’s utterly, irrevocably, impossibly optimistic. Really, it should be rather concerning how hopeful she is and how enduringly cheerful.

14. Are they introverted or extroverted?

Extroverted, but not always in her excitable, hyperactive way; she desires to be near people and adores being in people’s silent presences as much as she does the bustling, loud atmosphere of a tavern or party.

15. What are their pet peeves?

People who are needlessly negative or who go out of their way to try and make others feel the same.

Squirrels. They’re always better climbers than she is and she doesn’t like it.

16. What bad habits do they have?

She bites the tips of her fingers when she’s nervous and is unable to sit still for long if she doesn’t have something specific to focus on. If she’s laying in wait and preparing to rob someone, she can stay still and silent for hours at a time. Similarly if she’s having an interesting conversation she won’t fidget. If not, she bounces on the balls of her feet, swings her arms back and forth, hums, spins or dances in place, and swooshes her skirt back and forth.

17. Do they have any phobias?

She’s scared of the dark, but it’s not quite a phobia as she can still function in darkness. It’s one of the many reasons she adores cities: their lights never dim. If she’s forced out into the wilds, she’ll refuse to leave the safe net of light from the campfires or insist on carrying the lantern or torch. If someone knows the Light cantrip that’s the person she’ll stick close to.

18. How do they display affection?

Zym is incredibly tactile and if given permission, or not outright refusal, she’ll hold anyone’s hand, link arms with them, hug, and kiss them freely. When given the opportunity, she’ll often show her affection for someone by merely pressing into their side and resting her head on their shoulders or lap.

She’s always enamored by one thing or another. An activity, a book, a performance and she’ll always want to share whatever neat thing she’s fixated on with people.

19. How competitive are they?

Extraordinarily. If she’s in the competition, she wants to win, but the moment it becomes too serious, or the fun is lost, she likewise loses her competitiveness as well as interest.

20. If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

She’d want her horns back. She knows her personality is pretty great, and so is her smile, and she’s a great thief and all, but her horns were always part of her. She’s an even better thief and burglar because of their absence and she no longer runs the risk of the long, curling protrusions catching on something or stopping her from fitting into small spaces, but she feels like she’s lost her crown and will be self-conscious about them.

21. Do they have any obscure hobbies or routines?

She loves to find academics and experts and ask them as many questions as possible. She’s both truly curious about anything and everything, finding art as well as plants endlessly fascinating, but she also wants to see how many questions it takes for them to become irritated with her. The better professors take several hundred questions, but the stuffiest, haughtiest ones only take three or four of her truest inquiries.

She then steals from the mean professors.

Before she joined the crew of thieves she would change her name every few weeks. Not for any particular reason, but they all got boring after awhile. Her name is from a very old, silly tale of adventure she read only a few weeks before joining the crew and it’s stuck for many years.

BACKSTORY

22. What are the names and ages of their close family members? Parents, siblings, etc.

Father [human]: Lord Argus Encrois, 67

Father’s wife [human]: Lady Gisella Encrois, 52

Their four legitimate daughters: Heather, 27; Holly, 25; Merilla and Jonie, both 20.

Too many bastard siblings to name: Aged 16-40s. She isn’t in contact with any of them, but fears the worst for some of the bastards left behind in Itresa and knows her father wouldn’t do anything to protect them or keep them from going to the plantations or into the slave army. They never cared for her, but she still wishes them the best.

She never knew her mother, but she knows she’s a tiefling. She likes to think that she’s a grand adventurer or thrill seeker, but also never wants to meet her because she might not like the truth.

23. Is their family alive and are they still in contact with them?

Yes. Definitely not. A few of the bastards she hadn’t minded, but they all acted as a hivemind and scorned her.

24. Where are they from? City, nation?

She was born and raised in Itresa.

25. Did they have a childhood best friend?

No.

26. Have they had any pets?

No. She wants a monkey, though. Especially the species that look like they have mustaches (Emperor tamarins).

27. Did they grow up rich or poor? What were their living conditions like?

Sort of rich, but mostly poor. She was raised as the ignored bastard daughter of a low-ranking, yet rich merchant noble and wanted for nothing but attention until her early teen years. Living on the streets she was technically homeless and often times penniless, but it never felt like poverty to her.

28. What is their educational background?

Tutored by the best and the adequate until she was fourteen and was thrown from the estate. Any other skills she has she picked up from people she met in Itresa, from being taught by members of the crew, and by harassing academics. She has fun facts about nearly any body of research, but very little technical or applicable knowledge.

29. As a child, what did they want to be when they grew up?

She wanted to be an adventurer and a treasure hunter. She still entertains herself with fantasies of far-fetched heists and journeys to the center of the world or to the depths of the sea in search for gold and magic. In a way she is a treasure hunter… she just happens to hunt for it in people’s houses. And pockets.

30. What advice would they give to their younger self?

Run away sooner and look back a little more.

31. Growing up, were they ever bullied or were they the bully?

Her half-siblings, the legitimate ones and her fellow bastards, all bullied her. She stared too much, she was too quiet, she moved too much, she spoke too much, her horns were funny, her eyes were scary, she was dumb, she was too smart, she was too fast, she was disrespectful, she was a know-it-all and a teacher’s pet. She could never do anything just right for them so she stopped doing anything for them at all and avoided them whenever possible.

32. Who do they look up to/who is their role model?

She used to say Garriss, the unquestionable leader of the Lurker crew, but now she has no one.

PRESENT

33. Do they currently have a place of residence?

Nope.

34. What is their most treasured possession?

She has a gilded, ever-sharp dagger she stole from someone her first week free and loose in Itresa. It’s never failed her and has a habit of always returning to her even when she thought it lost.

35. What is their drink of choice?

She hates bitter drinks, but anything else she likes. If offered coffee she has to put at least a pound of sugar in to enjoy it.

36. Which king/queen are they loyal to, if any?

None.

37. Have they ever killed anyone?

Never and she doesn’t want to.

38. What was their last promise and did they keep it?

She promised Garriss to keep her theft from the other crewmembers a secret. She kept it and technically has continued to keep it as no one gave her the opportunity to reveal the truth.

LOVE

39. What was their first kiss like, if they’ve had one?

She kissed a fellow street rat after they successfully upturned a market stall to avoid the raging guards and the tavern keep they’d stolen a bottle of mead from. She and the girl were street partners and hellions together for many months, but one day the girl left without a word and never returned.

40. Are they in a relationship/have a love interest?

No and beyond casual flirtation she’s never had an actual relationship.

41. Have they ever been in love?

Never, but she really wants to fall in love. She’s read about it and it sounds very nice.

42. Have they ever had their heart broken?

Only by her family, but not by a lover.

SPIRITUALITY

43. Do they follow a god, if so who?

No, but Mask and Sune intrigue her and she prays to them when she’s bored or needs guidance.

44. What do they think happens to them after death?

A sparkling void of something-something.

45. What is their spirit animal?

Sugarglider.

#zymphadora purpura #romtask #character development

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tjkiahgb · 6 years

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Episode Recap: 2.25, “The Cake That Takes the Cake”

We find Andi and Bex looking at rings to start the episode. I know money is probably tight, I know the proposal is unconventional, I know they’re shopping for Bowie, but why are they looking through the kind of rings you’d get out of the vending machines you put quarters into at the grocery store?

(Also, why is Bex wearing more rings than an 18th century pirate?)

I’m surprised these rings aren’t stored in plastic acorn capsules.

Andi finds a yin yang ring and they realize the message it sends about the universe and everything is the perfect one, even though the ring itself looks like it fell out of a Cracker Jack box.

They celebrate by screaming wildly in the middle of a jewelry store.

Meanwhile, Cyrus and Buffy hang out at the outside basketball courts on a snowy, freezing cold Summer Winter Spring morning.

(Why is that school bus parked in somebody’s driveway?)

Sorry to call out an actor here, but um... Sofia is not good at basketball. Like, at all. In fairness to her, she wasn’t cast to be a basketball player. She’s a very good actor. That’s her strength. Well, also dance. She’s also a good dancer. But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, basketball is not her forte. (Luke is better, but not great either. When you watch the one-on-one later, pay attention to how almost any time someone looks remotely fluid performing a basketball related action, you don’t see their face. It’s... noticeable.)

I say all this just as a fan of basketball who’s having a difficult time watching this scene. Anyway, I’m not really blaming her as much as the director. They’ve done a pretty good job this season of making her look good on the court, but this long, uncut shot of her dribbling and awkwardly pulling up to shoot was a poor choice.

Cyrus tries to pump Buffy up, especially because there’s a basketball game on Friday and Cyrus wants Buffy to rejoin the team. Buffy won’t though.

Cyrus thinks it’s because of TJ. He tries to explain that TJ’s a completely different person. He even got a “C” on a math test.

(It was what now?)

Cyrus says he was like a puppy. Buffy, undeterred, says he’s still a puppy she doesn’t want to play with.

Listen, Buffy’s feelings of anger towards TJ aside, “I don’t want to play with that puppy” is an inherently false statement like “I don’t need oxygen to live,” or “I’m perfectly fine with being set on fire,” or “Oh, you don’t have Coke? That’s great! Pepsi was my first choice!”

Andi and Bex walk together just a couple hundred yards from where Cyrus and Buffy are.

Same bus, same house.

Season’s almost over. Sort of sad the last time the GHC shared the same room was when Buffy and Cyrus walked by in the background of Andi and Jonah’s date planning at Cloud 10, and their last interaction was 15 seconds of looking at each other while Jonah and Walker talked at the art show. Andi and Bex should’ve stopped by the court to say “Hi” at least.

But they didn’t. They’ve got their own thing to do. They’re planning the proposal for tonight. Andi is upset they’ve already used the “hide the ring in a pizza box” plan. They decide to hide the ring in a cake instead. Feels like someone should tell them you can propose without hiding rings in food. In fact, most proposals aren’t “hiding rings in food” based.

Andi decides they should drop in on Bowie at Red Rooster and invite him to dinner, real low-key and casual. It’s such a simple plan. All they have to do is not act like a dentist just pumped them full of nitrous oxide. There’s no way it can fail.

Welp. Maybe they should’ve just texted him? Bowie thinks they’re up to something but isn’t a detective, so he’s unable to piece together anything more than that.

Later, Andi and Bex put together the cake. They stuff the ring inside.

Not a fan of this at all. The pizza plan had the ring safely in a holder on top of the pizza. This is a big hazard! The only thing preventing tragedy is an easily movable toothpick. You want a surefire way to ruin a proposal? Have the guy you’re proposing to choke to death on a little chunk of metal. You are playing with fire here.

Still, they’re happy with their plan. Until they turn around and see they’ve made a huge mess.

One bigger than you might think possible for making just one little cake. And why are there sprinkles everywhere? There are no sprinkles on the cake! What were they even doing in there?!

This has become such a mess, they decide they can’t continue to make food here. They’ll use Celia’s kitchen (and her dining room and her dishes) instead and leave this mess to animated forest animals to clean up.

Bex, if you leave this mess sitting out for the rest of the day, the only animals that are going to show up to take care of it are ants. Do you want ants? Because that’s how you get ants.

Cyrus and Buffy show up at the gym. Cyrus excuses himself to grab something out of his locker, which should be Buffy’s first clue that something is up. There’s no way Cyrus has anything important in his gym locker.

TJ shows up. Buffy says, “Well, well, if it isn’t Jock-iavelli” thinking she’s gonna catch TJ off-guard, but TJ knows who Machiavelli is because he has a numbers-related learning disability, not a lack of intelligence.

Buffy really walked into that one.

TJ tells her he got a two-game suspension for Buffy doing his homework. That makes Buffy feel better. It also feels like something he could’ve mentioned to soften the blow back in that scene that shall not be mentioned. If he was suspended from the team with Buffy, that certainly makes the outcome of that scene look more like a careless mistake on his part than a Jockiavellian chess move. It’s two months later and the writing of that scene still bothers me with how incoherent and discordant it is. But, really, though, who even cares anymore? (I mean, besides me. I do. But I’m not well. So...)

TJ’s back on the team and wants to know why Buffy isn’t coming back. He tries to goad her into playing when Cyrus shows up too soon and blows his and TJ’s plan by asking if they’re going to do a one-on-one match or something.

Buffy figures out their game but still grabs her gym clothes to get ready. She doesn’t turn down a challenge, even a sloppily executed one.

Yeah. You gotta at least do a dry run. Use Trash Can Buffy. She’s hasn’t been talked to in weeks and is probably very lonely.

Speaking of very lonely, Bex visits Celia, but only to trick her into leaving her house. Bex has gotten Celia a suite for the night with room service and spa treatment (all charged to Ham, of course).

Sort of feels like: you know Celia’s having a tough time, and you know she loves Bowie, why not let her stay and be a part of this? I get if it’s going to be intimate, but Andi’s going to be there. It’s already two generations of Mack women. What’s one more? She’s close family. It’s not like you’re inviting Gus.

Celia heads off to her one night vacation and Bex sneaks Andi into the house via the backdoor. Andi has supplies for dinner and a newfound appreciation for pots.

Pots. Is there anything they can’t do?

Back at the gym, TJ and Buffy start their one-on-one. Cyrus keeps score. Former bitter enemies! A competitive one-on-one! Friendships on the line!

What will happen?! The drama is starting to heat up and then we cut to--

ASPARAGUS!

SALAD!

A CHEEEEEESE PLAAAAAAATEEEEEE!!!

Can you feel the excitement?! Is it pumping through your veins like so much red hot blood?!

Bex takes a chicken out of the oven!

Andi shucks corn!

Fasten your safety harness! You must be this tall to ride and women who are pregnant or thinking of ever becoming pregnant should get back. If you have a heart condition, you’d better look away! You. Will. Die!

I’m sorry. I know I’m going in way too hard on this scene. It’s still Andi’s show and her story still has to be at the forefront. But this episode was killing me.

I know everything before the big scene at the end with Bowie -- the ring picking, the planning, the cake baking, the food preparing -- is all in service of setting it up. But the dramatic stakes in these scenes are almost nil. It’s just like, a bunch of happy montage stuff. Which I normally don’t have a problem with on this show -- it’s usually cute and peppy -- but when you compare it to the actual interesting stuff that’s going on at this exact moment in the gym? The two scenes are so many dramatic miles apart that you can’t stand at one and see the other. It’s somewhere beyond the horizon.

And it’s especially irritating when you’re cutting away from the gym in the middle of the drama to this fluff. It’s giving me whiplash.

Anyway, Andi asks Bex how much corn she should shuck and Bex says to shuck ‘em all and let God sort them out.

Then Bex just starts listing food they have sitting on the counter in plain sight for all to see.

They wonder if this is too much food. Andi remembers they made a cake, too. Bex says that’s right, they did make a cake! Do you remember when they made a cake? Do you remember that scene? I do. It was literally five minutes ago. It wasn’t even in a different act. It was this same one after the commercial break. But I’m so glad to be reminded. Thank you for reminding me. Let’s remember some more things. Remember when Andi was shucking corn and asked how many corns she should shuck and Bex said shuck ‘em all? That was good times. I hope this scene continues for several more minutes as we just remember those moments. Maybe Bex can list the foods she sees near her one more time.

Terri Minsky, if you read this, I’m sorry. I’m just joking around.

But you do make me crazy sometimes.

We head back to the gym where several basketballs bounce across the floor like Old West tumbleweeds.

It’s also kind of a weird thing to happen in a gym with only three people in it. Who knocked over the basketball cart?

TJ and Buffy trade baskets back and forth. Cyrus is fading but still keeps score.

It feels like this puts TJ at a disadvantage, because of his dyscalculia. This is blatant math privilege.

Buffy finally beats TJ to the rim and puts in a layup to win their battle. Buffy celebrates and the crazed fan in attendance storms the court.

Cyrus and Buffy hug. TJ and Buffy congratulate each other on a good game. Cyrus says that means the plan worked. It’s been proven through science that TJ and Buffy can play together and thus, Buffy needs to rejoin the basketball team.

But Buffy says she’s still not going to. But she’s not going to quit basketball. She’s starting a girls’ team instead. Cyrus and TJ give her props for having an even better-er plan than their plan.

At Celia’s, Bex and Andi anxiously await Bowie’s arrival. He finally shows up, but he says he’s brought a surprise with him.

And that surprise is, a group of vagrants?

Or it’s just Bowie’s band. Or maybe... both?

The band showed up out of the blue and they’re staying for dinner. So. That’s neat. What a neat little thing for them to do without asking ahead of time.

Andi and Bex decide they’re still going to go through with the proposal, though.

TJ, Cyrus, and Buffy walk together out of school. Cyrus thinks they can all be friends now. TJ thinks so, too. But Buffy is not so sure because she hasn’t done anything horrible to TJ like he’s done to her.

She thinks she’s forgiven him but friendship might still be out of reach. Maybe, she says, if TJ delivered the best apology ever. Cyrus asks him to give a shot. TJ takes a deep breath and...

Wait. Let’s stop a second here.

We’ve talked a lot about the acting on the show this season, especially as far as the kids go. There have been several really touching, deep moments that they’ve handled with excellence.

But nothing. Nothing! Compares to what happens here.

If you came to me before this episode and told me that TJ was going to deliver his end-of-redemption-arc apology to Buffy via a super-sincere, basketball-themed rap, I would’ve shouted “No!” and I probably would’ve taken a swing at you. And that’s knowing full well it wasn’t your fault. It’s not even with intent to hurt you. It would just be my body reacting to that stimulus with some kind of violent impulse I couldn’t control. Lashing out at that specific moment because it would be the only way I could think of to express myself.

But here’s the thing. The fact that I not only didn’t cringe so hard that I burst into flames while watching this, but that I actually thought it worked and I really liked it as a moment? Give Luke all the awards for pulling that off. Give him an Emmy. Give him a Tony, too. Give him the whole damn EGOT and throw in a People’s Choice Award and a Nobel Prize in Physics with it.

So, Luke/TJ/DJ Fruity Mixitup launches into this crazy rap and it’s so... freakin’... sweet. He’s not making a joke about it or anything. It’s heartfelt and honest. This is like publicly apologizing to a trash can to the tenth power. I still can’t believe this is happened.

Terri Minsky, I forgive you for all the food montages.

Also, I know there’s been some talk about Cyrus making him do this, but there’s no way that entire thing was freestyle. Some is. He obviously had to incorporate the new information about the girls basketball team. But the rest? I mean, I’ll argue all day that TJ isn’t dumb, but I don’t think he’s some rap prodigy. He absolutely knew coming in that he was going to apologize to Buffy today. It was part of the plan. And if he didn’t spend a couple of hours writing out the majority of that rap, he at least took the time to sit down and outline it. You don’t just drop a Liam Neeson reference out of nowhere.

Buffy accepts the apology. Maybe they can be friends.

TJ heads off, but not before looking back.

Which is interesting to us as an audience, because we understand the significance. But in the show, only Jonah and Amber do. Cyrus and Buffy don’t.

So you’d imagine the conversation would go like:

Buffy: Is he looking back here? What does he want?

Cyrus: I don’t know. (shouting) What?

TJ: (shouting) Huh?!

Cyrus: What- do you need something?

TJ: What?

Cyrus: Did you forget something?

TJ: No. I’m just looking back!

Cyrus: Why?

TJ: It means something! It has significance!

Cyrus: Huh?!

TJ: Forget it! We’ll solve this in season three!

Cyrus: (waving) Ok! Bye!

...and scene.

Back at Celia’s, this odd, odd dinner party is in full swing. Bowie and the only guy in the band who talks exchange stories from the road when Celia shows up to bust the party.

Celia’s upset until Bex explains they’re going to propose to Bowie. And then Celia is not so upset anymore.

Back at the dinner table, they prepare the cake. Before they can get to the ring, though, the only guy in the band who talks speaks up. He has something to say first, to Bowie. See, the band came here especially to see Bowie. Then the band member gets on one knee.

Terri Minsky, you monster! For making the gayest moment in this episode occur between Bowie and his band’s drummer, you are once again on the bad list!

Even Celia’s like, this is some gay stuff going on here.

The band member says the band has booked their first international tour and they need him back. Bowie is honored but thinks about Andi. The band member asks him to come for just six months, but Bowie can’t.

But then Andi and Bex tell him he can, so Bowie says he’ll think about it.

Andi and Bex break off to talk. They want him to go on the tour. Bex says for that to happen though, she can’t propose, because if she does, he won’t leave. Andi says propose and tell him it’s ok to go. As long as he’s locked down, it’s all good. Celia shows up and says don’t let him go in the first place. The argument continues. Bex says they can’t propose if one of them doesn’t want to, but Andi says that’s a new rule and not allowed.

Oh, right. This is why you don’t do joint proposals.

They want to cut the cake out in the dining room. Andi and Bex tell Celia the ring is in the cake and she, rightly, points out that that’s a worse choking hazard than the toothpick she pulled out of it.

They go running out to the dining room and Bex does the only thing she can think of: shoves her hands deep into the cake.

Then Andi joins in. And so does Bowie.

Celia warns the band members that none of these three have washed their hands, as if those guys don’t look like they eat most of their meals off the floor of the tour van.

After thoroughly destroying the cake, Bowie comes across the ring.

He wants to know what it is, and Andi and Bex respond as only Macks under pressure can: with a lot of “Um”s.

We cut to black and that’s that for season 2.

Whew. What a ride. And now begins another long, cold hiatus.

Hey, if you’ve read any of my recaps this season, thank you so much. I’ve got a few more things planned for the near-term following this, but pretty shortly I’m going to take something of a hiatus, too, to do other stuff with my life until season three. I’ll pop in and out, but I probably won’t be doing too much writing, so if you want to discuss some of what’s happened, send your asks in soon. Feel free to send silly asks, too, but fair warning, I’m aiming to just do some analysis type posts related to season 2 for now, while it’s still relevant and fresh in our minds. I’m not ignoring you, but silly asks will probably be put off until season 3.

Otherwise, see you guys on the other side.

#Andi Mack #Bex Mack #Cyrus Goodman #Buffy Driscoll #TJ Kippen #Bowie Quinn #Celia Mack #Andi #episode recaps

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namjoonsteeth · 6 years

Text

Back To You- Day 5

Title: Back To You (mini-series) Day 5 of 7

Word-Count: 4.4k

Summary: Jay has been Eden’s weakness for far too long. As much as she tells herself she’s over him, all it takes is one call for her to drop everything and fly to Rome for a week to help him out. He wants a second chance, she just wants to stop being so foolish when it comes to him. They both have 7 days in Italy to figure it out.

How do you miss someone who’s right next to you?

“Stay with me tonight,”

Our trip to Paris ended a little after midnight, leaving me standing in front of Jay’s door an hour and a half later. This one request has so much sincerity that I don’t even think twice before I’m nodding. I miss him. I’ve missed him for two years. When we were arguing, fighting like hell, avoiding each other, I still longed for him. For the time when I just had to blink and his arms would be around me.

His fingers twist in mine as he pulls me into his room. I’m not tired. I’ve been up and active all day, so I should be exhausted. I’m still too keyed up. It’s him. It’s the endorphins. It’s the feel of his mouth on mine at the Eiffel Tower while lights bounced off his skin onto mine.

I’m so happy. In spite of all the things I told myself before coming to Italy under the rouse of bandaging my heart, I’m still so fucking happy. Even if it wasn’t Paris today, even if he hadn’t put so much thought into my favorite places, it would have all ended the same way. With me asking why I waited so long.

“You’re in your head, Eden,” his hand reaches out to settle on the side of my neck. “Don’t regret anything, please,”

“I don’t. I’m here,” I remind him. I can’t run anymore.

Whatever is meant to happen will happen. For so long we’ve been a book unclosed, left to be picked up whenever. But this is it, there’s nothing else written passed trip. If we’re together after Italy, that’s just the end of it. If not, that’s the end of it too.

“I’ll get you some clothes,” he says while going over to his dresser. I lean against the wooden pole of the bed frame, twiddling my thumbs.

“Sit, baby,” he looks at me from behind his shoulder. His slitted eyebrow rises in amusement. He thinks I’m nervous. I kind of am, but not like he’s thinking.

Truly, I’m aching to see him naked. I want his body more than I want to hide away from him, but it’s still too soon. I feel it in my gut. There are too many questions unanswered. Too much guessing about what happens next. It would be too easy to say none of that matters if his body is on mine. I’m sure my mind would go sufficiently blank if he’d held himself against me, but the after...

“Take your shirt off, Jay,”

I don’t know what I’m saying. I don’t think my brain has been in control of any of my decisions since I threw that handful of change into the fountain. It’s all heart now.

He turns around to look at me. His arms cross over his chest. He looks smug like he doesn’t believe me. Like I’m bluffing. Fuck, if I am. His eyes move across my face like he’s search for a crack. He won’t find one. I’m dead serious.

“You first,” he laughs out.

I don’t waste time. I watch as his eyes take in my fingers unbuttoning the crisp powder blue button-up I’m wearing. His eyes widen with each inch of skin that’s revealed.

“Fuck, Eden. What are you doing?”

He turns back to the dresser like he’s giving me privacy. It’s laughable. It’s the last thing I want right now. I want to reacquaint myself with his body.

“You think I’m testing you,” I say taking a step toward him.

“Are you drunk?”

“You’re ridiculous,” I laugh. When I’m behind him, I reach out to slide my hand under the fabric of his T-shirt. His back flexes and shivers as I touch him.

“Eden,”

“Take your shirt off,” I repeat, pressing my mouth against his shoulder. “I’m one hundred percent sober and one hundred percent serious,”

He groans, it’s low in his chest as he spins to look at me. His hands go to my thighs, lifting me so that they wrap around his hips. His mouth glues to my neck, as he walks us toward his bed. My hands brush the top of his scalp, holding him against my body as my back hits the mattress.

“Jay, I-,”

His lips eat up whatever I’m going to say. It’s erased as he kisses me like he’s been in a desert for 40 days and nights and I’m the first glass of water he’s had. The bulge in his zipper presses against my core and I’m ready for us to have no clothes on.

Then he stops.

Very suddenly.

He pulls himself away from me and sits on the edge of his bed. I watch as his fingers scrub roughly at his scalp before he stands. His legs carry him across the room and back then back again. He’s pacing. Actual pacing, back and forth, hands on his hips.

“Jay,”

“Don’t talk, I’m trying to think about investments and contracts right now,”

His brows furrow and he continues to move. Rolling my eyes, I get up and wrap my arms around his waist to still his body.

“Eden,” he protests and tries to get out of my grip.

“I just wanted you to touch me,”

“I know,” he says still gently pushing my arms away from him. “I know. And I want to. Way too fucking much. I want to keep you in this room until it’s time to go home. But,”

“But,” I raise my eyebrows. I’m disappointed. That’s really an understatement. I’m confused and very turned on.

“You’re still figuring out your feelings. I want us to be solid before we,” He trails off.

He can’t look at me. It’s cute. Really, it is. But it’s really fucking inconvenient. Jay is Jay. He likes sex. He likes to have lots of it. We have had lots of it. And from what I can remember, he thoroughly enjoyed having sex with me.

“If I beg it won’t change your mind?”

“Please don’t,” he whines. “I feel like my dick is staging a mutiny right now,”

I laugh and lean my forehead against his chest. My heart is full. He’s right. Of course, he is. I just need to let my rampaged libido know.

“Ok,” I sigh dramatically. “I’ll leave you alone. I’ll go figure my shit out in the shower,”

“Eden, dammit,” he curses. I watch as he snatches up a T-shirt and pair of shorts from his drawer and throws them in my arms. He grabs his own clothes and his toiletry bag and heads for the door.

“Where are you going?” I roll my eyes.

“I can’t be here while you’re doing that shit,” he says. “You’re really trying to end my life. I’m showering in Chase’s room,”

He leaves me without time to answer, the door slamming behind him. He’s ridiculous. He’s cute too. I feel like I’m floating. I’m giddy but not uncomfortable. I feel like we haven’t missed a beat in the last two years. This is the Jay that caught me. This is the Jay that still has me.

When he peeks his head in, I’m showered and in his bed, scrolling through a list of locations for my shoot with Hoody. His eyes narrow on me when he sees I ditched the work out shorts for a pair of his boxer briefs that hide beneath the long T-shirt.

“Why do you do this,” he deadpans, climbing in beside me. His hand runs up my right leg and settles on my thigh.

“So you’re good to touch me now?” I tease. I set my phone to the side. I want to give him all my attention.

“Boundaries and self-discipline, baby,”

“You’ve grown up so much,” I laugh.

“I just-,” he pauses. He’s suddenly serious and I reach out to touch his jaw. “I don’t want to fuck this up with sex,”

I nod to myself. At least one of us can be rational. Even though I’m literally in heat with him this close to me, he’s right. Slow in all areas is what we need.

“I get it,” I lean down to kiss him quickly. “You’re right,”

I try to draw back but he follows me. “But, as soon as we get settled. It’s over for that ass,”

I laugh loudly. “You literally ran away from me because you couldn’t get your dick in order. We’ll see who taps out first,”

He looks at me, his smile softening. I miss this look. This look isn’t a new one. I think that’s how I know. All of it, it was as real and pure and as intense as I thought. Now, I don’t just want him naked. I want him slow, moving with me as we remind each other that we could never belong to anyone else.

“You’re still the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life, Eden. I mean it, you know I do,” He reaches out to grab my fingers in his.

“You’re so soft,” I whisper.

“If it’s not you, it’s no one. I’m not saying that to guilt you into being with me. But I can’t be with anyone else. I can’t touch or see anyone else, Eden. Everything has always come back to you,”

I feel my throat clog with emotion. It’s everything I’ve wanted to hear for so long. I reach out and bring his face back to mine. I can’t imagine anyone else either. I don’t even want to think about the few relationships that couldn’t even get a fair chance.

“Don’t cry,” he laughs softly. “Don’t cry,” his thumbs move under my eyes.

“How can I not,”

He pulls me into his arms and we lay in his bed looking at each other. I can’t go to sleep now. I want to look at him some more. I want to talk all night. I want to just be here.

We talk for too long. We laugh at each other’s stories. Our hands find each other and every so often so do our lips. I don’t know how long passes before he switches off the light and pulls me against his chest.

We’re quiet for a while. I press my back against his chest and just listen to him breathing. It’s weird. Maybe it’s not. When you’ve missed someone this much, nothing is too much.

His limbs tangle in mine and it brings back so many memories. Younger, naive me; happy that a pretty boy had his hands on every part of my body. I understood famous people. They push you away as soon as they’ve had their fill. I was prepared for that. But Jay never pushed me away. He held tighter with each day that passed on that month-long tour that seemed to last forever, he held me tighter than I thought possible.

“Do you think we went too fast back then?” I ask the darkness.

I know he isn’t asleep. Even after so long I know his breathing patterns. He’s still awake, his fingers tracing right under the T-shirt he’d let me borrow. “It was fast,” he says. He shifts so that his mouth presses against the side of my neck. “But it was just as intense. We experienced everything that we would have if that month was stretched over a year,”

“How,”

“We spent every day together, and most of those days we were glued to each other for hours. Some couples see each other once every weekend. We had them beat,”

I think about that a lot. How everything seemed so rushed back then, and if that’s why it really went to shit. Did I have the right amount to build trust and all that other stuff a stable relationship is supposed to have?

“What are you thinking about?” Jay asks me.

I shift, turning in his arms so that my chest presses against his. I feel so good right now. Like I’m finally in arms that are meant for me. Everything else between back then and now was useless filler.

“We loved each other a lot, didn’t we?”

“An insane amount,” he agrees.

“And you think we can get back there?”

Jay’s mouth presses against my forehead. He pulls me closer to him. I’d be lying if I didn’t think I could be right here with him at the beginning of the week, but even know it seems far-fetched. Like we’re stretching something fragile to see how far we can go.

“I love you, Eden,”

My pulse hammers against my temples. He’s said variations of it at different points in the week, but I’ve never heard him say it sober. I remember him drunk, on the phone, and telling me he loved me so much. That’s what made me let him in that night. He’d melted my heart with those four words just like he’s doing now. Only this time, it’s worse. He isn’t drunk, and I’m hanging off each word like it’s the only thing holding me afloat.

“I love you,” he repeats. “I’ve tried to minimize all of this. I’ve tried to put you away in a box, but nothing worked. I can’t stop thinking about you,”

His hand comes up against the side of my neck, drawing me closer. His warm breath washes over my face as he closes in on my mouth. He parts my lips and kisses me deeper than I’m prepared for. Anticipation rolls deep in my belly but I have to force myself to behave.

When he pulls back, I’m dazed and breathless. Still high off of Paris, I’m feeling especially weakened right now. I want to give him everything. Anything he could ask for at this moment already belongs to his; especially my body.

“Sleep, baby,” he says finally, smoothing my hair down. “We get more time,”

I close my eyes, not because I’m sleepy, but because I’m eager to see him again. I’m a lost cause. And I’m ok with that.

Morning comes too quickly. I feel the loss of Jay’s arms like a cold air blowing directly against my body. I stretch and reach for him, upset that he left without waking me. When I open my eyes he’s sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Morning,” I reach for the back of his T-shirt.

“Your boyfriend has been calling non-stop for like twenty minutes,”

That’s not exactly what I expect as a response.

Jay hands me my phone and moves around the room. His movements seem angry as he pulls work out clothes from his drawer and heads to the bathroom. I look at the flashing cellphone in my hand. A picture of me with my ex-boyfriend’s face pressed against my neck flashes up at me.

“Shit,” I forgot to get rid of his contact picture. In my defense, I was a little worried about the extent of my interactions with Jay. It completely slipped my mind.

“Hello?” I ask quietly. I need him to stop calling me. It feels wrong. It is wrong. Especially after I spent the night with Jay.

“Eden, are you ok?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I pause for a minute, unsure of what to say. “Did you need something?”

He sighs. “I’m just checking on you. Just wanted to make sure that you’re sure about everything,”

I run my hand through my hair. I know how Jay is. I know his temperament when it comes to things like this; which is fucking ironic all things considered.

“I’m not, but in figuring it out. You can’t call me. Especially, not when-,”

“You’re with him?” He finishes.

“I’m really sorry. I wish things could’ve been different,”

“You mean you wish you weren’t in love with him,”

Jay comes back out of the bathroom. The atmosphere is awkward and I hate it. I’ve had the best twenty-four hours of my life all because of the time we spent together. I don’t want it to end. Not today or even at the end of the trip.

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just wish you didn’t get hurt because of me,”

“Well, I did. I am,”

Jay sits on the edge of the bed and starts to put his shoes on.

“Listen, I appreciate you calling to make sure I’m ok, but I have to go. And you can’t call anymore, ok?”

“Bye, Eden,”

He hangs up. I’m waiting for Jay to say something but he doesn’t. He gets up to leave but I grab his arm, pulling him towards me again.

“Is this a tantrum?” I ask.

Jay rolls his eyes. “I’m going to work out,”

“You’re leaving mad,”

“I’m not mad,”

I climb to get up on my knees and wrap my arms around his neck. I press my lips against his jaw, trailing down his neck. We haven’t been this intimate but now seems like the best time.

“I broke up with him right before I came here. I knew I couldn’t go on a trip with you, feeling the way I do, and still be faithful to him. It’s not fair to him, but it would be worse if I didn’t end it,”

I kiss his neck again before climbing in his lap. “Also, you’re being a baby,”

His arms come around me so I don’t fall on the floor, but he still avoids my eyes. I reach out to squeeze his cheeks together between my fingers.

“You can’t be mad,”

“I’m not mad at you,” he insists.

I roll my eyes at him and drop my hands back in my lap.

“Did you love him?” He asks suddenly.

God. He’s really something. I pull away from him and stand up. I’m not going down this road with him. Especially when I didn’t do anything wrong.

“Have a good work out, Jay,”

“Eden,”

I go over to his drawer and pull a pair of sweatpants out and step into them. He must see me muttering curse words under my breath because he gets up and makes his way over to me.

“I’m not dealing with you, Jay,” I warn.

“It’s just a question,” he says.

“No, you’re digging and trying to make me feel bad. It’s not fair and I’m not explaining anything else to you,”

“Eden,” he calls again.

I move around him, searching for my purse. His arms come around my waist and pull me against his chest. He’s so strong I don’t even bother trying to get away.

“I’m wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,”

“Well, you did,”

He sighs and presses his face into my neck. I stand still unable to move.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally. “I promise it’s not you. I’d never blame you for anything. I wish we could skip through all the bad stuff. I wish I didn’t fuck up so badly,”

My body sags against him. I get that feeling. Like trying to fast forward through the filler parts of a movie and trying to pause at the perfect time. It feels like we’re on fast forward at a risk of skipping the most important parts or getting to the end too fast. For us, the end of the week might as well be the end of the movie. There’s no guarantee of anything once we get on a plane in opposite directions.

“Let’s not think about any of it anymore,” I whisper.

His chin tucks in my neck as he leans against me. Arms around my waist tighten like he’s trying to anchor me against him.

“Promise me that we’ll try to make everything work,”

I reach up and run my fingers over his hair. It does get lost on me how crazy it is that I get to do this. That I can touch him again after two years of denying myself.

“I’m here,” I tell him. I feel like that’s all I’ve been thinking and feeling for the last day and a half.

I feel him shake his head.

“That’s not what I mean, Eden. Not just this moment. I need to know that a week from now you’ll feel the same. I need to know that from here on out you’re mine again,”

My heart is beating too fast. If I could think about the one thing I’ve truly wanted for the last two years, it’s this. It’s these arms around me, holding me like nothing’s change like it’s the very first time. I can admit that I want it to work out so bad.

“It’s always been you, Jay,” I turn in his arms and lay my ear against his chest. “No matter how many times I told myself that it would never happen with you, none of it mattered because part of me knew that you’d show up again. You’d find a way back under my skin, and I knew I wouldn’t fight you,”

I look up at him. He’s so familiar. For how little time we’ve spent together, I feel like I couldn’t possibly know his face better than I already do. I’ve kissed every inch, traced my fingers over every feature, memorized each eyelash until I lost count. This face, this man, he’s mine.

“We’ll figure it out,” I tell him. “Whatever happens, we’ll figure it out together,”

It’s not what he wants to hear, I know. It’s the ‘whatever happens’ part I’m sure. But right now it’s all I can give him.

I don’t see Jay for the rest of the day. After he left to work out, I went to my own room. I had to push my embarrassment aside as I reintroduced myself to hoody. Thankfully she didn’t ask about the night before or why I wasn’t in our shared room.

She waits for me to get showered and dressed before we head out for her shoot. I can’t focus. We get everything done an hour and a half after planned. I missed a lot of good shots because I can’t stop thinking about Jay.

It’s not like he’s asking for too much. He doesn’t want to be left in limbo. I get it. And I’m there with him. There’s just a single piece left. Something holding me back that I can’t put my finger on. I don’t know why I can’t give him a solid yes. I don’t know why I can’t just *be*.

I have dinner with Hoody to make up for being such bad company. We bond over being the only females that the AOMG guys are not allowed to touch. We laugh about how ridiculous the boys all are but how they’re really family. It’s good. It’s distracting. But it only lasts so long.

I text Jay.

Eden: I miss you. I’m really a pain in the ass, right?”

He responds immediately.

Jay: I love you. Even the parts that keep me on hold

Eden: I’m sorry

Jay: don’t be. I’m not worried.

Eden: you’re not.

Jay: no, because there’s no other option for us. It’s me and you Eden. We’ll fall into place

Eden: you’re going to wait me out?

Jay: what do you think I’ve been doing for the last two years?

I pull my lip between my teeth as I think about him. Another message pops up before I can reply.

Jay: two more years if I have to Eden. And two more years after that. And after that. However long it takes.

Eden: I better figure my shit out quick then. You’re already old

He sends me a middle finger emoji followed by another message.

Jay: Come see me tonight before bed

And of course, I go to him. He lets me in, a towel over his shoulder. His dark hair drips wet circles onto his grey T-shirt. I want him. This was a bad fucking idea.

“I just came to say goodnight,” I say more to myself than him.

“It’s for the best. You aren’t wearing a bra,” he says it so nonchalantly that I can’t help but laugh. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t trying to tempt him just a bit.

“Goodnight, Eden,” it’s like he knows exactly where my thoughts are.

“Good night, Jay,” I reach out my hand for him to shake.

He laughs shaking his head. I like seeing him smile. I like being the reason that he does. I like all of this, really. Hopeless, hopeless, I’m hopeless.

“I love you, Eden,” he smiles.“You haven’t said it back. I just want you to know it’s ok,”

He pushes my hair off my shoulder, his inked hands sliding down to grab mine. There’s butterflies in my stomach; big ones, in a large amount. It’s on the tip of my tongue. Part of me knows there’s no point in holding it back. There’s no point in pretending that this guy doesn’t own every single part of me. Still...

Just still.

“I’m not going to force you, Eden,” he smiles. It’s a real one, not one of the forced smiles he’d give me when he was restraining himself. This smile is understanding; completely. He gets it. He gets that as much as I want him back in my life for an undisclosed, unlimited amount of time, it’s still a bit scary.

And I love him more for it.

“Whatever that’s holding you back, I’m ok with it. I’m not going to push you or try to force an answer out of you. If you need time to think about everything then I’ll leave you alone until you call me. However long it takes, I’ll come running,”

I nod at him, leaning against his door. I can’t stay here tonight. He knows it too. He steps a step back like he’s letting me decide when to leave.

I stretch on my tip-toes and press my lips against his. His arms wrap around me and lift me off the ground.

“What are you smiling for?” He asks.

“Because I get to kiss you again,” I sigh. “I get to think about you without feeling bad about it, I get to touch you without feeling like it’s only for tonight,”

His hands smooth my hair down and he cups my jaw with both hands. His thumb traces my bottom lip as he looks down at me.

I better go before I think of more reasons why his room is better. Leaning up one last time, I wrap my arms around his neck and draw him close.

“Good night, baby,” his breath fans across my face.

“Good night,” I say kissing him. “Love you,”

We both freeze.

Shit.

#jay park scenarios #Jay Park #jay park imagine #khh imagines #khh scenarios #AOMG #h1ghrmusic #park-jaybum writes

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robinmagik · 6 years

Text

Not A Minute Wasted (part 2)

A/N: HA-HA! I’m back with this story! I’m like in a love hate relationship with this story tbh. Anyway, thank you guys for waiting!!! There is going to be a third part of Not A Minute Wasted, so I hope you guys enjoy this one. I’ll post the other part later at nite or soon. Dunno but it WILL be posted today. If you want to be tagged just comment in the thingy, yknow :)

Part One Part Three Final

Tags: @poemfreak306

Recap: Y/n looks down the darkness and takes one step in and the clock closes. She cusses. Great, Bruce Wayne is like a low-key dungeon freak or worse he murders people and this is his murder dungeon. The worst thoughts were running through her mind. She got down the long stair case and to her surprise she sees a whole lotta shit; Robin costumes, old Batman costumes, bat-mobiles, and weapons. Then she sees the bat-computer. Okay so, Bruce is a huge Batman fan or Batman lives in Bruce’s basement, what? “Alfred, are you there?” It was Bruce’s voice but more deeper and rougher.

“What the fu—’’

“Oh dear,” Alfred gasps.

Y/n turns around, looking at him with wide eyes and a gaped mouth.

“Alfred.” Batman repeats.

“Miss Y/n, there is a perfectly good explication for this.”

“I don’t think so,” She says. “OooooooooooohhhhhmyGod! Ohhohohohoho God!”

“If you give me a moment, I will try my best to answer your questions.” He rushes to the bat computer. There was no way out of this. It was practically too late to drug her and make her believe it was a dream. He responds. “Yes, Master Bruce?”

“Prepare some chamomile tea and sandwiches.”

“I take it patrol went well?”

“Yes, it did.” He says. “Y/n is still sleeping?”

“Oh no, she is very much wide awake.” Alfred emphasizes. He glances at her to see that Y/n is still with the face of shock. “I must apologize, Master Bruce but she knows.”

“Knows what, Pennyworth? You have to be less vague.” Damian says.

“What’s Damian doing there?!” Y/n finally spoke—more like shouted.

Silence.

“Hello?!” Y/n slams her fist on the button. “No me vas a respondar o que?!”

“Alfr—“

“Oh, no, papi! He’s soooo not gonna save you now!” She laughs a little bit too manically. She is practically loosing her mind. How wouldn’t?!

Batman grunts, he clears his throat, knowing that he very much fucked up or at least the universe did but he didn’t believe in that type of stuff. He fucked up. Somehow. And this fuck up does not benefit him at all.

“We’ll talk when we get home.” He says, his voice didn’t show how rattled he was. He hangs up and she tries to get him back but nothing.

She sighs, dropping her head in defeat. “I wanna go for a ride.”

“Miss Y/n why don’t we go into the kitchen. I’ll make you some lavender tea, yes?”

She looks up and crosses her arms across her chest. For a moment she hesitates and then agrees with a nod. Alfred was still Alfred, nothing has changed. Bruce is Batman and Damian…who was—Robin. That makes sense. It all started making sense. She didn’t know what to think but she knew what she felt; turned on and a little bit worried for Bruce’s well being, not only that but Damian too. He’s just a kid after all.

She sits on the counter, Alfred doesn’t tell her to sit on a chair this time, and she just watches him prepare tea and sandwiches.

“Isn’t it bad to eat late at night?” She asks.

She is a bit more calmer now. He smiles softly and nods; “Yes but you know how Master Bruce is. Quiet stubborn.”

“Very.” She chuckles.

There was silence again. The scent of chamomile and lavender help ease the tension.

“Is—being Batman is…dangerous business, huh?” She asks. “No wonder he’s got all those scars on that body of his. Idiot told me that he’s had ridiculous accidents like golfing accidents and that he’s just clumsy.”

Alfred hands her the cup of lavender tea.

“Thanks. And I guess him being Batman makes sense. His eyes are too intense to be a dumb, playboy billionaire. They give him away.” She continues talking. “I’m not mad at him. I still like him as Bruce Wayne or Batman or whoever he is. I like him.”

“And here I thought you would’ve broken up with him, Miss Y/n.”

She gasps dramatically and pretends to be offended. “Alfred! Then you don’t know me that well!” Then she giggles. “Hey, I have my own secret nights in Gotham too. Except that…Bruce knows those nights. He even came to watch.”

“Then you should ask him to watch those nights of his. Behind the scenes, of course.”

“Of course. If he lets me stay, y’know, now that I know.”

The roar of the engine bounces off the walls of the cave. Surprisingly enough to Y/n the bats didn’t stir. Now, when Batman got off that bat mobile, she came this close to pounce on him and dragging him to the bedroom in cowl and all. Dear God, she began, thank you? Her voice cracks within her thoughts. Then there was Damian, the cutest Robin of them all, glaring a hole into her head, boy, did that kid hate her. She shrugs to herself and turns back to Batman who was walking towards her getting ready to explain himself but she rushed up to him and kissed his lips.

“I’ll be upstairs, Batman.” She grins.

When she was gone, he glances at Alfred who smiles at him.

“It is rude to keep a lady waiting, Master Bruce. Have I taught you nothing?”

That was a fateful night. He didn’t eat his sandwich but he sure as shit ate her pussy. After that they had a long conversation, well, not too long. Bruce may invade your privacy but not the other way around. There was a whole Bat-family behind him despite the fact that he says; ‘I work alone,’ in that Batman voice. He’s a loner who can’t deal with loneliness.

Y/n loves this man who is full of contradictions. Though, he knows that such a happy relationship doesn’t last, at least not for him. Bruce is always prepared for the bad things to come, always kept an eye on her whenever she went out late at night or when she worked at the club. This overwhelmed Y/n so she would lash out at him like a child and then break up with him and then the next day or so she’d run back to him. And much to his displeasure, he waited. He didn’t know why he waited. Bruce didn’t like to be pulled back and forth. It was either black or white. We’re done or we’re together. That’s it. But with her, he wanted to see where this ended because it seemed like it would never end. He was never going to say it—he is bad at communication—but he could feel himself fall for her more and more everyday and he even tried his best to hide it from himself. Though she is complicated and he does love a challenge.

There were those moments when he has those grouchy asshole days—its everyday but there are worse days—and it made the tension between them hot and ugly. A day like that would be hell at the manor.

She wasn’t living with him despite the fact that he asked her to. She said no and that was that. Though she stayed over mostly even on his bad days. Y/n would make sure that if an argument was going to start, Damian was nowhere to be found. She couldn’t argue with Bruce with Damian there. Her parents never fought in front of her so why would she do that to his kid?

She came into his office and sat on his desk with her legs crossed over and a magazine in her hand.

“According to this survey, most people agree you are, in fact, a gigantic asshole.” Y/n said.

Bruce grunted. There was glaring but a sexual tension that could be felt a mile away. He took her right then and there and she’d giggle, knowing that she riled him up.

Angry sex was common yet he was delicate somehow. He would sneak in a soft kiss or two before hungrily eating her up. Either way, she’d take him away from whatever was troubling his mind and make him take a bubble bath with her. He’d rest on her chest as she washed his hair.

“Why do you put up with me?” She hums as gently massages his scalp. “I’m a horrible mess. If you were like any other man, you’d be crying by now because I’m so horrible. I’m so mean.”

“I’ve seen horrible every night, Y/n. You don’t begin to measure up to it.”

“Yeah, I know but I mean like horrible girl standard? I guess?” She didn’t know how to put it.

“Hmm, yeah, I’d say you’re a pretty horrible girl.”

“Hey! You’re not supposed to agree.” She pouts.

He chuckles. “And you know, I’m not like any other man but even so, no one can handle you.”

“Guess you hate that. After all, you are a bit of a control freak.” She paused and then glanced at him with a mischievous grin. “Do I scare you?”

“No.”

“Liar.” She whispers into his hair.

He kissed her hand and they rest there for a while until it was time to get out because their skin would get wrinkly. There were mornings where she laid in bed naked and he was in a suit getting ready for a meeting after his last nights work. There was no point in begging him to stay, to stop overworking himself because then both of their tempers would get the best of them. It was obvious they didn’t work well together but they made it work. Y/n was as frustrating as he was but not as naive. Bruce would kiss her bare shoulder and she’d kiss his chin and then he left. She looks at the time on her phone, two hours before work, she’ll take his motorcycle and make it in time.

Except, this was a bad morning though. Her emotions were everywhere and if you’d look at her in anyway type of way, she’d cry. Bruce left. Y/n was on the bed, naked, the warm sunlight danced across her skin, and she sniffled. She didn’t want to go to work. Maybe becoming his wife wouldn’t be so bad, she thought. No, that’d be a horrible marriage because I’m a horrible girl. And he’s a good person. He’s such a good person. Y/n began to touch herself. Bruce is so good. Oh, Bruce. Please, punish me. I’ve been a bad girl. Her fingers slipped in and she began to pump her fingers in and out of her wet pussy. I love y—Her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she came. She moaned into the pillow, her body went limp, and she fell asleep for twenty minutes. Y/n was still sad. Masterbating didn’t take away that sadness that was bubbling in the pit of her stomach.

She drags herself out of bed, took a shower, got dressed, and slowly walked down the long halls.

Damian is in a black turtle neck and gray slacks. He looked a lot like his father but way more adorable.

“Morning.” She says softly.

“L/n.” He states. “We have to speak.”

“Hm? ‘Bout?” She walks into the kitchen and pours herself a cup of orange juice.

“My father clearly likes you and you him.”

“Yes, we do.”

“Yet you and him fight a lot. I do not think that is good for father nor for you.” He is slowly getting to the point. “It’s not my business what happens but because my father’s well being—oh.”

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees tears forming in her eyes. They rolled down her cheeks and she begins to cry.

“What?” She whispers. “Y-you’ve heard us fight?”

“Y-yes…the manor may be large but it isn’t difficult to avoid you both.”

“I’m so sorry, Damian. I didn’t mean for you to hear us,”

“That’s not…please stop crying, L/n.” He didn’t know what to do.

“Excuse me.” She sniffles. “W-we’ll continue this conversation…I just gotta…go.”

Tim was going to greet her but she passes by quickly. He turns to glare at Damian who was confused himself.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, Drake. Excuse me.”

Tim is left alone in the kitchen with an empty cup in his hand.

“What in the hell?”

*Kill Bill sirens play* What will happen? Will Damian make her cry even more? Will his father aka Bruce Wayne aka Batman beat his ass for making his girlfriend cry? Will Tim Drake have his cup of coffee in peace for once? Who knows? Until next time....which will be soon.

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jimlingss · 6 years

Text

Brass & Strings [8]

Episode 7 - Episode 8 - Episode 8.5 OR Episode 9 Words: 4.8k Genre: Fluff, Humour (?), Slice of Life, Music!Au, College!Au Summary: Have you ever wondered what happens to the mean girl after high school? Where do they go, where do they end up? More importantly, what happens when they get mixed up with the classic nerd that's always too nervous to answer 'no'? Things become a lot more complicated when Kim Namjoon encounters you. They dub you as 'bat-shit insane' and you're not ashamed.

Cr.

Miss. Song is a person who’s had many career changes, from being a ballerina to a musician and now into a teacher. She’s the type of professor that college boys thirst after and girls admire. The lady exudes a sexy pureness, a mix between cute and sensual, that even you cannot rival with. Each movement she makes is with grace and her smile is always gentle, making it hard for others to decline her. “Jennie, Rose and Jihoon. Could I speak to you for a moment?”

The concertmistress immediately carries her belongings to the front podium, joined with the flutist and viola player. “Is there something wrong, miss?”

She smiles. “Well, I was wondering if you three were interested in attending a business party in the next two weeks and play as a quartet. It’s a charity event, created by a close friend of mine and they’re looking for some performers for the evening. Of course, you’ll be compensated for it.”

The three of them exchange a variety of looks from surprise to joy. “W-we’d love to!” Rose almost bounces up and her grin spreads into her cheeks.

You scoff, picking up the pace with shoving your belongings into your bag. “Are you okay?” Namjoon tips his head to the side, observing your scowl. He’s standing by your desk, waiting for you to finish. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m dandy.”

It was always the same.

String and woodwind players receive opportunities most frequently. They’re fought for and provided numerous scholarships, recognized in the industry. It does cause the section to become more competitive but it was still better than the treatment brass and percussionists receive. The entire backbone of the orchestra is often disregarded.

The pretty instruments are the flutes, the violins, the piano. Those are the things children want to play and adults want to listen to. No one cares about french horns or the timpani, god forbid the tuba.

“Oh, you too, Y/N!”

“What?”

Miss. Song waves you over and you’re paralyzed, mid step out of the door. “I did say a quartet after all.”

Namjoon smiles and nudges you forward. You go stumbling towards the group.

Your expectations have shattered right in front of your eyes.

“You did hear, right? Would you be interested in participating in this event? I understand if there are other responsibilities you have to meet. I won’t hold it against you if you refuse.”

“I-”

“But a tuba?!” Rose whips her head back to the professor. “That-...that’s not even supposed to be in a quartet!”

Jennie frowns and shakes her head. “Rose.”

Miss. Song simply giggles behind her hand and her cheeks naturally flush. “In a proper string quartet, there isn’t supposed to be a flutist either.” The flute player promptly quiets down and focuses on the floor in embarrassment. The music professor looks over to you. “I’d love it if you could join us. These three need a bass instrument. I know violin, viola, flute and tuba is a very unconventional combination but I’d think it would be very interesting, wouldn’t it?”

Jihoon stares at you, the male waiting for an answer with the teacher. Rose doesn’t make eye contact and Jennie tries to smile in politeness. You turn your head slightly to the only other person in the room, Namjoon, who is waiting by the door.

The harpist is staring at his phone, scratching his head innocently. When he realizes you’re gazing at him, his irises flicker upwards and the corners of his lips upturn, dimples creasing into each side of his cheek. He stiffly waves his hand and then blinks, motioning to the people behind you who are waiting.

You inhale a huge breath, trying to fight down the excitement. “Yes.”

“Good.” Miss. Song scrunches her shoulders in a chipper manner. “Try to get along ladies. Jihoon, you too. The performance will be in two weeks.”

“It’s happening!” Your arms are in the air and you scream towards the sky, up to the azure shade that is not covered with one single wispy cloud. “I’m so fucking happy!”

Namjoon would usually tell you to quiet down, that you’re drawing too much attention but this time, he allows for a moment of glory, not caring about how you’re leaning close to him.

“Congratulations.”

“I thought this day would never come...for tuba to see the light of day…” It’s a tad bit dramatic but it’s been a long time since you’ve felt this adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You knew beauty was fleeting. After a few years, the suitors and dates you have will disappear, no longer chasing after you but someone younger with more energy. The money and shopping is only temporary satisfaction, an escape from your real problems. It was music that would last, your instrument that would stick by you, the passion that you would always have.

But for countless nights, you asked yourself if anyone would even want you. If anyone would want your instrument. Would they even desire to hear you play a note?

“I’m so happy, I could kiss you, Namjoon!”

He scrunches up his nose, looking away from your cheesy grin. “Good luck.” He feels genuinely thrilled. There was always something about the way you loved music, talked about it and how your eyes glittered that made his own chest squeeze. You weren’t just a conceited part-time sugar baby with shopaholic tendencies. There’s so much more.

Namjoon feels privileged to see this side of you.

“I wish I could be with you.” He confesses and then backtracks when the implication of his words hits him. “I mean...play with you, like in the quartet.”

“Maybe someday.” You wistfully breathe out. “A duet?”

The boy pushes up his glasses and nods, hoping for such a day to arrive.

Unfortunately, things don’t go as smoothly as you imagined them to be.

“I’m not playing with her. No. I can’t.”

“Pft. Then I’m not playing with you either.”

Jennie sighs in exasperation, standing between you and Rose. “Come on, guys! We have to work together! Let’s just put aside the past and build the path towards the future-”

“How could you even say that?!” Rose sobs out, holding her flute away from you. “She’s the one who scratched me all up, remember? I was assaulted!”

You roll your eyes, preparing to put your brass instrument back in your case. “You’re the one who started that fight. Who are you to talk about assault?! Don’t you dare make up lies!”

“You’re the-”

“I fucking-”

Jihoon who’s holding the neck of his viola slowly steps away, considering the prospects of bolting out the door and never returning. Jennie looks back and forth throughout the argument and she tries her best to resolve the issue but it escalates and she screams- “STOP IT!”

“This is a professional setting! We are working towards becoming professionals and there is an event coming up really soon. We haven’t even practiced for a full minute yet. Please, stop being childish. If you two won’t work together then you both should leave and stop disrupting!”

There’s a full minute of silence.

Jennie exhales, having used all her courage to interfere.

After an exchange of looks…

“I’m not leaving.” “Neither am I.”

The concertmistress props her violin to her shoulder and chin, holding up her bow. “Good.”

Practice doesn’t go by too horrifically. Ten pieces are chosen, some that are relatively easy and others that you’ve played together in the orchestra before, merely rearranged for four instruments. The flute and violin intermingle with the main melody while the viola dances in the background, adding a deeper layer. But your music professor was right. Without the tuba, it wouldn’t be balanced. There would be no one there as the backbone, to support the rhythm and let the vibrations boom across the walls and against the floor, to truly let the music sing.

“That was great.” Jennie compliments and you would have to notably agree. It’s an unusual combination but one that works. “But I think we could fix up this part. Y/N, you should play that in a higher octave, maybe with an accent?”

“I disagree.” The others look at you with raised eyebrows, a baffled expression for immediately rejecting the idea. “I think we should keep it and just try it in molto vivace.”

“O-okay.”

Rose pipes up, “I think that’s a bad idea. You should just listen to-”

“Let’s just give it a try.” Jennie interjects before another argument can occur. “Very lively and faster….”

Everyone picks up their instruments, correcting their posture. Rose lifts the flute to her lips and shoots you a glare while you ignore her, focused on the black and white score. Jihoon and Jennie place theirs on the juncture of their shoulder and chin, lifting up the bow.

Claude Debussy’s String Quartet in G Minor rearranged version begins again.

The violin strings are pulled in harsh but powerful motions, tuba booming next to the fluttering flute that spirals notes through the air. It grows intense with each rise of crescendo, each sharp breath inhaled to support the melody, fingers dancing across keys and fingerboards until-

Snap.

Everyone freezes.

The music dies out, the note that was supposed to be played isn’t and you crane your neck around. Jihoon’s eyes double, Rose gasps and Jennie has become pale. “Your violin!”

“This was all your fault!” Rose screams at you, whipping her head back to Jennie. “Are you okay?! Is your hand hurt?!”

“I-I’m fine.”

“How is this my fault?” You put down your tuba, shuffling your music sheets. “It’s just your E string that snapped. Doesn’t it happen all the time? If your hand isn’t hurt then there’s nothing wrong.”

The flutist screeches horrifically in your ear, making you wince. “How could you be so heartless?!”

It’s exhausting. As much as you wanted to showcase your playing, grab onto the opportunity, the people that you’re working with makes you feel like you’ve never left high school.

You glance back at the violinist that you despise and she is still staring at her precious instrument. Jihoon gulps and Rose is confused on what to do. You exhale a long breath, concluding that your fellow classmates are idiots and useless.

Why do you have to do everything around here? Goddamn.

“Fine.” You can already imagine what Kim Namjoon would say and do in a situation like this.

“What are you doing?” Jennie sniffs as you tug her upwards.

“We can’t practice if your string’s broken. I know a place where we can get it fixed...for free.”

Jennie has done nothing wrong to you. It’s fairly irrational of you to hate her so much but there’s something in the way she presents herself towards the world, like a perfect angel who has no flaws. She is never angry, never displays sadness or heartache, an ounce of jealousy or envy. The violinist is a robot who only smiles. She’s practically the Mary Sue in the flesh.

It rubs you the wrong way. She’s kind, generous but not genuine.

“Thank you for helping me, Y/N. I really appreciate it.” She carries her case in both hands, humming with the corners of her mouth lifted. You don’t respond, pushing your Gucci sunglasses closer to the bridge of your nose. “I’ve been playing since I was ten years old, which is a decade now. Any string snapping has only happened a few times, so, I was really startled.”

You brush her off coldly, “cool.”

“How long have you been playing for?”

“Long.”

“Oh.” Jennie nods her head and her modest skirt swishes with every stride. “You’re very good, Y/N. I admire your abilities and technique. Was there any reasons as to why you chose tuba?”

“No.”

“I see. I think tuba’s a really nice instrument, a pleasant brass sound. It looks heavy though. Is it?”

“Yes.”

There’s a minute of quietness, where the bustle of the streets and cars driving past screech louder than the concertmistress’ mumbles. You thank Heaven and Earth that she’s stopped trying to make conversations and her yapping mouth has shut tight. Every second of being in her presence is torture in itself. But then-

“If it’s not too rude, Y/N...Can I ask where are we going?”

You don’t answer her, turning the sharp corner before you’re abruptly pulling open the glass door. “Get in.”

She ducks her head. “Thank you.”

With the built up rage, you unleash it on the desk bell, spamming down the muscle in your finger as rapidly as physically possible. The obnoxiously silvery sound hurts your ears but you ignore the pain. “Will you shut up already?!”

Yoongi growls out at you, swiping at the counter and stealing the bell away. “I’m standing right here! God, Y/N! What is wrong with you?!”

“If you were faster at customer service then maybe I wouldn’t have to press the bell.”

“Are you fucking serious? What do you even want from me?! I’m not here to give you any cash and you’re a disturbance to my workplace.” His frown doesn’t deter you and when he leans in close, you don’t flinch away. “The boss will fire me because of you.”

You scoff, crossing your arms with indignation. “I’m here today as a customer, dumbass.”

“What?”

The pretty girl in the frilly skirt that pools past her knees and coral smock top is revealed when you step aside. Her brunette hair, tucked behind her hair, shines in the light and she politely smiles. “Hello.”

“Uh….” Your cousin blinks for a mere moment before he clears his voice, lowering it from the yelling pitch to a deep timbre. “Hello. What can I do for you?”

Jennie sets the case in front of him. “My string accidentally snapped. I was wondering if you could repair it for me?”

“Yeah, sure.” He takes it and opens it up. “I’ll see what I can do. It probably won’t take long.” As she begins to pull out her wallet, Yoongi stops her. “It’s on the house.”

The violinist blinks twice. “Are you sure?”

“It’s no big deal.” He shrugs, “should take less than ten minutes... I don’t see why not.”

“T-thank you.”

The two of them stare at each other. You only realize that no one’s moving after browsing the valve oil on the shelf for a minute. “Are you going to get going or what, Yoongi?!”

The weeks of practicing pass by quickly. In between your classes and the fun outings, you’re honing your skills and rehearsing the parts. The four of you work decently together if Rose isn’t shooting you glares and Jennie doesn’t piss you off. Your professor also passes by a few times, expressing her excitement and enthusiasm for the upcoming event.

“What are you doing here?”

Namjoon rubs his eyes and he melts into a sheepish smile. “Oh, I was just working on some stuff..composition homework...your science project...are you done?”

“Yeah..” You slowly hitch your thumb to the door. “I was about to head back.”

The harpist throws his backpack around his shoulders and he nods. “We should go together then.”

In the chilly night, the taller man walks in time with you, matching footsteps. You tilt your head up to him, staring at his profile. “Hey, Namjoon.”

“Yes?”

“It’s really late out. Didn’t your classes end hours ago?”

He coughs. “Yes.”

You hum, lolling your head to one side as your brain begins to crank. “If you were doing homework, then why did you go into the practice room? And what were you doing standing out in the hall?”

The college boy scratches the back of his neck and his cheeks bloom in a hue of rose but you suspect it’s from the frigid air nipping at his skin. “T-the library is too crowded. I thought it would be better for me to concentrate somewhere quieter. I was about to leave too when you left...so yeah.”

“Oh.”

“How’s practice? Is it going well?” He asks you in curiosity, “are you ready to perform?”

“It’s going okay. I think we’re ready. It’s not as horribly as I thought it would be.” At the same time as he answers ‘that’s good’, a strong gust of wind smacks your figure. Your grip accidentally loosens and the binder of sheet music drops to the concrete. “Dammit.”

You reach down to grab it and Namjoon does too, making you both bonk heads. He lets out an ‘ow’ and you hiss at him, capturing the object again. The only reason you don’t yell at him to watch where he’s going is because he’s Kim Namjoon. If it were anyone else, you’d lash out.

“Here.” He clutches onto your other hand that’s curled around the handle of your tuba music case. “Let me carry it for you.”

“It’s fine! I can carry it myself-”

The words die in your throat when you realize how serious he is, without the usual smile or bright eyes. He stares at you in complete earnestness - expressionless - and you’re baffled he could make such a transformation. You blink twice to make sure you’re looking at the same clumsy and innocent college boy. “Let me help you. Rely on me.”

There’s a bit of silence before you give in. “It’s really heavy.”

The corner of his lip tugs into a smirk. “I can handle it.” He takes the case and suddenly the immense weight is lifted away. The soreness in your shoulder is alleviated, the aches in your arm is soothed. Namjoon smiles and he fakes a gasp, lighting up the mood again. “Woah! It is really heavy. Twenty pounds, right?”

You scoff, feeling thankful that he’s back to the person you know - silly and awkward, pure and naive. “You want me to take it again?” Your arms curl around your binder.

“No. It’s fine.”

“Pft. At this rate, people will think I’m making you carry my things around like a slave.”

The harpist shrugs and he lightly but purposely bumps into you. “They can think whatever they want. I don’t care.”

For a second, your heart flutters.

And you put a hand to your chest, shocked that your soul’s able to be moved. For one, you thought your heart had been turned into concrete. You’re also amazed that it’s Namjoon. It’s not a wealthy, lonely woman who would whisk you away on rendezvous, or the hundreds of attractive people on your contact list that you know who would drop to their knees for you.

Nope. Out of everyone, it’s Kim Namjoon, resident nerd and harp player.

“You’re such a sweet and nice boy, Nams.” You throw your arm over his shoulder, leaning on the man and standing on the tips of your toes to accommodate for the height difference. Your finger casually pinches his cheek. “I could eat you right up! Your future girlfriend is going to be so lucky!”

He giggles and shakes his head. “I doubt it.”

“Why?”

“I’m so clumsy, if I don’t break their belongings, I’d probably accidentally break him or her.”

“Nah.” You ruffle his head of messy locks. “They’ll look past it and see your kindness. Either they’ll be lucky or they’ll use you. But fear not! I’m here. L/N Y/N will be here to protect you from any witches, foxes or douchebags!”

Namjoon grins. “Did you just refer to yourself in third person?”

“Yes.”

The university grounds are connected to a popular hangout avenue, rather convenient for college students to find study spaces and places to eat. At this time of night, however, all of the stores are closing and there are only a few lingering people around.

You stifle a yawn behind your hand and he notices. “If you want, you can stay at my place tonight. Uh- but o-only if you want of course. I won’t force you!”

“I know you won’t.” You laugh into the cold air. “But won’t your back hurt? That couch of yours isn’t comfortable.”

“I’ll be okay.”

You smirk at him, eyes going half-lidded. “We could share the bed, you know. Get a little close and...personal? What do you say, Nams? Up to play some games with me?”

Namjoon nearly combusts right then and there at your suggestive tone. His entire face becomes a tomato shade and he’s flustered, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Uhh….”

“I’m joking! Calm down.” A huge smile appears as you smack him, stopping in your steps at the bus stop. “I’ll just catch the bus. It’s coming in a minute anyways and it’ll take me right back.”

“You want me to go with you?”

“Are you my father?” You put your hands on your hips, grabbing your case back from him. “You really think I’ll be kidnapped or something? If I punch them once, they’ll die. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay.” Namjoon smiles and he begins to back away. “Call me if something happens?”

You wave at him, chest feeling warm. “Alright.”

There’s something not right.

Jimin knows it. It’s under his nose as well, like an itch he can’t scratch. He doesn’t know what it is but he knows there’s something there. These days, he feels like a father, waiting for his teenage son at home with crossed arms, knowing the other man is up to no good.

“What time is it, young man?” Jimin pouts, feet apart with his shoulders. “Where have you been going these days? You don’t even call home or text me?”

Namjoon downcasts his head, quickly slipping off his shoes. Jimin keeps going on his rampage, “you just bailed out on our movie night! I got popcorn too! Now guess who had to eat three bags of popped popcorn?! Me! I feel like butter is leaking out of my pores!”

“Sorry-”

The man’s eyes widen and he drops his arms. “Did you have a date? No..that can’t be it. Are you sick?”

“W-Why?”

Jimin points right at him. “Your face is really red.”

“Uh…” Namjoon begins retreating down the hall. “Nothing happened!”

The door slams a second later.

Jimin groans, truly feeling like a parent. Except, the last time he checked, he didn’t birth out such a big son.

The black dress hugs against your curves, modest and business professional, excluding the slit on the side that adds a bit more character. Rose and Jennie stand beside you, Jihoon next to the concertmistress as all of you look out. It’s a charity event with middle aged individuals conversing, hands holding onto champagne glasses. The children giggle, playing hide and seek as a group behind the room’s magnificent white columns.

Surprisingly enough, of all the affluent people around, you don’t recognize any of them. If you did, you’d have to ignore them anyways. No one of status ever wants to be known for having a younger entourage on the side as a stress reliever.

The evening has settled in with all the guests present. “Are you ready?”

You glance over at Jennie who’s holding her violin, wearing her own white gown. Jihoon in a bulky suit, borrowed from his father and Rose is in a teacup dress that’s a darker shade of grey.

“Ready.”

All four of you take your seats, turning the page to the first score of the night. The violin and viola are propped on their shoulders, flute held up high into the air and you put your lips against your brass instrument, kissing the music notes as it leaves the bell. A joyous emotion is conveyed through the melody, the whistle of the violin, the sonorous sound of the viola, the graceful humming of the silver flute and the hearty buzz of your own brass tuba bleeds together.

Some people whirl around with smiles, listening while sipping on their drinks. Other couples begin to dance and children marvel at the golden and silver keys, joining in steps with their parents. The strings, resounding woodwind and the low timbre of your own instrument intertwine together for harmonious melodies to bouncing jingles.

It goes even better than practice. You become focused on the quartet, your partners and the audience is forgotten in the background. The little trance you’re in is interrupted by the standing ovation and Miss. Song’s humongous grin. But as you look up amongst the crowd, you swear you find a broad back and dark strands of hair poking up...a dimple marring their cheeks.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry. What?” You peel your irises away to Rose and she coughs awkwardly.

“I was just saying how..you’re not so bad, Y/N. A lot more bearable when you aren’t trying to be a bitch.”

“Uh-huh.” You roll your eyes. “You’re still just as bad.”

The flutist’s jaw drops and you laugh. Jennie tries to appease her friend and Jihoon giggles to himself. The quartet has a few photos that are snapped from the photographer and after another hour of playing, each of you head off on your own, networking or nibbling on some refreshments at the table.

You try to find the dimpled stranger again but the person has disappeared in front of your eyes.

It’s cold and the lampposts barely light up the sidewalk. You wonder if you’re going crazy, rejecting an offer to be driven back with the others, leaving your instrument with theirs to be shipped to the school. You don’t even know where you’re going or what bus to take but-

“I knew it!”

He visibly jumps from your voice and cranes his neck around. “Y/N?” Namjoon laughs nervously, “what a coincidence.”

The pair of you both are fully aware this was no coincidence. Especially since the venue is essentially in the middle of nowhere and in complete isolation.

The muscle in your cheek jerks when you try to repress your grin. You saunter up to him with arms behind your back, a slight skip in your stride before you gleam up at him. “What are you doing here then?”

“Nothing. I was...taking a walk! Yes, taking a walk!”

“You walked...an hour away from campus?”

“Yep.”

“You’re a bad liar, Nams. Did you come to see me?” You put your hand over your chest, gasping dramatically. “How did you even sneak into the event? Wasn’t there only exclusive invitations? Did you climb over the fence?”

“I-....”

The last bus of the night pulls up at the stop and the harpist doesn’t waste a chance to get on, making you scan your pass and follow right behind him. He plops down to the second last seat at the back and you slide beside him. There are two other people around, each with earbuds in, listening to their music and not paying any attention.

Namjoon doesn’t speak a single word, obviously embarrassed with the way he tugs on his stiff suit and forcing his eyes not to wander to the slit in your dress that reveals more thigh than he’s ever witnessed before in real life. He attempts to focus on the sceneries out the window but it’s pitch dark. He can’t see anything for shit.

You scoff when you realize Namjoon won’t say anything and you shift closer.

The harpist shifts away. You lean closer to him. He moves again.

“Will you stop that?!” You bark out before roughly taking his arm, lolling your head onto his shoulder. You use his shoulder as a pillow to rest on. Your eyes flutter shut and the frown slowly fades away. “Stay still.”

Namjoon’s irises flicker to your drowsy face and he relaxes his limbs, allowing you to lean on him. “It’s comfortable.” You murmur past the seams of your lips, exhaustion washing over you. Rehearsal, playing for three hours and socializing with other professionals has left you drained.

The harpist inclines back into the seat, letting the nervousness and tension leave his body. He stares down at your open hand in your lap, the palm that faces upwards. His own fingers twitch, as if an instinct overtakes him to twine his fingers through yours. But he resists.

“No one’s ever really come to a performance...just to see me.”

It’s softly spoken to the point that Namjoon would miss it had you not been beside his ear. It’s been three stops and five blocks since you’ve last spoken. He thought you were asleep already.

“I wished my parents would but when I saw you….Namjoon, it made me happy.”

He gently brushes away a hair that’s tickling your nose. His pupils center around the pink petals of your plush lips and he swallows hard. “How is it possible that you can make me feel so happy?”

It’s a mindless ramble, one where you don’t even realize you’re saying. It feels like you’re balancing between the dreamworld and reality, letting your tongue tumble. Except, it’s not a dream.

Namjoon hears all of it.

“What are you doing to me?”

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