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#its ANNOYING u have to have the right amounts of stuff then u just leave it.

kanekoii · 5 months

Note

HIIIIII how would u think XSOLEIL and ike would react if their s/o just has an insane amount of pain tolerance?its like that one meme where it goes "dw the bleeding is internal the blood's supposed to be there" type of stuff cause im in a hospital rn and nobody visited me here :((

TAKE CARE OF URSELF BRO

lyra’s notes -> AGH IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO MAKE IM SO BACKED UP ON REQUESTS HOPE UR DOING OKAY BBY

pairings -> xsoliel x gn! reader

genre -> scenario

song -> stupid feelings - 220 kid & lany

warnings -> injury, written by someone with a low pain tolerance, hospitals

VER VERMILLION ->

sweet boy doesn’t know how you do it, how you get hurt so often then just get up and brush it off as if it’s nothing. you’ll get up with your knees scraped and sprains, and ver will slowly realize that you just have a high pain tolerance. it’s not that you aren’t in pain, just that you have a tolerance for it. when you inevitably end up in the hospital due to an injury that you didn’t care for, he’ll visit you every day if he leaves your side at all. but it’s likely he won’t ever leave your side, staying in the hospital with you and relocating all counsel meetings to a private room adjacent to yours. as soon as he’s done with his meeting, he’ll run back to your side with a sweet voice, asking how you’re feeling.

KOTOKA TORAHIME ->

she's more or less off in her own world most of the time so she probably won't notice right away. once she does notice tho or once you end up going to the hospital, she feels SO bad that she didn't notice sooner. she'll feel so bad so please let her stay by your side. she won't even leave your hospital room and your hands will always be held and kept warm by hers. if you'll allow her, she'll snuggle you in your bed. kotoka promises she'll never let it get this bad again and you can bet she's sure to act on that promise too in the future when you inevitably get sick or hurt again.

HEX HAYWIRE ->

despite his slightly intimidating looks, he's a kind person at heart and he hates seeing you bottle it up until you eventually are sent to the hospital for your injuries. as the resident bullied person of xsoliel due to his clumsiness, he often gets injured too. it’s not that he doesn’t understand why you never say anything, but it doesn’t hurt his heart any less when you don’t even dare to say anything to your boyfriend of all people. please don’t make him leave when you’re in the hospital, he just wants to be absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, sure that you’re going to be alright and it won’t be anything serious.

MELOCO KYORAN ->

she’ll try to care for your injuries herself, even if you protest that you’re fine and it doesn’t hurt. she won’t have any of it, in any case it’s best to make sure they won’t get infected or anything. if it does come down to you having to be hospitalized for an injury, she’ll be extra caring and rush to your side as soon as school is over, breathless from running through the halls and streets to get to you. she even ends up admitting that she gets really worried when you’re injured, let alone in the hospital. when she’s at school or a counsel meeting, meloco will be occasionally messaging you and asking how you’re doing. she doesn’t want to annoy you and that’s not her intent, she just wants to make sure nothing has gone wrong in her absence.

DOPPIO DROPSCYTHE ->

he will skip school and stay by your side unless you don’t want him there. the d stands for don’t worry cuz doppi will take care of you! despite his weird and sometimes intimidating demeanor, he absolutely cannot stand you being sick or hurt because it hurts his heart. he’ll bring you his favorite plushie in the hospital and give it a bandage or two so you can match! he knows he isn’t taking it very seriously, but happiness is the best medicine after all. even if you’re sick or in pain, at least you’ll still smile because piochan is trying his hardest to make you happy despite the circumstances!

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lqfiles · 8 days

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ANON WHO BROUGHT UP LUCAS THANK U I WAS ITCHING TO TALK AB HIM BUT I WAS SOOO SCARED BC i didn’t know if it was a safe space free of lumis or not…

my ig feels kinda curated to show me content of him there’s so much of his stans there compared to tiktok and the specific posts im getting is like “dreamies winning for smoothie!! …lucas in the back🥺💔” OR “dejun introducing lucas for his stage🥺🥺” SHUUTTT UPPPPP

it’s especially aggravating when there are situations in the industry that were far less impactful than his allegations the ones i’m thinking of specifically is soojin ex gidle as well as chuu have not promoted on music shows BUT WITHIN LIKE TWO MONTHS OF HIM COMING BACK HE GETS TO HAVE HIS SOLO DEBUT AND PERFORM??? and don’t even get me started on seunghan. what the fuck do you mean ot6 siren gtfo

i gave up on editing and was making shitposts on my tiktok praying for the downfall of sm ent because it seems they have a 7 member group curse DIEEE!!! (respectfully..! i lov u lee donghyuck i hope u can be free from the sm shackles in due time)

HSDJDKSKS don’t worry this is never a safe space for him and his fan i rlly do not like that guy and you’ll never catch me praising him.. anyways i got some stuff to say too but it will probably be the only time i’ll speak on it here because i don’t like giving that man attention 😶‍🌫️

bro i’m not surprised that you’re getting that stuff because when i tell you 99% of nctzens on insta are all lucas fans it actually shocked me 😭😭 i remember once commenting smth like “we don’t want him back” and i got sent death threats like OVER DOZEN???? MR CANT FIND THE BEAT?? 😭😭😭 tiktok is really 50/50 with a side that’s here for him and another side that doesn’t like him. the only platform i know where it’s mostly people disliking him is twitter but even then he got a pretty large following on there that is LOUD and ANNOYING

and you’re so right about that ITS SO CRAZY TO ME how SM just wouldn’t let go off him like they were so adamant on keeping him in the company for some reason and have been soft launching him for a good year trying to get the public to ease a bit, (the amount of concerts he’s attended to make his presence known.. you’re not slick SM) and i just don’t get what value he has to that company. he doesn’t bring the talent like he literally invented the term dozen because he dozen do anything right, he doesn’t bring the visuals, you can argue that he brings fans because he got a very huge SEA and latin (?) fan population that is veryyyy loud but even then the number of haters is much bigger, china literally hates him and korea barely tolerates him.

they didn’t hesitate to put seunghan on hiatus and are literally erasing him from the group in real time with the ot6 siren ver it’s crazyyy, all because he got his privacy invaded and did acceptable teen things? they kicked that SNSD member out for starting her own clothing brand and i’m sure they blacklisted her too, jaejoong got blacklisted too, soojin and chuu got kicked out, but the guy who has literal criminal allegations (that he basically admitted to himself) gets a whole pity sob documentary as well as rebranding as a soloist? chris lee is the biggest dick rider ever for this and it will never make sense to me😭

i honestly don’t like talking about him or mentioning him because 1. any type of publicity can be good publicity to him 2. arguing with his fans is useless and tiring because they will NOT change their mind 3. his face and existence annoys me so yeah i don’t like mentioning him because what’s the point hate-watching his content like that’s still publicity for him

but yeah if i find out any of his fans follow me i’ll literally block, even if you dont follow me and i find you’re his fan i block 💀 NOT A SAFE SPACE FOR LUMIS PLEASE LEAVE BEFORE I HAVE TO BLOCK U MYSELF 😭🙏🏽

#asks.#from 🪼 anon #the last sentence you’re so hsjdhsjdks #WHERE IS THE HAECHAN SOLO SINCE WERE GIVING EVERYONE A SOLO #also omg you’re an editor 👀 me too..

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rasparagus · 2 years

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coldest day of the year

pairing: woozi x gn!reader

word count: 700 words, so short baby

genre: fluff, plotless as always, stoic bf v excited partner

summary: jihoon takes care of you. bc if he doesnt do it who else will? gosh.

request: “the coldest day of the year”

and i am requesting this to be with my woozi bear or my lovely dinito because i love them muchísimo also HAVE A GOOD WEEK!!!!

-gala

thank u gala for requesting this hehe i love you. i hope u also have an amazing week muah!

masterlist

to you, the winter months are a time of yearning. yearning to be warm, to cuddle into freshly dried blankets, to take an impromptu nap by a blasting space heater.

to jihoon, who loves you oh so dearly, those months are about making sure all of that happens for you.

which brings you to the present. you’re waiting in the bitter cold, admiring the weather despite the way it nips at your extremities. 5 minutes away, jihoon’s text read. you impatiently await his arrival, excited to see the live show of a performer jihoon has been raving about for months.

when woozi sees you, you’re watching a chipmunk scurry around, a small joyous smile placed on your face. you’re waiting exactly where you always are, beside the tree you’ve claimed as your own for the past three years. each fall, its the first one to begin losing its leaves, and you smile each time you study beside it and a dry auburn leaf falls on your head.

when you spot woozi you light up a little, focusing your attention away from the mischievous little chipmunk and choosing to study his features instead. his dark hair is fluttering every which way in the wind, and his eyes are squinting a bit from the intense cold.

“hey,” he says. short and nonchalant, but not void of love.

“hi,” you try smiling as obnoxiously sweet as possible while handing him a scalding black coffee. any reaction from jihoon is a fun one to you. his posture is straight, but the outer layer of his calm demeanor chips off a bit as he blushes at your antics. he giggles and mutters something like you’re stupid in the most affectionate tone known to man.

your sickly saccharine expression bleeds into your voice as you lean closer to him to say “thank you” and peck his cheek.

“for what?” he asks.

“wowww, jihoon, as if you don’t know. because i suppose it could’ve been anyone who bought these brand new earmuffs and snuck them in my backpack.” you point to the accessory on your head.

“oh those? i just saw them and thought you’d like them, that’s all.” you and him both know it’d practically send him into a heart attack to admit the amount of thought he’d put into getting these. but that’s what you liked about jihoon. he didn’t require tons of verbal praise and recognition and thanks. it was enough for you to know he thought about you, and it was enough for him to know you liked it.

the two of you walk leisurely, indulging in conversation about your most recent shift, his upcoming test, and the last tiktok he sent you. when you arrive at the bus stop, you both sit on the bench, thighs touching each other comfortably. you reach out one of your hands to lock with his, but before he fully takes it jihoon pauses.

“you know it’s the coldest day of the year, right?” he takes a moment to inspect your hands, cold and starting to turn a concerning shade of purple at the fingertips. he rubs your hands back and forth between his own as he scolds you. “why don’t you ever wear gloves,” he asks, rolling his eyes and scoffing as he takes your stiff hands into his own. even now, your brain still short-circuits a little when you feel his strong hands envelop your own.

“well, then i couldn’t use my phone,” you reply. you grin a little at how clearly he is annoyed (or trying to be annoyed) by your logic.

“you’re an addict.” he hastily stuffs your hands into the large pockets of his thick winter coat. you take the opportunity to slyly stroke his hands with your finger.

“pfft, so are you,” you accuse.

“true, but if i wasn’t then you wouldn’t have anyone to like all your tweets.” he laughs at his own joke.

“fair enough. you might have a point,” you concede and laugh along with him.

it takes a minute, but you do warm up. though, jihoon keeps your hands in his pocket, even as you get on the heated bus to the venue. and every time you hands rearrange with his, he thinks of how cute you’ll look with the earmuffs’ matching gloves.

a/n: everyone thank gala for pulling me out of my writing hole. hmm i wrote all of this really quick and did not proofread so excuse any mistakes. also, i hate to say it but I’m in one of my Weird Moods so i forgot how two human beings interact in conversation, let alone a couple. so just pretend this has natural dialogue. I’m so happy i can get this out considering i haven’t posted anything since like august i think. hope u guys like this. i have a sore throat rn and Scientific Studies show that reblogging ro’s fic “coldest day of the year” will alleviate her pain.

#caratwritersclub #ro's.fics #jihoon x reader #jihoon fluff #seventeen fluff #seventeen fics #seventeen jihoon #woozi x reader #woozi fluff

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mylevisdontfitanymore · 2 years

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What’re your thoughts on Pre-war au in which, instead of being skinny, Steve has always been fat? Not just fat, huge? Still short, but wider than he is tall too?

I love the concept 1,000%

Buuuut I unfortunately always have my overthinking turned on and so my annoying little brain goes but what about the depression? They'd never have been able to afford enough food for Steve to be so wonderfully fat and huge. And if they did it would be a Steve and a Bucky who's families are rich and high class which would change so much of Steve's characterization. Plus-

Me, to myself: stop brain. You're too much think-y.

It would be wonderful for such a fat Steve. I love the idea. If we turn off ours brains and ignore canon entirely and just think about fat, pre-serum Steve I have LOTS of thoughts:

Unbeta'd, warnings for fantasy immobility but actual morbid obesity, stuffing, tight clothing/button popping, etc.

Steve's always sitting down on the couch with his chubby hands rubbing his big, fat tummy as it crowds his lap. Actually, he doesn't have a lap left considering how his belly extends all the way to his knees- rounder than he'd ever imagined a human. Swollen.

Steve's always halfway to a food coma too, stuffed and never not in the middle of digesting something sweet because he really does have a sweet tooth the size of Texas. Anyone can tell just by looking at him. Pig. Always rubbing his belly to sooth it and to feel the way all the excess air (he's a major fan of bloating in addition to wanting to be stuffed to the point of pressure and pain and so, so much pleasure. bloating with bread and beer that increases his capacity over time, stretching his stomach to take even more) rumbles around. Although the sensation of bloating is always muted these days, dampened under that thick layer of fat. Blubber as Bucky sometimes calls it. Steve, his little whale... gotta make sure he's able to survive in the coldest of water, packing and packing on the pounds.

Bucky is nearly always tracing Steve's NUMEROUS stretch marks too. He can't help it. There's always new stretch marks appears over his excess flesh anyway. Steve is just exploding out faster than his body can keep up with. Bursting at the seams.

ALSO-

Steve, wider than he is tall, with a stuffy, period appropriate button-up straining around his gurgling, massive gut. The buttons will pop (and shoot off all the way to the other side of the room with all the weight behind them) sooner rather than later. And when they do, his h u g e gut comes spilling out, expanding into the space; pushing the shirt halves apart and rolling his undershirt right up. Exposing the softest part of him. So, so much extra padding there- that massive mound of fat.

Like that, shirt busted open, buttons long gone until Bucky sews them back on and forces Steve back into the shirt again and again just to see proof of how BIG he's grown, Steve's belly is framed by a) his shirt of course and b) his suspenders. Suspenders that cut into his love handles and sides and just... all of his everywhere because he's so fucking fat.

At one point, Steve gets to a level of fatness that means he has red marks from all of his clothes cutting into his soft flesh all the time. Even his biggest clothes leave the marks: the waist band of his pants and trousers, the stained buttons of his shirts holding back all that fat, and the tight stretch of his suspenders at either side of his tummy. His ribbed undershirts leave impressions on his skin too! He's most comfortable naked from then on. Its not fair that he has to wear clothes! He just can't stop growing out of them! Its not his fault that food is so delicious but it is his fault (and Bucky's) that he stuffs ungodly amounts of it into himself until he's whining and moaning, holding his belly like he's personally trying to keep it from splitting at the seams.

As a result of the above ^ (and also as a result of Steve stuffing himself with too much food, giving himself a tummy ache as he often does) Bucky usually ends up spending hours and hours rubbing the marks off of his skin. It takes a long time to get the flush off his pretty pale skin and a long time to cover all of that excess roundness.

After the massaging Steve is usually pretty hot and bothered (hot for it if he isn't out that is. Snoozing because food + warmth + Bucky's hands = one very sleepy Steve). And it's then that Bucky will help Steve roll over (the rolling is not particularly graceful... he's too fat for that, it's a little like a whale on land 😳 but that makes it all the more erotic)...

And Steve?

Steve on all-fours is just rolls on rolls on rolls. So fat that it's stacking up. There's no where for all of that fat to go.

His back has rolls. His love handles are really just a whole spare tire or two. His ass is monstrous, round and dimpled. His thighs have no space between them and instead jiggle and rub against each other unless he really spreads his legs WIDE. His double chin is so substantial that it doesn't even disappear when he peers over his shoulder at Bucky who's kneeling between his legs, opening him up to fuck or just slicking up and fucking some of those deep, thick rolls.

Steve used to get tired on all-fours, when he was between chubby and truly fat because he had to hold up all his own weight but now..? Now that he's truly MASSIVE Steve doesn't have to get tired because he's not holding himself up. His belly is so big that it pressed up tight to the mattress, almost making it so his hands and knees don't touch. His belly spreads out from his body at the sides too, squishing like your thighs when you sit down. 🥴

On all fours, Steve looks well and truly fat.

He looks swollen.

Engorged.

He's truly fucking huge and Bucky can't wait until he's bigger. Until not only is it difficult for him to walk around their apartment, his sides brushing both sides of the door frame as he walks through them (and Jesus, Joseph, and Mary- it sends a perverted shiver down Buckys spine every time, thinking about how he's almost too big to fit through doorways), his lungs strained from the effort of carrying all that fat, his joints complaining, but it's impossible instead.

Bucky wants him fat fat fat.

He wants him so big that he can't get out of bed and if he lays flat on the bed that he can't see over the mountain of his belly. Nothing visible but the tangible evidence of his appetite and pinned in place by his ravenous gluttony.

Bucky wants him bigger.

Swelling.

Growing.

Bucky wants him so well fed, so indulged, that all he can do is sit on his fat ass and get rounder, bigger, fatter. Filling his endless tummy- always stuffing his face. Making pleading eyes at Bucky so he'll feed him or rub his tummy, complaining about food being too far too reach with the former and his tummy being too full with the latter.

��

#ask #text #belly kink #steve rogers #bucky barnes #stucky #stuffing #bloating #chubby steve #fat steve #pre-serum steve #pre-war stucky #mylevisdontfitanymore

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videostak · 9 months

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ya theyre leaving at like 10 rn i am not going to that 6am swap meet. fuck my life ugh... like obv gonna be waken in the middle of the night when they get back ._. srsly can they be considerate of my life for fucking once. like knowing that i do this for work and is my only source of money and then to do something like that on a total whim and try to downplay how it will affect my sleep and morning tomorrow is srlsy making me so pissed.. like the amount of effort i and to an extent my sister will go to to be considerate of others just to have her do shit like this is so infuriating. like literally my job for a record store that needs inventory desperately and i cant fucking go cause of my asshole inconsiderate mom. reaaaaallly great. i mean best case scenario i can drive up to the estate sale tahts supposed to be at 8. id have to leave at liiiike idk 6:30. so probably not that too. should try to go to the other 8:00 swap meet too or the yard sale but starting to feel real uncomfortable abt going to the swap meet cause of all the stuff around that. so annoying for me to plan all this out just for her to shit all over it cause she wants an excuse to get drunk and trauma dump to her cousin and make to put her cousin in a super awkward weird position. sucha genuinely awful person ugh.... i mean idk i should goo tomorrow but like really dont kno if ill be able to get up in time. idk i think ill still push rly hard ill try to get a coffee tomorrow at mcdonalds and stuf but like idk just so fucking annoyed rn like dude this is literally my job right now that A LOT of things are riding on have some fucking respect and learn when ur making things much more difficult for ppl. what annoys me so much is when i told her that i wouldnt be able to go tomorrow if she went out as late as shes planning to she just tried to go supportingly “ok we’re gonna go at 10 and tomorrow u can go wherever u want and dont worry about it :)” while just ignoring what i said. lol. something abt idk if all parents are like this or if most are but like that level of being so in denial abt everything that u just respond to any attempt at talking things out with this very fake positivity vibe is so awful. like she does it so much whenever something comes up thats a problem and its so annoying. she did it thursday too when i wasnt sure if i was gonna be able to go cause of my dads dog and she ignored what we said and cut us off and went dont worry ill handle it all :) even tho it was like not even clear what she would be “handling” cause she just wanted to get us to stop talking abt it. like not even aware of how my dad lets the dog in without warning and how the cats and the dog need to be watched cause he’ll start playing rough. like idk what to even do when ppl genuinely just do not listen to anything u tell them at all. theres no reason for me to tell her something before hand cause she’ll just do whatever the fuck she originally intended to and then try to “discuss” it or apologize after even if youve already had a what u thought was productive conversation days before abt it. like on the first weekend i drove to the swap meet i had told her before i was gonna let the dogs in the back right i went to let her kno beforehand and she agreed there was no argument no even hint at there being a disagreement so i thought things were good and then when i actually was gonna leave she was like no dont let them out theyll bark its too early and i had to get my sister to get her to agree to let them out. like srlsy sooo annoying same thing happens A LOT when having to schedule things shell be in complete agreeance and then when the time comes to do smthn she will like bring up something out of nowhere that she def knew b4 hand but was just waiting to bring up last second. like she’ll say we should schedule smthn for the vet on a day and then reveal that the vets actually closed that day when that day actually comes etc. or will lie and say it is. like i need to take the cats to the vet soon cause cassettes worms are still present and dendy needs to get neutered and she said she’d call monday even tho its smthn shes already been lagging on for a long time so im just like waiting to see what excuse she’ll bring up then or if she actually does intend to call. like she could bring up an excuse or just spend the whole day in her room and ignore it when i bring it up. ughhh well i will try to go tomorrow i think. i mean im gonna shave and shower just incase i do. i dont think ill wear shorts tho not rly feeling it atm since i could be nervous if i do go to the yard sale. but willl rly have to see

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ghostmacandcheese · 2 years

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Heaven help the fools chapter 5

(Hello! I hope you like this fanfic. It’s going to be five chapters, that way I can put a good amount of detail into the story. It isn’t a Y/N reader, as the main character does have a name, and if it seems strange or annoying the way the conversations flow or the way things are described, sorry, that's just how i think and react to things. While most of the stuff in this is false, obviously, there will be a note at the end of each chapter letting you guys know what was actually real from personal experiences! Hope you all enjoy, i know i had a lot of fun writing this!)

Summery: you meet Steven in the museum gift shop and become fast friends, and maybe something even more!

Pairing: just Steven x female reader

Warnings: some swearing, being the family disappointment, sleep disorders, mentions of sex,

Genre: fluff, meet-cute, friends to lovers

Chapter 5: A Sunday kind of love

“Well, here we are,” I say, opening the door to my flat. Steven walks in and stands in the kitchen, looking around at everything. “Feel free to explore, I'm gonna go change real quick.” I grab my pj’s from off my bed and go to the bathroom, the only thing in the flat that has an actual door. The rest is just separated by Chinese folding screens. I look over my shoulder as I close the door, and see steven looking at some of the art I have hanging on my wall, all done by me. He's currently examining one I did of a woman with neon mushrooms growing out of holes in her face, and he looks a little confused. Oh well, I guess art isn't for everyone, huh?

I finish drying off and changing, stepping out of the bathroom to find steven now examining my fish tank, watching my little aquatic children swim around. He looks up when he notices me standing there. “H-hi, I was just, em,” he points to the tank. “I didn't know you have fish.”

“Yeah,” I move to stand next to him. “Theyre one of the easiest things to take care of that don't require constant attention but are still something I can focus and take care of.”

“There are babies! Theyre so tiny!” I smile. “Yeah, my black Platy, Morticia, was pregnant when I got her, so now I have about 8-9 little guys swimming around. I was thinking of naming them after famous pirates, both fictional and real.” I chuckle and head to the laundry basket next to my dresser, tossing my clothes in. “hey,” I call over since he was still watching the fish. He looks up at me, curls bouncing on his head. “You should shower and dry off, you look even colder than me. I've got a spare shirt that might fit you, and I can dry your shirt and tie and stuff and return them to you tomorrow or something.” “n-no, really, I'm fine, don't worry about me.” “relax, steven, it's ok. I'm not gonna come in or anything, I'm not gonna invade your privacy, I just don't want you dying of cold on my couch before were eve official, ok? So go, take a shower, leave your sure wet clothes, and take this shirt.” I hand him the only shirt I think would be big enough to fit: an extra-large grey shirt with a ghost cat on it. He holds it up and looks it over, blushing. “Come on,” I say, grinning, “you'll look great. Now go!” I shove him into the bathroom and close the door. “I'm going to make dinner. You're a vegan, right?” I call to him while heading to the kitchen. “Yeah.” he calls back. “Perfect. How do you feel about pancakes?” “u-um, sounds good? I haven't had those in a long time.” I hear the water turn on and open the curtain, and I turn and grab the stuff I need from the fridge, smiling. Let's make some dinner, shall we? I pull out my phone, rest it on its base, and open Spotify, finding my 50’s romance playlist. I hit shuffle, and ‘dream a little dream of me’ starts playing through the speaker. I mix all the ingredients, using some vegan egg mix I got from the store, and sing along to the song.

About 10 minutes later, steven gets out of the bathroom, wearing the strange combination of black slacks, sphynx socks, and my ghost cat shirt. I can't help but laugh. He walks over to me, looking embarrassed.

“That's a great look you've got going on there,” I say, grinning.

“I-leave me alone.” he smiles, looking over at the messy countertop covered in dishes and batter.” well, someone had fun cooking. Are you always like this?” “hey, the best way to cook is to do it all at once and clean it later.”

“Somehow, I don't think so. Give me those dishes, ill help.” he grabs the mixing bowl and utensils I used, and places them in the sink, turning on the water. “What are you listening to? It sounds nice.” “oh, it's uh, 40’s and 50’s music. American.”

“ah, I forget you’re from America.”

“Yeah, I forget that too. I say random things all the time and forget that you guys don't always know what I'm talking about, or visa versa. It's kinda confusing.” I laugh, humming along to the song playing, scooping the last of the batter into the pan, flipping it once it had reached the perfect dark brown.”

“You're burning the buggers!” steven exclaims, looking at the pancake I had just flipped, and then to a small plate on my left where a few others sat, equally dark, if not a bit darker.

“I am not! They taste better brown. Don't worry, though, I know a lot of people don't agree, so I made you a bunch that are just a nice golden brown.” I let the pancake sit a little bit longer, and sing along to the song currently filling the room, ‘Le Festin’. “You speak french?” steven looks up from the dishes, surprised. “Oh, no,” I stop singing, “I learned all the words to this song so I can pretend I do, but I haven't practiced my french in years. I love french music though, it's so pretty.” the song ends and fades into a personal favorite of mine, ‘A Sunday kind of love’ by Etta James.

“Oh, this song is one of my favorites.” I look at him, curly hair still slightly damp from the shower, falling in his face, eyebrows scrunched in frustration at a stubborn bit of pancake batter, and I sigh a little, imagining every day ending like this.

“Steven,” he looks up from the dish, a soft and innocent expression on his face. “Dance with me. I've always wanted to dance to this song.”

“O-oh, god, I don't know if I know how to dance, never really learned or had the chance, don't wanna step on your toes,”

“Hey,” I reach up and put a hand on his cheek, feeling warmth creep up from his blush. “It's not so hard, well go slow, that way you don't have to worry about stepping on my toes. Come here.” I put my arms around his neck, and feel his nads hesitantly rest on my waist. “Like-like this?” he looks down at me cautiously, eyes soft and sweet, dark like rich soil. “Yeah, that's right,” I say gently. “Now, we sway to the music.” I lay my head on his shoulder, feeling him tense a little as I play with the hair on the back of his neck.

He pulls me closer, arms wrapped around my waist, and whispers my name into the top of my head. “Yes steven?” I pull my head back to look at him, seeing his gentle blush matching mine. “How did a fool get so lucky?” I laugh a little, placing my head back on his shoulder. “Well, in Tarot, the fool symbolizes new beginnings, right? So, maybe, this is a new beginning, for both of us?” “hmmm,” he breaths into my hair, the feeling warm on my scalp. “I guess it is.” “thank you by the way,” I whisper, still swaying with him in the kitchen. “What for, love?” “well, you helped me feel safe.” “I will do anything to keep you safe. You're too important to me.” I smile, slowly swaying with him to the music, finally hearing the song come to a close. “See?” I say, looking up at him. “That wasn't so bad, now was it?” “no, I s’pose not.” I laugh, and step away, going to the cupboards to grab two plates.

“Should I clear off the table?” steven asks, looking at the poor table, piled high with books, mail, and other assorted things. “Nah, just leave it. We can eat in the living room. Have you ever watched pride and prejudice? Specifically the 2005 version? It's my favorite.” I head to the living room, hearing him follow me. “Nope, never watched it.” “oh, well, let me tell you, it is, in my personal opinion, one of the best romance movies to have ever been made. Kiera Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen are some of the best actors and did a beautiful job. “I settle into the couch, and steven sits right next to me, leaning on my shoulder. I smile softly as I open Amazon prime and go to ‘purchased movies’. Hitting play, I settle into the side of the couch and put my arm around Steven, letting him just rest against me, munching on pancakes.

Eventually, the credits roll and I look over at the adorable man sitting next to me, realizing he fell asleep halfway through the movie. I gently turn to face him, and he shifts a little, leaning his head against the back of the couch. I can't help but stare. He looks so calm, so relaxed. His lips are parted slightly, and he's snoring, just a little. His curls are hanging messily on his face, and I gently brush them away. He looks so happy, I could leave him like this forever. I wonder how often he actually sleeps. I gently caress the side of his face with my fingertips, letting them brush against the stubble on his cheekbones and jawline. Leaning forward, I put my forehead to his and whisper, “I love you, steven grant.”

“I love you too.” I hear him whisper back.

I scoot back from my leaned-over position, and back against the edge of the couch, blushing furiously. I hadn't realized he was awake!

He looks at me through half parted lashes and smiles bashfully. “I'm sorry, I'm a light sleeper. I felt you touch my face, but I didn't want to disturb you, and, besides i-i kinda liked it.” I think he was blushing even harder than me at this point. “I'm sorry I missed the ending of the movie,” he said, looking down at his hands. “It's ok, we can always watch it again.” I smile, taking his hands gently in mine. He smiles up at me nervously, licking his lips lightly. “Steven, if you want me to not kiss you right now, you cannot do that while we are holding hands, facing each other on the couch.” I look at him, on the very verge of having my first kiss ever. “I-i dont… you- you want to kiss me?” “yes, I do. Very much. And if you keep licking your lips like that I'm not going to be able to stop myself from doing so.” I feel the couch shift, and see steven move closer, till these sitting, on his knees, between my legs. I can't help but stare at his lips, the beautiful curved cupid's bow, how soft pink they were. I wanted them so badly. “D-do you want me to kiss you?” he asks, drawing my gaze from his lips to his eyes, desperate, pleading, but also soft, gentle, caring. “I-yes. I want you to kiss me.” I lean my forehead against his again, eyes closed, and whisper, “I've never been kissed before.” “me neither.” he smiles. He cups the side of my face gently with his hand, and leans forward, lips parted to meet mine. It's the most amazing feeling. He smells like coffee and my rose conditioner and incense, his lips taste like maple syrup. I pull him closer to me with one hand against his head, using the other hand to make sure I don't fall off the couch. Steven holds me gently by the waist to stabilize me, letting me know he won't let me fall. His nose fits next to mine and I feel like I've never trusted another person before in my life. Not like this. To completely let go and surrender yourself to someone else, someone you trust so much? It's a beautiful feeling. I pull away, smiling, eyes still closed. Steven lets out a small whimper and rests his head on my shoulder blade, breathing into my neck slowly.

“That was… wonderful. I understand why people kiss now.” he smiles, still resting his head on my shoulder. “Could we do it again?” I hear him breathe, hoping ill say yes.

“Steven,” I rest my hand on the back of his neck, stroking his hair. “If I kiss you again, ill never let you leave.” “Would that be such a bad thing?” he asks timidly?

“What about Gus?”

“Oh, well, I'm sure there's space somewhere in here for his tank, so he'll be fine,” he mumbles. I smile softly. He already wants to move in.

“D you really want to stay the night?” he sits up and looks at me, embarrassment and hope playing across his face. “I-i don't want to ‘sleep with you’ sleep with you, I just wanna stay, if I can…” I cup his face in my palm, stroking his cheek with my thumb. “Shhh, I know. You respect me too much to go against my boundaries, that's what I love about you.” I sit, thinking for a minute. “You can stay the night with me. I'll clean your clothes in the morning. Then you can g back to your place, ok?” “b-but,” he whimpers, looking on the verge of tears. “Steven,” I say gently, whipping his eyes with my sleeve. “If you truly feel safe here, we’ll figure something out, but you cant immediately move in. id have to clear some stuff out first. Wouldnt want to give Gus a sub-par room, now would we?” I smile at him, letting him know I wasn't upset. He smiles back softly, kissing the palm of my hand gently. “Come on, love. I'm tired, aren't you?” he asks, getting up and tugging my hand, bringing me to my bed. “I don't think I've ever been happier to fall asleep in my life,” I say softly as I snuggle into his arms, safe under the covers of the bed. “I love you, steven grant” I whisper, leaning my head against his chest. “I love you too, Ophelia Jane.” he kisses the top of my head and I drift off to sleep in minutes for the first time in years.

The end.

*end chapter authors note*

Hello beautiful people! Hope you liked this ending chapter, I had a lot of fun writing it! I’m not gonna lie thought, writing a kissing scene is pretty tricky when you’ve never kissed anyone before(I know, I’m 20 and still a virgin, sue me), so forgive me if it seems a little lacking. However, here’s the last list of things that are somewhat personal to me! Enjoy these last random tidbits!

1) that art Steven looks at when he’s in the flat is actually something I painted, and I really like it

2) the cat shirt Ophelia gives Steven is a shirt I own, also in a large size, because I feel comfy in baggy clothes

3) my fish Morticia did have babies, and I’m naming all of them off of famous pirates

4) I love browned pancakes. Don’t know why, I just think they taste better almost burnt

5) my favorite pride and prejudice is the 2005 version. I won’t be taking any other suggestions in the comments

And that’s a wrap! Leave any suggestions for fanfic you would love to see, and maybe I’ll write something, since I’m always looking for inspiration and love story telling! Hope you guys enjoyed this, I know I did!

- ghost Mac and cheese

P.S. did anyone notice since this was the last chapter, I chose the header gif to be Steven saying laters gators because there won’t be anymore of this fanfic? If you did, high five.

#mcu x reader #mcu fluff #my fanfiction #moon knight fanfiction #mcu #meet cute #mr knight #steven grant x fem!reader #steven grant x reader #steven grant #x female reader #fluff #read more

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tendouluvr · 3 years

Text

aizawa calling you clingy - gn reader

- [attempt at] angst to fluff

- warnings: being called clingy, aizawa gets annoyed with reader and berates them, one use of the word ‘shit’

- wc: 1.9k

a/n: this wasnt......as sad as i wanted... i cant tell if im just not so good at writing angst or immune to it T_T

once again, not edited!

#! aizawa!!!! eee

#! hes a levelheaded man so arguments are rare

#! u both trust one another so theres no reason to have doubts in ur relationship

#! being his s/o, he tells u things thats not so easy to tell others over time, and you’re patient enough to let him take however much time he needs to let u in

#! however, years of keeping to himself most of the time doesnt just disappear even if you’re his s/o

#! so aizawa does have this tendency to close off and distance himself from u bc of his stress and insecurities

walking through the spacious halls of ua, you were headed towards your lovely boyfriend. aizawas been pretty busy lately with teaching his class, making sure no one is being left behind progress wise, doing his job as a pro-hero, and then spending his free time training with shinsou.

you knew showing up at school unexpectedly was something aizawa found irky, that’s why you made sure to tell him the night before that you would be coming during lunch time to bring him some yummy homemade food.

humming softly to yourself, you finally reached the door opening to class 1-A and walked in. the classroom was empty, but there at the front was no one other than mr. aizawa shouta. you quickly greeted him with a smile and he turned to look at you.

“what are you doing here?” he slowly asked with a look of confusion.

“i brought you some food! did you eat yet? i hope not, i made-,” you quickly stopped talking once you noticed the look he was giving you.

“why are you here? i already told you, you shouldnt be showing up without letting me know first. our relationship is quiet, if the students see they’ll get noisy and ask questions, i’ll get bombarded by my colleagues, and it’ll put you in danger if words get out. did anyone see you coming here? can you listen to me for once instead of continuing to always be near me? you’re so damn clingy and need to start thinking about the consequences your action will bring. i already ate, just go home before anything happens.”

your jaw dropped a little after hearing what he just said to you. did he not remember what you told him last night?

worst of all, you couldnt believe he just called you clingy. you just wanted to do something nice for him by making his favorite food hoping that it’ll relieve some of the stress thats been building up, but he just thought of you as clingy.

fine, if clingy is what you are then you’ll stop bothering him. you quickly whispered an apology, not sure if he could hear or not, and began making your way back home as fast as possible. the food you made for him was still tightly grasped in your hand.

due to the new dormitories, aizawa stays at ua majority of the time. he comes home to your shared apartment whenever he can to spend time with you. unfortunately, those time aren’t usually much because as soon as he’s free, he’s quick to do something else.

once you’ve made it home, you packed the food away and put it in the fridge. you felt your phone buzzing repeatedly, already guessing who it could possibly be, you took it out to see it was your boyfriend.

shou <3: im sorry

shou <3: honey, im so sorry. pls text me back when u can

shou <3: i know what i said hurted u, but i promise u i dont mean it. pls just call me or text me so we can talk about this

shou <3: i have to go back now. but i love u. so much.

staring at your screen, you contemplated texting him back.

letting out a sigh, you decided not to.

putting your phone to the side, you walked to the bedroom and changed out of your clothes into the comfy pjs you were wearing right before you left.

seeing that there was nothing for you to do other than wallow in your insecurities and let out a few tears, you got into bed and made yourself comfortable for an afternoon nap.

aizawa on the other hand was at school and distracted. his own words kept replaying over and over in his head and all he wants to do is smack himself a few times (after comforting u ofc).

his students could tell he was in a badder mood than usual so they collectively agreed to not worsen it (one particular student does not care. can u guess?). aizawa just wanted the day to pass so he can apologize to you directly and make it up with some cuddling.

despite being distracted with planning his apology and thinking about you, he was still teaching as he should and constantly telling his students to be quiet because he’s intimidating like that.

a few hours passed, the students are back in their dorms and some of the teachers are still in school finishing up some work. the hallways were empty and silent, and the weather outside was nice and calm - not too sunny with just the right amount of wind.

however, if you were to peek your head inside of class 1-A at the moment, the environment is an exact 180. aizawa is quickly trying to grade the remaining stack of papers he has on his desk so he can leave as soon as he can. there’s papers everywhere, he’s not so sure where the answer key went off to but to hell with the answer key. he just needs to go home.

his hair is messily tied up and his lips have probably been gnawed off by now. as soon as school ended, he got out his phone to see if you replied and sadly you didn’t. he doesn’t blame you though, considering all of the shit he said to you earlier.

finally writing down the fat score in red pen onto the final paper, he gathers everything and put to the side of his desk and packed up his stuff. his stuff being his yellow sleeping bag and that’s it.

he went to his room first to clean himself up a bit, and then grabbed a taxi to go to your shared apartment. arriving at the front door, he takes out his copy of the key and entered.

first thing he noticed while entering and taking off his shoes was that the apartment was dark and quiet. he made his way to the kitchen first and turned on its lights to check the fridge. in the fridge laid the food you made for him earlier today. he took it out to start heating it up in the microwave then he walks away from the food and to your bedroom.

quietly opening the door, he poked his head in to see you laying on your side with your back facing the door. he assumed you were asleep and gently closed the door to not wake you up. he made his way over to the bed and sat on the edge of it.

you, feeling the bed dip, slowly opened your eyes to be greeted with the sight of your boyfriend gingerly brushing his fingertips across your cheekbones. he notices that you’re awake and looks up to meet your eyes.

making eye contact with him, you quietly grunted and brought the blanket up to cover your face while turning your entire body to the other side to ignore him. aizawa sighed and brought his hand down to rest on your waist as he begins talking.

“yn... i know you’re.. mad at me for the things i said to you earlier, but i’m truly sorry. i know saying i didn’t mean it isn’t good enough for you to forgive me, but i want you to know i’m really really sorry. i’ve been so busy for the past few days, my head is all over the place, seeing you at school just got me overthinking and worried that i ended up saying things about you that’s not true at all. i love you so much, hun. you’re the best thing to happen to me. you don’t have to forgive me now, i understand if you want some space.”

it was silent for some time after he finished his apology. the echoing silence was slowly making aizawa worried that you’ll leave him, but he won’t tell you that. thinking that you wanted space, he lifted his shaky hand off of your waist and moved to get off of the bed when you suddenly grabbed onto his hand to keep him there.

“i...i told you the day before that i was going to be visiting you during lunch time. did you not remember? or even hear me tell you?”

aizawa situated himself back down onto the bed before replying. “if i’m being honest, i don’t really remember much of that day at all. my brain was occupied with work and rest, so i was practically drained by the end of the night. i’m sorry i took it out on you, it’s my fault for overworking when i know you’ve been trying to help.”

letting out a soft sigh, you turned your body back towards him. still holding onto his hand, you carefully slotted your fingers in between his and pulled him down to lay with you. he immediately found comfort in this and placed his head into your neck. you could feel his facial hair against your skin making you let out a quiet giggle.

“i love you. i know you have a habit to overwork since that’s all you did before we dated, but please shou, take care of yourself. im not talking physically, cuz you’re already so damn fine, but mentally. i hate seeing you bury yourself in work and training that it even makes me tired just watching you.”

he grumbled something against your neck - his usual reaction to you complimenting him - and held onto you tighter while putting light kisses on your collarbone.

“i know. i will. please bear with me, i know i’m a pain but i’ll always try to be my best for you. i’m never letting you go, love you too much for that.”

“hmm? who said i’m going? you’re stuck with me forever just so you know,” you laughed and patted his head before rising from the bed.

“i heard you heating up the food earlier. get up and come eat,” you tugged aizawa to get him off the bed.

he grumbled once again because he was being forced to leave the warm comfort of your shared bed, but followed you out anyway holding onto your hand.

“wait. you heard me entering? so you were pretending to sleep when i got here?! not funny, babe. not funny. -also don’t take sleep for granted. i did and look where that got me. stop laughing!”

bonus:

it was the next day and aizawa just finished passing out the grades he rushed grading yesterday. even though it was rushed, he was confident that there wasn’t any mistakes-

“aizawa sensei, you marked this question wrong when it’s right. this one too. and this other one on the last page. are you trying to fail me?!” denki dramatically wailed as he showed aizawa his papers.

guess he did make mistakes after all.

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enderwoah · 3 years

Text

ORIGINS SMP HEADCANONS (because i love them): SEASON TWO EDITION BAYBEEE

(this is really long ENJOY :gun:)

tommy

he is phil's son smile

phil's most recent son at least

he's got like one more somewhere

he picked this one up off the dangerous streets a few years ago and he's been sticking with phil ever since

his wings are small- not too small to fly, but they're untrained to the point where it would take a lot or work to get him off the ground

but at first, he didn't really seem to want to learn all that much?

(he has three scars on his face- all from trying to learn how to fly when he was younger)

(he gave up after the third one)

("if at first you don't succeed; try, try again" is his motto, and he tried all three times)

but!! phil and wilbur are very persuasive :) and now that he knows he can fly, he's not going to rest until he does

he's a little manipulative to get what he wants sometimes, but can you blame someone that lived on the street for so long?

he had to do that to survive! it's not his fault.

(it's a great excuse.)

he laughs like a kookaburra amen

he squawks when he gets scared

he chirps. he tries not to because it makes phil go absolutely bird-brained but he does sometimes and he hates it.

tubbo

NOW'S YOUR CHANCE TO BE A B[GUNSHOTS]

god he is. so fucking annoying (/rp)

he simply does not know when to stop

he ignores social cues to see when someone is annoyed

(see: he can read social cues. he does read social cues. when you get annoyed that's when he starts being more annoying, because you're more likely to give him what he wants to get him to shut the fuck up.)

he loves talking to (at) people, especially people he doesn't really know that well

so he's trying to be friends with ranboo, but the absolute prick keeps trying to avoid any actual conversations, so that's not working

he buzzes when he gets excited-happy

his fingertips are completely blackened and horrendously sharp, functioning as ten individual stingers

they don't do any actual damage but he's working on that

techno

wither hybrid (??)

how can you be a wither hybrid?? nobody got down and dirty with the wither

he's an experiment

the reason we haven't seen him yet? he's staying away from the main area of the smp

he doesn't want to ruin its natural beauty with his withering effect, so he keeps to himself on the outskirts of the smp

which sucks

withers get health from killing things

he's not fully a wither, so he gets energy from being around people and sort of draining their life force a little bit

he feels terrible when he's with just one person because they are Literally his life support and it makes the person feel like shit

when he's with a big group of people its great!! he only has to take a little bit from everyone and its barely noticable!!

but then there's the wither part. so he has to stay away.

he's always tired

always exhausted

he's a farmer, so taking it from animals works, but god does he miss people

but he can only visit a few times and for very short

(he's afraid that one of these days he'll get so bad that the next time he sees someone he'll accidentally kill them)

(it already happened once. he's blessed that he's been forgiven, even made friends with by the victims, but he doubts he'll be able to pull that off again with no consequences like last time)

wilbur

phantlings are dead elytrians, and given that wilbur was phil's son...he's a phantling

he died in the late 50s and was a librarian when he was alive, so he's very possessive (ha) over all of his things

you should never ask to "borrow" anything from him, he will hound you about it until you give it back

it's best to just say that you want something from him to keep

even if youre going to give it back

just for your own peace of mind

phantlings can feel fear and get a genuine feeling of elation from scaring people

of course, sometimes its unwelcome (feeling large amounts of fear from someone they care about in a bad way just makes them pissed)

but for the most part, wilbur loves appearing in the corner of people's visions just to jumpscare them a few minutes later

all in good fun, of course!! it's just hilarious :)

being the lighthearted, fun guy he is, he's not particularly secretive about his method of death

"how did i die? well, it all started -- ended -- on november 16th, 1958!"

"i walked out of the library late, since i took the shift for my wife since she was feeling sick and i worked there anyways,"

"the streets were dark and only lit up by gaslamps...and out of an alley...appeared..........."

techno.

he didn't mean it. wilbur isn't at all mad at him (anymore)

he was starving. he didn't know that one touch would be enough to fully revitalize him...

and murder wilbur where he stood.

sneeg

has details on everyone on the server

you Cannot Hide Shit From Sneeg

its impossible

if you find of his any shittly little mouse holes then you're doomed

you find one and there are twenty more

he's under your floorboards while you're having your important discussion about trapping the nether roof

sucks to suck ig??

he seems to be the favourite of many, which is weird since he rarely goes out of his way to actually talk to many people

he's the only person that tubbo doesn't actively try to annoy (or maybe he just doesn't find tubbo's antics all that annoying)

he's the only person that ranboo stays around (or maybe he stays around ranboo- he and Phil seem to be the only ones not off-put by his slightly sadistic and whiny demeanour (not counting tubbo, who annoys him anyways)

phil seems to be more protective of him than he thinks is normal (he lets sneeg ride on his shoulder while travelling, so he doesn't really complain)

niki is completely protective over him (again, not complaining)

contrary to popular believe, he does not get high from sugar

if anything he gets

high-per

(get it)

(high-per)

(hyper)

he's literally just a nine-year old getting a sugar rush leave him alone

phil

take the normal "bird-brain" headcanons and multiply it by like sixty-four

and you've got origins phil

he can't see glass- or, rather, he can, but it doesn't register that 'hey, this is a solid surface i am going to slam into'

its very funny for everyone else but he's pretty sure he has permanent brain damage from the blunt force trauma

if there is ANYONE on the server who dares to chirp, bird or no, they must understand that they are signing away their privacy and giving phil the right to go absolutely bonkers over them momma bird style

(shoutout to tommy, wilbur, ranboo, and fundy for having to suffer through this)

"oh??? you don't have wings?? you don't have feathers?? omg?? then what's this im preening?? what do you mean im just braiding your hair?? nono this is preening smile"

god help you if you dare to have wings

poor tommy, wilbur, sneeg, and tubbo

phil can't help himself alright

do you think he wants to be any sort of protective over sneegsnag?

no!! but he cant stop himself!! sneeg might damage his wings if he keeps flying those super long distances!!! nnnno! carry the bug man!!!

it's weird, he's always had that protective sense over ranboo, too

but ranboo very obviously doesn't have wings, so he doesn't get it...

ranboo

yes ur a peasant

yes ur poor

yes im cooler than u

what r u gonna do about it

the enderdragon's son! partially a dragon, partially enderman, partially human (don't ask, his other mom is a hybrid), all spoiled brat!

given that he has a ton of dragon genes, he's extremely possessive over his stuff and Yes He Does Do The Hoarding Thing

he has a pile of rings and gold chains and necklaces and most of his jewellery hidden underneath his bed

(if you ask him, no, he doesn't)

not to wear

just to Have

one time, fundy stole one (1) bracelet from the hoard and ranboo was sent into a panic for a good 24 hours

he wouldn't leave his cave and kept counting and recounting as if that'd make the missing piece reappear

(when fundy had to give it back because of the guilt, he expected to get his face bitten off)

(instead, he just watched as the prince was flooded with relief, telling him to get the hell out and nothing more)

it's weird, he has so much gold and even a crown, and yet here he is

living with all those people ^^^

truth be told, the enderdragon isn't a very nice dragon

nor is she a very kind queen

nor was the other queen

nor was her son

there was a mutiny in the end, leading to the dragon queen and her wife being killed brutally by the crowd of angered people

they went after their son next, who had ordered executions and worked servants to the bone just as much as they had

they cut off his wings in the middle of the square

he was sure he was going to die until a random person (a peasant) jumped up and yelled at them for publicly torturing a child

but ranboo didn't really catch all of it, given he was delirious from pain

he got to get some stuff quickly and escape with his life

this wasn't too long ago, either, so he's still trying to...adjust...to people talking rudely to him

(he's also trying to adjust to not having wings)

(hence why he hurls himself off the edges of cliffs and then has to teleport to the bottom instead of glide. he keeps forgetting.)

#this is so long #origins smp #originssmp #ranboo #tubbo #philza #philza minecrft #sneegsnag #wilbur soot #technoblade #tommyinnit #help this is so long

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flashflashhundredyarddash · 3 years

Text

flashfam and birdflash because im WEAKKK

so barry and iris take wally in because rudy is a FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT

lets imagine this happens early teens or so

wally never even comes out to his dad because he just. Knows exactly what his parents would think

he kind of. subtly tried to bring it up with his mom but she made her opinion Pretty Damn Clear so wally is like great this is awesome

as a result of both the superspeed + switching cities + adhd wally has practically 0 friends growing up which really concerns barry and iris

so barry is like, babe, i have a fantastic idea, im going to set up a playdate with batmans kid

and iris is like I GUESS

(also the way wally behaves in a relationship is 100% modeled after barry and iris because they literally have the perfect relationship. see exhibit a) babe as a pet name)

((this is also probably why hes a little upset when he finds out about barry and hal because its like. you think you understand your parents and then they hit you with this massive bombshell that kind of forces you to change your whole perception of them? and even though nobodys done anything wrong its still really upsetting? and maybe if wally had known earlier that barry was bi wally wouldnt have been so fucking stressed out about coming out?))

anyways. robin and kid flash playdate. a meeting for the ages.

wally gets a crush like. right away but doesnt realize so he oscillates WILDLY between being REALLY nice to robin and also being kind of fucking mean lol wally was very much pulling robins pigtails

like one day wally shares half his ants on a log that iris made him with robin and then the next he puts gum in robins hair and robin cries while alfred cuts it out

robin is like UGH kid flash is SO MEAN and bruce is like you dont have to hang out with him and robin is like NO IM GONNA

wally gets out of the mean phase quickly though lol

barry and iris realize right away its a crush and are like aw cute but then it... doesnt go away... ever...

so then they go REALLY hard on the PFLAG thing and keep like brochures and pride flags EVERYWHERE which actually does make wally a lot more comfortable

when wally comes out they all cry lol

wally calls barry and iris uncle and aunt but when hes much older he switches between aunt/uncle and mom and dad

anyways when dick leaves bruce/is fired/complicated feeling stuff dick spends most of his time at titans tower BUT also spends a significant amount of time at barry and iris' place

because the westallen household is adhd central, dick actually learns a lot of tips for dealing with his own adhd from them

dick is trying to Figure out his place in the world so he actually gets really into the journalism scene for a while because of both iris and clark

iris: hi this is my nephew, dick, hes my intern :)

clark: no, this is MY nephew, hes MY intern :)

lois bugs bunny meme: OUR nephew-intern

wally Does Not get it at all bcus he is 100% a STEM kid but hes still like i support you babe :^)

barry and iris LOVE dick. dick doesnt really open up about his situation but they kind of get the gist so barry is like. really annoyed with batman whenever they have to work together

iris writes a very scathing series of articles about the batman of gotham and dick is very vindictively pleased

dick actually finds out about hal and barry first bcus he comes downstairs and theyre making out on the couch and and dick is like UHHHH and halbarry are like UHHHHHHHH and dick is like I AM CALLING IRIS RIGHT FUCKING NOW and halbarry are like NO ITS COOL

iris is like. Mom supreme. dick for the past decade has had like no mother figures (selina doesnt really count because her and bruce are messyyyyy) so he both really wants iris's affection and also gets really overwhelmed by it

also barry. like, isnt emotionally constipated? wally tells dick that the west allens have weekly dinners where they talk about whats up with them and their feelings and dick is like aw thats cute and then wally is like dick u should join us and dick is like WAIT NO THATS NOT WHAT I MEANT

so dick is now required to be at family dinners once a month and talk about his feelings which is both exhausting and liberating

barry cries at the wedding and iris is like I Am Not Crying How Dare You Imply That I Am.

bruce and iris. the most begrudging in-laws. everytime bruce sees iris hes immediately reminded of the phrase "The Batman is a violent, depressed loner who gets his thrills by beating up homeless people and drug addicts." and its like jesus fucking christ iris way to gut the man

iris 100% uses the fact that shes dick graysons mother-in-law aunt-in-law to get sources. its a dog-eat-dog world out there, kid.

dick adores the twins bcus he loves babies

wally gets SO annoyed by bart its very funny to dick. wally and dick both grew up as only children but dick has had more time to adjust to having siblings so hes much more fond of bart than wally initially is

#birdflash #y am i like this? u ask #wally west #dick grayson #barry allen #iris west #dc #the burd squawks #long post #halbarry #westallen

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 3 years

Text

bakugou thoughts pt 2001847471 :)))

- if u go to the park, and somebody is like, walking their dog n the animal barks at y’all??? bakugou is barking back. mans full on squares up, n barks at the dog until it backs off

- he rarely gets into shows/series, but when he finds one he likes, he’ll only watch the first few episodes and then make u watch the rest with him. he’ll always say sum “if i dont watch with you, then i gotta make extra time for your needy ass. ‘m prioritizing my fuckin’ time. it doesn’t mean anything, shut up.” ...... he’s lying. it does mean something. it means he wants to share the things he likes with u

- pls he’s so smart, and generally pretty aware, but sometimes he’ll just do something so duMb. like, u kno that thing that happens sometimes with hair?? like, when it sticks to ur fingers and no matter what u do, u can’t get it off?? bakugou is literally breaking his wrist a foot away from u, shaking his hand back and forth and cursing soooo loudly. u just gotta go up to him and gently remove the hair from him like “oh honey- no.”

- peanut gallery comments. lots of them. mans will sit fully dead silent, not talking for the whOle day, but the second u do something embarrassing?? like trip??? suddenly he has a LOT to say ..... smh men

- animals just always like him. its absolutely unexplainable bc he’s so loud n moves super suddenly,,, but the amount of street animals that follow him home is ridiculous. srsly. sometkmes he even has other people’s pets trying to follow him home

- respects absolutely no one n that somehow strangely makes him the most respectful u’ve ever seen??? like- he hates everyone the exact same so u won’t ever catch bakugou in an act of discrimmination

- he can’t draw at all but if u asked him to draw something, it’ll be the same skull every single time. it’s a good skull, but it’s soooo obvious he learned how to draw it from a tutorial in the midst of his emo phase

- will fully make fun of others for baby-talking around their s/o, n then just fully go home n look at you like “tired.” “hungry.” “kiss.”...... like okay baby man, maybe try putting a full sentence together before u start trying to run your mouth. hypocrite.

- probably sleeps like the dead. contrary to popular belief, i absolutely do not believe he’s up at every single noise. man’s could sleep thru an explosion, im sure of it. that being said tho, it’s probably actually hard for him to turn his brain off n fall asleep. he prob goes to bed so “early” bc he has to wind down for a good hr or two until he’s ready to actually sleep

- he’s got a vendetta against salespeople. like, if his phone rings with some bullshit about a product? if somebody, god forbid, tries to walk up to your door? fully frothing at the mouth annoyed. will chew out any employee who’s too underpaid not to listen to him

- eats like an absolute animal. no rlly, its bad. holds his spoon with a fist and digs at his meal like its the gold rush. the worst table manners you’ve ever seen rlly

- he gets sorts antsy if he sits for too long, so he’s always off doing random shit. like, u’ll look out the window n he’s just like, raking the .3 leaves from ur driveway, probably trying to guess where the wind will be so they wont blow back

- ik this with my heart and soul okay,,, bakugou has never had a conversation with u that wasnt from exactly .2 meters away. like,, if he’s comfortable, then he’s just close all the time. like he’s waving his hands around and yelling and you just have to take his face in ur hands and go “im literally right here. ily but pls tone it down for the sake of my hearing.”

- very much guard dog behavior when y’all go out. absolutely will not leave ur side for even a second, like, at a bar or during a concert. even if u go to the bathroom he’s like, leaning against the wall and waiting right outside the door

- gets absolutely bitchy about your phone blowing up while you’re hanging out. its not that he’s suspicious that ur, like, cheating on him, it’s just that he doesnt understand why u’d even leave ur phone on in the first place since he always has his turned off when ur around. if he gets annoyed enough he’ll fully take the phone out of ur hands, say sum “yeah, you don’t fuckin’ need this anymore. you’re done with this.” n toss it across the room while he kisses u senseless

- tbh his ultimate love language is 100% playfighting. v much would go heart eyes if u even seemed like u might try n wrestle him. obvi u dont win, but his favorite is how u laugh while he pins ur hands above ur head

- he sneers at other angry people. will fully, fully sit there like “jesus christ, they need to calm the hell down. annoying as shit- fuckin’ loud too.” ....... -i. who’s gonna tell him

- silent conversations with ur eyes. no rlly. if y’all are with friends and somebody says something questionable, bakugou is immeadiately turning to u, eyes hardly even shifting but u just know he’s hurling insults in his head

- he doesnt realize his own strength sometimes. like- he knows he’s strong, but if u ever open a door n ur like “woah, careful, this is heavier than it looks” bakugou is .2 steps behind u practically ripping the damn thing off it’s hinges. he’ll look at it, huffing like he doesn’f even understand the issue

- he rlly likes when u call him by his name. pet names are fine, but he srsly is super soft for the simple stuff. like when u look over at him, all excited, smile wide like “hey katsuki, u gotta see this! c’mere!”

- his road rage is severe. no rlly. bakugou drives like every day is a race n he’s one win away from going formula one. you’re pretty sure that the only reason he passed his license test is bc the instuctor was too terrified to tell him no

- bakugou probably does that thing where if you’re sitting on the counter top, watching him cook, he’ll stand between ur legs. hands on ur thighs or resting on ur hips while you tell him about your day

- can’t explain this one, but he doesnt kill spiders. he takes them outside. says sum “they eat ticks, idiot. what- you actually want a fuckin’ blood disease? Hah? ‘m not gonna kill it. motherfucker’s gotta earn his keep before dyin’ just like the rest of us.” while he v gently picks the spider up into his hand and walks it outside

- ik that his one cheat food is sugary cereal. like, he’s a health freak, but the one thing he can’t help but make a concession for is sugary cereal on the weekends

- he’ll sometimes get in this over-stimulated mood where everything pisses him off, n the only thing u can do is leave him alone. u learn this quick bc his anger doesn’t discrimminate and if u push him even after he tells u what’s up?? pls bakugou will lash tf out. at u. like, ik y’all like to write it but that whole “it’s okay- it’s just me. just look at me.” thing does not work with him,,, u literally gonna get merc’d if u try

- he’s probably a guy who’s gonna be super big on passing touches. like he drops his hand on ur head when he passes, or bumps his shoulder into urs when he laughs. no footsies tho. too sappy even for him- pls if u tried to initate that he’d crush ur toes under the table aHAHAHA

- feeds every street cat he comes across. is probably super fond of the ones with a bunch of scratches/scars on them. he’d die if u knew, but one time u caught him feeding a scratched up calico n going “bet u beat his stupid ass, right? that’s my girl. we always win, huh?”

—/—

surprise suprise,, my brain rlly never shuts the hell up about this man

#bakugou katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha fic #mha bakugou #bakugou headcannon #bakugou hcs #mha headcannons #mha hcs

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timelesslords · 3 years

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Can u pls write a percabeth fic where Percy and Rachel are dating and percabeth are best friends and they end up spending the night together and it's been a week and they don't know how to tell Rachel and Rachel being bitter ?? Pls

This was kind of out of my comfort zone in terms of what I usually write lol but I tried my best!! I imagine this as like a mortal college AU :)

send me a prompt!

“Beth, you can’t walk home like this,” Percy said, exasperated.

“I’m fine! I’m hardly even drunk,” Annabeth said, trying (and failing) to quash the butterflies in her stomach when he called her Beth. Percy, having been her best friend for almost a decade, was the only person in the whole world who was allowed to call her that. He only pulled it out in rare situations, and every time he did Annabeth would swear her heart skipped five consecutive beats.

Not that he could ever know that, of course. Now felt like a more precarious situation than most-- she’d come over to his dorm so they could watch a movie together, and had ended up curled up together on his bed around his laptop. In fairness, his dorm was tiny and there was nowhere else to sit besides his bed, but if Annabeth imagined really hard she could pretend that it had all been completely intentional, and he was sitting this close to her because he wanted to.

“Hardly?” Percy asked, raising an eyebrow. And, fine. Annabeth had had… an amount to drink. A non-zero amount, some might say. More than Percy, and she had a way lower tolerance than him. She was buzzed, sure, but not buzzed enough to walk back across campus to her own dorm.

“I’m fine. It’s barely twenty minutes,” Annabeth protested. She started to stand up, but Percy gently tugged her back into the bed. She should have put up more resistance than she did, but, well. Who could blame her.

“It’s also three in the morning and you’re drunk,” Percy said, “Come on, just stay the night.”

“Stay where? Grover’s bed?” Annabeth asked, repressing giggles at the thought. It wasn’t really that funny a thought, but, well, she was tipsy.

Percy’s roommate was gone for the night to visit his girlfriend, leaving his bed empty. Grover was a cool guy, but he also had a weird tendency to leave soda cans just about everywhere, including in his bed.

Percy just rolled his eyes. “No, here.”

It took Annabeth a few seconds to realize exactly what he was saying.

“In your bed?” Annabeth asked, hesitantly.

“We’ve been sitting on it together all night,” Percy pointed out.

“Yeah, but…” Annabeth trailed off.

It was different. She knew it was different. And frankly, any other time she’d be absolutely delighted that Percy was offering that difference, but there was also the issue of Percy’s girlfriend. Percy’s girlfriend, who he’d met their freshman year and hit it off with despite the fact that Annabeth had been in love with him since she knew what love was. Percy’s girlfriend, who was in another dorm on campus not ten minutes away, not here but also not not here.

“But what?” Percy asked. There was the tiniest bit of a smirk on his face, and Annabeth shoved his shoulder, rolling her eyes.

“You know what,” she said. Maybe it came off a little more seriously than she’d meant, but he didn’t seem to care.

“It’s not like we’d be doing anything,” Percy said. Annabeth tried not to feel hurt at how foreign the concept of “doing anything” seemed to him in relation to him and her. But she didn’t have any right to feel any type of way about that, because she and Percy were just friends and Percy had a girlfriend who was not going to be happy about Annabeth spending the night in his bed, regardless of which activities did or did not take place there.

“Yeah, I know, but its just… I don’t know, don’t you think Rachel will be mad?”

“You’re staying here because you need a place to crash. She can’t be mad about that.”

“I’m pretty sure she could find something to be mad about,” Annabeth muttered, mostly to herself. Percy heard her though. They were sitting so close their shoulders were touching, so it would have been a miracle if he didn’t.

“Fine, I’ll sleep on the floor. She can’t be mad about that,” Percy said, actually making to get up like he was about to lie down right there and then. It was Annabeth’s turn to pull him back onto the mattress.

“Don’t be stupid, you’re not sleeping on the floor in your own dorm room,” Annabeth said, “Besides, she’d just say I kicked you off your bed.”

Maybe Annabeth should’ve kept that last bit to herself, but she’d never been very good at hiding her feelings about Rachel. Percy sighed, knowing she was right but not wanting to admit it.

“Well I’m not letting you sleep on the floor,” he said stubbornly, despite the fact that Annabeth hadn’t even suggested it. She had to bite back a laugh at the indignant look on his face.

“Percy, I was never going to sleep on your floor. I was going to go home,” she reminded him.

“Well I’m not letting you do that either,” he said, “So I guess you’re stuck in bed with me, unless you want me to spend the night on concrete.”

“You’re so goddamn annoying,” Annabeth grumbled.

“Does that mean you’re staying?” he asked. His expression brightened considerably at the prospect, and Annabeth had to physically force herself to calm her heart rate down.

“Well apparently I don’t have a choice,” Annabeth said, rolling her eyes, praying to every god in the universe that she wasn’t blushing.

“Right,” Percy said, putting on some exaggerated confidence, “Obviously. So am I taking the floor or the bed?”

Annabeth knew he would sleep on the floor in a heartbeat. If she told him that she was uncomfortable being in his bed with him, he would gladly spend the night on cold concrete in the middle of winter in a dorm that had, frankly, terrible heating.

But she wasn’t about to make him do that. And if she was honest with herself, being in bed with him was the opposite of uncomfortable.

“The bed,” she sighed. Percy grinned triumphantly.

“I knew you wouldn’t make me sleep on the floor,” he said, and Annabeth finally let herself laugh.

“Yeah, because I told you so twice.”

“I think it’s because I know you so well, actually,” he said, finally closing his laptop that had been playing the movie earlier, and setting it on his bedside table. They’d turned the lights off earlier, and without the soft glow of the computer screen the only lights in the room were the faint street lights outside.

The bed was just a regular old twin, with not much space for either of them. That was why they were touching so much, Annabeth reminded herself. Just that. No other reason. He just put his arm around her shoulders because it was more comfortable that way, that was all.

It was late, and Annabeth was drunk, so falling asleep was easy. But she’d be lying if she said Percy didn’t help with that too.

***

It’d been a week since Annabeth had spent the night at Percy’s dorm, and they hadn’t talked about it at all.

She’d woken up the next morning completely hungover, and also with her and Percy’s limbs completely tangled together. The bed they’d shared was small, but it wasn’t that small.

Percy, of course, had acted like it was nothing. He’d teased her about her bed head and she’d half-heartedly teased him back about his morning breath, and then she’d packed her stuff from the night before and made her walk of shame back to her dorm. Except it wasn’t even a proper walk of shame, because they hadn’t actually done anything.

He hadn’t brought it up since, like it had been no big deal at all. Annabeth wished she could be so lowkey about it, but it was the only thing she’d been thinking about that entire week.

They’d already planned to meet up at the end of the week again, only this time in a group setting. A group setting meant Rachel was going to be there, and Percy might think their little sleepover hadn’t been a big deal, but Rachel was definitely not going to share that opinion. Annabeth was honestly dreading facing her so much that she considered bailing at least ten times. In the end, she decided that she had to just suck it up— she was going to have to face Rachel at some point, it might as well have been now.

All that to say Annabeth was a little surprised when she showed up at the party, only to find Rachel acting completely normal towards her. She was irritated towards Annabeth, but that wasn’t unusual. Rachel was always irritated towards Annabeth, and Annabeth was always irritated towards Rachel. But Rachel wasn’t pissed at her like Annabeth expected her to be. She wasn’t even not pissed, she was downright cordial.

All it took was one look at Percy for Annabeth to confirm what she already knew. He hadn’t told her.

“I need to talk to you,” she said, grabbing Percy’s arm and pulling him down the hallway. Rachel was going to be pissed at her for that, but Annabeth didn’t care. Percy followed along without complaint, not even bothering to shoot Rachel an apologetic look.

The hallway was empty, or as empty as a hallway at a college party could be. The music was loud enough to cover up their conversation, anyway.

“Did you not tell her?” Annabeth asked, keeping her voice barely above a whisper. Percy immediately looked guilty.

“You don’t know that,” he said, as if everything about both of their demeanors hadn’t given it away instantly.

“Of course I do, she wasn’t absolutely furious with me,” Annabeth hissed. Percy looked, if possible, more guilty than before.

“Okay, fine, I didn’t,” he admitted, “But what’s the big deal? It’s not like we did anything.”

And there it was again, those two little words and the way he said them, as if anything happening between the two of them was an impossibility. It felt like a dagger straight to the heart, but Annabeth ignored it.

“I dunno,” Annabeth said, “I mean if I was your girlfriend, I think I would want to know.”

Percy had choked on his drink halfway through her statement, and was already coughing before she could finish it.

“Are you okay?” Annabeth asked, alarmed. Percy just shook his head.

“Fine,” Percy managed to choke out, “I’m fine.”

“Am I going to have to heimlich you again?”

“Hey, you promised you would never bring that up again,” Percy said, pointing an accusing finger at her as he coughed again, clearing his throat a few times for good measure, “Besides, I don’t think it works for soda.”

“Fair. But don’t change the subject.”

“You changed the subject first,” Percy accused, in a not subtle attempt to change the subject once again.

“Because I thought you were choking, dumbass. You have to tell her.”

“Why?” Percy practically whined.

“Because the fact that you don’t want to means you know she’s going to be mad about it,” Annabeth said.

Percy groaned, letting his head fall back against the wall.

“Why are you so smart?” he asked. It sounded like a complaint, even though she knew he didn’t mean it that way. It sure felt that way, though.

“‘Cause one of us has to be,” Annabeth sighed.

If Annabeth were smarter, she would’ve never agreed to spend the night to begin with. But it was way too late for that now.

They went back and joined the group, but Annabeth knew Rachel was staring (bordering on glaring) at her the entire rest of the night. She couldn’t even really blame her. She was going to be a hell of a lot more mad at Annabeth once she found out the reason Annabeth had pulled Percy away to begin with.

The very next day Annabeth was in her dorm room, trying to finish a project for her architecture class. It was due on Monday, but she’d been so distracted the entire week that she’d barely even made a dent in it at all. It wasn’t coming together the way she wanted to and Annabeth was three seconds away from snapping her pencil in half and throwing the whole draft away. Before she could, there was a sharp knock at the door.

Annabeth glanced down at her phone, but she didn’t see any texts. Maybe it was the RA doing an inspection, or maybe Piper had forgotten her key again.

But when Annabeth opened the door, she found Percy standing in the doorway. He spoke before Annabeth could even open her mouth.

“So, I told her,” Percy said, with absolutely no context. He knew she didn’t need it. Annabeth found herself gripping the door so tightly she thought her fingers might break.

“You did? What happened?” Annabeth asked, trying not to sound frantic. Why was he here? Why didn’t he just call her? What if Rachel had made him swear to never talk to her again and he was just here to say goodb--

“She asked me to tell her with 100% certainty that I didn’t have feelings for you,” Percy said, impossibly calm.

If Rachel had asked him that, why was he standing in Annabeth’s doorway?

“And?” Annabeth said, voice small. Her heart was practically pounding out of her chest, but Percy just shrugged.

“And, I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t?” Annabeth repeated, just to make sure she had heard him correctly.

“Nope,” he said, easily, too easily, “To be honest, I couldn’t even give her like, 1% certainty, but that would’ve felt a little rude to say.”

“So…” Annabeth trailed off. She couldn’t quite believe what she was hearing. It didn’t make sense in her brain. Percy had feelings for her. And he’d broken up with Rachel, which meant— which meant—

“I think now is the part where you tell me if you like me back,” Percy said, interrupting her thoughts. He was smiling though, like he already knew the answer.

Annabeth did not currently have the mental wherewithal to form words. Thankfully her feet did the thinking for her, closing the already small distance between them and kissing him like she’d wanted to do for years.

“So I take it that’s a yes?” he said with a grin, when they finally broke apart. Annabeth was pleased to see he was a little breathless, at least.

“Shut up,” she laughed.

“Gladly,” he said, leaning down to kiss her again.

#this is so long and the ending is.... it is #i tried yall 😭#percabeth #percy jackson #percabeth fic #annabeth chase #pjo fic #rachel elizabeth dare slander #she truly is not even a person in this she's a cardboard cutout of a person lmao #percabeth fanfic #pining #so much pining

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rintarous · 4 years

Text

fuckboy!kageyama

[ masterlist ] + first installment of the fuckboy!haikyuu series! i hope everyone enjoys it <3

osamu | kita | suna | tendou

kageyama tobio,, as a fuckboy

fuckboy and kageyama don’t belong in the same sentence but here we are

in all honesty, kageyama isn’t even experienced in *that* area

mans never even had his first kiss

he’s only called a fuckboy because of the amount of people that fall for him on the daily

like mans just breathed near the second year classrooms and the next thing he knew there’s a line of people outside his class just wanting to see him

too bad tho he just sleeps throughout classes unless its break time or lunch time

kageyama can’t recall how many cartons of milk he gets on a daily basis given by his so called fans or the people who have a crush on him

“good morning kageyama-san” a person he doesn’t recognize greets him as he enters the school premises

“...” - kags

yeah u get the idea

and when its time for that good ol confession time,,

kageyama ultimately rejects everyone

so now he got haters in school too ugh

give him a break

like rumors started to spread around how much of a self centered bitch he is

“did you hear? he rejected the prettiest girl in his class! what a fucking douchebag” is one would say about kageyama the great when asked about what’s so good with him

also sometimes when he gets annoyed and shit with all the people trying to get his attention,

theres a slight chance that he may or may not snap and let out an insult here and there

“get out of my way you goddamn scrubs” is what he blurts out

cue the angry people with their pitchforks

give kageyama a break 2020

not only he’s struggling with his academics, now he has to deal with rumors 24/7 dear gawd

that is, til he met you

you honestly never paid attention on what was the hype around him

cs he was your classmate and he just sleeps during class

so you were like: ???? when he suddenly blew up in school like he’s some idol or something

luckily for you, you were designated seatmates during english

one of the subjects he hates the most

“must be hard being an idol in school huh?” you joked as you jot down notes

kageyama suddenly feels awake all of a sudden

did he hear you right?? an idol at school?

“what are you talking about?” he asked, mind still kinda hazy due to his nap

“like people after you like you’re some kind of god? it kinda annoys me sometimes cause i can’t get through the sea of people” you chuckled

in his mind kageyama is all like: FINALLY A NORMAL PERSON

“how should i know? if this is what oikawa-san deals on the daily, i don’t want it” kags huffs,

“oikawa is from another school by the way and he’s kinda famous” he explains when he noticed your confused look

“pretty boys must suck huh” you give him a small smile

and kageyama suddenly felt his cheeks redden at your sudden compliment

a pretty what now?

and to his dismay, the bell rings meaning classes were over

“well, see you around pretty boy” you waved goodbye as you stuff your shit inside your bag and head out leaving kageyama alone in his seat

there was this rush of determination in him when you called him that and now he’s certain if he wanted to get a person’s attention, it’s definitely going to be yours

his fuckboy act coming to play tbh

kags started practicing pick up lines and winking in his bathroom mirror whenever he takes a shower

hoping it would be cool enough to impress you

but since you already told him how it was kinda stupid that he’s being treated like an idol or some god, he knew he had to try harder than this

and finally it was english class again

this time you see him completely awake and sitting still in his seat as you placed your bag onto the side of the table

“well this is new” you gasp in fake amazement seeing kageyama was going to pay attention in class

“yeah cause i wanted to impress you” kageyama says ever so casually

“being attentive in class doesn’t impress me, try harder” you rolled your eyes at his attempt but secretly your heart was beating faster

“yeah i know but i think i have a few tricks up my sleeve that will get you to fall for me in no time” he winks

this time, it was your turn to blush

“is that a challenge?” you raised a brow at your seatmate

kageyama FUCKING smirks

“if you want it to be”

oh girl you aren’t going to back down from this

“first one to fall takes the loser out on a date” you proposed, but there was this mischievous glint in his eyes

“what makes you think that that’s the only time i’ll be taking you out on a date?” he asked with his head tilted to the side

oh dude that caught you off guard

“but sure. game on” kageyama smirks yet again leaving you in a blushing state

#fuckboy!haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcannons #haikyuu x reader #kageyama imagines #kageyama scenarios #kageyama headcannons #kageyama x reader #kageyama tobio imagines #kageyama tobio scenarios #kageyama tobio headcannons #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama #kageyama tobio

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free-pancakes · 3 years

Note

Ok this is super cheesy but here goes; hanji: "you don't look like a professional criminal" levi: "oh sorry, let me go make myself look like Hannibal lector or something" sorry its rlly cheap but I wanna see some sort of crime au or whatever. Love ur drabbles btw! Keep it up! :)

oh gosh anon, this has been sitting in my inbox for months, i'm so sorry! might be a lil boring, but! i'm all for stupid levihan banter and it made me really happy to write this :) hope u like it!

Under the cover of night, a hooded figure crept through darkness. On the security cameras, it was nothing but a questionable shadow—blink once and it was gone. That’s how it always went.

“What the—“

Reiner turned, peering down the outdoor alleyway. His fellow security guard was no longer standing under a small lamp hanging above the corner of the building.

“B-Bertholdt?” he called?

Before Reiner could call out once more, he heard a voice whispering behind him into his right ear.

“If you open the door, I’ll let you off easy.”

Eyeing the crowbar on the ground, Reiner reached quickly. But he was too late—a hand grabbed him by the forearm. He struggled and was quickly brought to the ground.

“How could someone so small bring me down so fast??” he thought. Before he could even elbow back, he felt a needle sink into his neck, and he yelled out.

The hooded figure stood up.

“Just a small sedative—don’t worry. You won’t remember that a guy half your size took u down in less than...” He peered at his wristwatch—“20 seconds.”

As the hooded teen stood up, a small buzz vibrated in his pocket.

He unlocked his phone, the glow lighting up his face, the dark circles under his eyes now looking much more prominent.

A text from Erwin: “Levi, thermal imaging shows no one else in the building. Meet back with Nanaba in an hour.”

Levi shoved his phone back into his pocket, and got to work. He lifted a limp Reiner off the ground and dragged his arm up to the sensor, pressing his thumb against the fingerprint scanner—“Access Granted” blinked on the small screen as he heard the little click of the door unlocking from the inside. He dusted his hands off on his grey denim jeans, and crept inside.

The slight squeaking of his sneakers on the metal floor panels echoed as he searched for the room he was looking for. On his way he saw a pair of glasses resting on a side table at the end of a hallway, which he found quite strange—who’d just forget their glasses? Erwin confirmed no one else was around. After a few seconds, he decided to shrug it off.

Finally, he reached the last door in the winding hallway. Shining a special penlight, he watched as fingerprints appeared on the keypad on the doorknob, and once he figured out his code, he punched it in with the end of his penlight, and he was in.

Levi breathed a sigh of relief, and pulled down his hood. His least favorite part of the job—he had always been more of the fighter of their team, the brawn, not exactly the brains. But Mike made sure he learned how to break into computer systems, and Levi absolutely hated that process, with Mike’s constant teasing at how dense his brain was to this stuff. Levi grumbled as he sat down, figuring his way in.

Maybe 10 minutes passed, and he continued to struggle figuring his way through the complicated firewalls. In frustration he buried his head into hands for a few seconds, and took a deep breath. Before he could look back up, he suddenly felt a hand pat his back encouragingly.

“There, there, you almost got it!”

Completely startled, Levi jumped up, knocking down the chair he was sitting on and assumed a fighting stance, fists up beside his face. He was caught off guard and completely unprepared: he had no more sedative syringes left, no other weapons on hand. He stared at the person who stood before him, probably the same age as him—no more than 19—a smile on their face, brown hair falling out of the poor hair tie trying to hold the mess up, a can of soda in their right hand and a small bag of chips in their left and— they were wearing the same pair of glasses he saw outside?

His mind raced.

How did they sneak in without him noticing just now? Why are they holding snacks in their hands? Why in God’s name were they smiling at him? And most importantly, they were wearing those glasses, so they had to have been around when a Erwin did the thermal scan—how did they manage to go undetected??

Obnoxious crunching roused him from his thoughts. Mouth full of half-chewed chips, they answered: “Oh! Yes! My friend Moblit and I managed to invent this little guy help us evade thermal scanners! No one knows we’ve been spending nights here for years!” They said as they pointed down to a small metal band around their ankle.

Levi was so shocked, he didn’t even realized he said that last thought out loud. He didn’t know what to do exactly, but they didn’t… seem like a threat…

Levi grumbled, and returned to his work, and she blabbered on and on about how their “cooling band” or whatever the hell they called it work as he kept trying to break through the firewall. He almost regretted not tying them up and slapping tape over their mouth so he could concentrate—the next comment was the last straw.

“You’re pretty scrawny, I was quite shocked when I watched you take down those 2 buffoons that call themselves security guards. You know… you don't look like a professional criminal!”

Levi almost threw the keyboard against the wall.

“Oh sorry, let me go make myself look like Hannibal Lector or something, Four-Eyes!”

They smiled.

“Wow, a nickname! So we’re friends already, Levi!”

Levi paused, “…How did you know my name?”

“It’s right here! Levi Ackerman… Address: 126—“ they listed off as they read off the driver’s license ID they pulled out of his wallet.

Levi snatched his wallet back. “When the hell did you take that??”

He almost screamed in annoyance. “Instead of just sitting here annoying the hell out of me or some shit, why don’t you help me or something??”

They walked up behind Levi, rested their chin nonchalantly on his shoulder, and reached their arms around him towards the keyboard.

Levi felt blood rush to his cheeks. Why—what? Why did they have to type this way?? Why was he blushing??

And in less than 30 seconds, they broke into the computer, the “Zeke Inc.” logo disappearing, and the desktop glowing, open on the screen.

Levi’s jaw dropped, and when he finally registered what happened, he yelled:

“WHY DIDN’T YOU DO THAT FROM THE BEGINNING??”

They put their hands on their hips and retorted:

“Well, you didn’t ask until now!”

Before Levi could flip the desk in frustration, an alarm sounded from his phone. He only had 5 minutes left before he had to make his way out of there. Quickly, he rushed in, scrolling through shipments for supplies, rerouting their destinations.

“Oh… so you’re like a… a gloomy Robin Hood huh? Small boy steals from big boy company to distribute resources to those who need it? A criminal… or an anti-hero maybe!”

“Oh wait!” They leaned in next to Levi once more—“Here, this is faster,” they whispered while hitting a few more keyboard shortcuts, doubling the amount of shipments.

“Hange, what are you doing??” A young boy stood in the doorway, the same metal band on his ankle.

Levi’s alarm sounded, and he began to wipe down the keyboard of his fingerprints and grab his backpack.

“Hange are you sure we can trust him?” Moblit asked as Hange took off the metal band from their ankle.

Hange winked in response.

“Oi, Levi!”

Levi turned in the doorway, quickly raising his hands to catch the band Hange threw at him.

“Take it!” They yelled, and the heavy door shut right in front of him, leaving him alone in his thoughts.

Levi stared at the band in his palm, and gently wrapped his fingers around it.

“Thanks,” he whispered, and ran off.

As Levi ran under the night sky, he looked at the intricate tech in his hand, and noticed the color yellow peeking out from under it. Flipping it over in his palm, he found a yellow sticky note, which read:

“We’ll trade you our tech for housing if you have space, gloomy Robin Hood! Maybe we could even steal from something big like Marley Corp. someday! If you’re in, find me back here tomorrow night! - Four-Eyes”

Levi carefully folded the note and put it in his pocket.

“Levi?” Nanaba called as he approached.

“Didn’t recognize you—are you… happy about something?”

Levi inadvertently reached his hand up to his face, feeling how his lips curved upwards. He couldn’t remember the last time he ever smiled. His mind was fixated on the note in his pocket, the image of Hange’s face smiling at him etched clearly in his mind.

“…I guess I am, Nana.”

#levihan #levihan fanfic #levi ackerman #hange zoe #levi x hanji #levihan fanfiction #ask #replies #drabble #moblit berner #erwin smith #nanaba

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wincore · 3 years

Text

act iii, incomplete | ten

pairing: ten x reader

summary: it’s the same vivid dream every time — you, a feline constellation that keeps smiling at you and a boy who won’t ever forgive you. autumn, spring and everything in between come to save part of that but the truth is this: no amount of time spent at your small town theatre with your once best friend is going to speak the words for you.

alternatively,

best friends aren’t meant to be lovers and ten, despite the millions of roles he’s played, keeps trying for the one role he won’t ever get.

genre: childhood best friends to lovers, slight theatre au, reincarnation themes, fluff, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries, mentions of death

words: 23.9k

a/n: hello i’m so glad i actually completed this !!!!! i’ve never written something like this before !!! also longest fic let’s gooo ahaha special thank you to miss cat for reading this and making it at least infinity times better i am in indebted to u <3. playlist here.

part of the almost collab by @hyucksie !! (thank you for hosting this, it was lovely to be a part!!)

ACT I: HOMESICK

act i scene i.

For the first time in years, you hold your breath at the local theatre, the walls more and more debilitated each year. It’s the only place, perhaps, that is so vibrant in its dull shades. The key is memories. Memories keep you alive in a way death and life and sickness cannot interfere.

A single drum beat resounds through the theatre. A second one follows before a tune from a flute sets the mood. A voice speaks out, that of a woman, and it strikes you as somewhat sad. In that moment, you believe Ten would have pointed out to you that she is meant to do that, she is meant to play the part of someone sad. The curtains stare at you as undulating as a calm sea of red and you hold your breath.

This is a modern play and you’ve only kept up with them for the sake of watching Ten play a part in them. As for other plays, high school Shakespeare was the most formidable text you’ve ever read and you’d rather not fight for your life again.

“Has the world ever seen a woman’s love unrivalled?”

A projector displays a flower, peonies, on the curtains.

“She once fell sick, dreaming of a lover; and once sick, she grew worse. Love is not love at its fullest if one is not willing to die for it.”

You don’t think that’s quite right. The curtains are drawn right then, their velvet sheen accentuated under the bright theatre lights and two characters appear on stage.

Your first thought is that he’s grown far too much. The second is that he hasn’t changed much. Ten stands in the character of a play you haven’t finished reading yet, in clothes that accentuate his dancer’s figure and with the look of someone that isn’t him. You had tried to read the play earlier but you might have gotten a little too excited to complete it.

You bounce your legs in anticipation, the music and his voice fading out—it’s not like you can focus much with the high school kids giggling and making out in the seats right behind yours. You could always make a scene but it’s not like you to steal the spotlight away from your dearest friend. Besides, you need to reiterate through the list of things you have to help him catch up on since he’s been gone. Ten wouldn’t want to miss out on some spicy gossip. You chuckle to yourself, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool yourself.

Ten likes overwhelming responses. You like to be overwhelming. You’re the perfect pair.

The play ends in a way you can’t tell if it was a tragedy or a comedy. You could have if you paid more attention but this isn’t literature class. You can do whatever you want now and you’re a little preoccupied with your own thoughts. Ten. Your best friend is back from Broadway after a year of barely talking. You can’t wait to hear the stories.

You get up as soon as the lights are on but when no one else does, you sit back down. The curtains part now and the cast comes on for their final bow. You shift around to see if Ten is looking at you, the older people beside you grunting in annoyance and muttering something about the youth. He’s not but Sicheng is and when you send a wink his way, he shakes his head.

You pout at the lack of attention but it’s time to make your way backstage now. The crowd is exiting and you need to get there before Ten leaves.

Once outside, you make a beeline to the back of the theatre building and mess up Sicheng’s hair as he leaves for home.

“He’s inside,” he informs curtly and makes as much distance possible between the two of you.

“Oh, don’t be shy, Sicheng,” you coo to annoy him. “You performed so well. Not as good as Ten though.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “Were you even paying attention?”

You cross your arms and push him onto his track. He shrugs and you watch his figure disappear behind the corner before taking a deep breath. With anticipation, comes a little unrestrained droplet of anxiety. You shouldn’t be worried, you tell yourself. This is Ten, after all.

The crows sing a song to themselves under the purple evening sun and you feel annoyed at the sound. It’s a song for ghosts. You hate the sound of it.

You rub your temples, trying to hush away the headache. You can’t wait to see Ten.

You swing the door open in an attempt to sneak up on him. However, you take a few moments to see him barefaced, the stage makeup washed off and a red undertone running through his nose and cheeks. That dark mop of hair sticks out every which way, and no attempt has been made to rectify it. It was once your job, actually. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as he stuff his belongings into a worn-out satchel bag. You gave it to him when you skipped prom night. You smile.

“Ten!” you yell at the top of your lungs. You’ve missed him so much—an old greeting should warm him up. This town started feeling more like home once you heard the news Ten’s back.

He looks at you so cold that you stop dead in your tracks. You freeze up, the words suddenly collapsing into themselves like wilting flowers. You don’t recognize Ten all of a sudden. He wears a deep frown and empty eyes, something you cannot understand no matter what angle you look from. Everything’s changed now, hasn’t it? You truly understand what that means when you meet his eyes.

“Ten,” you repeat at a more respectable volume. “Hey. I… I missed—”

“Hey,” he responds a little too quickly. Eyes less sharp than usual, he averts his gaze. “I- I need to get home early.”

Ten grabs his bag and leaves the room, his shoulder brushing against yours. You stand there for a few extra moments, breaths shallow and quiet. When you regain the sound of your heartbeat, you leave the practice room, throat dry and a frustrated sigh on your lips. Consequences, every time it’s the consequences biting back.

The crows’ song goes unheard.

act i scene ii.

“So… you want me to get Ten to talk to you?”

Sicheng looks at you in disbelief, the ice cream in his hand starting to melt. You’ve never met anyone who enjoys ice cream in mid-autumn as much as he does. Sore throats are foreign to him.

You nod, crossing your arms. “I don’t know why he’s avoiding me.”

Sicheng scoffs, choking on the ice cream and taking a few moments to regain his composure.

“Thanks,” he says when you rub his back in pity. “But… you really don’t know why he’s avoiding you?”

You shake your head. It’s a lie. But the only thing you can think of is the summer he left, when he confessed his feelings and you rejected him after a few seconds of contemplation. You had good reason. You just can’t tell him that. You’re still young and there’s so much to look forward to.

"You obviously have feelings for him!"

"Yeah, anger! Why would he just ignore me like that? We've been friends for, uh…"

"Stop counting, you suck at math."

You punch his shoulder and his ice cream almost falls off. He looks at you with a glare so strong, you have to take a step back.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I thought we were like any other pair of best friends.”

Sicheng snorts. “Yeah, best friends in love with each other. Didn't you suggest getting married once?”

“As a joke,” you interject, feeling heat on your cheeks. “Actually, do you know how useful a marriage of convenience is? It's got convenience in the name. Think of all the tax benefits.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “The way you looked at each other wasn’t a joke—you know what? I’m not going to be the supporting act to your whole romance charade. You figure this out.”

You pout. “So you’re saying you won’t help?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. You won’t know if I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, groaning in exasperation. This was supposed to be a happy reunion and yet, you’re here moping to a theatre kid, hoping he helps you. You expected Ten to not take it well but right now, you wish you weren’t so blunt. You could have said it nicer.

You’re joking, right? Haha, nice one. Best friends don't fall in love.

Oh, this is all your fault. You knew him better than anyone else. You should’ve known the consequences too—you could scream right now. In your defense, you thought college made him lose a few brain cells. You still have to make it right.

“Fine. Whatever you might do, better do it soon.”

Sicheng shrugs, turning back to his ice cream and browsing lazily through one of the magazines. He’s supposed to be watching the store—he gets paid for it but he couldn’t care less about this place. Sicheng is something of a theatrical actor too, traveling around and performing with his theatre group. He never cared for Broadway as much as Ten did.

However, you’re all here now. This autumn is going to be spent with your best friends no matter the cost. You smile as you think of the time you and Ten surprised Sicheng with a whole bag of ice cream and he cried although most of it ended up melting. Sicheng raises an eyebrow at your expression but doesn't question.

“There’s a reunion party by the woods,” he announces. “Next week. Saturday. You have to make up before that. You know they’re going to be brutal.”

You shudder. Your classmates certainly won’t let go of the idea of your relationship with Ten. Teasing aside, they’re going to be making either one of you uncomfortable. All your excitement drains itself. Your shoulders slump and you think that perhaps, asking for forgiveness would be a better out. You recover quickly though. This has to work out, Ten has to be your best friend again—what choice do you have? You missed him and you’re going to let him know.

The first attempt begins right in the evening. Sicheng texts Ten after his shift, asking him to get some snacks. Lucky for you, you work at the local snack store, also called the convenience store. There’s nowhere better to get snacks. There’s also nowhere else to get snacks.

You stand behind the counter, fiddling with the drawstrings of your hoodie while your eyes trail to the hands of the clock on the wall. Sicheng texted him half an hour ago. Ten might not be the most punctual but you know he listens to Sicheng, even if it’s reluctantly.

Your impatience gets the better of you and you leave the counter to peer out the glass door. Unfortunately, someone pushes open the door right then and you clutch your nose, eyes watering at the painful impact.

Ten looks petrified for a moment before turning around and leaving. You furrow your eyebrows, tears brimming from the pain in your nose and mixing into the exasperation from getting so bluntly ignored. Come on, Ten. You curse on your way back to the lonely counter. There goes the only thing you were looking forward to this evening. Sicheng walks in a while later, a sour look on his face.

“He actually gave me a mouthful,” he mutters angrily. “Can you believe that? Me. Who’s listened to all his lovesick ramblings about y—theatre.”

You slump onto the counter further, the bright orange background of the store more headache-inducing than optimistic.

“God, this is so much more difficult than I expected.”

“What happened between the two of you anyway? I thought you promised to call him every day.”

“I tried, okay? He wouldn’t pick up.”

Sicheng raises an eyebrow. “Woah. Haven’t heard about that one.”

He places the single pack of Lays onto the counter. You get up to pull the chocolate ice cream from the cooler.

“Don’t bother. It’s so depressing getting shut out like this.”

Sicheng mutters something under his breath you don’t quite catch. It’s his complaining voice though, so you don’t question him.

“He’s going to be at the Bridge tomorrow,” Sicheng notifies. “Something about getting fresh early morning air. Now, there’s no way you can run into him and call it coincidence. So don’t do that.”

You cross your arms. “So what do you suggest I do?”

“I mean, if you’re accompanying Mr. Yang to the dahlia fields for flower shop business… that’s a different story.”

Your eyes brighten and you sit up. “You’re a genius!”

“I’ve been telling you guys since—”

You hug him and he chokes, almost dropping the Lays pack. The door opens and you hurriedly wave at Yangyang, who’s here for the next shift before running out the door in a hurricane of bad decisions and good intentions.

“I hate being the middleman,” Sicheng mutters to Yangyang who offers him a pitiful look. The evening returns to its pink skies and you race your feelings to your destination.

“Mr. Yang,” you whine. “You don’t need a single dahlia? I’m offering to help.”

The older man scratches his spotless white beard and looks at you in confusion. “I gathered a whole cartload just three days ago. There’s no way I need more. You know this place—no one buys flowers anymore.”

“I’ll buy them! A whole cartload.”

“And where will you get the money, child?”

“Uh.”

Mr. Yang shakes his head at your immaturity. “If you’re so eager, get me some chrysanthemums from Mrs. Leong’s sh—”

“No. It has to be from the other side of the Bridge,” you interject.

Mr. Yang is further perplexed but you’re glad he doesn’t ask further. Having to explain your love and friendship troubles to a senior citizen has never been an ideal situation. You make a face at the thought.

“Alright,” he says and takes a few moments to ponder. “You want an errand to run, right? Could you get me some sunflower seeds from Goodwin Park?”

“That far?”

He sighs. “Do you want to go or not?”

You nod reluctantly, checking your phone to see the time. It’s early as fuck and the only person you’d wake up this early for doesn’t even know you’re doing all this.

“It’s to feed the birds, isn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow.

Mr Yang nods.

“You know, you don’t have to do all that to get Mrs. Leong to notice you.” You offer him a cheeky grin.

“I’m assuming it’s also a person you’re doing all of this for,” he hums in reply.

You drop your grin and take the errand money, heat rising in your cheeks. Exiting quickly, you check the time again. Ten better not have left early.

Shortcuts are better when there’s someone with you, you decide. You have gained around five long scratches at five different places on your body trying to best the hill beside Maple Street in order to get to the Bridge faster. If Ten were here, he'd laugh at you for being so graceless.

The Bridge is empty when you arrive and you sigh deeply. You’re not sure if you’re early or he’s late or you’re astronomically late. The grass is still a golden green in colour, for autumn never truly comes in when you’re expecting it. The little stream below the Bridge is almost dried up but the wooden structure stays. You remember Sicheng broke his leg once, trying to catch Ten’s family cat pawing at fish in the stream when it used to be fuller.

You greet Mr. Santello at his garden and buy the sunflower seeds. Your errand is complete but the rising agitation in your chest makes you kick a rock on the way back to the Bridge. This side of the town is bleak except for the garden and the only fun you’ve had here is when a beehive dropped on Yukhei’s head (he poked at it himself with no provocation from your side whatsoever). The scenery is much prettier with someone to appreciate it. You, on the other hand, cannot wait to leave this town. You walk back with certain memories playing in your head, the smell of nostalgia rising with the sun. You’ve always hated early mornings; but you did have fun in them when you had to wake up for school trips. You hold your breath, stopping right before the beginning of the Bridge.

Ten leans against the wooden rails of the Bridge, Starmill Bridge, with eyes gently closed and white earphones plugged in. You smile to yourself. When the sunlight draws across his cheeks, he seems brighter than golden skies and softer than late afternoon clouds. You see the boy from your childhood, messy unbrushed hair and his favourite grey sweater. He’s so full of colour. You wouldn’t mind staring at him for as long as you can.

You take a step and your hoodie catches onto a stray nail, making you stumble onto the wooden floor of the Bridge. You look at your scattered boxes of sunflower seeds with horror but not before finding Ten plucking out his earphone to look at you. He’s so pretty even in a daze.

“Hi?” you offer. “I was on an errand, promise. Not stalking you and trying to get you to talk to me or anything. Hah.”

Ten shakes his head at you and quietly stares for a few more moments.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” he answers finally. “Stop trying.”

You look at him with a flickering guilt though you’re not sure why. He sighs and walks toward you, frowning. He takes out the cloth of your hoodie stuck in the nail with tentative care. Gathering the boxes of sunflower seeds scattered on the floor, he glances at you once before getting up.

You grab his hand before he can walk away again.

“Ten,” you say, your voice coming off more pitiful than you would like.

He turns back at you with lips pursed and a sorrowful look in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I need to work some things out.”

Ten leaves you hanging for a third time in your life and you pull yourself together enough to stand up. You can’t imagine—you don’t want to imagine how much longer this’ll go on. Ten used to be an amenable boy; it shouldn’t be taking this long.

Somewhere the wind comes tumbling in, whispering the words that everything has changed and everything is still changing.

The third and last attempt is outside his house. Ten’s mother is bound to notice you at some point, right? Considering you’re camping out like a homeless man from the nearby gas station, that is. You hope she’s out for grocery shopping and you can just pretend you were on your way home and ‘accidentally’ bumped into her. Being the kind soul she is, she’s going to invite you to dinner since it’s late already. And where else can you spend your time while she cooks but in Ten’s room? It’s perfect and there’s no way he can avoid this.

“(name)!” Ten’s sister yells in glee.

“Tern!” You smile at her.

“Mom’s sending me for grocery shopping. Do you wanna come help?”

You want to go inside the house but patience is quite possibly a virtue. You haven’t tried it out yet.

“Sure.” You grin. “I’ve got time to kill.”

So, you are aware that Ten’s sister tends to shoot off at the mouth with the right person but you somehow cannot get her to talk about Ten. Apart from his life in New York, that is, which you had hoped to hear from him.

“So… how come you’re not in our house already? No offense, it’s just you and Ten… you know.” She looks at you with an inquisitive quirk of her eyebrow.

Ten must be a really good actor. Not like you ever doubted him but for his sister to be so blissfully unaware, he must have put on quite the show. Either that, or he really has forgotten you. You try not to feed fire to that thought.

“Uh, you know, been busy with the snack shack. We’re redecorating. Mr. Kim is going to boil me alive if I slack off.”

She giggles at your expression. “I heard it from Yangyang. He said the redecorations are ugly though.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Ten let you talk to Yangyang? A boy?”

She crosses her arms with a disbelieving laugh. “He can’t tell me how to live. Besides, he doesn’t care.”

You laugh. “Right. You have no idea how overprotective he can actually be. Older brother instincts or whatever.”

She suppresses a laugh. “And you must be facing the boyfriend instincts.”

You stammer out a response but it doesn’t make any sense. It’s alright to get laughed at, you suppose, if Tern is in fits beside you.

The rest of the conversation is about things less important. It would be rude to not engage though so you talk with enthusiasm all the way back. Part of you sees Ten in his sister. How terrible of you to see someone else in a person right beside you.

“(name)!”

Ten’s mother looks pleasantly surprised.

“Good evening, ma’am!” You curtsy in an exaggerated manner, and she laughs, patting your arm.

“How come it took you so long to visit? You hardly ever came over these few years, and I’m a little upset about that by the way, but I thought for sure, you’d be in the house the day Ten came back.”

You scratch the back of your head sheepishly. “You know. Work and stuff. Mr Kim is redecorating the store.”

She exhales in annoyance. “Is that man exploiting you children again?”

“I’m—uh… I’m an adult—”

“Hush,” she instructs, voice strict and you zip your mouth immediately. Never question a mother’s statement.

“Ten’s in his room, by the way. Should I call him?” she asks, after a minute of complaining about Mr. Kim, which you would have loved to join but there are other matters at hand. She has all the gossip in town and yet, she’s somehow blissfully unaware of the silence between her son and his best friend. Are you not as important? It makes you pout but you quickly neutralize your expression.

“Ten!” she shouts when you don’t respond, a little lost in your own thoughts.

“Uh—oh no, you don’t have to do that!” you say quickly. “I’ll just go to his room.”

You hurry up the stairs, just in time for Ten to open his bedroom door and jump back in fright.

“Oh my fucking god,” he mutters, like the soul has been kicked straight out of his body. In any other situation, you would’ve loved to give him a scare.

You walk into the bedroom and lock the door behind you.

“Ten. We need to talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. You notice the change in his features—his hair has grown out, his face is more chiseled and he has an angry quirk to his brows. “I told you I need some space. You never know how to listen, fuck.”

His voice is a low whisper, in the short space between you. You don’t move from your spot, with your back against the wall and feet nervous. You shift from foot to foot and look him in the eye before looking away. You’ve never felt this way around him. You’ve never actually pissed him off this bad. You don’t know what to do.

“Just leave. God. I can’t believe you think you can just walk in!”

You frown at his words. “Ten. I just wanted to talk to you again. We’re friends—”

“How does it matter if we are? Everything’s changed. This whole place has changed. I’ve changed.”

“But… that doesn’t mean we have to pretend we’re strangers—”

“Leave. Please.”

His voice is so low and odd that you don’t recognize it anymore. You sigh. You can’t convince him when he’s so defensive. You open the door to his bedroom to find Ten’s mom and sister in the hallway trying very hard to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping. You offer them a sad smile and thank his mother for the dinner before taking your leave. You feel too ridiculous to cry.

How do people put in all that effort in romantic comedies? You don't even know where to start. Maybe you should follow the King's advice from Alice in Wonderland.

Begin at the beginning and go on until you come to the end; then stop.

No. No, you can't be thinking of ending scenes right now. There's a much bigger problem at hand. Saturday. You better brace yourself for the unpredictability of former prom queens and class presidents, and the predictability of this small town that never changes.

act i scene iii.

High school reunion parties here aren’t exactly mawkish affairs. There’s alcohol, people who are meant to be adults but haven’t quite grown into it yet, the looming woods, and more alcohol. There's no room for sentimentalism when your former classmates, seniors and juniors—those who could be here, at least—are back together and it feels like nothing has changed at all. However, college-age boys always pose problems.

“Look, if Johnny can do it, so can I,” Yukhei tells you.

Johnny smacks his shoulder encouragingly, and a few of your friends giggle at the two lanky men, looking like they’ve discovered something priceless beside the campfire light.

“This beer tastes like crap,” you mutter before returning to a regular volume. “But go ahead and try chugging two bottles in under a minute if you want.”

Your backhanded statement backfires almost immediately because he does exactly as you said. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try not to peek at Ten, sitting beside Johnny and looking rather sleepy. It’s the bedhead, you think to yourself. It’s cute.

“Alright, who’s next?” Yukhei asks, voice booming enthusiastically.

Yeri sighs beside you, tired from the late night and not so much from the alcohol. Speaking of which, the alcohol table is somehow still stocked and Sicheng stands beside it, looking sour from being forced into guard duty.

“Tell him to pipe down,” Yeri mutters, pressing her forehead against your shoulder and you look at her apologetically.

“(name) hasn’t answered anything yet!” Sooyoung pipes up and you shoot her a look she ignores. “Neither has Ten, by the way.”

A bunch of “ooh”s pass through the crowd of roughly twenty people, and you would bury your face in your hands were it not for that stubborn pride of yours.

Truth or dare is quite possibly the worst game in the history of mankind. Ten looks somewhat flustered under the attention but he just sighs.

“Get it over with.” He looks at Yukhei expectantly.

“Kiss (name)!”

Your heart drops and you glare at Yukhei. You should have expected it. There is no one more unimaginative than drunk boys. His cheeks are flushed when he grins at you, encouraging you with a thumbs up gesture.

“He doesn’t have to do that.” You cross your arms. “Consent is important even in fun and games.”

The sentence is so didactic of you but you hope the seriousness in your voice makes him back off.

“But you guys are, like, in love with each other,” Yangyang blurts before covering mouth as if he said something scandalous.

A bunch of chuckles follow, though Johnny shows some concern towards Ten. You remember why you hate high school reunions now. Apart from the fact that almost everyone gets to tell their stories of big cities and big dreams they get to live in, everyone turns into a child again when at a reunion. Perhaps it’s the burst of memories or the vivid glow of old connections returning but you can’t stand childishness. Even if you’re the one to act like a child sometimes.

“I’m gonna go drink,” you say. “That’s the punishment, right? I’m not playing anymore.”

Yukhei groans. “Come on, (name). You wouldn’t be such a bore.”

“I would,” you snap and get up from your seat, Yeri muttering in annoyance before leaning onto Sooyoung’s shoulder.

Ten is glowing in the cheeks, you find when you look at him. He meets your eyes once and looks away, playing with his fingers.

You pour yourself some beer into a cup and lift it up to show to Yukhei before striding off to a place farther than the warmth of people and the campfire. The giant log is a nice enough seat by the edge of the woods. It is cold and mossy though, and you hug yourself, sticking your hands into the pockets of your cardigan.

The sound of footsteps over dried leaves catch your attention and you look up. Ten takes a seat beside you in silence. You move the cup of beer so that it doesn’t spill from any sudden movement. It’s quiet for even longer, your pulse the only rhythm to follow.

"Ten." You smile, looking away from him and into the ceaseless stretch of woods. He hums in response, as though a habit yet to get rid of. It makes you bite down your lip to prevent the smile from turning into something sadder.

You miss him. You miss the years you spent with him. You're drawn into him, into something old, familiar and safe.

No one can save you when you’re homesick.

However, you do not give up easily. What is broken can be mended with enough love and care.

Ten sighs, taking the cup from you right before it touches your lips. "Don't drink that. You hate the taste and it makes you go crazy."

You pout, but can't really find something snarky enough to say. Not when he looks like that—with dry, still-red lips and tired, apologetic eyes.

“Your forehead is so oily,” you mutter.

Ten looks at you, furrowing his eyebrows. He proceeds to hesitantly wipe at his forehead with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before shaking himself out of it. Instead he just glares at you.

“It’s not oilier than your nose,” he shoots, annoyed.

“At least my nose isn’t titan-sized.”

“My nose is perfect. Do you- do you know how many people fall in love with my perfect nose every day?”

You laugh, covering your face. His features soften and he returns his gaze to the comfort of the endless forest. It does have an end, at the fences by the railway tracks but in believing that something can be infinite, you find comfort.

"New York treated you well. Too well. But then again, you were always a narcissist."

You smile smugly at him and he gives you an unamused look.

"I'm… I'm glad we're talking," you offer after a few moments of unacknowledged silence.

He tenses ever so slightly, running a hand through his already messy hair and looks at you. He looks away again as if in an internal debate.

“You rejected me, (name),” he says, exasperated. “How do I recover from that? Don’t answer. It was so embarrassing.”

You close your mouth. If only you could tell him the truth. You had to reject him or your sentimental boy would never leave for acting opportunities. He doesn’t have to know that. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly.

But the truth is, it’s too scary to think about. You’ve been refusing to look at your feelings for a long time now. It’s only a cliche; it doesn't happen in real life. You’re too good of friends to be in love. Isn’t that right? It certainly couldn't have been you to fall in love with Ten. There were a million other people to do that in your stead. You feel shy all of a sudden.

“That was pretty embarrassing,” you mumble, pressing down your smile and he rolls his eyes.

After a few moments in silence, a sigh escapes his lips. “I’ve had enough time for closure though. I can’t believe I actually said that. Oh, the over-sentimentalism. Yikes.”

He makes a disgusted face.

You giggle. “I can’t believe it either. You do look cute blushing, by the way. You find any lover in the big, scary city? Any rebound?”

Ten rolls his eyes. “Too busy. And are you going to tease me forever about this thing?”

You laugh. “That’s the Ten I know. You’re always working. Sometimes you should have fun.”

“I have plenty of fun. You’re the one that used to cry at birthday parties.”

“I was six years old and it was one time, holy shit.”

The two of you break into laughter. The cold makes you draw nearer to him.

“Hey, wanna go to the mall this weekend?” you suggest.

“Wait, it’s still there? Wasn’t it supposed to get knocked down?”

“Yeah but the townsfolk didn’t want that so they delayed it. There’s, like, barely any employees though. It’s like a ghost mansion at night.”

Ten makes a face. “The afternoons there were so bright, like, there was so much sunlight, remember? I remember you always drinking my banana milk at the food plaza.”

You laugh. “I miss skipping class to go there. Now there aren’t any classes to skip.”

“Oh my god, remember when Mr. Wilson actually caught us?”

You laugh louder. “We had to pretend we weren’t his students. Which was futile acting because he knows every student.”

Ten sighs.

“I missed you. God, I’m so fucking sorry—I was in over my head. I thought I ruined everything.”

“Hey.” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I missed you too. Besides, it’s not you if you’re not being a bit of a drama queen.”

Ten elbows you in the side at the comment and you yelp, moving away and glaring at him in response.

“Just because I’m in theatre doesn’t mean I’m a drama queen.” He mocks the tone of your voice and you giggle.

“So any special Broadway stories you have in mind? I wanna hear something funny.” You rest your head on his shoulder comfortably.

"Well, one time this actress' dress caught on fire—"

"That's not funny, that's horrifying."

Ten purses his lips. “Okay. Uh… I got told to fuck off by an eighty year old man in drag after I threw raw steak at his window?”

You snort, eyes widening and Ten throws up his hands in exasperation. "How is that remotely funny?"

"I'm pretty sure that's as funny as it gets with you."

"I can't believe you're pretending I didn't carry our sense of humour on my back for all of middle school and high school."

“I missed you," you say quietly, and he flusters, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Really? You're not just saying that?"

You sigh, inching closer. "Yes. I did miss you, you know? I called."

"And I didn't pick up. I know. I'm sorry."

"I think you've apologized to me more times now than you have in our first twenty years of friendship."

Ten rolls his eyes. "And I mean it. It's not the 'sorry I ate your cookies' apology."

"I fucking knew you were the one eating stuff from my bag back in high school."

Ten presses his lips, making a zipping motion and you push him in exasperation. The two of you laugh, loud and clear, before Johnny's voice comes in, telling the two of you to "stop fooling around near the woods" and that it's "unhygienic".

Seasons change but people don't. You walk home with Ten for the first time in a year and suddenly, you’re in love with the idea that things can just lie in complete peace once they fall back into what was always meant to be. Perhaps it’s the writer’s utopia, but you think it’s much more meaningful this way. Ten's hoodie smells just like home.

prologue.

It was a sunlit morning when you first met Ten, but it was only a sunlit morning. There were no birds chirping or faceless adults on that sidewalk or even your friends because you don’t recall them. You recall a child with two very important teeth missing and your sudden urge to run to his side. You’d pulled his cheek with a huge grin on your face because, and you still stand by this, they were too cute and plump and red to resist.

You were three and a half years old when you met Ten and you parted when you were twenty. One year later, you're back to linking arms, joking about each other and talking about life as though it's a passing stream.

You were six years old when you cried at Ten's birthday party because no one was talking to him. It gave you an evening's worth of attention and a huge smile on Ten's face. You still think kids are mean as hell but they care for things like they have never cared before.

You were eleven years old when you started to lose a little bit of touch with yourself. You talked less, you looked at people more. Ten's face was still the most comforting out of all. He said he liked to listen no matter how annoying you sound. Somehow, by the time sixth grade was over, when you were almost twelve—you talked at least twice as much.

You were fourteen years old when you dated a boy out of curiosity and left on an awkward note when he moved away. You weren't sad for some reason. The idea of life passing meaninglessly by was engraved into you, like the waves that carve the beach. Ten was distant the whole time, with a scowl and more sarcastic remarks than usual, only warming up when you showed up at his door with a homemade cake. It tasted horrible and had the texture of a mossy pebble but you laughed over it anyway. Suddenly, life wasn't meandering but a river full of vigor in spring, beside a garden of fresh crested irises.

You were sixteen when you were pushed to audition in a play by your best friend. The play was about life and death and love, and it didn’t make sense to you the way it did to him. You had good fun backstage with the costumes and the makeup, and it was all that mattered to you. However, some part of you didn't like it, hated it even when he kissed the female lead of the play with eyes full of adoration. You looked on as Villager B and you hated every part of it.

When you were eighteen turning nineteen, you decided to save up for college. It would take time—years perhaps but you would get there. You would get an apartment with Ten in New York City or any city full of bustling, busy life and you would tend to your rooftop garden. Small town dreams, however, die and they die and they’re buried in unloved, unplanted soil.

You finally understood what your tenth grade English teacher meant when she said everything is theatre.

The night he left, you had a nightmare. It was a play and you were the protagonist. You couldn’t make it in time for the night of the performance, anxious and afraid as you arrived. You’d been replaced. You hated to see him on stage with someone else. You hated it. You hated it. You hated it so much.

Of course, you knew it would be a showstopper the moment that fight broke out between you and your replacement. You were cruel in that dream—almost as if you were someone else. But you felt comfortable in that skin, like you were meant to play that part after all. As if you were the villain all along and not the sweetheart of the show. You felt comfortable and it scared you so much that you woke in cold sweat and cried for an hour straight.

It hurt how lonely you felt. It hurt without Ten and you hate that you let him go. Something took shape inside the cavity of your chest, the shape of a weed sprouting in the pulsing garden of life—you won’t make the same mistake again. You’re going to hold on with all your might, till your hands ache and till your heart has had enough.

ACT II: YOUTH

act ii scene i.

“Have you ever actually shoplifted in your life?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ten tries to suppress his smile and fails, moving so that his back covers you from view instead. A conversation about New York subways led to a conversation about anarchy which led to… this. You’ve been trying to swipe the butterfly pin from the display for the past half an hour. You weren’t actually going to steal it—you just need to prove you can.

The mall is always eerily empty. It shouldn’t be this big of a hassle. Ah yes, apart from the fact that the souvenir shop has stationed the most number of employees for some goddamn reason. You’re not even sure why it’s there; a souvenir shop for your town might as well be a forgotten relic.

“What? No,” he says quickly. “I’m not doing that. Causing trouble is your thing.”

You snort. “Right. Because everything we got into trouble for was done completely by me.”

“That’s actually true.”

You elbow him, giving him your most offended look.

“You can’t be serious about never causing trouble. You broke Mrs. Leung’s famous ruler, remember? And you always stole your mom’s Halloween cupcakes. Those were for all of the theatre crew, by the way.”

“That doesn’t sound right, darling.”

When you look up at him with eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, you find him smiling in somewhat tranquil thought. It has been rather long.

“Yeah, I helped you way too much,” you respond, distastefully.

The two of you straighten at the cashier’s call. Responding that everything’s fine, Ten turns to you with a pointed look.

“If you’re going to do it, better do it before she gets suspicious.”

The hint in his eyes reminds you that he is indeed the devil you know, and you quickly pocket the little butterfly hairpin. This is not ethical in any way and even so, you feel the childish exhilaration. This is to prove a point to your dear friend.

“See?” you whisper to him, exiting the shop. “I could totally pull this off.”

“Not if I start screaming ‘thief!’”

“Did you ever get to play a villain at Broadway? It’s closest to your personality,” you jab.

He sends you a sardonic smile before sticking his tongue out. You should always beware a childish man and his childish smile. You never know if he’ll take you seriously. Ten is the absolute worst and you love him all the more for it.

“Are you actually not gonna pay for it?” he asks, tilting his head.

“And let all those proceeds go to our corrupt overlord mayor? Nuh-uh.”

Ten laughs. “We should go vandalize his campaign posters again.”

The mayor has had, you don’t know how many, little scandals accusing him of embezzlement and every time, he’s escaped easy as pie. All the things you can do with money and you decide to hoard more money; you will never understand people like him. Besides, you won’t have to worry about that any time soon.

“See? You’re the troublemaker. I can’t even vandalize good enough.”

“It’s not my fault you have zero artistic talent.”

You place your hands on your hips. “I’m sorry? I’m pretty sure I taught you how to paint.”

Ten rolls his eyes, a sneaky smile on his lips. “Yeah. You taught the whole class how to paint when you smacked Mr. Cheng with that paintbrush.”

You can’t help the laugh that comes to you, despite trying your best to hold a serious expression.

“You’re a disaster,” he adds, staring incredulously at your fit of laughter.

You look at him and start laughing again.

“Oh my god, what’s so funny? I wasn’t even trying to be funny.”

“Okay, emo boy,” you say, finally straightening and messing his hair.

“I was going to get a haircut.”

“Don’t. You look pretty.”

Ten hums, raising an eyebrow. “But I wanna look hot.”

“That’s going to take a lot of effort.”

Ten grabs you in a chokehold, messing your hair with his hands in the most obnoxious way possible. Finally able to loosen his grip on you, you look at him with your most fearsome glare. He has to stop treating you so gracelessly.

It’s not unusual for him to behave this way; in fact, you welcome it when he’s warm and much lovelier than the usual. But something feels amiss, something dangerous like the passage of time.

“Ten?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you’d be talking much more about New York instead of our boring old town.”

He hums, eyes scanning the vicinity of the mall’s first floor. There’s an ice cream shop opposite to the souvenir shop, unvisited due its lack of variety in flavours, and a spacious marble floor with most of the shops closed for renovation. The other two floors are closed off completely but you’re sure that with enough effort, you could sneak in. The glass ceiling at the centre allows for sunlight to wash in as gentle waves, settling on your heads like golden crowns. There are little potted plants lining the walls to make the mall space look less dilapidated but it gives off the same effect as that of something abandoned, left alone and waiting.

“You want me to brag about it?” He addresses you with a slightly cocky grin.

You roll your eyes. “Never mind.”

The mayor wanted to turn this place into some sort of religious campus but you detest the idea of that man getting his way. He’s the very same man to reprimand little girls for their outfits and to say “dancing is not manly” so you do owe his nauseating sexism for your distaste for him. That, and he has absolutely no sense of aesthetics. You would die before you let him remove the gardens or the livelier buildings blessed with the only colours you can bear to look at.

“Hey, (name)?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Angry Cashier is making her way towards you.”

You snap your head to the souvenir shop and the cashier is indeed eyeing you suspiciously. You reach to pat your pocket but you’re stopped by Ten.

“You are, by far, the stupidest thief I’ve ever known.”

You puff your cheeks in annoyance, crossing your arms instead. Just when you think the cashier is going to call you out, the two of you sprint over to the mall exit with a plausible enough speed.

“We didn’t have to run, you know?” Ten complains as soon as you’re out and a street or two away.

“What’s the fun in committing a crime if we don’t get to run?”

“I don’t know, it could be a brain exercise—oh wait. You don’t have one.”

You stick your tongue out at him, walking faster to get away from him.

“Hey!”

He jogs up to you, eyebrows furrowed and ready to spit some sass at you, no doubt.

“I thought you’d be more athletic. Dancing and all.”

“Yeah, no.”

You fix the hair in front of his eyes as he leans over on his knees, a look in his eyes as though caught off guard. They’re a lovely shade of honey, his eyes. They look at you with emotions you can't quite fathom and with the innocence of a love borne between friends who have been forced to endure the mediocrity of this town together. It’s a good reason, you believe, to be friends. Friends are meant to help each other, to save each other and to be there at the lowest. You can check all the boxes. It might have been a while but you’re friends and friends that grow up together stay together. The idea is naive but you cannot possibly look into a future without Ten. There must be a reason behind everything that is given to you. Even right now, as the silence starts to nip at you, you believe you were meant to make full circle. Fate is a funny thing and you wouldn’t believe in it ever, even for a surprise twenty dollar bill vending machine miracle, but it’s comforting enough to let settle on the two of you.

The lead actors go hand in hand.

“Are you going to keep staring at me? I know I’m tragically beautiful—”

“No, you’re beautifully tragic. Your face, that is.”

“I stopped listening after beautiful, so I believe you agreed with me there.”

You roll your eyes.

“You and your unyielding confidence can go fuck itself. I’ve seen you cry over a cat movie.”

Ten sputters out a response. “But- but Garfield saved that dog despite every fiber of his being telling him not to. He could’ve lived a happy, peaceful life but he saved him. How is that not incredibly touching?”

“You’re weird. Garfield’s cute though.”

“Like me.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What are we, twelve?”

“I was having my rebellious punk phase then, so no. I would never have said that when I was twelve.”

You laugh. “God, you looked so funny back then.”

“I thought we agreed to not bring up stuff from our teenage years.”

You press your lips together in an attempt to stop the laugh but a tiny giggle comes out anyway. The sun is going to set in an hour. You better make use of your time.

“Ready to go vandalize some posters?” you ask, grinning.

“You know what? I have a better idea. We should go pick some flowers.”

You blink at him. “That’s not remotely punk or rebellious.”

“Shh. You like picking flowers. Remember how we used to joke you should be hired at weddings instead of the flower girls?”

You make a face. “Why on earth would I fling flowers in the air at weddings? That’s not even a respectable job.”

“It suits you.”

“We should be kinder to our arboreal friends.” You cross your arms. “I’d rather tend to a garden than pick flowers for stupid occasions.”

“Tree-hugger.”

You pull up your middle finger and he laughs, fixing his hair right back into the messy waves.

“Why do you hate weddings?” he asks all of a sudden.

“Oh, you know. Icky stuff.”

“No one’s having sex at the wedding.”

“That’s not what I meant by icky stuff. It’s that gross feeling in the air. What’s it called?”

“Love?”

“Please, there’s hardly any love at weddings. It’s all pretend.”

Ten rolls his eyes, chuckling. “You think all the brides and bridegrooms in the world are pretending at their own weddings?”

“If you say it like that…” You grumble. “I don’t believe you need to celebrate love, that’s all. It’s always there, you know?”

You look up to see Ten pressing his fist to his mouth to keep himself from laughing and scoff in disbelief.

“What’s so funny? Seriously, stop laughing—oh for fuck’s sake.”

Soon enough, Ten is crouching by the sidewalk in a fit of laughter which causes a hot flush rising over your neck. You weren’t trying to be cheesy. Now, your best friend is hellbent on making you feel embarrassed.

“It wasn’t that cringe. Come on. Get up, asshole.”

“You were- you were just so—” He takes a moment to catch his breath, a few short laughs erupting from him nonetheless. “You looked so serious when you said that.”

Your face is hot enough for you to look away now. “Whatever,” you mumble.

“It was cute. You looked really cute,” he continues, somewhat sobered up. “And brave. You always say things with so much confidence that it’s brave. I’m glad you are the way you are.”

You look at him, slightly dazed before your cheeks puff up to prevent yourself from laughing.

“I regret saying that. You are the big, hideous regret of my life.”

“I thought I was cute?” Your snickers turn into laughter again.

“Fuck off.”

“Thanks, Ten. You’re really good to me.”

Ten shakes his head before walking away, leaving you to call after him in phrases of ‘wait up!’ and ‘when did you get so fast?’ as you try to catch up. You sometimes wonder if he likes being chased. You reach the busiest crossing in this town, with about four cars waiting at the stop sign. You’re not sure why anyone follows the traffic rules if there isn’t even any traffic.

Looking up, you gasp at the moon peeking over a still young sky. You're suddenly reminded of those afternoon naps you had in Ten’s room, the both of you fascinated by the idea of waking up and seeing the sky a whole different colour. The idea that time changes everything was still fresh in your minds then, the impact gentle if not loving. It’s quite late you found that time can steal just as much as it gives.

“Remember when we dyed your hair red?”

“I will, and I shit you not, physically assault you for saying anything about that.”

You laugh at the memory of his awkward hairdo. “No, the other time. When we were seventeen.”

“Oh yeah, I received like eight love letters for that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He did look pretty, and just in time for Valentine’s day’s theme of red roses and nauseating pink hearts.

“I have proof.” Ten leans his elbow against the street lamp, missing it completely and stumbling backwards till he regains his balance. He gives you an impish smile, running a hand through his hair and breathing out.

You roll your eyes, ignoring his words. “I think we never took pictures of that.”

“So… what are you suggesting?”

“One good picture,” you answer, pulling out your phone and taking a picture of him off guard. Looking at it, you pout. It’s so unfair that he gets to look nice even in a hazy evening picture.

Ten rolls his eyes, snatching your phone. “Let me show you how to take good pictures. Not whatever crap you have going on.”

You cross your arms, huffing but agree nonetheless when he forces you to pose by the street light. He blabbers on something about composition and colours that goes straight over your head but you can’t deny that the picture came out ridiculously well. You might have to change all your socials with a new profile picture.

“See? You can thank me with a kiss,” he says, a cheeky smile across his face.

You press your lips to his cheek in a swift motion, a smack sound resounding from it. It was uncalled for, you think, because Ten freezes for a few seconds in an uncharacteristic manner. He shakes his head, a scream dying in his throat before turning to you with the most scandalized look.

“Oh my god, what did you do that for?” he says, rubbing at his cheek in a teasing manner.

You wrap your arms around him, furthering his protests although he ends up smiling wide. “You asked for it, honey.”

“Nicknames are my thing. Stop trying to copy me, it’s embarrassing.”

"Okay, now let's take a picture together," you suggest pulling him closer.

He clicks his tongue and takes the phone from you, and when his hand rests upon the small of your back, you try to freeze up. His face is near yours, not unlike the usual but you feel your heartbeat hike up. It's a strange feeling.

"Now, can we go home?" Ten asks, handing you your phone. "I can't believe your background is rilakkuma."

"I'll change it," you respond, voice strangely quiet. You're only half smiling but Ten's smile is full and bright, eyes honey-pure. "To us."

Ten hums in satisfaction and offers his hand like a gentleman from another century, something you tend to exaggerate and you take it with a laugh. The two of you walk with entangled arms and playful skips over the pavement, getting the same old looks from passersby as you did as children and teenagers. The traffic lights glow a gentle hue below the mature blue evening sky, fading easily. You realize as gently as waves lapping at the shore that you missed Ten so bad it still hurts in the hole he left.

act ii scene ii.

Any weekend in a boring little town of flowers starts with the news of parties. It used to be Johnny sending invites but now it’s mostly just Yukhei calling people for impromptu college parties. Now, you are aware that college parties are horrendous in every shape and form; you are also aware that the two hour car ride to the city college isn’t safe. But it’s easy to ignore hackneyed advice to stay away from parties and alcohol and weed when you’re young and have a ridiculously large group of friends.

The drive isn’t the worst part. At least the drive to the party isn’t; the drive back is usually too hazed to be memorable. Sicheng’s driving this time and with a lot of grumbling but he gets enough pitiful pats to the back and cheek to stop it. Ten has his feet up on the dashboard, having called shotgun before you by one fucking second. You’re stuck with Sooyoung and Johnny in the backseat, sandwiched uncomfortably at that, but you lean forward enough to nag Ten the whole time.

“(name),” Sooyoung calls in a sing-song voice. “Your overly affectionate looks for Ten are showing and it’s not even eleven yet.”

You furrow your eyebrows, stammering out a response and regretting it immediately. “You’re- You’ve been teasing me about this forever.”

“No, she’s right,” Johnny joins in. “Come on, there isn’t even alcohol involved. Yet.”

You roll your eyes, shrinking into yourself as the two of them laugh on either side of you. Sicheng says something along the lines of ‘nauseating’ and ‘idiotic’ but he gets an elbow jab from Ten.

“I’m driving,” he hisses.

“Into every sidewalk we come across?” Ten shoots back.

Another bout of laughter rings through, and this time you can smile too. It’s not that you’re particularly bothered by the teasing; it’s just uncharted territories you have no desire to chart. You always thought you’d meet Prince Charming on a balcony in a summer evening, and this is optional, but it should happen with ‘Love Story’ by Taylor Swift playing in the background. It’s quite inane to assume it would be your best friend, whom you have spent countless summer evenings listening to old Taylor Swift songs with.

Before you were aware of college house parties, you thought things like these would be more of a less-people-more-booze sort of situation. Turns out, the alcohol to people ratio is nearly the same. Stumbling out of the entrance to the frat house, Yukhei greets the lot of you with a dazed smile before promptly throwing up into the bushes. Rolling your eyes, you pat his back while Sooyoung gets some water from her purse.

“How many drinks was it this time, Yukhei?” Ten teases. “Half? Three-quarters? No wait, that’s a stretch.”

“Very funny,” Yukhei mutters, somehow still upbeat despite his continuous retching. “I bet you’d be drunk after a shot of whatever the hell I had too.”

Adjusting his jacket, Ten narrows his eyes at Yukhei with an incredulous look. “Okay, you’re on. Let’s go.”

Sicheng raises his hands alarmed, but Ten has disappeared into the swarms of people before any sound can leave him.

“He was supposed to drive on the way back,” Sicheng complains. He opens his mouth in sudden realization and then turns to you. You look from him to Johnny and Sooyoung who share a look and walk briskly into the party with a thumbs-up gesture.

“Oh. Oh no,” you say.

“No, yes,” Sicheng responds.

You shake your head and laugh before sprinting inside, Sicheng’s yells of protest fading out.

Yukhei wasn’t kidding when he said his frat hosts the craziest parties. There’s far too many people here, at least far too many for Ten to have fun. You like the energy of the crowd though, all in their own zones and dancing to old party pop songs. The smell of alcohol hits you so strong at first that you have to take a breather in the little garden space they have. It’s more of an overgrown shrubbery instead of a garden but any green will do. Walking back in, you feel much more comfortable when you take a shot of vodka from a girl passed out on the couch. Laughing, you look around for familiar faces. Parties, however, are not the place to look for faces at all. You think you just spotted a fur neck warmer tied around a dude’s waist while he performs some Neanderthal variant of belly dancing.

You bump into a guy of fairly tall stature, a polite apology tumbling from his lips.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you chuckle in amusement. “You’re not a party kind of guy, are you?”

He stares at you with a placid expression, intrigued. “And how would you know?”

“First, you’re not drunk. Two, you look grossed out by those dudes on the bar table. Three, you’re making conversation with me instead of dancing.”

“So you’re saying I can’t make conversation and dance at the same time.”

“I’m sorry, Mister, but you look like you’d rather not dance at all.”

He laughs. “That’s your way of saying I have a stick up my ass, isn’t it?”

You shrug, giving him your friendliest smile. “I prefer talking to drinking too. What’s your name? I need to know the name of the only sober guy in here.”

“Doyoung,” he answers. “Something tells me you’re not going to give me the same pleasure of knowing your name.”

You smile, pressing your index finger to your lips. “Names at parties are better left unknown.”

Something about him is inherently attractive, and you find yourself drawing nearer. Perhaps you could have a more fun night this way. “It’s much more fun to guess. Now, I’m guessing your party-loving best friend dragged you in here so you could get laid.”

He sighs, smiling at you. “I’m actually part of the frat.”

You gasp, hand covering your mouth. “No way.”

“Someone sober has to oversee whatever the hell’s going on here.” He shrugs. “Now, and this isn’t a guess, but you’re not from our college.”

“Nope. I’m from that little flower town nearby.”

“Ah, I heard there’s a lovely dahlia field there.”

You nod. “And me. Just as lovely.”

You bite your tongue. That was certainly not sexy enough flirting. Ten has been rubbing off on you with his lame comebacks. Doyoung, however, laughs really loud at that. He must have a worse sense of humour than you thought.

You turn sharply at the sound of your name. Ten seems to be waving at you from a table of beer pong, looking rather distressed. You wave back with a bothered look on your face, aggressively signaling for him to handle his shit alone. He pouts and signals more desperately for you to come. Sighing, you turn to Doyoung.

“Sorry,” you say. “My friend seems to be in a pinch. Either that or he’s attention starved again in a record time of eight minutes.”

Doyoung laughs. “I liked talking to you.”

“I liked talking to you too, plot twist.”

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” Doyoung smiles at you. "Ah, I tend to forget but someone always comes along and shows me how friendships are made."

With one last smile, you leave him and walk halfway through to Ten before realizing you forgot to ask for Doyoung’s number. It’s too late to turn back now for the crowd blocks your version and you begrudgingly make your way to Ten. So much for your fun night.

“What was so important that you had to pull me away from the only attractive dude in this party?” you say, crossing your arms.

“Who, Doyoung?” he asks. “I’m at least six times hotter. And anyway, help me win this.”

You roll your eyes. If Ten knows Doyoung, you can somehow finagle your way into getting his number.

“I suck at this game,” Ten mutters. “How the hell is it supposed to hit its mark when the cup is so far away?”

“You have shitty aim,” you say, taking the ping pong ball and throwing it right into the cup. Smirking at the dude who’s already wasted on the other side, you turn back to Ten.

“That’s how you play.”

“Maybe you just have magic hands. Kiss my balls for good luck—wait, fuck, I didn’t mean that.”

You throw your head back and laugh at the disgusted look on his face. Sometimes Ten forgets to think before he opens his mouth and it might be surprising, but he does think before most things he says. He’s always been careful in the subtlest ways.

“I hate this game,” Ten says after missing the cup again.

“Let me teach you,” you say, moving behind him and taking his hand holding the ball. He stiffens before letting you guide the angle of projection as you throw. It lands right in despite the wobbly beginning and you grin at him.

“I’m so done with this party,” he whispers, hands on his hips and stretching much like a cat after a nap.

You giggle. “I didn’t drink enough to forget everything that’s ever hurt me though.”

“You’re hurt?” he asks, before clearing his throat. “If you wanna stay, I’ll stay too.”

“I’m not a child, you know?” you say, smiling incredulously. “I don’t need you babysitting me.”

“I don’t need you talking to any more Doyoungs. You know his body count?”

“That guy?” you ask, jaw dropping.

“It’s not that much actually,” Ten continues, smiling deviously. “More than what you expect from a guy in law though. You can shut your jaw.”

You huff. “How do you know though? Did you sleep with him?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “I would rather eat your baking than sleep with him.”

“Hey.”

Right then, the two of you are approached by a now-sober Yukhei. He must have vomited enough alcohol out of his system by now. Johnny stays beside him with mild worry across his features. Sicheng on the other hand looks like his social battery has drained out already.

“It’s time for a drinking game!” Yukhei tells the two of you. “With the… uh… not so drunk people.”

“So just the five of us? Where’s Sooyoung?”

“Doting over Yeri,” Johnny answers.

“Ah.”

“Let’s play something if you guys actually want me to stay and not die of boredom,” Sicheng mumbles in annoyance.

"Truth or drink?" Yukhei suggests.

"Hell no," you mutter. "I've had enough of that."

"What, no dare this time," he insists with a wide smile and arms outstretched.

You hum. "What are you curious about anyway? I know you wanna know something."

Yukhei scratches the back of his head before glancing at Ten. "Well… have you two ever… I don't know, experimented with each other? Like you're best friends, right, so no hard feelings."

Ten furrows his brows, a gaze that's somewhere between a glare and a confused look.

"Experiment…?" He asks, almost afraid to.

"In bed," says Yukhei bluntly.

Ten turns a few shades darker in the face, noticeable even under the multi-colored party lights. You, on the other hand, pray your stunned expression isn't mistaken for the embarrassment you feel. You're not sure why the feeling arises.

"(Name) wishes," Ten jokes, playing it off.

You roll your eyes. "You wish, asshole."

Yukhei pulls a face and raises a hand to interrupt. "Please don't start another lover's quarrel."

Sicheng snickers at the side, although you thought he wasn't listening. How on earth does this joke not get old to them?

"Anyway, my question is answered," Yukhei says. "Best friends who are in love with each other cannot sleep together but friends who are not… they can right?"

Sicheng hums in response, a teasing smile already on his lips. Ten groans and places his hand to the back of Sicheng's neck, almost threatening.

"What would you know about sex, Sicheng?" He bickers. "You're like virgin supreme."

You narrow your eyes. "And what would you know?"

Ten opens his mouth then closes it promptly. Sicheng and Yukhei on the other hand break into laughter, mentioning something about digging graves before taking their leave from the two of you. You really don't think either of them should be drinking—considering Yukhei's a lightweight and Sicheng is supposed to drive.

Ten smacks the back of your head and you yelp, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can.

"I was trying to help us there," he complains. "You're so unfun."

You mimic his statement and he tries to pinch you in the cheeks, which you expertly avoid.

"So tell me," you say. "Have you or have you not had sex?"

Ten sighs. "Okay, yeah fine. Guilty. Whatever."

"What happened to no flings in New York?"

"Didn't feel like telling you."

"Oh, I'm so hurt."

The two of you look at each other and burst into laughter, easy to forget the scores of people around you in the moment.

“So you definitely had a few flings in New York,” you say, crossing your arms with a smug smile.

“Like three, yeah,” he answers, shaking his head. “What does it matter?”

Some part of you is satisfied with the way he doesn’t look too interested. It’s the ridiculous part of you. The clementine light over his features make them seem even gentler than usual and you smile, pressing the back of your hand to his cheek.

“Wha—”

“Mhm. Your cheeks are so warm.”

“Oh, so now I’m your personal heater.”

Ten places his hand over yours and your heartbeat hikes, and so easily too when he looks at you with his honey eyes.

“You know what, you’re right. This party’s getting boring.” You look around, as though pretending will help you any better. But then again if Shakespeare was onto something and all the world's a stage, then you never stop pretending, right?

Ten looks at you for a suggestion and the moment pauses, contemplation on both of your faces.

“Let’s just get Sicheng to drive us back,” you say finally. It’s not like you can stray too far for fear of Sicheng leaving behind the two of you (he’s done that before).

Sicheng jumps at the idea of going back and all of you have to participate in dragging drunk Sooyoung into the car and away from a slightly worn out Yeri. Thanking you and fixing her disheveled hair, she walks back into her own corner to what seems to be aggressively coding on her laptop and flipping the finger to any dude who approaches her. When work calls, you simply cannot hang up.

You and Ten are forced to sit together in the backseat now for Johnny sits shotgun, massaging his forehead from whatever hellsent concoction he made for himself and his friends. The drive is mostly quiet and you lay your head on Ten’s shoulder while Sooyoung snores beside you. It’s quiet like the laps of water between ripples. It feels so secure to stay like this, like the world cannot interrupt. You’ve missed your best friend. You’ve missed him so much.

You and Ten part ways with the others at the crossing and you don’t skip over the path as you used to, with the jovial youth you contained then. No, your steps are slower and perhaps more mature but still in pace with Ten’s just as ever. A cat waits by the entrance to your door, the same calico that has won over your mother’s heart and now waits patiently for treats. In a way, you kept feeding it because you thought of Ten whenever you did.

It seems these days, the only way to get kisses from Ten is to be a cat. He pets the cat with tender strokes and presses his face to its forehead with no fear of cat-borne diseases.

“Hey, Ten. What about me?” You pucker your lips at him and he presses his palm to your lips instead, snickering.

In these short moments, moments that barely last, do you feel the three years he’s been gone. It’s funny how people change and never realize they do. It’s funny how you’re in awe of every person he becomes.

“I missed your rooftop the most in New York,” Ten says.

You chuckle. “You hid there when your mom was mad at you.”

“Do you know how many slippers your rooftop has saved me from? I think your rooftop is more of a best friend to me than you are.”

You place your hand over your heart in mock hurt and he shakes his head, grinning.

“Well, let’s prove I’m more worthy of the best friend title then,” you say, grabbing his hand, the skin so soft to you, and dragging him into your house in quiet tiptoes. You remember coming up here back when you pretended to be pirates, when you acted out Shakespeare and when you wanted to forget the world, the terrible, cruel world you found yourself hating often. This is your hiding spot, a safe place. Ten makes it more so.

Lying down against the rooftop, you trace the sky from star to star. The good thing about small, dimly lit towns is the clear view of the stars. So far from troubles, it must be easy to play the audience.

“That looks a little like Felis,” Ten says, taking your hand and tracing a particular arrangement of the stars.

“Is that a… cat?”

“Yeah. It’s not a constellation anymore,” he tells you. “But I like to think it is.”

“I wish things never end too,” you mumble. “Like Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Or that new Taylor Swift song. I wish some things went on forever.”

Ten laughs airily. “I wish too.”

You turn to look at him. The curve of his nose is pretty as ever, eyelashes hanging close to the skin of his cheeks as he breathes with eyes closed. There’s a significant number of words you haven’t exchanged yet. There’s so many words you’re holding back.

“You seem tired,” you note.

He hums in response.

“Was New York that hard?”

He opens his eyes to look at you. “A little… tiring, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you can rest now.” You smile and he returns it.

“I’ve been running for so long and telling myself I’m still dancing,” he says, a sigh escaping afterwards. “I don’t even know where I am anymore.”

“You’re with me,” you respond. “Right here. On my rooftop.”

“Watching the stars again,” he completes, laughing aloud. “God, I wish we were kids again. All I cared about were the flavour of my cereal and how many constellations I could memorize.”

“The stars don’t give a shit about you, Ten,” you tease, repeating the line you used to tell him.

“The stars might not give a shit about us,” he agrees, “But that’s why I’d like to watch them a little longer.”

“Me too,” you say softly.

You take a deep breath and let it out. These are the moments between the bloom of a flower and when it is picked. These moments are serene and warm and gentle, however ephemeral they may be. These are the moments between the flapping of a butterfly's wings—times when you and Ten fell asleep in detention in fifth grade for something that was very much your fault, or when he pets your head with the biggest grin after pissing you off on purpose or the proximity of the baby blue sky after your latest shopping mall mischief. But the flower will be picked someday. To live is to live in fear, and no matter how you try to buzz out the idea of it, it will come and it will prove itself.

“Sometimes I wish I were an angrier person,” you say quietly.

“What for?”

“They just seem so much more driven.”

“You’re driven enough. I think you do everything right already.”

“Working at plant nurseries, maybe. I’m not even a good enough cashier.”

“Flowers suit you.”

“You know, I could spend my life picking flowers and arranging them if I could,” you say, sitting up. “Everything moves so fast that the garden’s gone by the time I get to smell the flowers. You get me?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I wish time could stop. Sometimes it does. When I’m on stage.”

“What’s that like?”

“It’s very beautiful,” he whispers, eyes fixed on you.

It's quiet, the sounds of the night filling the space between you and him.

"You know, in dance," he starts, "the most powerful thing you can be is still. It's also the most difficult."

You hum in response. "I find it easy to be still with you though. It's like I don't have to perform anymore, you know?"

Ten laughs. "I know. I wish I could say that about my ambitions."

You place your palms against his cheeks, holding his face gently. You're not sure if it's because you're a little tipsy or Ten's lips that are driving you crazy, but you smile wide.

"You are like a flower," you begin rather wisely. "And spring hasn't arrived yet."

Ten blinks before snorting and then laughing like you just said the stupidest thing ever.

The downside to getting along like a house on fire is that the house is still on fire and you don’t know what to do about it. Your heart is burning and you want to tell him the words you’re holding back. But if they escape your mouth, the wind might carry it away and leave you with a heavy response. You can’t say anything yet. Not until you’ve mustered enough courage to leave this town behind with him. Not until you have enough financial confidence to fall in love.

“Hey, Ten.”

“Hm? Don’t ask me something stupid and ruin the night.”

You giggle. “Will you stay with me wherever I am?”

“A little overdue but yes, until death do us part.”

The two of you laugh, shoulders shaking and eyes brimming with an unsaid emotion. This is how you fall in love. You fall in love like flowers blossoming and withering, like you have only each other to withstand the test of time.

“Should we dance?” Ten offers. “This time, maybe you’ll finally learn to not step on my feet.”

“That just makes me want to step on your feet more.”

It's so easy to fall in love that you fall asleep to the feeling—like the nights after you watched cartoons well past bedtime and thought that Ten was the prettiest boy you'd ever seen, after reading illicit internet horror stories in seventh grade that only made you huddle closer, after creating a pillow fort in the name of memories the night of your graduation when you couldn't say out loud that Ten really is the prettiest boy you know. The feeling slips in like you slip on your night clothes and you forget they were ever off at all. Comfort is a fleeting thing but in that moment, it felt forever.

act ii scene iii.

Halloween is undoubtedly the greatest time to spend with friends. There’s spooky stories shared, an abundance of favourite candies and if you happen to be friends with theatre kids, there’s most certainly a fun play going on. The crisp autumn air is vaguely nostalgic, brimming with memories in this town.

Evening creeps in and once you’re done with the day’s chores, you get dressed with such speed that your mother has to convince you to slow down. It’s like you’re a kid again, and you'd like to enjoy this morsel of your childhood before you're forced to grow up.

Greeting Ten’s mother as you rush into the house, you run up the stairs and into Ten’s room, opening the door with a loud bang. Somehow, Ten’s scream is louder than that. He’s wearing a towel around his waist (only a towel), hands covering his chest with a horrified look on his face.

"Stop screaming," you say, hands on your hips. "We've seen each other naked, what's the big deal? Actually, do that pitch again, you sound like Meryl Streep from Mamma Mia."

Ten chokes, covering his mouth with his knuckles while he coughs.

"We were like four and a half! How does that count?"

You giggle, turning around. "Change. Quick."

"I mean, you can see if you like, darling," he calls, liltingly. "I know you can't resist me. Ugh. Can't stand all this pining from a friend."

You make a gagging sound and he laughs. It seems like he’s gotten over the initial shock of you barging in. The sound of the wardrobe opening and Ten shuffling through clothes follows. You are glad, however, that he can't see the look on your face. You must be looking ridiculous. You wonder if he can see how tense your shoulders and torso are. This is not the way you wanted to start the evening. Can he tell apart the distinct nervousness in your voice? It's suddenly difficult to play it cool. And isn't playing it cool something you do in front of a crush?

You catch a glimpse of his naked back and it makes you shake your head violently to get rid of the thought. How ridiculous. You can’t be lovers yet.

“Alright, you can turn around. What the fuck are you even supposed to be?”

"Say hello to the wicked witch of the West!" You exclaim, grinning ear to ear when you jump around.

"Oh, you don't have to dress up for that."

Your smile turns into a pout and you pull hard at his still-soft cheeks. He lets out a pained whine, grabbing your wrists and gently tugging them off. His skin turns red easily, however, and you're left with an image of rosy-cheeked Ten just like when you first met.

“You’re a demon spawn,” he hisses, rubbing his sore cheek.

“No, that’s definitely your thing. Can’t borrow that,” you say, crossing your arms and smiling smugly. “Why aren’t you dressed as one? Actually, why aren’t you dressed as anything?”

Ten shrugs. “I have to wear some ridiculous ghost outfit for the play so I decided I’d rather play the part of a sexy pirate ghost.”

You snort, looking at the half-buttoned white shirt tucked neatly into black trousers. “You? A ghost? A poltergeist is the word you’re looking for.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “If I were a ghost, I’d definitely haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Okay, ghost boy, let’s get going.” You loop your arms through his and pull him out, leaving in just as much a whirlwind as you walked in. You do walk back in though—to stuff a few of the cookies Ten’s mom baked in your mouth and walk right out with a muffled ‘thank you’ and your hand still around Ten’s wrist.

Arriving at the theatre, Ten catches his breath though he tries to not look worn out before squinting and making a show of searching for something.

“What are you looking for?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“The train you thought we were going to miss.”

You stick your tongue out and finally let go of his hand. He pulls it to himself, rubbing at his wrist with an exaggerated look of pain.

“Oh, it’s still intact. Thought I’d have to bid farewell to my dreams of being a professional calligrapher.”

“Eat ink, Ten.”

“Ooh, it’s the rare PG-13 (name). Nice.”

A loud bang emanates from the back entrance, Sicheng looking like a rather mortified Count Dracula (which is strange because Dracula is immortal, right?) with fake blood splattered across his jaw and two little fangs poking out. Ten no wastes no time in complimenting them, making Sicheng rather flustered.

“It was bad enough having to listen to your flirting through the door,” Sicheng mutters. “Get in. Quick. Sooyoung pulled out and we need someone to fill in.”

Your eyes light up and Sicheng is about to deny your wishes when Ten intervenes.

“(name). You get to play a slightly deranged witch with a most definitely existing bloodlust. You in?”

“You bet I am! I was born ready. Except in sixth grade when I had that meh phase and I wasn’t born ready. Then I was born ready again!”

Sicheng makes a face. “Yeah sure, just get in.”

“Aren’t you glad I’m dressed for the occasion?”

“Not really, no.”

Ten whistles when he walks in. “How much fake blood did you guys get?”

“Enough to re-enact Red Wedding from Game of Thrones,” Johnny answers from a corner, in a costume which you can’t tell if it’s a werewolf or just a fursuit. You can never seem to guess when it comes to Johnny.

Ten laughs before turning to you, the sound tuning out. “I have never watched Game of Thrones.”

You pat his shoulder, laughing. In the next moment, Sicheng pushes a script towards you, expecting you to actually read.

“Sicheng, you know I’m going to improvise.”

Sicheng groans. “Shakespeare was right. Hell is empty and all the demons are here.”

Throwing a pointed glare at you when he says the word ‘demons’, he crosses his arms. It’s easy to convince him though—he’s quite amenable when he’s stressed out about details and both you and Ten know he just needs some reassurance and good, gentle shove.

You and Ten sit on either side of him on a really, really worn out couch that you’re not sure can hold the weight of the three of you.

Sicheng holds up his hands in both of your faces before you can open your mouth.

“I feel like the child of a really immature couple who is forced to grow up at a tender age because his parents are so immature.”

“Uh,” Ten starts. “That’s very specific.”

“The character I’m playing has daddy issues,” Sicheng responds casually, and a little out of it. “Actually he’s got mommy issues too. Why am I playing an eight year old?”

“Because children are crap at acting,” Ten answers and you reach your arm to smack the back of his head.

“What? Ow, that hurt.”

“Sicheng, it’s our stupid Halloween play. We do it to have fun,” you say, placing your hand

“You going all motherly is freaking me out,” Sicheng says, wide eyes staring at you.

“You’re right,” you say, dramatically sighing. “Motherhood changed me. I can’t do evil black magic anymore. Aha! That’s a good dialogue, isn’t it?”

“Harrowing, actually, but I guess that’s what you’re going for.”

You and Ten share a fond smile, laughing to yourselves till Joohyun calls you and gives you basic stage direction. She’s almost never home except for Halloween and it makes the holiday even more exceptional.

“Ready, Wicked Witch of the West?” Ten nudges you before he has to go on stage.

“Wait, is that actually my character?”

“No. No, it isn’t. For the love of cats—the animal, not the musical—please just keep speaking and make it worse on stage. I need a recording to laugh at.”

You roll your eyes and push him on. He looks so at peace there, the conversation from that night coursing in remembrance. It’s like everything is still, the lack of motion driving him to move.

You never understand it yourself, however, when you’re on stage. You blabber like an idiot, as Ten says, and the audience laughs and that is it. You don’t experience what he does and it sometimes drives you a little crazy. Of course, you adding a pregnancy narrative to your witch does throw the rest of the cast for a loop but they handle it well. You just have to make sure you run as fast as you can from Joohyun after the play is done.

“Good job there,” Ten snickers after you duck behind a curtain as Joohyun passes by with furrowed brows and a frown.

“I know right? I’m literally Oscar-worthy,” you whisper-yell and Ten shakes his head.

“Come on.” This time his hand grips your wrist. “I know the best way to sneak out of this theatre.”

Taking a flight of stairs that you were previously unaware of, you plunge into the darkness of what seems to be an attic. Ten turns on the flashlight of his phone and you yelp, the lighting not helping his already spooky makeup. He laughs before navigating through a bunch of boxes.

“I heard they used to use this room as an execution chamber,” Ten whispers.

“They did not. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay fine. I did cry here though after reading an internet article about ill-fated lovers in ancient Asia.”

“Ugh. Truly horrifying.”

“Yeah, yeah. Emotions terrify you.”

“They do not.”

Ten stops walking.

“Oh yeah? Got any proof?”

You stop yourself before you can do something embarrassing. The first thought that came to you was to kiss the smug look off his face and it does terrify you. The bastard is right.

“I… cried at your birthday party.”

“You were six. Everyone cries when they’re six.”

“Alright, fine. I cried after you left.”

The silence makes you look up and for once, you don’t really want Ten to be so speechless. You punch his shoulder lightly.

“I missed you a lot,” you say quietly. “Is that so surprising?”

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out.

“Hello? Anyone inside?” You knock at his forehead before holding his face between your face. “You’re shivering. It’s pretty cold here.”

“I’m not cold,” he says quickly, the red rising in his face.

“Of course, you’re cold. Your cheeks are aflame, that’s how cold it is.”

Ten shuts off the flashlight and you scream at the abrupt darkness.

“It’s not from the cold,” he mumbles.

Now left with only Ten’s warm hand around your wrist, you let him guide through wherever the hell it is you are before emerging onto the second floor of 1075 Building.

“What the hell?” You gasp. “Why wasn’t I aware there was a secret passage here? Is this what archaeologists feel like? ”

Ten smiles, in some sort of victory. “You don’t know a lot of things.”

You walk into the empty room, or rather wiggle in through the window—this building used to be some sort of housing apartment before being torn down halfway for renovation. Some ghost stories spooked the workers too much to continue. However, having been here long enough, you know that the only thing haunting this place is the abundance of cats. In fact, you can see a few eyeing the two of you from the other windowsills. The room is fairly well-lit and maintained so you guess the renovation will start again soon.

“You got us pizza?” you exclaim at the pizza boxes and cans of cola resting over a little picnic blanket.

“Yes, I did. Wait, crap, I forgot the candy.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” You show him the Reese’s peanut butter cups and Snickers you had pocketed from some unsuspecting children. They get way too many anyway. This is completely morally justified—you’re doing this to save them from cavities and poor health.

“I can’t believe you’d ever want to escape a theatre,” you say before humming at how good the pizza tastes. Pizza is always better when you’re having it someplace you’re not supposed to be in.

“Sometimes, it’s suffocating.” He finally bites into his pizza, an unreadable look over him. You don’t like it. Shifting closer so that your knees touch, you lean in a little.

“Oh, really? After all that talk about how beautiful it is.”

“It is. It just wears me out sometimes. Like you.”

Ten flushes red immediately. “I didn’t mean it—I, I… uh.”

“Aw, you think I’m beautiful.”

“Gah, I knew you’d say that.”

There’s a pause.

“I got kicked out, actually,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“I had some disagreements with the writers and… and here I am.”

You look at him in stunned silence. “They did fucking what? I’m going to kill them.”

“No, (name). I was at fault. I overstepped. I guess city air made me a little greedy.”

“You were always greedy though.”

“If that’s your example of sympathy, you are horrible at it. Never try again.”

“Well.” You smile reassuringly. “You’re quite beautiful on stage. Too. Like me, as you said.”

“I’m a performer,” he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice when he leans in. “You can’t beat me at that.”

“Then put on a show for me, darling.” You raise an eyebrow, a cocky smile over your lips.

Ten’s cheeks colour. It’s silent for a few moments and you take notice of the lack of distance between your noses, your lips. He seems to lose touch with reality when he gently cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. A soft gasp escapes you, not quite ready for the contact.

Ten pulls apart immediately, a look of horror in his eyes.

“I- I’m sorry… I got caught in the—I’m sorry.”

He gets up abruptly and you still sit there in shock. When your senses are back, the room is empty and you hug yourself, feeling colder. God, you’re an idiot. For the first time in your life, you’ve come to your senses and you decide to let the only person you’ve loved walk out the door.

Your texts to him that night aren’t even left on read but you know he’s read the notifications. He always does when he’s avoiding someone. You feel the weight slithering in, pinning you down and making it hard to sleep that night. You have so many things you want to say to him and this time, you’re ready. Even if fate doesn’t let you, you will speak the lines you should have chosen much earlier.

act ii scene iv.

You don’t have anyone to show it to but the news broke you.

The idea of him keeping it all to himself, bearing burdens that are better shared makes your heart collapse its walls into itself. You’re supposed to be there. You were supposed to be there from every pitfall to the top of the world. You were supposed to be at every stage, at every afterparty and for every bout of performance high. You didn’t mean to leave the seat empty.

You were supposed to be there at every rejection and every failure, making fun of all the troubles.

You get a text from Ten two mornings later to meet up at the new cafe everyone’s been talking about. It takes you the rest of the morning to practise what you’ll say, what you won’t and how you’ll say it. You’ve never done this much for actual plays. But you’re not acting—you just need the words to come out right.

The wall of the cafe is covered in ivy, but you cannot waste time admiring it. Your nerves have the best of you. You stop at the entrance, backtracking to say your entire speech in your head once again. The most important friendship of your life depends on this stupid monologue you came up with a night before in front of the mirror.

“(name).”

You jump, finding Ten behind you. His nose is a little red from the cold but he looks fine apart from that. You can’t believe you’re early. This might be the first time in your life and you breathe out, slightly more confident.

“Can you… uh, not block the door?”

“Right. Sorry.”

The two of you walk in, a nervous tremble over your fingers but you clasp your hands together tight. He still remembers your favourite drink and you take a moment to try and understand why it’s surprising at all. You wish he never left.

“Ten,” you begin. “If you want to talk about that kiss—”

“Stop. I’m sorry. That was so out of line.” He lets out a distressed sigh, leaning back in the chair.

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” you say quickly. That was not in the speech.

He sits up. “I… Am I taking things too seriously? You’ve been my longest friend, (name). You should tell me.”

You frown. “I didn’t mean it in a harsh way. You just think it’s bad because you kissed your best friend and—”

“No. What do you think?”

You gulp.

“See, (name)? I lied because it fucking hurts right now. I don’t want to play this part.”

“No, Ten. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so many things but there’s the city, your job—oh. I- I don’t mean to bring it up if the wound is still fresh. Ten—”

“You don’t understand,” he cuts. “You’ve always been happy here. You’re happy wherever. I’m not… like… that.”

There’s a pause. You pull your jacket closer, the temperature dropping despite the smell of warm baked goods and hit coffee.

“I thought you knew me,” you whisper coldly.

Ten looks away. “I don’t. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know anything about anything.”

You breathe sharply. “Ten, I know the city was tough but it’s all you ever wanted.”

“I don’t know what I want,” he whispers. “I don’t know where I belong and- and it just keeps getting harder.”

Your eyes soften. “At least, you were there at Broadway. You took the first step and maybe… maybe you can make a priority list, you know? Work things out.”

“(name), stop. You keep trying to cheer me up in the wrong way.” He dips his face into his palms, rubbing at it and sighing.

You purse your lips. This conversation is going nowhere and you’re holding onto the last shred of your empathy. You just want him back with you.

“You got to go out there, Ten. You went to college, you went to New York. You got to go out there and live your dreams, for whatever it was worth, while I’m stuck in this nothing town. Forever.”

“That’s… that’s not true,” he says, voice breaking. “You were saving up for college. We would live in the same city, in the same apartment with the cats and the hot pink curtains and a coffee maker—oh god, I’ve ruined it.”

It’s painful. You don’t know what to say. If this were a movie, the beautiful, romantic kind, you’d be confessing your long-kept feelings. But you don’t know. You don’t know anything about anything. It’s been a year and he’s changed in a way you don’t know and you can’t throw it onto him like this. This isn’t a movie, and you don’t have a script. Your practised words are forgotten as soon as they reach the tip of your tongue.

People change, and you’re holding onto someone he’s already buried. He’s not in love with you; teenage love is shaky, wobbly at the foundation. He misses the years, not you. You’ve known him your whole life and yet a year’s difference makes you see things differently. You were lonely without him. You were lonely when you had to keep yourself from calling him, when you finally decided to stop sending daily texts, when you couldn’t find the same comfort in any of your other friends. You hurt him and now, you have to face it.

You pick wilting flowers at an overgrown garden.

No, even if it isn’t you, you want him. You want him and him only, the years be damned. The past pales in comparison to what is now.

“I’m in love with you,” you blurt. “I was just shocked last night because I didn’t think you were in love with me.”

“You’re not in love with me,” he counters. “You’ve been in love with so many people but none of them were me.”

“You. It’s you—oh my god, it was always you.”

Ten glances at his untouched cup, yet undecided on what to do with his fingers when they stop tapping against the bright red plastic table abruptly.

“So what? So what if it was me? I don’t know what it’s like to play that part.”

You breathe out. There’s a silence between the two of you, one which you remember hanging stars upon. Now it's quiet in a way that has nothing to do with astronomy, or art, or music or anything, really. It’s empty. Like every other silence.

“I loved you,” you whisper in an attempt that is more delirious than for closure. “Do you really not know what that’s like?”

Ten shakes his head. “I… I don’t.”

The memories of him smiling under the sun, only memories keep your tears from brimming up. There was meant to be closure. There was meant to be an explanation. You were supposed to be closing that door you opened into each other. Ten looks at your shaking hands and for a moment, you think he might even reach out and warm them up with his sunlit ones. You press them to your face and breathe into them.

“You brought me all the way here to lie to me?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows.

“I’m not lying—I can’t care about you. You know that, right? I’ll ruin your life. Like I’ve ruined mine.”

You laugh, partly in exasperation and partly as an attempt to alleviate the pain in your chest.

“You’re my boy. I know you better than anything else I know.”

“Don’t- Don’t do that. Don’t make me want something more.”

"Why would you kiss me?" You bite down your lip to stop yourself from crying.

Ten seems at a loss for words, looking at you with parted lips and guilty eyes.

"I love you. I'm sorry."

With your eyes downcast, you take a shaky breath. It's now or never. Never, never, never. The word chimes like wedding bells and you think for a moment, to lie. If you pretend, if you act, you'll live it out. He cannot stay and you cannot leave. What a ridiculous pair you are.

You squeeze your eyes shut, get up and lean over the table to place a kiss against Ten's mouth. You pull away with reluctance, looking at the quiet surprise in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I got… I got caught in the moment."

Ten stares at you soundlessly, mouth moving and yet no words come out. Instead, he runs his fingers through your hair before placing his hand on your cheek and leans in again. There's a red flush over his cheeks and it makes you feel at ease.

"I didn't want to hold you back," you say after parting. "Or at least, that's what I told myself. But this year without you has been so painful."

Ten doesn't say anything.

"I… I didn't know what I felt and- and I was so scared… I didn't mean to hurt you. I hate that I did."

“I was afraid,” he says, breathing out like he was holding it in. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t care if I came back.”

Time treats everything poorly. This time, you’ll try your best to win against it. Ten breaks into a wide, relieved smile and you laugh, rubbing at the tears that collected. God, you were so afraid you wouldn't ever be able to talk to each other anymore. Every room you’ve been in without Ten has been so empty that you had stopped opening doors at all. The coffee is hot and tastes better than ever.

You dream of something as ridiculous as the love you feel for Ten.

There's a cat in the sky, made of stars and with a booming, deep voice—and you, you are little and insignificant on a forgotten rooftop. It is serene, in quiet contemplation, and you are looking at it like a neglected child at its mother. You ask something without words and it responds without words.

All of sudden, the image disappears and you find yourself in a garden, picking flowers. The clothes you wear are not yours, the face you wear is not yours. But Ten, you'd recognise him anywhere, any time, in another lifetime.

You could see the clear distinction between the two of you however. You wore robes of royalty, the auspicious gold embroidery glistening, and he, that of a performing artist in quiet sage green. The blue irises that grew around you paid no heed to your colours and you had the thought that you should be like them. Vivid, smiling and never alone.

Ten greets you with a smile first and then stretches out his arms. You run to him, with enough force to knock the two of you onto the soft, grassy ground. No one will find the two of you here, in this flower bed. You remember thinking that royalty puts on just as much a show as theatre actors.

You didn't have to remember all of it to know that the story was a tragedy, carefully crafted by divine writers and painters. It was cruel, as is every writer's hand. You see him last under a beautiful sunset before an execution, the words ‘please’ on his lips and no hint of resentment in his smile. It was unlike him. It was so unlike him.

You hug yourself. He shouldn’t have forgiven you so easily. It takes you a few moments to come back to your senses; this is not you. That person in your dreams wasn’t you—why did you have to feel all that pain? That person in your dream watched their lover die—no, let their lover die as though discarding a messed up sketch. Cruel. It was so cruel.

The burning idea sprouts in your mind that it was the original script. That perhaps you were cruel and he was not and it’s been that way since forever. That if you don’t do something about it, you’ll be the villain once more. It's as scary to be young as it is lively—and not for once, did you ever think that villains were children too.

ACT III: HAPPINESS

act iii scene i.

If the world were to end tomorrow, Ten would spend tonight dancing with you. He says it so easily that you forget to tease him about it.

“Not like that,” he instructs, eyebrows furrowed. “Do this.”

“I am doing this.” You huff, crossing your arms.

“No, you’re not—holy shit, your arms are made of lead.”

You punch him in the shoulder and he stumbles, losing his balance. He sits down on his bed, leaning back on his arms and laughs. You join him and sit down on the fuzzy rug. He gets off immediately to sit beside you.

“I mean, you’re not that bad,” he says with a shrug.

You mimic his statement, rolling your eyes and he attacks your side with an unannounced bout of tickling. The last time you did this, you were a foot shorter and no high school dating rumours were flying around. The last time you did this, you didn’t end up kissing, limbs entangled with each other. December feels like June.

Ten pulls away from you, hovering over to kiss you once again before kissing turns into giggling which turns into laughter.

“I like this," you say quietly.

"Kissing me?" He asks with a sly grin.

"It's actually a little disappointing. Thought you'd be a ten at kissing."

"Atrocious. Disgusting. Vile. Never say that to me again."

You stick your tongue out at him and he does the same, the afternoon torpor settling in heavy as you cuddle into each other. It’s nostalgic almost but at the same time, so very new. You want to talk to him for hours and hours but when the hours end, it never feels enough. An ending is what you despise. Your thoughts meander.

“I had a nightmare,” you confess suddenly.

There’s a very brief pause. Before Ten even says anything, his arms reach out, pulling you into him. It’s warm and you smile.

“Was it your own face you saw?”

“Fuck you. You ruined the moment.”

“We were having a moment?”

You elbow him in the gut and he lets out a grunt of pain, the two of you moving away from each other just to glare. Ten caves first, sliding closer to you and placing his palm against your cheek.

“Can we resume our moment?” he asks, eyes crinkling when he smiles.

You press your forehead to his, your breathing in perfect coordination. This feels easy. This feels right. You pull away and look at him, the silence encasing your moment with him.

“I saw you in it. I… I lost you in it.” You bite your lower lip, avoiding his gaze.

“Hey. It was just a bad dream. I’m right here.” Ten draws closer, his breath mingling with yours and the warmth seeps into you just enough to forget the cold night.

“You know what would cheer me up from a nightmare?” You nudge him.

“If you say visiting the graveyard—god, fuck, you’re gonna say visiting the graveyard. My suggestion is that you see a therapist.”

“I would if I had the money,” you retort.

Ten shrugs before furrowing his eyebrows. “Are we actually going to the graveyard? You know there are like graves there.”

“That’s… why it’s called a graveyard.”

“Don’t get smart with me, you failed seventh grade English.”

“You failed sixth grade math, Ten. Sixth grade. They teach you like fractions and shit then.”

“Do I look like I need to add three-fourths and one-eighths ever in my life?”

You shake your head before getting up with a burst of energy, and pick up your jacket from his bed.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” You start to chant at Ten until he reluctantly gets up. The sun is quite far from setting down yet and everyone knows the perfect time to visit a grave is twilight. Maybe the stone will give your life enough perspective to ease your anxious thoughts.

The town cemetery is located by the bed of dahlias which have withered in the seasonal cycle of life and death. There’s a light breeze and your jacket is just enough to withstand it. The sky is orange and pink and the graveyard doesn’t seem as looming as it does in the dead of night (which you know because you’ve visited at two in the morning on a stupid bet with Johnny and somehow Ten was the one scared shitless). You’ve heard stories of the soldiers who were buried here, the women who led the first revolution and everyone else who never got to grace history books. You’ve never enjoyed history much but you can’t gainsay that it puts everything into perspective.

Nothing else matters at the wedding altar and at the grave.

Ten makes a face at the iron gates of the cemetery. “Okay. We’ve had our adventure. Can we please go get our evening snacks?”

“I love it when you’re antsy, Ten.”

He gives you a sardonic smile. “And I like it better when we’re in my bedroom.”

You gasp dramatically, placing your hand in front of your mouth lightly. “That’s quite scandalous of you, good sir.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling. “I consider myself something of a modern man, you see?”

You skip over the steps to the gates and do a curtsy before gesturing to the entrance. He complies with a sigh of reluctance and lets you take his hand as you pull him in.

A loud voice startles the two of you and Ten smacks his mouth before he can scream and embarrass himself.

“What business do you have here, trespassers?” The voice echoes through the graveyard.

You look around at the trees and squint at what seems to be some children wearing masks and giggling to themselves. You roll your eyes. Johnny told you some of the town kids were mucking about near the graveyard to spook passersby.

“You really should get back home for dinner, kids,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Silence, trespasser! You will answer our questions to pass.”

Ten bites back a laugh. “Alright, kids. Shoot.”

“Are the two of you criminals married?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “Do we look that old?”

“Okay! Next question. Did the two of you ever… do it?”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head.

Ten groans. “You can say sex, you know? Don’t be pussies.”

You elbow him in the side and he yelps.

“Those are kids,” you whisper.

“I think they’re old enough if they’re asking,” he whispers back.

“No,” you answer the same time he answers “Yes”.

“What?” You look at him in surprise.

He shrugs, somewhat guilty. “New York,” he responds in a meek voice. “You know?”

You snicker before it turns to laughter. “Why do you look like that? It’s not a crime to have sex—how the fuck did you even get some though?”

“It’s called having sex appeal. Ever heard of it?”

You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to say something when one of the kids clears his throat.

“Okay! You may pass.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “You really just the wanted to ask us about sex, didn’t you?”

“Let’s go, boys!” The kid declares before stopping abruptly. “And girl.”

A group of kids emerges from behind the trees and flock to a hole in the stone wall, laughing amongst themselves as they run out.

“Wow. Kids these days, huh?” Ten says.

“When we were their age, we convinced Yukhei to poke a beehive.”

“Okay, we were asshole kids but no one ever really told us bees were deadly.”

You walk further into the graveyard, beelining towards the same graves you visit often. They’re unnamed but they died sometime in the nineteenth century. Time passes in a way that is hard to comprehend—all these people and stories are never remembered and time is the only witness. Perspective is a luxury to those who have the time to look.

“Why do you like coming here?” Ten asks quietly, eyeing the gravestones with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“For perspective,” you answer truthfully.

He hums, a somewhat understanding note in his voice.

“They only lived for twenty-four years,” you note.

“The world ends too soon sometimes.”

“Kind of sucks.”

“Really sucks.”

The wind is cold when it passes the two of you by. Ten shivers and zips his jacket before checking up on you, fixing your jacket to cover you better.

“When I leave this place, I hope I have a nice farewell,” you whisper.

Ten raises his eyebrow. “Don’t you want it to be an awful, everyone’s-crying sort of affair?”

“No,” you respond, giving him a confused look.

“I want at least one person to be crying,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“That’s kind of—wait a minute.” You glare at him. “You don’t have to use that against me. I wasn’t crying crying.”

“I’m not! I mean it. Like, I want to mean something to someone.”

You draw near enough to link your arms, sighing at the warmth emanating.

“And you’re lying. I know you sobbed right into the pillow like a dramatic ass Disney princess.”

“You’re the one with a flair for drama.” You chuckle.

Ten makes a reluctant sound of agreement, crossing his arms. As he looks at the graves, there’s an expression on his face you can’t quite fathom. It could be mourning—but the graves are nameless, or it could be pity—but he believes that pity is not a positive emotion to feel. You want to ask but something keeps you from it. Something tells you that the answer won’t be pleasant for either of you.

“I hope I cry too,” he whispers. “When I leave and the curtain falls and the world ends.”

You look at him, pondering.

“When I leave,” he begins again, “I want it to hurt. When everything changes, I want it to hurt bad. Then I know it meant something.”

You slip your hand into his and squeeze. “If it means anything, you know I’ll cry if you leave.”

Ten laughs. “Yeah. So when you cried, was it the ugly snot cry or the silently sobbing kind of cry?”

“Fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to retort but gets a full kiss on the mouth instead, good enough to make him forget it. It’s a nice thing to get used to. If time permits, you could do everything together forever.

You return at twilight, grabbing some snacks and arguing whose Netflix account to use and the sun sets before you come to an agreement but it’s not winter anymore inside his room. In fact, it doesn’t feel like winter at all till you look outside and see the naked trees and darker skies, and you remember when you decided last year that you don’t like winter.

Before you can have a change of heart, you turn to him with sparkling eyes.

He smiles before you even say anything, reading your face as easily as the back of his hand. “You have good news? Or, like, a gift?” Chuckling in breaks, he runs his fingers through your hair.

“I just wanted to talk about our future.”

“Hm?” He seems a little surprised.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out for the both of us. I have faith in you. And in us.”

Ten’s smile falters but he doesn’t let it fall. “I’m glad you do.”

His ringtone startles the two of you just as you lean in, Ten muttering curses at the device. Pausing for a bit when he takes out his phone, he signals you that he needs a minute and leaves you alone in his room.

Nothing much has changed. There's his cluttered ash wood desk with sketchbooks of varying sizes and colours, shelves with small plushies and, you notice carefully, the butterfly pin you stole. Beside it is the panda soft toy you had found at the side of the road walking back from school and felt so bad, you had "adopted" it. You let out a chuckle.

“Ten?” you call, holding the little panda soft toy.

Ten paces outside his room, speaking in a hush. His features are tense, shoulders stiff and eyes focused when he talks to the caller. Noticing you, his eyes soften for a bit and he makes his way towards you.

“I’ll- I’ll talk to you later,” he speaks sharply into the phone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, walking up to him.

“Sicheng,” he replies briskly.

“Oh.” You remember the doll in your hand and pick it up to show him. “Remember how we got this?”

He smiles but something is amiss in his eyes. “Of course I remember.”

Whatever it is, it must not be important. After all, he’s your best friend and best friends tell each other everything. Morning will come and everything will be alright.

The night is cold and the moon is missing. The clothes you wear are not your own once again. This dream begins when the sun has just set and you can taste bitter defeat, but of what battle you don’t know yet.

All you know is that there is a war and you are caught in the crossfire. It hurts; you can’t feel your limbs anymore and another injury won’t matter anymore. Maybe this is the only life you won in.

No one dies in a way that matters. No one dies for anything at all. It just happens and that is a truth lying within the reach of the universe. Yet then again, when you find your last breath escaping you as you hold hands with the love of your life, you think there must be some meaning to it. You’re only twenty-four and you will be buried in a nameless grave for a war that was the fault of neither of you.

It dawns on you the moment you wake up, brushing away the tears on your cheeks. The universe is forgetting you, and the universe is being forgotten, until there is nothing left to be remembered.

All you can think then is that you will miss Ten in the next life, and in the next and the next.

act iii scene ii.

Ten has to tell you. He knows. He knows how the story ends.

But he’s afraid. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking facing forward till he’d turned around just to find you gone. New York was fun and he made new friends but it’s difficult to be anywhere without you. You’ve been attached at the hip for so long, it’s become strange to be apart.

Ten thinks about the call. The director was very particular about his role and chances come by as rare as diamonds. Ten breathes out heavy in annoyance, covering his eyes with his forearm. He loves sunny winter mornings and this is the worst one he’s ever experienced. He can hear his mom cooking downstairs, the sound soothing and he groans, running his fingers through his hair.

He should tell you. He knows he should tell you. But fear never walks in on stage with full gusto, it creeps in, slithers in till he feels a shadow behind him on stage and suddenly, he can’t see the lights anymore. Ten is afraid. He is afraid of losing his sense of self to the millions of people he’s played, and to your vibrant world of flowers and colours. You are always front stage centre. You are at the bottom of everything and he can’t let himself fall deep enough. He’s not enough.

Ten turns to face the collection of DVDs on his shelf, untouched since he'd left. What did he start performing for again? Was it the time you and him pretended to be pirates in his room, his bed your gallant ship, or the time he watched his first movie on a sweltering hot summer day, or the time he sang to you the first time (it was a birthday song remix, made by Ten himself). Surely, it was for something beautiful and not for something like greed. At that time, he thought that maybe if he stole enough lives and stuffed it into the gaping hole, it would sate his envy of the people around him. The bright vibrant colours, he made his own and yet still, he feels like a thief with his nimble feet and a stash of paint bottles in his arms. He's not satisfied at all.

It was a sunlit morning and Ten thought to himself, wouldn’t it be nice if he could paint with all the colours of the rainbow? You, who are so full of vibrance, couldn’t understand this epiphany of his.

"You keep getting on my nerves," he mutters in this empty room of his. "Everything you do gets on my nerves."

Ten decides that he’ll tell you this evening. After all, best friends tell each other everything. The theatre means the world to him but the whole world is out there, ready to be his stage. Eventually, this loneliness will turn into a performance and he’ll be grasping at identities trying to find familiarity. He will take his masks off over and over again, and he knows he’ll still be wearing one. He wants to greet you with his real face.

The world spins at the rate of a thousand miles an hour. It never stops, and that must mean everyone on it can’t stop either.

The crows are singing a song, or talking amongst themselves. You can never know. The song is dyed red as the evening, and with a splash of purple. It’s the season to miss flowers and warm hands and the sweet taste of ice cream. You don't know why but the "let's go to the gardens" text from Ten gave you the most awful feeling, much like the morning after your nightmares.

“I have to go back to New York.”

You look up at Ten from the park bench beside the dahlia fields. The flowers are asleep, not in bloom until next autumn.

“What?”

“I got a call… from someone I know.”

Your first reaction is to smile wide and jump up. “That’s great! You’re not jobless anymore.” You laugh.

But then the corner of your lips twitch and your smile drops. The word ‘goodbye’ hangs at the tip of your tongue and you look at him, slightly perplexed. Ten, who looks at you with so much kindness, will never understand this envy of yours.

“When… when do you come back?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. It depends on how well I do.”

You laugh despite the heavy feeling settling in your chest. “That- Let’s hope your acting is shitty then, hm?”

Ten frowns. “This isn't a joke. For once in your life, can you look at me with sincerity?”

You grit your teeth at his words.

“I’m trying to lighten the mood, god dammit,” you murmur bitterly.

“And I’m saying you don’t have to.”

There’s something looming over the top of your heads, something eerie like a clock that never stops ticking or a clock that never ticks.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, surrender in your voice already.

If you kiss him where you hurt him, will everything be alright? Can you grow the flowers he likes over his scars? Flowers… flowers—which were his favourite again? Irises or daisies? It must have been the prior; you’ve glanced over a hundred times at the endless fields of sleeping blue irises in his sketchbook. And yet, you doubt. Were those flowers chrysanthemums? You’re grasping onto memories and your knuckles are starting to hurt.

Ten looks at you with a gaze that is of the past. He looks at you like he’s mourning, like he’s keeping something grave from you. So you lean in, your lips brushing against his before you can kiss him fully. You want to feel him and for him to feel you, the idea of a relationship foreign and close to you as ever. Even so, you feel like a ghost as you run your fingertips over his skin and through his hair. He knows how to kiss you, how to hold you—and he’s known you for years.

Ten pulls apart for a few moments, breaths weaving into each other. It’s only five centimeters between your lips but it’s still five centimetres. You don’t know if you were meant to be apart or if you were not. The show must go on.

You brush the hair from his face, a lingering smile on your face from the kiss and the way his features align so perfectly. It’s easier to avoid his gaze that way.

“I’m tired,” he whispers. “I’m so tired. I feel like my skin is losing its grip on my bones. Everything’s falling apart.”

You hum, choking up at the sound of his voice. Soft and yet, so heavy.

He takes a sharp, shaky breath. “I don’t want to go.”

Forever is the sweetest lie you’ve told each other.

“You’re going to go,” you pronounce the words into realization. “You’re going to go away again. And I’m going to be right here.”

Your broken heart is making it much more difficult than it should be.

“Don’t go,” you whisper hoarsely. Maybe if this time you didn’t lie. Maybe you’ll be his number one, his lead finally.

His breathing gets erratic, and he takes a step back to cover his face with his flushed hands. It’s painful to watch him this way and you want to take your words back. But you knew. You knew what the words would result in, what the words would grow into. You feel cruel.

“I… I can’t give up,” he says finally, “I can’t- I can’t. I’m sorry, oh god. Why can’t you come with me? Why do I have to go back alone?”

You swallow, your eyes downcast.

“I’m not going to wait,” you say finally. “We should… we should stop now. It’s been long enough for us to go our own ways.”

Ten doesn’t move, at a loss for words.

“You… I'm sorry,” he says, choking on his own words.

Your lips tremble and you wipe at your eyes. He cups your face, thumbs swiping away the tears before you can muster enough strength to push him away. You’re a complete mess, in a way you haven’t been before. Even now, he’s the only one you can face.

“We’re not,” you say, regaining some control over your tongue, “We’re not supposed to be like this. Do you think we would even be friends if we didn’t grow up here together?”

“What- What does that matter?” He furrows his eyebrows, drawing nearer.

“I’m saying that everything could just be a coincidence and maybe… maybe things should just end sometimes.”

You just want to kiss him, in the way a romantic story ends in a sweet kiss and it’s a happy ending.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers. “But if you want distance, I’m giving you thousands of miles of it.”

You clench your jaw. “Don’t blame me for pushing you away.”

Ten throws up his arms in exasperation. “I’m not blaming—why are you so defensive all of a sudden?”

“You made me that way,” you answer, pitch low. Your throat hurts.

Ten looks at you with disappointment in his eyes, baby pink lips in a frown you hate. "I'm sorry. I have to leave."

You nod and let the words 'see you tomorrow' slip the same time 'goodbye' slips his. He turns his back and walks forwards as he always has, and you look in from the same place as you always have.

Eventually, you get the energy to go home. You greet your colourful room with the same look you always have before something catches your eye. The colour of your room mostly comes from the polaroids stuck to your wall—you and Ten at your high school graduation dancing to Nicki Minaj, Yukhei and you looking done holding the caricatures Ten painted of you, Sicheng and Ten and you after your first theatre performance together. There are so many smiles that you end laughing, a little crazy with the sound. Perhaps spring isn't as far as you think it is. Perhaps you will be okay.

Everything has an end. You know that. It hurts so fucking bad.

Ten was right. Because it hurts this bad, you know it meant something now. It meant the whole world to you. Winter tumbles upon you at full force even as you hold autumn dearly in your arms.

This time, you close your eyes to find yourself in a field of dahlias. The dream is meandering with colours and sounds so quiet that you feel like you’re stuck in time. Then a loud vibration resounds throughout the field; it is not a field at all.

You are sitting atop a bed of stars, in the belly of something much larger than you are. There is a place in the universe for everyone but you cannot find yourself in it.

So you sit at the places you’ve always known, at gardens and children’s parks, waiting till your hair turns grey and your skin starts to wrinkle. Time flows around you, faster with each second but you sit so still that you're not breathing anymore. You're so jealous of those who move, dance and play. Does it have to be this painful? You don't want to be all these people in your dreams. You want to paint your own mask.

The world is so busy and you are completely still. You think of sunshine in New York and how he must be loving it and for a moment, your plastered lips quirk upward.

When you wake up, Ten is on a flight to New York with a text that reads: "I'll come back. I promise." The sunset after a farewell—even you understand the beauty of it and so, you watch him chase his dreams into the sunset.

act iii scene iii.

You know an ending scene when you see one. It’s the only scene you didn’t end up sleeping through. But this doesn’t feel like one, no matter how deep the despair runs through you. This third act love was never supposed to work out and yet, something is amiss.

Ten doesn’t come back even when the billboards proudly show his face and he’s the star of the show. In your opinion, he always has been. But people get comfortable in the present, sink their feet into it, and when they do, they forget the past.

The world spins at a thousand miles per hour but nothing seems to move for you. Everything stops and life goes on.

epilogue.

Your youth starts to run out.

Sorrow grows into anger, then into resentment. You’re not sure what you hate so desperately but you hate it nonetheless. You’re pissed and you don’t know what to do with yourself except wake up shaking and wanting to shout and cry at the world. You were supposed to have Ten by your side even then. Even when you’re against the world, he was supposed to be there. Now you’re all alone in a world that’s crashing and burning, in a world of your own making and in a world that is no longer in the palm of your hand.

You wish you were an angrier person, you wish you could curse and scream and fight as easily as they do in movies. At least he didn't make a villain out of you when he left first.

You don’t really have nightmares anymore though. When you have nothing to lose, you start to fear less. You tend to a little garden of your own making after Mr. Yang passes away. There’s a quiet funeral and a will written with your name on it. You did spend most of your time there after Ten left. It’s your flower shop now and you can tend to whichever flowers you want to keep alive.

Sometime in your late twenties, you get a call from an old friend. You meet Doyoung at a coffee shop near the college he went to, and he tells you he got your number from Yukhei that night you met. He says he’s glad your number hasn’t changed in all these years—he found it going through his contacts. You find it cute the way he becomes flustered when trying to explain himself. He’s a lawyer now, finished all those tough years to complete his dreams.

It makes you smile. You think that dreams shouldn’t be kept in a bottle but your shelves are full.

You go on dates at the cutest new cafes and the most ambient restaurants, sometimes to amusement parks so you can laugh at his fear of scary rides. It feels like having a friend once again and you cheer up for the better.

But Doyoung doesn’t understand history the way you do. He doesn’t understand a lot of things—but it’s not something you expect anyway. He’s rich and he doesn’t know what small towns are like. You think you can be in love again. He proposes to you on a yacht and you nod, paralyzed from your fear of the ocean. Your parents are so happy for you that for a brief time, you feel happy too in the shadow of their joy.

You don’t visit your hometown anymore after the wedding. You don’t visit theatres at all.

Sometimes you remember the night at the rooftop after the party with Ten and smile. But it was one night, one thing you did in a lifetime of nights and things you did. It dawns on you just then that loneliness makes you fragile, fragile enough to push people away instead.

Every time you close your eyes, you’re still dancing with him on the rooftop below the stars that are yet to fade from your memory. You now pick wilting flowers at a wilted garden.

“A play?” you ask, confounded. Doyoung has never been one for theatre.

"Your mom said you liked theatre," Doyoung answers, eyes inquisitive.

"Did she now?"

He smiles. "If you've grown out of it—"

"No. No, I've always wanted to watch a show on Broadway."

"That's settled then."

You start to understand the meaning of this place to Ten. You haven't called him in years and you didn't keep in touch after the first year. Life was as busy for him as it was still for you and you understand some of it now. After all, who would ever want to leave this place?

Being a part of the audience runs a chill up your back, with certain memories drawing to the surface of your thoughts as you sink into the seat. It's a popular musical but you can't say you've ever heard of it. Time runs differently in your little bubble.

It hurts just about as much as you expect it to. Watching Ten on stage hurts so bad you almost look away. The nostalgia scratches at your throat, filling your head with memories you shouldn't be entertaining anymore. You should've kept in touch. You should've done something. You were friends before everything else.

All you want from him now is forgiveness. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with—

You start to cry before you can do anything about it. Doyoung doesn’t notice beside you, dozed off already to the soft orchestral music.

You must seem delirious, mourning as though you’ve buried a loved one. With a shaky breath, you force yourself to look. It is the tombstone of your childhood love that stands on stage. You were rash. You were so, so young and rash. Your lips tremble again and you cry, chest rising and falling as you remember something so forgotten that it seems a dream, something so warm that’s now six feet under in the cold ground. You mourn.

But he seems happy—and that's all you ever really cared about. That's all you should have cared about.

The play ends on a wonderful musical note and you find yourself in better composure. Shaking Doyoung awake by the shoulder, you look at him expectantly. He seems partly embarrassed to have dozed off and partly apologetic.

"You want to meet Ten?" Doyoung asks quietly.

You blink in surprise.

"You grew up in the same town, right?"

"Yeah… Yeah, we did."

Doyoung smiles. "We went to college at the same place."

"Oh, I know. Most everyone from my town goes to college there actually."

Doyoung hums.

"He invited me, actually," he says after a while.

"Oh."

It hurts only a little that he didn't invite you first. Did all those years mean nothing beyond a little romance? If you were years younger, you could be chiding him for it. If he were years younger, he would greet you with a Cheshire cat smile.

Backstage smells of sweat. A little perfume and powder but mostly sweat. You know that already. It's just that even the backstage here is grand.

Ten looks as pretty as ever, even with half the makeup off his face. He looks as pretty as billboard posters, where he was meant to be, and in smiling Instagram posts and articles about how perfect his smile is. He's pretty but in a different sort of way.

Ten doesn't seem surprised. In fact, he greets the two of you with a poster smile.

"Doyoung," he says first. "(Name). I hope, no wait. You guys better have liked that."

Doyoung laughs. "You'll bully me into liking it even if I didn't."

Ten rolls his eyes. "Law makes you so boring. Or maybe you were always boring."

Doyoung sighs, shaking his head. "Not everyone wants to be the life of the party. There's quite a bunch of wild stories about you on the internet."

Ten snorts. "I don't know why but you saying 'the internet' makes you sound thirty years older."

"There's no arguing with you, is there?"

"Learnt from the best."

You clear your throat. "If the two of you are done with your homoerotic banter…"

Doyoung chokes the same time Ten makes a gagging sound. What the two of them have in common is that they easily become flustered around you.

"I'm going to go wash my face." Doyoung excuses himself, exiting the backstage.

In any other time or place, it would be fine being just the two of you.

"Ten," you acknowledge. "You look good."

"I always do."

You roll your eyes. "You don't have to mask everything with humour."

"Like you did?"

You fall silent.

“Does it hurt?” you ask.

“It does,�� he whispers before raising his voice something more audible. “When I look at your—our old pictures, it does.”

"You've kept them?"

"Of course."

You look at your feet. The reality settles. You’re not going back to the way things were. You’re married to another man. Ten’s not in love with you anymore. If you had taken the step forward back then, if you had kissed him before he took that step back—would things have turned out differently?

The stars will now gaze at lonely rooftops and empty flower gardens—an audience you never wished to entertain. But now, you're glad to have been part of his play, part of the play you made together.

“Are you happy these days?” he asks. There is no malice, no resentment in his voice.

“Almost,” you answer. “There’s just one thing missing.”

To ask for forgiveness does not mean erasure. You can't move on by letting it go and pretending it was never in the palm of your hand.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t me,” you say quietly, rubbing your forearm.

Ten smiles. “We were a little confused, I think. We wanted to be loved, appreciated and found the easiest way.”

You smile back. “Yeah. It was always easiest with you.”

Ten pauses, looking around with a familiar feline look in his eyes before whispering, “So, Doyoung? Really?”

You straighten, crossing your arms. “He’s really nice. And he’s always asking me how I am, what I ate, and he buys me all the soft toys I want. And he’s a better kisser, by the way.”

Ten places a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “Now, we both know that’s not true.”

You roll your eyes before a short giggle turns into chuckling into laughter, and the two of you find yourself with smiling eyes, the look of childhood on your faces and memories unkempt.

It is better to grieve than to never have loved anyone enough to.

It doesn’t hurt anymore but maybe it stopped hurting a long time ago. But it meant something to you, meant so much to you and that's all that makes sense now.

notes.

the words to the play at the beginning of act i scene i is taken from tang xianzu’s preface to his own play, the peony pavilion, however they are not exact quotations. the graveyard scene and the “when everything is gone, i want it to hurt” dialogue are inspired by indie game night in the woods by infinite fall studio and i love that game pls check it out if you have the time and money!!

238 notes · View notes

tastyykpop · 3 years

Note

nct dream and wayv dating head cannon! saw u did one for 127 i wanna see what the other members would b like 🙇🏻‍♂️

Here's the wayv headcannon😌

And dreams under the cut :D

Renjun

aight so renjun isnt even a different person with you

so how he is with the members is basically how he is with you

other than the occasional ‘i love yous’

which he legit cannot say around the members unless he wants to be clowned

"Thats disgusting. Get a room."

"All I said was I love you to her??"

"Exactly."

Says it very randomly too

You'll be ready to take a shower and before you close the door hes like 'i love you' then walks away

anything you guys do, renjuns gotta be a smartass about it too

“you’re performing beyond live today?”

“no im just getting dressed and getting my makeup done to go to the bathroom.”

youve slapped him once (like in a friendly ish way😌)

but who hasnt

renjun takes you on almost every dream trip even if you didnt know the members well

Its a whole mess

Either you and renjun are chilling in the car, head on top of one's shoulder

Or you're trying to annoy each other and see who could break first while chenle cheers you on

In all seriousness tho renjuns always looking after you

Unless you trip or something then he's gonna step to the side and watch you fall while laughing

Jk jk but hes literally the kindest

Feeds you even if your full

Gets you clothes randomly

Makes sure your okay

If you aren't, he'll stop whatever he's doing to make sure you're at your best

Even if it takes a long time

Cuz ✨patience✨ is key

Jeno

ahhhh omg the SWEETEST MF

if you think anyone else would be youre wrong

No I don't take criticism

But shhehshjejs

Literally would walk to the end of the world for you

Mans is crazy in love😩

Cannot take his hands off of you

Has to kiss you at least 347 times a day or its not love🙄🚫

Yes he counts who do you think he is

Aight fr tho hes like a mom

Lowkey a mini doyoung minus the nagging 😌

Is he funny in a relationship?

No </3

Im kidding hes your normal everyday jeno

He can crack jokes and its pretty funny but you try not to laugh

Will actually wrestle you if you let out a dry 'haha'

Fr tho

Hes even whipped a pillow at your face for that

And everyone watched like 👁👁🍵

Omg prepare for the eye smiles

Especially if its something cute cuz he just goes (◜◡◝)

Even does it when you're frustrated

Highkey has to stop himself if you guys are in public

But fails miserably

Jaemin

This man right here officer

mf makes you feel so freaking special and sexy everyday

Cuz you are shut up

Any chance he gets (which is every other second) he'll always bring up how pretty you are

Then continues flirting like yall aren't dating

"Youre so pretty, I just wanna take you out and show you off to everyone."

You: ✨blushes✨

Its just me falling in love with a man bye

Random kisses throughout the day

Plus back hugs and neck kisses 😤

Hes a sucker for just being able to hold you

Will not let go if you have to leave for work

Always makes dumb excuses for you to stay

"I called and told your boss that our dog was sick and we have to take him to the vet"

"We don't have a dog..."

"Your boss doesn't know that"

The amount of times he's gotten you out of work is insane

But can you blame him?

You would do the same if you could cuz ffs is na jaemin

On his day off he loves spending the day cuddling and watching shows

Or go cafe hopping cuz he hasn't gotten his 5 shots of espresso that day☕

"Wanna try my coffee?"

"Does it look like I have a death wish?"

Chenle

To sum this relationship up

Its basically you both laughing at the members or making stupid jokes

The majority of your relationship is you and chenle with jisung because bff tings💅

No like jisungs basically your child now

Back off jaemin

Aight frfr chenles a pretty chill bf

Hahaha sike

Nah its always loud

Theres never quiet convos with he two of you

And if there is, something up🤚

You guys are like best friends tho

But too close to be best friends

Its still pretty awkward

So there's barely any kisses or hugs

Rip

Whenever he actually kisses you he just kinda steps back and blanks out

And you're like 😳

He makes up for it tho

Whenever he has the chance he'll take you out to a restaurant

Or for a walk

Omg bro 🤭

If you go for walks hes always trying to hold your hand

Does he succeed?

Only if you grab it yourself cuz he's too shy

It will probably take him a few more months before he's less shy with pda

Then he's gonna be on top of you 😀

Jisung

Oh man

Hes so shy❗❗

Mostly because this is probably his first real relationship so hes just first experiencing this stuff

If you're not very experienced with relationships either ooooo lordddd its gonna be that awkward kind of love

The members literally have to make you guys hug

Like its painful to watch you both just stand there like🧍‍♂️

But like????

Yall are so cute??

And for what 😳

Jisungs very gentle tho

Basically whenever he touches you its very soft, feathery touches

Its quick for jisung to overcome his shyness with you

So once hes done being a baby🥺

he actually will give you plenty of kisses

Holds your hand almost everyday

Def compliments your hands because they're so small compared to his

Likes looking at the size difference

Absolutely adores when hes laying on your lap and you start playing with his hair

Starts whining if you stop and will grab your hand and force it back onto his head

"Imma go get a drink."

"No you're gonna stay here and play with my hand whether you like it or not😐"

There's plenty of times where he subtly shows you off to the members because he's that in love

"Y/n is sooo cool. She let's me have coke after 11pm."

Jeno just blinks at him then walks away

163 notes · View notes

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