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nnight-dances · 10 months

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ADORABLY, YOURS.

pairings: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader, feat. choi seungcheol tropes: love triangle, friends to lovers (jeonghan x you), strangers to friends to fwb to friends (seungcheol x you), kinda slowburn, one-sided love (or is it?), pining, slight age gap (2-3 years) etc. genres: fluff, angst, jealousy, sexual content (no explicit smut content but references to it) with vulgar language, cafe!au, non-idol!au, college!au. word count: 12k (I am sorry about this.) what to expect: You’ve liked Jeonghan since you met him through your best friend, Wonwoo. But little by little every day you’re convinced he knows you like him and his non-action can only mean your feelings are not mutual. Then, you run into Seungcheol, a childhood best friend of Jeonghan’s, who instantly develops a soft spot for you. The resulting love triangle that wreaks havoc on your emotions might as well end being the answer to your problems. Bittersweet like coffee but decisive as a caffeine rush, this is the story of how you beat all odds to be with Yoon Jeonghan. warnings slash author’s note: I warn you beforehand: the logistics of this love triangle are a bit morally ambiguous, i.e. I can’t tell if I used Seungcheol purely as a plot-point or not. I probably did. But in my defense, I think all love triangles are inherently a little bit evil and cruel. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this admittedly self-indulgent mammoth of a fic. I had a headache the whole three days I was writing it. I love Jeonghan and I promise there will be a make-up fic for Seungcheol, because I’m biased but not corrupt. As always, this isn't proofread but I will get to that in the next few days! All right, that’s all. Love you, friends and foes!

It’s one of those days. You can’t help yawn after yawn and no amount of caffeine is washing the throbbing in your head away. To make things worse, you’ve managed to sleep with a spine posture worse than even your worst days which means your back hurts from standing at the register all day. But the day is far from over as a glance at the clock informs you; your cafe shift has a good three hours remaining.

And whenever you’re hoping to take a break on the uncomfortable chair propped in a corner near the register, the door to the cafe will jingle with the presence of a new customer. At least your co-worker for the day, Joshua, is also a friend so you can talk his ear off about the various ways in which you might escape the prison of existence.

Just as you’re going into detail about how you wouldn’t mind dissipating into air, the glass door swings open and in comes a tall man clad in a suit, the heels of his dress shoes clanking against the floor of the coffee shop. You reign in the surprised look that threatens to overtake your face – because goddamn, the man is gorgeous – as you greet him, “Good morning! Welcome to Moon Coffee!”

“Good afternoon to you, too,” the man corrects you with a dimpled smile. You wince at your mistake and nod, “Right, sorry about that. What can I get started for you?” You force a smile that you hope is friendly enough onto your face, gesturing to the large menu boards above you, “Please, take your time.”

As the man busies his eyes with the plentiful options displayed on the boards, you busy yourself with questioning what a fancy ass man like him was doing at the campus coffee shop. His hair was long, brown ends curling around his neck and as he ran a hand through it, deep in thought, you could essentially smell how rich he was.

“The hazelnut mocha sounds like it’s good but also really sweet,” he comments, looking at you for a second opinion.

“Right, it’s one of our best-sellers! And it is on the sweeter side because of the chocolate in it, but you could balance it out with a double-shot?” you suggest and then, “Otherwise, our classic mochas are not as sweet.”

The man nods with a slight smile, “Hmm, I like the sound of the first option. I’ll have that, please.”

“Is that an iced hazelnut mocha with a double-shot for you?” you ask with a smile. When he nods, you punch in his order, “Can I get a name for the drink?”

“Seungcheol.”

“All right, thank you very much. That’ll take just a few minutes. You’re welcome to take a seat and wait.” He nods as he walks to one of the tables next to the window.

Joshua’s already getting to work with Seungcheol’s drink and you take a moment to rest your back against the counter, throwing a glance or two at the new (and gorgeous) face in town. But thankfully for this rich stranger, today is the day you don’t have the energy to go down a rabbit hole trying to find an explanation for his presence. Instead you wave him a good day as he leaves with a satisfied smile on his face and an iced mocha in his hand.

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad after all.

A week later has you eating your words. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that Thursday afternoons are the busiest times of your shift at Moon Coffee. Most students were either rushing to down caffeine to finish some daunting assignment due at the end of the week or otherwise, others would be early in celebrating the fast-approaching weekend. The first kind you can deal with: they’re easy to relate to and they don’t really care if your customer service is the bare minimum from how tired you are.

But the second kind? You wish you could be granted with some kind of powers that would take away any more weekends from the rest of their lives. If the way they strolled in grinning and took their time with the menu didn’t have you fuming, their inane but obnoxious questions about your life would have you at the edge of your temper every week. You were only thankful you didn’t have to work the Friday crowds or you’d actually be declared a public threat.

But today, unfortunately for you, Jeonghan’s decided to make a visit to the cafe and if the fact that he’s not even a student anymore wasn’t enough, he was celebrating his birthday week. Which meant he was even worse than in exhibiting his usual infuriating customer behavior. But annoying customer or not, Jeonghan was also the guy you’ve harbored feelings for since two years ago now.

So when he strolls up to the counter with Seungcheol, the polite rich man from last week, by his side, you have more than one reason to stare at them dumbfounded.

“Oh, hey, it’s you!” Seungcheol starts, eyes trailing to the name on your tag, “Y/N!”

Jeonghan shoots you a confused look and then elbows Seunghceol, “Don’t even pretend that you know her. I totally caught you looking at her name tag. Have a little shame, Cheol.”

You clear your throat, “Um, good afternoon and welcome to Moon Coffee! What can I get started for you?” You punctuate the question with a smile that you hope screams please order fast and get out of here!

But Jeonghan evidently has long missed the memo when he pokes Seungcheol again, “You know sometimes I come here just so I can see Y/N smiling. She never smiles off the clock. It’s truly devastating.”

Seungcheol looks amused, “Is that so? I mean, fair enough. With a smile like that, you ought to be paid to show it.”

You cough into your palm, caught off-guard but quick to conceal the shy grin that’s crept up your face. You pray that the heat in your neck doesn’t climb up to show on your face. “Will you be ordering the same as last week? Iced hazelnut mocha with a double-shot?”

Seungcheol’s face lights up a little at your recognition but Jeonghan’s quickly butting in with an affronted expression, “Oh, so you recognize this man who’s been here once, but not your close friend of a long long time? Do you even know how much money I’ve spent on the seasonal lattes here?”

You sport a sly smile, “Right, thank you for enjoying our seasonal menu of beverages. We hope you continue to love the upcoming drinks. Feel free to leave any feedback or suggestions here!” You hand him a brand-new index card and gesture at a drop-box next to your monitor.

Seungcheol cackles at the defeated look on Jeonghan’s face and grins as he says, “You know what, I think I’ll get the same mocha again, Y/N. It did wonders for my mood.” You find yourself grinning almost immediately, tapping in his order with a hum.

“And for you?”

“...”

You know Jeonghan’s scheming something but you can’t afford to let him play out whatever sick mind games he’s planned out at your workplace so you’re quick to appease him, “If I might, I suggest you go for the salted caramel brownie latte. It’s perfect for this weather and it tastes suspiciously like birthday cake.”

Jeonghan can’t help a smile at your words, rolling his eyes a little, “Fine. That does sound tempting. I’ll have one of those, but only if I get a personalized note from you wishing me a very very happy birthday.”

You contain a scoff, “Of course.” You nod, “Thankfully for the line behind you, I already have your names down. Please step aside while we prepare your drinks. Thank you.”

–

“She’s hilarious,” chuckles Seungcheol, bumping shoulders with Jeonghan as they settle into his car. “Didn’t think I would witness Yoon Jeonghan’s downfall in a random college cafe.”

Jeonghan scoffs, “I think you’re too happy about this. Plus, my downfall started a long time ago when I stopped cheating in board games.” He takes a sip of his latte, “Fuck, this does taste like cake. What the fuck?”

Despite his words, Jeonghan smiles when he sees the note you promised him:

jeonghan – happy birthday week, u weird old man! please invite me to ur birthday party so i can give u the best gift of ur life and maybe also stick ur head in cake :) lots of love, y/n.

“She’s in her senior year, you said?”

Jeonghan looks up with a nod, “Yeah, I met her through Wonwoo, back when we shared a class in college. And then when I graduated and settled here, I’d invite them to get-togethers because I know how miserable the nightlife on this campus is.”

“Wow, look at you, such an admirable role model,” Seungcheol jokes, “And Wonwoo? Was he the glasses guy who you FaceTimed this morning? He seemed… cool, I guess.”

Jeonghan shrugs with a shoulder, “He’s a piece of work, alright. But that explains why he and Y/N are inseparable. Anyway, you’ll meet the rest of the crew later tonight. Thursday night is board game night.”

‘Board Game Night’ was a very, very loose term for the weekly gathering at Jeonghan’s place – it was a mix of Jeonghan’s friends, namely Dokyeom and Woozi, from work doing karaoke, his tired college friends (aka your friend group) lounging around on their phones, and maybe a group of two to three actually playing board games.

Tonight is slightly different, though, because the alcohol that Jeonghan otherwise wisely guards most weeks has made its presence known to everyone, the fancy bar table propped in a corner of his living room finally finding meaning.

You make it to his place, around thirty minutes past the usual starting time, exhausted from another soul-sucking shift at your job. You’d planned to sit on Jeonghan’s couch and binge-watch some mindless TV show but you’re thrown off when a reddened Seungcheol answers the door.

“Y/N! You’re late,” he exclaims. His speech is normal, thankfully but as you step in to take in the rest of the people, you look back at Seungcheol, eyes doubtful.

“I did not know my night was going to involve babysitting a bunch of drunk old men,” you mutter, not quite meaning for Seungcheol to catch your words. But he does and chuckles, hand at your elbow as he steers you to the bar.

“C’mon, you don’t have to babysit anyone. I’ve got it under control. Now, let me pour you a drink. What can I get for you?”

You watch the tall man with a skeptical smile, a little flustered because he’s standing close enough that you can feel him hard bicep against you and a little bit amused because well, this was new. It’d been a while since you’d been flustered around a man other than Yoon Jeonghan.

“Oh, so you’re making me a drink now?” you ask, “How did you even convince Jeonghan to let out the alcohol? You must have some special powers over him for this to happen.”

Before Seungcheol can supply a reason, Jeonghan appears behind the bar counter, smirking, “Ha! You think I’d let this coward dictate my actions? Nope, this was completely my decision. I couldn’t let the week of my birthday be dry! That’d be such a shame.”

“You’re funny, Han,” you mumble, turning to him with a quirked brow, “How many drinks are you down?”

He waves your concern away, “Shut up. I’m older than you, I don’t need you fussing after me. Now, get yourself a drink before I get mad.”

You raise your hands in surrender, “Sure, wouldn’t want the birthday boy to be made at me.”

“So what will it be? Do you want a beer? Or maybe a good old rum and coke?” Seungcheol offers, eyes already searching for the ingredients.

You narrow your eyes at him, “I think I’ll have a Scotch and Soda, please.”

A few hours later finds you sprawled on Jeonghan’s couch, nevermind the alcohol in your system and the ruckus your friends were creating. You had engaged with their antics for an hour: playing stupid drinking games (only to get drunker by the minute because you suck at games) and retiring early.

Jun starts to complain when you announce that you’re giving up, mainly because he’d be the next target of the crowd, but Jeonghan firmly leads you to the couch.

“You okay?” he asks you, warm fingers steadying you by the neck. Your world spins as he becomes the focus, ironically enough. You nod as you welcome the soft couch underneath your unsteady body, “Hmm. I’m just bummed out that you didn’t help me out by cheating.”

He laughs and the sound unsettles you with its vibrations. “I told you I don’t cheat anymore, silly. Also, I’m pretty sure you’d have lost even if I did pull out some master cheating moves.” You gasp, weakly pushing him away, “Whatever, man, I don’t need your attitude.”

If Jeonghan’s started to genuinely get worried about you, it only gets worse when you cough into your elbow, groaning as you pull away. His hands find your neck again. You hate his touch because you lean into it so naturally, your eyes following him just like he wants. You hate the warm feeling you feel when he feels your forehead with a concerned frown. You hate how you’re practically burning at his touch because he’s a breath away and your fingers twitch in your lap from wanting to touch his hair.

But soft like the strands that tickle your ear, Jeonghan whispers, “God, you’re burning up. Maybe you did drink too much. Fuck, let me bring you some water and then, let’s get you to sleep.”

You protest his lamely sensible plan of action but he isn’t listening as he departs, leaving you feeling cold. You wrap your arms around yourself to compensate, trying to keep an eye on Jeonghan when another tall figure encroaches your field of vision.

“Y/N?” Seungcheol calls out and for a moment, you’re unresponsive, eyes fixated on something beyond him but then you perk up in recognition, pouting as you beckon him to the couch.

“You–!” you point at him with a squint, head working hard to recall his name, “Um, um, Cheol?”

Seungcheol smiles at the nickname, taking a seat next to you, leaving some space but extending an arm behind you because of how you’re dangerously swinging. “Right, that is me. How are you feeling? Not too nauseous I hope?”

You shake your head, “”M fine. But tell that to Han because that weasel’s trying to make me sober up and sleep.” You breathe out a little angrily and then when the world swims around you, you lean your head against the back of the couch– that is currently occupied by Seuncheol’s arm.

He jumps a little at the unexpected contact but steadies himself when he sees your closed eyes, your skin hot against his forearm. “Now, why would he do that? You literally just got drunk,” he tells you, trying to keep you engaged in the conversation, lest you should pass out.

“Right?” you exclaim, opening your eyes, head still against his arm, “It’s like he’s never had fun in his life. For how much he likes to tease people, he sure is a killjoy.”

“Ha, I’m surprised you know him so well, honestly. People usually just take him at face value and think he’s a devilish troublemaker. But god knows how mature Jeonghan is. It makes me mad sometimes.”

You giggle and Seungcheol’s stomach swims at how he can feel the sweet sound in his veins, like literally. “You get me, dude. How long have you known him?”

“Um, like, nearly ten years now? I don’t know, I kinda lost count at some point.”

“Wow, that’s a long time. I’ve known him for like two years?” you hum. “Yeah, he told me.”

You quirk a brow at that, lifting your head up in amusement. “You two been talking about me? What did he say? That I’m Wonwoo’s evil twin?”

“Hmm, yeah, something along the lines of that.”

Jeonghan’s back by your side, suddenly, his strong grip straightening you up and holding up a glass of water. His expression is stoic as hell for a board game night and you don’t know if you feel scolded or cared for. It’s always hard to tell with him.

You stare at him blankly, not drinking the water like he wants you to. Instead you turn to Seungcheol, “I don’t want to.”

Your plea is unreasonable, you and Seungcheol both know, and he can practically feel Jeonghan’s glare when you ask Seungcheol, “Cheol, can you tell him I’m not dying? I don’t need to be babied.”

“Yeah, you do,” Jeonghan says, touching the cold glass against your skin. You jump a little with a soft unfair! and Seungcheol sighs, “Hannie, let her be. I don’t think she wants to go to sleep yet.”

“Thank you! At least someone has ears ‘round here!”

Jeonghan shoots his best friend an unreadable look, still firm, “Well, she needs to drink water either way. Unless someone wants the worst hangover of their life the next morning.” This time, his unoccupied hand finds the back of your head, settling into the stray strands of your hair there. “Please, just drink this.”

You find yourself giving in, lips opening up to the glass and you swallow a few gulps of water, the cold liquid soothing your insides. Before you know it, the glass is empty. He holds it up in front of you, “See? That felt nice, didn’t it?”

There it is, again. The playful glint in his eye and the sly tone of his voice. You ignore the burning tips of your ears and give him a half-nod, throwing yourself against the couch again with a relieved sigh. “Thanks, old man! What would I do without you?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes as he stands up, “Ever so grateful, Y/N.”

“Y’know, Cheol and I were in the middle of a very mind-opening discussion about you.”

“Me?” his interest is piqued and he glances at Seungcheol, who he jostles lightly, “What’ve you been, shit-talking me?”

Seungcheol laughs as he throws the man off, “Wouldn’t you like to know? Anyway, if you want to go back to your game, I have a lot of anecdotes to share with Y/N. It’s our bonding time.”

And bond, you do. You spend the rest of the night talking to Seungcheol on Jeonghan’s couch, the owner of the place long forgotten as you go on to talk about everything else: college experiences, Seungcheol’s job (“So how rich are you exactly?” you grill him), and life interests.

“I can’t believe you like college so much! I hated it a lot back in my time.”

You snort, “You sound really old for someone who graduated two years ago. But I mean, each to their own. I prefer the comfort of the bubble here, you know. No real responsibility most of the time and you’re allowed to make some mistakes now and then. The real world? That’s like hell. I don’t think I’m ever going to feel like an adequate adult ever. Like, tax fraud is real, you know? And I never know which law I’m going to break? Don’t even get me started about the living situation.”

Seungcheol laughs throughout your troubled rant, “No, I get it. But don’t you feel excited about the independence you get to have? The freedom? And plus, if you get lucky with your job, working is actually very fulfilling.”

“Ugh,” you throw your head against the back of the couch again, “I don’t think I’ll ever feel fulfilled. Like ever. I feel too immature to be anything but a college student.”

He frowns on hearing that, confused because he’d never imagined of spending a whole night talking his heart out to a college student. But it happened because it was you, with your quick-witted responses and thoughtful questions. So, he’s fast to counter, “That’s not true–”

But his defense is cut short when Wonwoo approaches you, tapping at your shoulder with a smile. “Hey, you wanna head back?” You look up and are shocked to find the living room nearly emptied of its earlier occupants. When did everyone leave? “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your room. It’s getting late,” Wonwoo continues.

“Oh, damn, I didn’t even realize,” Seungcheol mutters, looking down at the watch on his wrist. “You guys sure you want to head back this late? You could just crash here. I would offer to drive but I drank.”

Wonwoo’s eyes trail to you, leaving the decision up to you. You mull it over, “I don’t know if Han’s gonna want a bunch of wasted kids at his place?”

As if you’d summoned him, Jeonghan appears beside Seungcheol with a yawn, “What’s this about me? Why’re you guys still up? Come on, let me show you to the empty rooms and please go to sleep before I have to use force.”

Wonwoo laughs, “He didn’t even leave us a choice,” and you watch as Jeonghan turns around, expecting you to follow him.

“Jeon Wonwoo,” you turn to your best friend, “Please tell me you don’t still try to suffocate other people in their sleep?”

The boy contains a grin, “I don’t know. It depends on how annoying the person I’m with is.”

“You’re sleeping on the floor, asshole.”

–

Seungcheol has a problem.

He likes to think of himself as a reasonable adult, with the ability to make logical choices and admitting to his flaws here and there. But had he been reasonable enough, he wouldn’t be this hung up over someone he met twice over the course of two weeks. It’s ridiculous: the way his heartbeat’s racing when you tread down to breakfast the morning after the board game night turned bonding time.

He’s smiling his way through an excited “good morning!” before he can collect himself. You look tired, albeit a little bit lesser than usual, and your hair’s down in something of a mess. Seungcheol vaguely recognizes the faded gray tee you’re wearing, probably a donation of Jeonghan’s. “Morning,” you mumble to the breakfast table, everyone present now that you’re here.

Wonwoo snickers, “You look like shit, dude.” You glare at him as you’re reaching out for a fork, “Thanks, Wonwoo, I see that you’re as sweet as ever.”

Jeonghan lightly slaps Wonwoo’s arm, “Be nice to her. Who knows what a hungover Y/N might do?”

You turn to Jeonghan, finally eating the piece of watermelon that you’d been reaching for, “I’m flattered you’re concerned but I’ll have you know I’m not hungover.”

“That’s impressive,” Seungcheol chimes in and you smile at him, “See, I can’t believe this man I met last week understands me better than my best friend and my other friend.”

“Your other friend? That’s what I am to you???” Jeonghan gasps, hand clutching his chest dramatically and Seungcheol laughs louder than he ought to, but he can barely help it, he’s all giddy. All it took was a half-compliment from you.

So yeah, easy to say, Seungcheol has a problem and it has something to do with the way you lean into him when you ask him to pass a slice of toast.

Luckily for Seungcheol, you also have a problem, and it occurs when you declare you need to head back, hoping that they’d let you go alone but Jeonghan’s standing up instantly with a nod. You have a problem with the way he’s unbothered with his behavior, easily saying, “I’ll walk you,” as if your best friend of years wasn’t sitting right there.

You look to Wonwoo, hoping he’d feel the heat of your expression but he simply stretches his limbs out with a groan, “Think I’ll go take a nap before I leave.”

“Don’t you have a class at 12?” you nudge him subtly, trying to ignore Jeonghan as he stands at the table, fingers tapping at the chair that he’s behind.

“Eh, I’m ahead of the syllabus in the class and attendance is a joke.”

You sigh in defeat and meet Jeonghan’s eyes as he lifts his lips into a smile.

And the smile only leaves his lips once you’ve stepped out, clad in your clothes from last night again, groaning when the morning sunlight hits your eyes. “Ugh is right,” he mumbles beside you as he starts walking.

You catch up to him, hands stuffed down your pockets, and he asks, “You have class?”

“Not really. But I do have an upcoming paper I want to finish over the weekend so I don’t perish next week.”

Jeonghan chuckles as he glances at you, “Wow, you’re still this hard-working, huh? I thought your lifestyle would’ve worn you out by now.”

“You’re one to talk about detrimental lifestyles, Han,” you scoff, “Just because you hang out with us once a week doesn’t mean we don’t know you’re overworking yourself for the rest of it.”

He’s silent for a beat and then he exhales, “Huh. I don’t know. Feels like I have the other kids fooled. It’s always you, with your smart little head and truth bombs.”

You laugh, hitting his side with your shoulder, “I’m serious, Han. Take it slow, won’t you? You’re going to end up burning yourself out to death by the time you’re 30. And then whos’ going to host board game nights?”

Jeonghan laughs and he turns to look at you, walking pace slowing down as he trains his eyes on you. You raise your brows in confusion, a slight smile playing on your lips as you try to guess what he’s thinking this time.

“You and Cheol have been getting along really well, huh?”

You’re thrown off guard, not having imagined this to be his next words. You shrug. “Yeah, he’s really easy to talk to, especially given his… I don’t know, social status?”

“Social status?”

You cough in embarrassment over your words. What were you saying? “Don’t know. It’s just nice to meet someone whose hopes and dreams aren’t being crushed by student debt.”

Jeonghan’s silent again and now it’s your turn to frown because you’re wondering if you said the wrong thing. God, does he think you’re creepy for liking his childhood friend? Fucking hell.

“I’m glad,” he says but you can sense a strain in his voice, “I was worried he’d get bored to death when he came to visit me.”

“Ah, well. How long is he around?”

“He took a month off, I think? But he’s got it easy with his flexible hours, so really, it’s up to him when to leave.”

You nod a little, “Cool.” You exhale in relief, a little bit reassured now that Jeonghan was back to talking like his usual self. You’ve finally reached the steps to your dorm by the time the conversation fades away and he waves at you, “Better be on time tomorrow for my party. And don’t forget to bring the best gift of my life.”

You groan when he quotes your note on his coffee from a day ago, shrugging as you turn around to run up to your room and melt into your pillow. But you’ve made it to two steps up when he calls out for you again. You swerve around to face him with a questioning glance.

“Y/N, remember you can come to this old man if you ever need anything, okay? I’m here for you, always.”

??????????

–

Okay, let’s rewind a little.

You’ve known Jeonghan for two years now, enough time to fall for him. You argue it was inevitable because all your life, you’d only been disappointed in your love interests, who would either ghost you in the talking stage itself or break up a few months into the relationship. One time it was because you were too busy with your studies and the third and final time because well, you were apparently too aloof. Not loving enough.

Which is why when Jeonghan came into the picture, you found yourself changing ever so slightly. Not to say you weren’t still a little bit wary of people and took your time opening up, but you met a lot of friends through him and he taught you that trust and attention goes a long way in relationships. If only you could apply this newfound knowledge to new relationships.

You’d tried: Wonwoo had set you up with a friend from class, Mingyu, and while you’d been able to sit through the first date, by the end of the night, it was clear that both of you were more interested in sex. Which was fine. But then there was the guy who was a regular at your cafe who had given you his number and you’d ended up wondering why you were with him in the bathroom, staring at a text from Jeonghan.

So you were down pretty bad for him. And as Wonwoo had voiced multiple times before, the next move to make was to actually tell the man that you’d been suffering in your feelings for him. But every time the topic came around, you had only one answer prepared: he already knows. Or so you’re convinced.

You had good reason to think so. Once, the group of you had been playing an online game that involved picking red flags for other people’s ideal types and when it was time for others to pick some for you, all hell had broken loose. “I bet she likes bad guys who are emotionally unavailable,” Jun had said, quick to drag the flag that said emotional constipation on it. You had defended yourself quickly, “UH? No thanks, men with no emotional intelligence are a hard pass for me. I don’t want to feed into some idiot’s Oedipus complex just because I’m the mom friend.”

“The mom friend?” Wonwoo had questioned, “Please, Y/N, if anything, you’re the dead friend with a severe case of RBF. Jeonghan’s the mom friend.”

Jeonghan’s shrug had been followed by a hysterical Joshua going, “Wouldn’t that mean Y/N’s ideal type is Jeonghan? I mean, it makes a lot of sense, he’s mature and emotionally intelligent.”

You’d choked over your next words, cheeks burning, “No, that’s stupid. Don’t be weird.”

Yeah, very weak defense.

When Wonwoo brought up the fact that you’d refuted Joshua’s claims and that probably led Jeonghan to believe you weren’t into him, you simply told him to remind himself of what happened next. Dokyeom had laughed, “But you definitely go for older men? I can’t imagine any guy in college being too smart like that.”

You’d agreed in the end, his logic being pretty solid. You had also noticed the way Jeonghan excused himself to the kitchen with a lame excuse about bringing more snacks when there was an array of unopened chips still lying around.

“Okay, so that’s one example, from like two months ago,” Wonwoo argues as you roll around in bed to avoid his glare, “Do you really think he remembers that incident so well?”

“Two months ago was not that long ago. And it wasn’t just this once. I’m a mess around Jeonghan.”

“You’re a mess period,” Wonwoo casually declares and when you sit up with an unhinged jaw, he laughs, “No offense.”

“Whatever. I hate you. And I hate Jeonghan. I should just skip his birthday party or I’m just gonna make things worse for myself.”

“Right. And what about the Lego set you spent half your life savings on?”

You pause, heart skipping a beat when you remember the gift sitting on your desk, wrapped securely and the purchase of which you could only justify with the words: Yoon Jeonghan.

“God, I must be insane. Why did I even buy that for him? He’s gonna think I’m genuinely weird. Does he even want gifts? He’s turning 25 for god’s sake.”

Wonwoo doesn’t respond so you can hear yourself and eventually, you do. Jeonghan himself had told you to be on time to his party with the gift alongside. You’re going to cry.

“You really think I should tell him?” you ask quietly.

Your best friend nods eagerly, patting your arm through the mess of your bedsheets, “Please. It’s high time. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Weird promise to make, but fine. I’ll do it.”

–

The weight of your promise settles into your veins when you’ve arrived at Jeonghan’s place, self-consciously straightening out non-existent wrinkles in your dress when he comes over to greet you and Wonwoo. It doesn’t leave when he grins at you, wider than usual, and it definitely only gets worse when he accepts your gift with a low whisper that he’ll be sure to open yours first.

You’re thankful for Seungcheol when he shows up next to you, dimples out as he compliments you in your dress and you return it with a shy smile. Half because you need a distraction and more because Seungcheol’s presence is calming, you follow him to the bar.

“How’s your night going so far?”

“It could be better,” you mumble, eyes searching for Jeonghan and settling when he doesn’t seem to be anywhere close, “A little bit nervous.”

“Nervous?” he asks you, sliding you a drink and you smile as you take a sip: Scotch and Soda.

“Hmm, it’s nothing honestly. A lot of work piling up as we speak,” you joke. Seungcheol’s frown melts away, “Ah, of course. Senior year must be crazy.”

The night picks it pace up thereon, with your nerves finding some peace in the buzz from alcohol and your cheeks only hurting the longer you talk to Seungcheol.There’s some dancing of course, here and there, but you find yourself avoiding Jeonghan actively, retracting from the floor whenever he’s close.

It helps that Seungcheol stays close so that you have an excuse to appear occupied and somewhere along in the night, you tell the man with a smile, “You’re really charming, you know, Cheol?”

He breaks out into that giggle of his, “You think so? I haven’t even pulled out all the stops yet?”

“Really?” you find yourself stepping closer, encouraged by how quickly his hands are at your waist, “What haven’t you done yet?”

A breathy hum leaves his lips at your provoking and you’re close enough to brush lips against Seungcheol when suddenly, you’re being pulled away. For a moment, you let out an annoyed groan, certain that the iron hold on your bicep is Wonwoo being stubborn again. So when you tilt your head and catch sight of Jeonghan’s black hair falling into his eyes, a glare in place, all words leave your system.

You’re aware he’s dragging you away and also that Seungcheol’s following, reaching for your hand with words leaving his mouth, but you can’t make anything out. The blood’s in your ears and your heart is in your throat. You can feel Jeonghan saying something at Seungcheol, who glances at you in doubt, and leaves.

By the time you've calmed down, you find yourself in Jeonghan’s room, door half closed.

“Jeonghan?” you question a little weakly as he finally lets go of your arm and sits on the bed, his head in his hands. Is he okay? you wonder, standing helplessly near the door. You call out his name again, “Han? Are you okay?”

You step closer to him but stop when he looks up, startled by the lack of humor in his expression. “What were you doing back there?”

“Um, talking to Cheol.”

“Talking?”

“Are you annoyed at me, right now? Or jealous? I can’t tell.”

Jeonghan goes silent again, gaze dropping to his feet. You’re feeling annoyed by the minute.

“You’re acting like an idiot, Y/N. You don’t know Seungcheol. And you’re drunk.”

There it was: that strict tone of his, that always left you feeling conflicted and hurt. Today you actually tell him about it, “I’m not a kid, Jeonghan, I know what I’m doing.”

He looks up at you when you say that, eyes wide. “I never said that. I’m just saying that you should be more careful.”

“I am being careful,” you retort, a hostile edge to your voice, “I don’t know why you do this.”

“I thought you liked me.”

The words stun you into silence and your ears ring as you freeze. Your eyes don’t leave Jeonghan’s form though, watching him, waiting for him to disappear into nothingness as if this was just a dream. How you wish it was.

But Jeonghan’s on his feet when he notices the horrified look on his face and it’s only when he starts to come closer that you reach for the door.

“No, Y/N, please let’s talk about it–” he grabs hold of you and you feel your vision go blurry with tears, your back hitting the wall when Jeonghan shuts the door behind you.

“I knew it,” you mumble out through tears, “You knew about my feelings?”

Jeonghan’s eyes find yours in the dim lighting of his bedroom and you shiver when his hand tightens around your wrist, “I’ve known for a while. But then you went around flirting with Cheol like it was nobody’s business and I…” he trails off, “I was jealous. And confused.”

You force yourself to breathe out, heart going wild in your chest because of course, Jeonghan’s not addressing the elephant in the room. “Well, I was going to confess to you today and get it out of the way. But there’s no need anymore, I guess?” You cringe at the way you can hear the quiver in your own voice, “Just let me go now?”

“Why?” he asks, “You haven’t even asked me if I like you back?”

You scoff, “God, Jeonghan, you make it sound like we’re in high school or something, all this ‘liking’ talk.” You try to sound stable, only to be contradicted by the tears that leave your eyes, “And I figured you didn’t return my feelings. Or you would’ve done something about it.”

There’s a pause then. A shift. Jeonghan’s grip on you loosens ever so lightly and you fear you’ve understood him too well. For once, you wish you weren’t right.

“You’re right,” Jeonghan breathes out as if on cue, but his grip is still unyielding to your dismay, “Well, I thought I didn’t like you. I mean, you’re really pretty and funny and being around doesn’t tire me out like it does with others, but… I just liked you as a friend.”

Your heart’s shriveling up at his words with uncertainty because he might be talking about your love for him being one-sided but it is also in the past tense… right?

“What are you trying to say, Jeonghan?”

He flinches, “Um, I’m sorry. I just– I’m so confused about my feelings, right now. God, I thought I was more mature than this.”

You can’t help the disdainful laugh that leaves your lips as you push him away, brushing your tears away with the back of your hand. “Look, Jeonghan, I’m sorry I don’t have the time to sit down and help you untangle your feelings… about me. It really hurts to hear you go on about this, honestly. I think I’m just going to leave. Happy birthday, I hope you like your gift.”

–

The night outside is much more welcoming to you now, your shoulders more relaxed than ever now that your stupid crush on Jeonghan’s out in the open for him. You hadn’t expected it to go down like this but well, at least you were right about him already knowing, you know?

Lighter than before, the drinks you’d chugged before to gather courage catch up to you in the moment when you nearly run into a pole on the street. You would have run into it if Seungcheol hadn’t swerved you out the way with a, “Look out!”

“Fuck,” you mumble when you’re steady on your feet, Seungcheol’s hand firm around yours, “Sorry. I was in my head.”

“I know you were but you gotta watch where you’re going, kid,” he scolds, “I don’t want to have to carry your unconscious body to your room.”

You roll your eyes, “What is it with everyone and calling me a kid tonight? So much for keeping up a track record for being reliable and responsible.”

“It’s not that you’re not those things, Y/N,” Seungcheol says, hand still on yours reassuringly, “It’s just that sometimes you’re… dense. And maybe even something of an idiot.”

“Ah! Excuse me!” you protest, “I am not an idiot. Say that to my grades.”

“An idiot as in someone who doesn’t see what’s right in front of them.”

That shuts you for good, then, and you stop walking with a sigh. “I don’t even know about that, anymore.”

Seungcheol watches as you slow down, tears behind your eyes and his heart hurts for you, thanks to his problem. When he’d found you storming out of Jeonghan’s room with fists wiping your tears away, he’d wrapped an arm around you immediately, listening as you quietly told him you needed to leave. He’d offered to walk you home and you’d watched him for a moment before nodding.

“Why are you doing this, Cheol? Shouldn’t you be back there, comforting Jeonghan?”

“See, there it is. The idiot side of you.”

You go silent again, looking down at the hand that was clutched in his a few moments ago.

“...you like me?”

“Bingo. Plus, I don’t think Jeonghan wants to hear from me tonight. Not after I almost kissed you in front of him.”

You let out a surprised sound, hand flying to your mouth when you recall the near-kiss, ears turning impossibly pink under the streetlights. “Fuck, I forgot that happened. I’m sorry? Or you’re welcome?”

“Nah, I can’t thank you till we actually seal the deal,” Seungcheol teases, stepping closer to you and dramatically ducking his head as if going in for a kiss. You push his shoulder away, “Fuck you, Seungcheol.”

“I mean, sure, if you want to!”

“Ugh!” you start walking with a pout on your face, “I hate the guts of the men in this place!”

“That’s not what your face said thirty minutes ago at the bar!”

“Go away, Cheol, or I’m reporting you to the campus authorities.”

“Aww, you called me Cheol even when we’re fighting. Aren’t you the sweetest?”

–

When Monday rolls around, you think you’ve got a good hold on your head this time, especially after a few grueling hours at your shift at the cafe. That is until you spot Jeonghan walking in, hair tied back in a half-ponytail and hands crossed across his white cardigan. The sight of him sends you into a frenzy and you debate your options as being between: ducking behind the counter and switching positions with Joshua, or otherwise, manning up and facing the aftermath of your actions.

You glance at Joshua’s back, his hands busy cleaning the espresso equipment and before you have a minute to ask him to switch, Jeonghan’s at the counter (where’s a line of customers when you need it?), calling you out. “Hey, Y/N, do you think we could talk for a minute?”

You look at him blankly, not expecting him to take the direct route after everything. But you malfunction a little and cut his advances off, “Welcome to Moon Coffee! What can I get started for you?” you ask loudly and then add in a softer voice, “Conversation with me is not on the menu.”

“Hm?” Jeonghan looks devastated at your cold response but his eyes search the menu board frantically anyway, “Uh, I guess I could get just an iced americano, then, please?”

You note that down with a half-smile, and almost go on to ask for a name for the order but decide against it, not wanting to stretch your pettiness limit for the day. “Alright, thank you for your order! Please feel free to take a seat while you wait.”

You relax when he nods with a hesitant smile and takes a seat, close to the window but close enough to the counter to hear his name being called out. You feel the pit in your stomach burn a little at how deflated his shoulders are and you wonder if you ought to drop the act; you’d been into the man for two years now. Right?

But before you can pursue this heart-wrenching line of thought, you’re distracted by the sound of the door opening and– great, it’s Seungcheol. By the surprised look he shoots Jeonghan’s sat figure, they hadn’t planned this… ambush, but you reign in your usual cordiality anyway as Seungcheol approaches you.

“Hey there, morning. How’ve you been?”

What did you have to do to have one customer who came in here for coffee?

“Good afternoon,” you correct him, pleased at the reversal of your first meeting with Seungcheol, who chuckles a little. “Welcome, what can we get you today?”

He pauses, casting a glance to Jeonghan over his shoulder, whose attention is on this interaction, legs crossed and brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, didn’t know he was in here. I just wanted to check up on you.”

“What are you apologizing for?” The question slips before you can remember to be professional and also, a little bit quieter because almost certain that Jeonghan’s heard you by the way he averts his eyes. “Um, I mean, sorry. I can recommend you a drink for the day or do you want to get your usual?”

Seungcheol mulls it over, “Hm, I’m fine with anything you choose for me.”

You pause before punching in the order for a hazelnut mocha, without a double-shot this time. He can deal with the sweetness for a day, you reckon. You glance at Joshua who’s still cleaning up before getting started on the orders because well, it’s a slow day. Or it’s supposed to be.

As you thank Seungcheol for his order and he’s about to step aside to wait, you add in a quick, “And next time, if you want to check up on me, do it when I’m not working.” He does nothing to hide the grin of acknowledgment that takes over his face, a sight that only darkens the storm known as Yoon Jeonghan brewing in the cafe.

You walk over to Joshua, “Dude! Hurry up, we have customers waiting.”

He turns to you slowly, wiping his hands off ever so slowly, even the smile on his face slow. “Don’t worry, it’s just Jeonghan. We know these guys. We can take our time.”

You narrow your eyes at him, wondering if Jeonghan put him up to this act, but don’t question it because even that would be admitting defeat. “Whatever. I’ll make the drinks if you’re going to be annoying. Where’s the syrup for the mocha again?”

Joshua slaps the hand that you’re using to reach for the syrup with a firm, “Uh-uh! Hands off, young lady. That hazelnut mocha is all mine to make. You can work on the iced americano if you really want to help out.”

You groan, throwing your hands up, “So you were slowing things down on purpose, you little bitch.”

“Hello? Please be mindful of the language you use around here. I can report you–”

“Yes, yes, of course, I will just shut up and make that americano so I don’t have to listen to your voice again.”

A few minutes later, you’re scribbling Jeonghan’s name onto the cup, proud with the quick work you’ve made of the drink and also thankful nobody was coming in right now. “Han–” you stop yourself just as the nickname slips your tongue, flinching when you remember you’re supposed to be acting stuck up right now.

You turn, hoping that Jeonghan hadn’t heard you but nevermind that because he’s at your side, quicker than he ought to be really (any other scenario, he would be declaring all kinds of knee problems), that sly grin plastered on his face.

“Hi there,” he greets you, “Called for me, did you?”

“...I did. An iced americano for Jeonghan.” You try hard to make your sentences brief but Jeonghan’s chuckling as he takes the drink from you– using both his hands so that you’re brushing against his. Classic middle school boy behavior.

If anything, this ordeal was making you question if the man was as mature as you’d believed. Either way, he thanks you with a smile and leaves promptly, leaving a very affronted Seungcheol in his wake. “Hey, I thought you said you were gonna wait for me!” he calls out after Jeonghan, who doesn’t respond as he slides out.

“A hazelnut mocha for Seung…Cheol?”

You glare at Joshua who frowns at the name as that was the first he’d heard of it, and the guy just shrugs as he puts the drink down. “Sorry about that. Joshua’s feeling rebellious this afternoon,” you tell a frowny Seungcheol (you are a minute away from admitting how cute he is when he’s upset), “Anyway, here’s your drink, Seungcheol. Have a good day!”

“Cheol!” you call out when you spot the brown head of hair outside the cafe when your shift ends. He’d texted you a while after he’d walked off with his drink in hand, pouting because you insisted on calling him Seungcheol.

meet me after your shift? his text reads.

do u even know when my shift ends dude

no and thats why im asking u. when does your shift end?

… u are insufferable.

insufferable enough to fall 4 u i guess

when are u going to stop holding your feelings for me over my head?

when you do something about them.

meet me at 6 outside the cafe.

Yeah, so you wouldn’t say you’re being your wisest self right now. To begin with, you should probably seek out Jeonghan and find closure of some sort. But something tells you to wait on him, wait till he’s ready to seek you out (no, coming up to you during your work shift did not count). Instead, you choose to pursue the… spark that you have with Seungcheol, his feelings for you aside. The night after Jeonghan’s party he’d made it clear that he didn’t really want anything serious, just to get to know you more while you were still around.

A little fooling around never hurt anyone, right?

So when Seungcheol whines out, “Oh, so I’m back to being Cheol now, huh?” you finally let out the laugh that you’d held back at work at his antics.

“Nobody ever told me you were such a pouty baby,” you tell him, eyes shameless trained on his pink lips.

“I don’t pout for anyone, baby,” Seungcheol shoots back, hand on your back as he leads you somewhere. You look at him in question. “What? We’re getting dinner.”

“I was not aware,” you reply, “But all right. Let’s do it.”

Dinner is comfortable. Which is more than you ask for on a date these days.

“Your dates have really been that bad, huh?” Seungcheol asks you. You shake your head, fork scraping some tiramisu onto it, “You can’t even imagine it, Cheol, it’s hell out there. I’m lucky if the guy pays for the dinner so I don’t have to work an extra shift to make up for it.”

He laughs and you savor the sight, because hanging out with this often hadn’t meant you had become indifferent to his looks. If anything, it was the other way around.

“Thanks for dinner,” you tell him later as he sneaks his hand into yours. You allow yourself to feel guilty for indulging him like this but then he squeezes your hand, “Anything for you, m’lady.”

Later that night, you invite him to your room. “It’s not much,” you add to the invitation, “But you know, I do happen to have some wine in my fridge that Wonwoo forgot to pick up. And my bed’s pretty cozy to watch movies in.”

Seungcheol is breathless by the time you’re in your room, not only because of the trek up the stairs but also the fact that you’d held his hand in yours the whole way up. “Wow, it sure is cold in here,” he comments as you turn the lights. It is the textbook college room, albeit a little bigger since you’re in a single.

You cough, “Um, sorry about that. Let me turn on the heater. And you can sit on my bed…” you pause when you remember the mess you’d left on your mattress this morning, in a hurry to make it to your shift but nevertheless, insistent on putting together a fit.

You sweep up the pile of discarded clothes from your bed and onto an already burdened chair, making a show out of it. You dust your hands off with a smile at Seungcheol who’s been watching with a hand on his hip. “Change your mind about me yet?” you question, teasingly.

He rolls his eyes as he walks closer to you, effectively bumping you onto your bed, the new angle forcing you to look up at him. He kneels in front of you, his smile turning loving as he takes your face into his hands. “Not a chance,” and then he leans in until his warm lips are on yours, the heater whirring irrelevant now that heat’s rushing up to your temples instantly.

You taste him and then pull away, “Mhm. Not so fast, you sly little man. I promised you wine and a movie in my bed. And I,” you say as you crouch in front of your fridge, “am a woman of my word.” You shake the cold bottle of red wine at him and he grins.

An hour later, you’re curled around Seungcheol, glasses of wine long consumed and movie long forgotten in favor of cuddling. You stare at him and then when he smiles shyly, you finger one of his dimples, “Hey. You sure you’re not serious about me? Because I’m…” you hate the way you trail off, the very thought of Jeonghan derailing any sense of coherence you’ve ever had.

“I know,” Seungcheol’s hand comes to your wrist, “I knew I didn’t stand a chance against Jeonghan since I saw you guys fight at the cafe that day. You look at him like he has all the answers.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you brush off, not completely refuting him. “But if you knew, why’d you stick around and… I don’t know, flirt with me?”

Seungcheol laughs into your neck, “Call it a bad habit of mine.” His hands play with your hair now, brushing it away from your face, “I see a pretty girl and I have to charm her.”

You drop your head into his chest with a groan, “Stop! You sound so creepy. Like a predator.”

“Hey!” he protests, his chuckles vibrating through you, “You’re the one who called me charming the other day!”

“Hmm. I guess I did.”

His hands slowly pry you away from his chest and to his face, lips pressing against yours. You smile a little and then open up for him, shifting until you’re situated on top of him. You close your eyes, surrendering yourself to the kiss and – “Shit, you’re a good kisser.” The man underneath you moves you closer with a pleased smirk, voice smug when his lips trail down your neck, “That’s not the only thing I’m good at.”

–

“Sex with older men really is different, huh?”

You gasp at Wonwoo’s vulgar words, slapping his arm mercilessly making him jump away from you. “Dude! Mind keeping it down? We’re in the library, not your mom’s house.”

“Ha! Jokes on you, I wouldn’t be making dirty jokes in my mom’s house because Jeonghan is my mom away from home and he would really kick my ass if he heard me talk about you and Seungchel fucking–”

Another slap on the arm and Wonwoo shuts up, groaning in pain. You grimace when you notice a few heads turning your way at the commotion, and bow in apology. When they’re looking away, you glower at Wonwoo, “Seriously, man, what are you up to? Drop the horny teenager act for once so we can focus on the problem at hand.”

“Judging from the tone of your voice, I’m guessing that you’re not talking about the problem of calculus in front of us, but rather, the problem of… life?”

You stare at Wonwoo blankly, “I’m so glad you find this entertaining.” As you’re about to continue giving him a piece of your mind, your phone buzzes, cutting you off much to Wonwoo’s relief, who sneaks a look over your shoulder anyway.

cheol: rate last night on a scale of ‘okay’ to ‘let's meet up again tonight’?

You scoff at the audacity and Wonwoo’s already clinging onto this new piece of evidence. “Oh, so what was that about this being a one-time thing? Next thing I know you’re moving in with him when you graduate.”

You slam your phone face down, “Listen, I know you think this is a joke but it’s not. I’m not going to sleep with Cheol again because that’s obviously the right thing to do. But as for Jeonghan, well, it’s been radio silence from him all week.”

“And since when have you let Jeonghan take the lead on your relationship with him? You know he’s a working man so I’m not surprised he’s not texting you at noon on a Wednesday.”

You glare at Wonwoo, “Seungcheol is also very much a working man? I don’t see your point. And also, I don’t know when this became a competition between the two?”

“Since you confessed to one and then slept with the other?”

You exhale heavily, unable to shoot him down because he was at least a little bit correct. Instead you heave your head into your arms. “Maybe I should just fake my death and move away.”

“You’ll give up your dreams of graduation over a stupid love triangle, consisting purely of men?”

“Shit. You’re right. That’s not happening,” you look up, “Jeon Wonwoo, what would I do if you weren’t by my side bringing me to my senses? You’re the best friend I ever had.”

“Actually, your use of ‘friend’ is very offensive to me,” he complains, fisting his palm dramatically, “I consider myself one of the girls. Or even better, your guardian. Refer to me as Your Highness exclusively or I will not listen.”

You stand up with a screech of your chair, “Okay, that was the last of your reasonable thinking. I’m going to go to my shift and work until I can no longer think or pine.”

“Great plan, young one!”

“Touch grass while I’m gone and you might have hope yet.”

–

“Look, I really don’t think we should be doing this anymore.”

Seungcheol laughs, eyes searching your face for signs of humor. You flash him a grimace of seriousness and doom. He deflates. “I saw this coming. Should’ve known you would only ever ask me out to a fancy restaurant for dinner to break up with me.”

You flick his forehead, “Break up? Don’t call it that. It gives people the wrong idea.”

“Interesting, Y/N L/N admits to caring about whether or not people get the wrong idea about us. Very interesting,” he comments, not at all sneaky with the way his arm snakes around you, “Anyway, you want me to pay for dinner and what, drag my sorry ass back to Jeonghan’s place?”

You stiffen at the mention of Jeonghan and then sigh, the following conversation almost inevitable given your current situation. “So speaking of Jeonghan, has he been talking?”

“Um, yeah, he sure has been opening his mouth and saying words.”

“Fuck you, I meant as in, about me? Has he said anything?”

“Not in specific. Although he did inquire if I had slept over at your place two nights ago and when I said yes, he threw a slice of half-eaten apple in my face. Since then whenever I see him, I duck.”

“That’s very funny.”

“Don’t worry, I made sure to tell him how hopelessly in love with him you are–”

“That was not needed.”

“–And how you accidentally moaned his name on my cock.”

You glare at him, “What about those statements made you think they were okay to voice out loud, not only once but twice?”

As Seungcheol comes up with a witty defense for his lapse in judgment, your phone buzzes next to your thigh and the name that pops up has you zoning everything out instantly.

han: hey, can we talk?

You look away from the screen and breathe out, “And that makes two of us dragging our sorry asses to Jeonghan’s place.”

When you knock on his door, the last thing you expect to see is a red-eyed, very sniffly Jeonghan. Heck, you hadn’t ever even come close to imagining the heartbroken look on Jeonghan’s face, his eyes downcast when you visibly look taken aback at his state.

“Han?”

“Hey,” his voice is hoarse and good lord, you can’t stand this. “Let’s sit in the living room. I was going to go grab some water anyway.”

You follow him speechlessly, watching the way his hands disappear into the sleeves of the black sweatshirt that hangs loose around his frame. You keep watching when he reappears, and it’s when he sits down quietly, fingers whitening around the glass of iced water in hands that you lose it.

“Talk to me, Han. Are you okay?” you breathe deeply to contain the multitude of concerned questions that threaten to leave your system. For one, you didn't know how to interpret the crestfallen expression he held up when he met your eyes. While someone like Wonwoo (aka a naive little kid) would argue that the only reasonable explanation for it would be that he was devastated that you’d been avoiding him the past week. But knowing what you did about him, you couldn’t let go of the possibility that he was just mourning the impending loss of a friend, i.e. you, when he breaks it to you that he doesn’t like you back.

Jeonghan senses you’re in your head when you’ve been staring at him for a moment too long, mouth agape, so he moves closer, taking the water out of your hands and placing it next to his emptied glass.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Fuck. An apology?

You stammer, “S-Sorry? Why?”

“I’m sorry I called you an idiot the other day. You’re the farthest thing from an idiot– and you’re definitely not a kid. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like that. I just… I’ve been thinking about us, and I realized that somewhere along the way, I became really over-protective of you. I started treating you like you were fragile or something, and I shouldn’t have.”

“I’m listening,” you tell him, frown letting up now that he’s finally speaking up.

“And I’m sorry for being a cowardly little bitch about my feelings for you,” he mumbles, eyes dropping to your lap where your fingers play with the fabric of your shirt uneasily. He stops your fiddling, his hands coming to envelope both of yours. “I’m the idiot for thinking I could be anything other than in love with you.”

“Huh,” you exhale again, biting your lip to hold the smile that threatens to spill.

“And finally, I’m sorry for not doing anything about it when I knew your feelings were mutual. As you know, I’m getting old and–”

You stop any further stupidity from leaving his lips by – you guessed it – by pressing your lips against them. He lets out a surprised gasp and your smile finally turns into a giggle when his hands tighten around yours in your lap.

You pull away, only to detach your hands so you can bury them in his hair instead and Jeonghan smiles at you, his eyes crescents as they watch you lovingly and you think: the pain was worth it.

Jeonghan’s smile widens when he feels you thumb at his skin, tenderly tracing his eye-bags.

“You look terrible, Han, I’m sorry,” you mutter, kissing his cheeks and then his forehead. He’s already mellowing under your hold and he hums, low, “You should be. I went to hell and back when Seungcheol announced he slept with you. I mean, what were you thinking?”

You break, guiltily looking away. “That was not my smartest moment but I was also very distraught about my relationship with a certain someone who wouldn’t contact me outside of my working hours.”

“You and your stubborn need to remain professional. Y/N, it’s a campus cafe, I don’t think anyone’s going to care if you break your act once in a while. I don’t know, if I don’t get a kiss the next time I visit you– I might just rethink this.”

You scoff in disbelief, “You’re a real pain in the ass, Jeonghan. Maybe I’ll just go back to my room and cry myself to sleep.” But as soon as you make moves to stand up, Jeonghan’s bringing you back to sit, taking the chance to pull you closer into a hug. “You will do no such thing.”

You freeze when you feel his nose settle into your shoulder, warm breaths relaxing when your hands reclaim their place in his hair. “I love you, Y/N.”

A beat passes and with a kiss to his head, you return, “I probably love you more, old man.”

“If we’re going to date, that nickname has got to go!”

“What? You’re the one who was complaining about your knee problems last week. It’s fine, I can add this relationship to my list of community service activities.”

Jeonghan pulls away, standing up abruptly and jerking you upward as well. Your smile falters but then, he’s steering you to his bedroom, throwing the door shut with a grunt. You side-eye him, “What’s up–” He cuts you off, lips hot against yours.

A few minutes later, when his tongue finally lets up, he mutters, “I just remembered that you kissed Seungcheol with this mouth. I’ve gotta do everything I can to erase that memory.”

“I can’t tell if you want me to forget… or yourself.”

“Shh, I bet he couldn’t even– Wait, why aren’t you wearing a bra? Don’t tell me you were–!”

“You sure love asking questions, old man,” you whine and before Jeonghan can question you further, you take ahold of his hand, sliding it over your stomach and down the waistband of your jeans, the space tight and hot but not as hot as the groan Jeonghan lets out when he feels you. “Holy fuck, you’re wet.”

You grin when he falls to his knees, your jeans unbuttoned and pulled down in next to no time. “There’s more where that came from,” you mumble before he’s between your thighs, ripping out scream after scream from your throat.

–

Genuinely and honestly, if you’d foreseen waking up in Jeonghan’s bed, his hair a mess from last night but face comfortably snuggled in your arm– you would’ve been less mean to Wonwoo. Because it turns out that his voice (of reason? or of deviance? you would never figure it out) in your head had been right: Jeonghan did return your feelings all those times you thought he might.

He tells you all about it when you’ve collapsed later that night, replacing the curses on your lips with dampness in your eyes because of how vulnerable he is, pouring his heart out to you like this.

Propped up on an elbow, he played with your hand, “I remember when you first came over with Wonwoo. I thought I’d met myself, but younger and prettier and sillier.”

“I hate it when you combine insults with compliments so I can’t attack you.”

“I learnt that from you, silly,” he kisses your nose but continues, “But honestly, the more we talked, the more I realized how different you are from me. I mean, sure, are you tired out of your mind half the time like me? Yeah. But you were so observant and so keen on getting to know people. It’s hard to come across people who are invested in friendships for more than just small talk and someone to have meals with.”

But just as he’s getting deep on you, he adds, “Plus, you smell a whole lot better than anyone else. I’d go crazy sitting next to you, especially because you just love to throw yourself at people in laughter.”

“Not that I’m complaining–” he stops your protests quickly, “I swear my heart would skip a beat everytime you laughed at something I said. And then the time we were talking about ideal types and you got all flustered over everyone teasing you about me? Dude, I had to run to the kitchen before I could do something rash. Like kissing you in front of everyone. Or worse, bride-style carrying you into my room so I could enjoy the adorably lovesick look on your face.”

You groan into his pillow, “Stooop. This is just embarrassing for me. It’s not like I was trying to be obvious.”

“I know, baby,” he coos, gentle hands prying you away from the pillow, “But you know, you have the same look on your face right now.” He laughs, kissing the pout off your lips with a sweet, “For what it’s worth, I was yours for a long time. Just took a minute for me to realize it.”

You huff but smile despite it and pull him closer, “I’m glad. Now hold me to sleep or I’m gonna be sad.”

Another laugh reverberates through the two of you when he slides down, pulling the sheets closer over you, and pats your back as you settle into him with a satisfied sigh. “Sleep well, my love.”

–

“And when I’m gone, please don’t stop eating breakfast in the morning. I know you think that it’s consequential to your life completely,” Seungcheol pauses for dramatic effect, “but it’s important. It could be the difference between living 20 less years or 50 more.”

“How scientifically true is that?” you mumble to Jeonghan under your breath, who being the devious little brat he is voices your concern, earning you a look from Seungcheol.

“Whatever, I knew my words were undervalued in this household ever since you guys started dating and refused to keep it down at night. Like, it’s not that hard, right?”

You punch Jeonghan’s arm to both keep him from telling the dick joke he’s about to say and also, to show Seungcheol that you wanted no part in this. “I told this guy to keep you in mind but that just made him mad which in turn led to… screaming. Sorry.”

Seungcheol sighs as he glances at his watch, “Okay, okay. I have to get going now so bring in whatever last-minute reconciliations you two have for me.”

Jeonghan steps forward and hugs the man, surprising both the latter and you. But you watch with a pleased smile playing on your lips, relieved that their friendship still seemed to go strong, bumps and all. When it’s your turn to hug Seungcheol, you scoff at the hesitant look he casts at your boyfriend and wrap your arms around his middle.

“Thanks for everything, Cheol. Keep in touch. And do something about this second-lead syndrome of yours. I better catch you in a happily stable relationship of your own next time around.”

Seungcheol chuckles quietly, waiting for you to pull away to say, “If that’s an order from the main female lead, then I guess I have no choice, do I? Unless,” his eyes mischievously stray to Jeonghan who already knows what’s coming next, “the male lead fucks up and leaves a certain pretty girl single, huh?”

You don’t have time to decipher if that’s a threat wrapped up in a punchline because Jeonghan’s arm’s around your shoulder, moving you away and besides you, he says, “You’ll be waiting all your life if you wait on me to fuck this up. Bye, Cheol, I can see that your Uber just pulled up.”

“Ha! Good one. Alright, this is goodbye for now. See y’all on my feed. Or it might be better if I don’t. Anyway, bye and don’t kill anyone.”

With Seungcheol gone, you look up at Jeonghan with a smug smirk, “Oh, so you plan on sticking around with me forever? That’s a long time, you know.”

Your boyfriend chuckles, his eyes twinkling, “Please, if I had the patience to watch you hug Seungcheol right in front of my eyes, being with you forever will be a breeze in the park. So yes, I plan to stick to you forever, like superglue.”

“Gross, you couldn’t say something romantic like candy or syrup?”

“Sorry, babe, but I was just distracted by how all mine you are that I couldn’t think of anything else.”

“Never mind, I think it’s worse when you’re all cheesy. Go back to being gross?”

“I love you. Now, come here so I can kiss every single surface of your face. And then we can go on a walk and tell everyone who told me to give up to suck it.”

You lose balance when the laughter finally escapes your mouth but thankfully, Jeonghan’s arms are around you, promising and playful when you meet his eyes. “Ugh, whatever. I love you. So I guess we can do all the weird annoying stuff you want to do for now.”

Despite your banter though, the two of you are so happy together that you’re shocked by the picture of you with Jeonghan that Wonwoo Airdrops, after your walk. You have the dopiest smile on your face and Jeonghan’s looking at you with a cheesy grin. You hate to admit it but you do look like an “old married couple” like Wonwoo’s text teases. But for once, you give in, snuggling closer to Jeonghan’s body because well, yeah, you did plan to stick to him. Like superglue.

–

#once again apologizing #jeonghan x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #svt fluff #svt angst #svt x reader #yoon jeonghan #choi seungcheol #seventeen smut #jeonghan angst #seungcheol angst

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nottzgf · 2 months

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pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

credits for idea: this fic was highly inspired by @colablue 's fic "theodore nott meeting you headcanons."

word counting: 779

notes: it is so fluffy oml. theo is being an adorable little love strucked puppy!! :) also, this is my first fanfic ever so don't judge hahaha. just enjoy reading it and please leave a like if you enjoyed!

after a week of adjusting to hogwarts, classes start going again. professors were making seating plans, talking about everyone's summer, or going straight into the syllabus for this year.

it was your third period of the day, charms. and you saw your best friend walking in, you waved and signaled that she could sit next to you. before she could though, theodore nott took her seat instead. your friend looked confused, but you were even confuser. you shrugged your shoulders and mouthed an apology. she just gave an empathetic smile, knowing your problems with the slytherin boy.

at the start of your education at hogwarts, you always felt like you did something to upset theodore. he looked at you with those cold, scary-looking eyes and it made you very nervous. even your friends notice his starings and they only confirm your suspicions: theodore despices you.

your best friend took a seat a few tables away from you, and professor flitwick started his lesson. your eyes kept shooting glances at theo. he was now looking to his book in front of him, but it didn't look like he was actually reading. his knee was shaking what made you kinda of feel bad for him, but you were also trying to figure out why he even chose to sit next to you.

you kept wondering if he was finally going to confront you or at least tell you what you did to wrong him. but no, complete silence from the boy. you did feel his eyes on you from time to time like he was observing you, or maybe he was making a plan on how to kill you, because that's what it looked like to you.

the bell finally rang, signaling the end of the lesson. the professor said something about an assignment but his voice was overpowered by students packing up their bags and chairs scratching the wooden floor. "theodore, wait-" but when you looked up, he was already out of the door. "why is he so fast?" you mumbled then threw your stuff in your bag and rushed after him.

"theodore!" you yelled after him and this time theo actually heard. he turned around slowly, his cold gaze fixated on you. he didn't say anything, that seemed his thing, but he did show that he was listening. you took a deep breath and spoke softly, "did i do anything to upset you? you keep looking at me like you're angry at me. because if i did upset you, i'm so sorry!" you were talking very fast and theo blinked to process what you were sayinh. after an awkward silence, he said with a smile on his face, "you haven't done anything wrong." his voice sounded hoarse from but also very soft and soothing in some way. before you could say or ask anything else, he walked up to you and took your books out of your hands. he then started walking away, leaving you confused.

he turned around when he realized you weren't following him. he looked at you and nodded his head, signaling to follow him. you sighed and caught up with him. you looked up at him and then at your shoes, trying to suppress a smile.

theo saw your smile and didn't say anything, but he did smirk. his posture changed, conveying his newfound confidence now that he had made you smile. he walked with you to your next class without saying a word. you didn't say anything either, the silence was kinda peaceful, not at all awkward.

theo stopped once you had arrived at your next class. he tilted his head and examined your face intently. "you're intriguing, you know that? there's something about you..." he trailed off, contemplating the best way to express his feelings and thoughts. you took him out of his haze by taking your books from his hands, slightly touching his hand accidentally. you were smiling up at him and slightly blushing when you said, "thank you for walking with me. but i suggest you hurry to your own class... i don't want you to be late." theo chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving yours. "see you, theodore." you wanted to turn away but he spoke up yet again, "it's theo." you turned back and nodded, "alright... then, see you theo." he smiled and gave you one last look before leaving for his own class.

you watched him walk away before going inside of your class. you took a seat far in the back where you thought about your encounter with theo. so he didn't hate you.... he was intrigued by you. and to be fair, it made you blush all over again.

#⊹ kye's theo ୨ৎ #theo nott #theodore nott #theodore nott headcanons #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys x you #draco malfoy x reader #blaise zabini x reader #mattheo riddle x reader #lorenzo berkshire x reader #mattheo riddle #lorenzo berkshire #blaise zabini

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akumakosuke · 3 months

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T.w: Subbot Amab Kento Nanami x Topdom Amab reader. Breeding kink, overstimulation, size kink (kinda), multiple orgasms, creampie, praise, degradation, cock warming, feminization (calling Kento's hole a pussy), fluffy aftercare.

P.s this has been in my drafts forever!! I completely forgot about it until someone reminded me!

I'm actually going feral right now.

I watched the new episode of JJK last night and good lord MAPPA fed me a full course meal drinks included.

Did you see my husband's looking all sexy and oh so fucking breedable?

I'm writing a separate post for Toji, someone sent me a request for breeding Sugar baby Toji and I'm working on it, this is all about my love, my darling, my glorious Nanami Kento. (I still have the Toji one in the works)

Like most men I crave I literally want to marry Nanami and make him my house husband.

I want to just keep him at home (full of my cum) and take care of him, provide for him mind, body and spirit. I want to make him feel safe, loved, cared for, appreciated, needed and genuinely wanted.

I want to come home from a long ass day of running a huge company, completely exhausted and wanting nothing more than my big strong man in my arms.

I would open the door and immediately be woken up by the most amazing smelling dinner and most importantly a fresh loaf of Kento's favourite thing ever, bread.

I would feel all the tension, anger and tiredness melt away as I closed the door, finally got to take off my shoes and coat.

I would place my bag down and when I look up it would be as if God themselves came down to this meaningless float rock we call Earth and blessed me, a nobody with an Angel of my own.

He would stand there in all his glory, his broad shoulders that seem to relax in my presence, those huge pecs that always seem to fit perfectly in my hands, that slim waist that I know for a fact is still bruised from last night, those muscular thighs that could definitely crush my skull, those veiny hands that used to be so dangerous, he hated that, hold me with such gentle touches.

I would smile and he would try not to, as usual keeping up with his ‘i'm always serious because I'm mature’ act that he puts on as a facade, he and I both know he's just a big softie that genuinely cares about his friends and will do anything to protect them.

I would say something cheesy like “Honey I'm home.” with a smirk because I know he hates those dumb romantic comedies.

His smile would instantly fade and he would roll his eyes and mumble “Idiot.” and walk away.

I would laugh and follow him inside, then with a teasing tone say something like “You're supposed to say ‘Welcome back Dear.’ and then kiss me.”

He would ignore me as usual and change the subject “Go wash your hands they're filthy and I baked a new type of bread, the lady at the bakery gave me the recipe.”

I would come out of the bathroom with freshly washed hands and take a seat at the dinner table and say something like “Yeah, smells good hun.”

He would hum in acknowledgement he's listening and bring over the delicious food he cooked and his new bread then place them on the table.

Then he would stand over me with his hands on his hips causing me to -on not normally casual settings- look up at him in confusion.

He would then place an arm on my chair and turn it, making me fully face him and I would happily admire the view.

He's wearing grey sweatpants and a black swear shirt with that cute pink apron I bought him that says kiss the cook.

I would smirk knowing he only wore that because his normal plain black aprons mysteriously disappeared when the pink one showed up.

He would then tangle his thick hands in my hair, suddenly tugging on it and making me groan in pain, the action immediately makes blood rush to my dick.

He would force me to look up at him and with that ever so stern expression say something fucking hot like “Now that you've washed your hands, didn't you read the apron?”

Then he would give me no time to respond as he leans forward and roughly captures my lips in a heated kiss.

I would easily give in and let him do what he wants, this always happens. In the beginning Kento takes charge, he knows exactly what to do to get me hard enough to fuck his pretty brain dumb.

Kento is a smart man, he knows how to get what he wants. He knows what he's doing when he straddle my lap.

Those thick thighs would flex around mine, squeezing me as his crotch 'accidently' grinds against mine.

He would tighten his grip on my hair, bringing his other arm around my shoulders and deepen the kiss, mumbling a fake apology, as if he doesn't want me to fuck him.

My hands would instinctively find his waist, I would say something like “Don't apologize love, take responsibility Kento.” then I would squeeze his waist and grind his plump ass on my fully hard dick.

He would moan and kiss me deeper, then he would start to roll his hips without my help. The friction from the fabric against our hard length sends shocks of pleasure through our entire bodies but it's not enough.

Then while Kento would be kissing me, his hand around my shoulder would travel down my chest and tug at my belt. Kento would let out a needy and frustrated grunt when my belt doesn't come off instantly.

He's not fucked out enough to be whining in desperation, no I'll have to work hard and drain those beautiful sounds out of him.

One of my hands would quickly travel to my belt, undoing it with ease. Then I would undo his belt, neither of us breaking the ruthless kiss or grinding.

We would unzip each others pants and I would easily lift both of our weights and slip my pants and boxers off, Kento would stand and take off his pants and boxers.

We would groan into the kiss as the cold air of our house brushes against both our erections, both our lengths hard already leaking bits of precum.

Both of us are still sensitive from last night/ this morning but we can't get enough of each other, it's like a drug it turned into an addiction..

It's not just fucking, it's the intimate act of sex, exposing yourself, allowing yourself to be vulnerable and connect on a level more than just our bodies.

He would straddle my lap again and his hand would waste no time and start pumping our lengths against each other.

The only sounds would be our aggressive kiss and the slick sound of Kento fisting both our lengths together with the aid of our pre.

My hands would dig into his fleshy ships, god the muscle will feel hard like marble but his skin would be soft like a fucking cloud.

He would moan into the sloppy, open mouth kiss and I would devour each and every honey dipped noise that falls out of his pretty little mouth.

My huge dick would be throbbing against his, his own length is an impressive 7 inches mine about 3 inches bigger.

It's not a big difference but my baby Kento is a big boy, I would just be a bit bigger but strong enough to pick him up and fuck him till he can't walk anymore.

Then Kento would lift himself off my hips and align my dick with his already prepped hole, then he would waste no time and slam himself back down on my entire length.

Fuck, his hands would instinctively latch onto my hair for some stability, loud moans and pretty whimpers would fall out of his mouth like a waterfall straight from heaven.

My hard length would twitch in pure bliss, surrounded by his soft, velvety walls, sucking me in and holding me hostage with a vice like grip, no matter how many times we fuck he's still as tight as a fucking virgin.

My tip would be poking and prodding at Kento's prostate dead on causing him to cum just from impaling himself on my dick.

Kento's thighs would flex around mine, his hole would tighten and he would pull my hair back, detaching from my lips just for his jaw to go slack and his toes curl as thick ropes of cum spurt out of his red rip, onto both our chests.

Kento would have a fucked out expression, his brain already fuzzy from cumming just once, his eyes would glaze over with tears, he's always been a cryer during sex, not that I'm complaining fuck I love it when he cries.

Kento doesn't cry about anything, he hates crying, the only time he cries is when he's too fucked out to think straight.

The pride of a cumming, crying Kento would straight to my dick as my grip on his hips tighten, bringing him back to reality.

Kento's vision would start to focus on me and he would see a devious smile, to anyone it would look sweet, loving almost but Kento knows it's anything but.

“Did you just cum?” I would ask in a mocking tone, bucking my hips up suddenly sending shocks of pleasure through Kento's body as more pathetic ropes of cum would spurt out from his still hard dick.

He would moan and try to shake his head, his grip on my hair would loosen and his hands would drop to my shoulders, fat tears would stream down his face as he would attempt to apologize “N–No! Fuc-k ’m s-sorry! Sorry~ AHH ah~ nghh~ s-sorr– ah ah ah– sorry.. ’m sorry~ ngh~”

He would mumble out his thoughtless apology, leaning down and kissing my neck, sucking, licking and biting as an attempt to make up for his transgressions.

I would scoff knowing his apology means nothing and let him keep mouthing at my neck, I would ignore my aching dick, it feels like my dick is gonna melt, it's so good.

I would lean in a pepper Kento's neck with gentle kisses, giving him a false sense that i'm not going to punish him then I would say something reassuring like “It's okay love, you don't have to apologize.”

He would continue sobbing and marking my neck, switching to 'thank you's' instead of 'sorry', his eyes would widen when he feels my smirk against his neck and my hands lifting his hips, slowly pulling out my dick inch by inch making him whine.

I would press my lips just below his ear and whisper “Just be a good husband and take your punishment~.” then without warning slam him back down on my length making both of us moan.

Kento would let out a high pitch moan, his body slumping forward, his head resting against my shoulder, his fingers tangling in my hair as tears streaming down his pretty face, his toes curling as incoherent and broken moans fall out of his mouth as I lift him up and slam him back down on my length over and over again.

I would groan as his hole suck's my entire length in every time I pull out till just the tip and slam him back, his warm, wet gummy walls would fit my entire length perfectly, the perfect cock sleeve and he's all mine.

That very thought would make me go crazy as I tighten my grip on his hips and slam him down once more, my tip prodding his prostrate dead on making his head fall back as his jaw falls slack and a strangled moan tries to escape his lips but no sound comes out. Fucking glorious.

“Fuck– such a good slut- taking all of me without complaining, such a whore, my whore~.” I would groan out, rutting my hips upwards so the tip of my cock massages Kentos prostrate, making his brain completely switch off.

“AH~! FUCK- NGH~ MMMHM~ C-CAN'T~! T-too mUch~! S-So gooood~! Ah~ FUCK- P-please~! Wanna CUM! P-PLEASE GOD! LeMme cUm~! WAnNa cuM~ PLEASE SIR~! F-fill me up~! FUCK PLEASE FILL ME UP~!” Kento would mindlessly whine, desperately pleading for release, his large hands clawing at my back as he rock his hips against mine, trying to push himself over the edge but because I'm a cruel bastard I wouldn't let him cum so easily, especially after he came the first time without permission.

Besides cock sleeves don't get to make requests, even if he did ask nicely.

I would snicker, looking at his flushed, desperate fucked out face, eyes rolling to the back of his head, face flushed dark shades of red, sweat glistening across his beautifully bruised skin, his mouth moving spilling an endless stream of pleas for release.

He would be too fucked out to notice one of my hands leaving his hips, only registering the movement when my big, rough hand takes ahold of his leaking shaft, the calloused feeling of my hand on his rock hard, oversensitive dick would send a jolt of electricity down his spine and his eyes with snap open.

He would have cum right then and there if it weren't for the fact my hand is squeezing the base of his dick, hard, making it impossible to actually cum but that doesn't dampen the sheer shocks of pleasure from racking his brain, causing a pathetic whimper as his dick twitches and he has a brain melting dry orgasm.

“Ah~ fuck! Look at you! You're squeezing my dick so fucking tight! Mhm~ good fucking boy! So desperate to milk my cock dry huh? Fuck~! You want it? You want my seed deep inside you-? Fuck, gonna be my cum dump? Yeah, yeah you're my fucking cum dump~! M’ gonna breed you full~! Gonna let daddy take care of you hmm? Let me fuck my cum so deep in that tight pussy~? Imagine how fucking good you'd look stuffed full of my cum~! Gonna get you fucking pregnant~ Stuff you full and plug you up so none of my cum gets wasted~! Ah~ yes-! Fuck fuck fuck~! So good~ So fucking good for me Kento~! Want me to fill you up~? THEN TAKE IT-!”

I would moan out as his hole spasms around my dick, like he actively trying to milk me for everything I'm worth and who am I to deny my glorious husband's request. I would feel my dick twitching, the white hot coil in my stomach ready to burst.

I would wrap my hands around his waist picking him up so just the tip of my dick is still inside his velvety walls before slamming him back down, shoving my entire length inside his perfect pussy, my dick twitching in pure bliss as ropes of sticky cum paint his insides white, spitting ropes of hot cum so deep inside him.

I would be mercifully and release his dick, pathetic ropes of hot, white and clear cum dripping down his softening dick as a powerful orgasm leaves him completely limp in my lap, my throbbing dick still nestled deep within him.

He would nuzzle his face against my neck, tears streaming down his face, his legs shaking as he wraps his arms around me, trying to ground himself as he babbles out a multitude of 'thank yous', still trying to catch his breath as sweat drips down his body.

I would wrap my hands around his trembling frame, fingers delicately tracing the bruises on his hips, my face also nuzzled against his neck as I place soft kisses against his burning skin, slowly bringing him out of the clouds while whispering how good he was, how perfect he is and how lucky I am to have him.

We would sit like that for a while, my soft dick buried deep inside his abused hole, wrapped in each other's arms, softly muttering praises to each other as we got out breathing under control and came down from our highs.

“You did so well my love, so good for me. Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?” I would suggest after we've been sitting there for about half an hour, he would have stopped trembling and gotten comfortable, slumped against me while he cock warms me.

He would tiredly nod, not having any strength to speak and I would put my hands under his thighs, slowly lifting him off my soft cock, he would groan at the feeling of my dick leaving his tight hole, my cum leaking out and dripping down his thighs.

I would get up and pick him up, his legs wrapping around my waist and his hands wrapped around my neck, his head resting on my shoulder as I carried him to the bathroom, still muttering soft praises in his ear.

We would get to the bathroom and I would put him down on the toilet seat, being gentle as I do so because I know hes sore, he would hiss as the cold lid of the toilet seat touches his bare ass but the cold feeling would be welcomed.

I would quickly start filling the tub with warm water, getting some bubbles and rose petals to make it even better because Kento deserves it.

Once the tub is full I would gently pick up Kento and deposit him in the tub, his no doubt exhausted body immediately sinking into the warm water, letting it loosen all his muscles.

I wouldn't smile as I get in behind him, putting both my legs on either side of his waist as he rests his back against my chest, my arms wrapping around his chest as I hold him close, once again muttering small praises into his ear.

Kentos body would go completely limp in the warm water, resting his head back against my shoulder, his eyes closed as he relaxes in my hold and lets me take care of him after fucking his brains out.

After a few minutes of simply soaking in the water and basking in each others presence I would start washing him, then wash his hair and gently finger all my cum out of his puffy hole, making sure not to overstimulate him too much.

Once we're both done bathing I would once again carry him to our room and gently lay him on the bed as I grab out matching pajamas.

Once we're both changed I'd climb into bed with him, our automatic position would be us spooning, me being the big spoon with my arm wrapped around his waist, holding his back flush against my chest as he curls up against me.

“You were such a good boy today Kento, you did so well. You deserve to rest now, Darling. I love you baby, get some sleep.” I would whisper in his ear, my voice filled with genuine love and admiration as I kiss the back of his neck, resulting in a pleased sigh from Kento.

“Mhm, I love you too daddy~ Goodnight.” he would mumble as he yawns, closing his eyes as he drifts off to sleep, his mind having been fucked free of any thoughts then slowly brought back down leaving him completely and utterly satisfied.

We would sleep soundly in each other's arms, knowing only safety and comfort in each other's embrace. I would fall asleep with a smile on my face, knowing I have my soulmate wrapped in my arms.

#dom male reader #seme male reader #top male reader #male reader #akumakosuketoughts #jjk x male reader #sub nanami #kento x male reader #bottom nanami #nanami x male reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x seme male reader #jjk nanami

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cas-writes-stuff-ig · 2 months

Text

Part 2 of Cheering Her Up (A Party)

f!/nb! reader x regina george

CONTENT:

Word Count: 3094

Reader is working on performing for the Winter Talent Show

singing for Regina

secret relationship

Jealous Regina

Jealous Reader

smut (shower sex) (drunk sex) (jealousy)

kinda will get angsty after this

(those band geeks/people who play music in the background in the new Mean Girls movie? yeah that's who the reader is friends with)

Part 1 of Cheering Her Up

Part 3 of Cheering Her Up

a/n:

this was supposed to be a one-shot but idk I had an idea because i get inspired by songs and then make up scenarios in my head. its gonna get a little sadder soon so sorry DW they'll end up together <3

Soona is a person who was apologized to, who plays music in the background for the songs (plays guitar and drums)

("Soona, I'm sorry I said you were dragging during 'Revenge Party' There was just like, so much pressure on us to move the story forward through the montage. Like you know how it is" (1:22:24 in the movie))

I made Soona date the girl in the beanie (plays bass and drums)

I heavily based this off the 2024 version, but I switched around some of the events back to 2004

(2004: October Party/Aaron and Regina get back together -> Talent Show -> Aaron and Regina break up -> "You can't sit with us" -> Burn Book scene)

(2024: October Party/Aaron and Regina get back together -> Aaron and Regina break up -> Talent Show -> "You can't sit with us" -> Burn Book scene)

Regina finished her brownie and you scarfed yours down unceremoniously. You covered your mouth and spoke while you chewed “Shit sorry, I’ve been smelling brownies for an hour and I was starving” she just rolled her eyes at you. “Want another?”

Regina paused a pained expression painted her face for a moment, then she put her wall back up “I’m fine thanks”

You decided to let it go and then the front door opened, “Regina?” her mom walked in “You having a party in here?” you grabbed your phone and turned down the music.

Regina's little sister Kylie ran inside after her mom and waved at you excitedly. Kylie liked it when you were around because you'd scold Regina if she was being mean to her. Kylie just ran up to her room to change.

“Hey mom” Regina greeted but she was dismissive as most kids are with their parents

“Hi Mrs. George,” her mom liked you, but she was naive to the true nature of your relationship with her daughter. You grinned “I made brownies, sorry it’s a mess. I’ll clean it up”

“Oh! That’s so nice of you. Thank you, hun, don’t worry about the dishes, darling” She put her bag down walked toward the sink, and started washing them. “I’ve got it, I know you guys have homework. Regina be nice yeah?”

Her mom said that every time you were over because the first time you were at her house, you worked with Regina at the kitchen table, and she heard her daughter call you “…a fucking nerd”

“Yeah, whatever Mom,” she stood up and started walking toward the stairs. You thanked her mom, rushed to take off the apron, hung it up, and dashed up the stairs. She walked into her room, and you soon followed inside and shut the door.

She just slipped back into her bed and went on her phone. You sat on the bed and kicked off your shoes, and were worried “Hey ‘Gina?”

“Mm?” She looked up at you briefly, and then back down at her phone.

You paused and didn’t say anything for a moment “…Gina, do you wanna talk about what happened earlier?” That same pained expression panned over her face. You just touched her knee and rubbed soothing circles into it. "It's okay if you don't wanna talk about it."

She sighed, "It's just me, don't worry about it, kay?" you gave her a look.

She then pulled you to lay next to her and lifted your arm to lay on your shoulder, head resting at the crook of your neck. "I won't push it" you added after she got comfortable.

She pulled out her phone and rested it on your stomach scrolling through her apps. You took your own phone out and checked your grades on there. Regina opened her camera roll, the most recent item was a short video of you, you immediately recognized your own voice and she had this shit-eating grin on her face.

It was you just fifteen minutes ago, you watched yourself wearing the rather girly apron, singing, and pulling brownies out of the oven. "Regina! Oh my God, delete that, please. That's actually so embarrassing" you face palmed.

She laughed and said "Absolutely not," and sat up "Don't worry, it's for my eyes only" She told the truth because she couldn't show the video to anyone else or else they'd ask what you're doing in her house baking brownies for.

"You're so mean to me," you said with no real bite in your voice. "Your mom said to be nice to me Regina" You didn't ask her again to delete it, because once she made a decision she usually stuck by it, she always got her way with you.

She scoffed and said "I am being nice" and leaned back toward you, kissing your collarbone. It made you stop breathing for a moment, your body got stiff as she kept kissing your neck.

"God Regina, I have homework" you mustered out, she left a dark red hickey that peaked out just a little bit from your shirt, then she licked your neck "Shit" she was getting you worked up.

"It's fucking Friday tomorrow loser, chill out, it can wait an hour" She whispered seductively in your ear. Regina was right though so you submitted to her whims

——————————————————————————————

"Duck, stay the night" She leaned against the bed sheets.

"Okay princess," you rolled your eyes "Anything for you," you said sarcastically, but you meant it. Regina pointed towards her closet and you found some of her more comfortable loose shirts to wear to bed. "Can I grab my guitar to practice for maybe thirty minutes though? Me and my group are practicing some songs for the Winter Talent show"

"Are you singing?" Regina asked smiling.

"If you make fun of me, I'll sleep in my fucking car, Regina" You made an empty threat. "I'm playing guitar, and doing background vocals. I'm the main singer for the last song only. I just wanna practice with the music in the back"

Your band for the Talent Show consisted of people from the Band Geeks (though you weren't part of the school band yourself). The four of you were versatile in your music skills, also being able to sing lead and backup interchangeably.

You only practiced one of your songs and opted to play ones you knew well for Regina. "I thought it was only one song?" Regina asked you.

"Thought I'd show off a little bit" you looked down at the fret board, she watched your fingers move.

"You serenading me Duck?"

——————————————————————————————

You cozied into her arms too easily, over the summer, spending nights with her had conditioned you to never get up before 10AM. So you couldn't rely on your body clock to wake you up.

You set an alarm for 7AM so she could do her makeup and choose an outfit. You had left a small amount of clothes in her wardrobe that was neatly hidden away, for the nights you slept over.

In the morning you brushed her hair back and pressed a kiss to her forehead "Gina babe, you gotta get up" I brought you the brownies I made.

She sat up and smiled at you "Thanks Ducky" Shit, that smile could send you to the stars.

"Of course Gina"

——————————————————————————————

That day, at the cafeteria. You slipped off your backpack and sat down across the table from Janis, and Damian. It was the third week of your Junior year.

You never stayed for the entire duration of lunch, just to eat and run to a study room where you could get some actual silence or hang out with the Soona and band you were friends with. And you never knew that Janis and Damian were using Cady to take Regina down.

Damian gasped dramatically, it surprised you. "What's that on your neck!?" Shit, your backpack moved your shirt down revealing part of the hickey Regina gave you. Some heads turned toward your table.

Janis looked "Who you hook up with?" They both leaned in.

You were bright red "No one" You and Regina actually hid your secret pretty well, which you both greatly appreciated. But you hung out with a few people, which is why they pushed harder for an answer.

Damian leaned forward "Who?"

"No one, leave it," You said, it came out a little mean since you were stressed. "Sorry" you decided to tell part of the truth and you softened up "They're not out yet, I can't say" they yielded and switched gears.

"Is that why you've been all glow-y this semester? Your face has gay painted all fucking over it." Damian gestured with his hands pointing at you.

"Please stop talking" You pressed your temples

"Fine" They changed the topic.

"Oh Cady told us of a party happening tonight," Janis said, but you didn't really pay attention

You said "Okay" and then just looked down at your phone and texted Regina. Her contact on your phone was discreet enough, it was just her initials backward. The only thing that hinted that it could be Regina was the picture of a Jeep from the internet.

You knew your contact name, but of course, you had a rubber ducky as a profile picture on her phone.

Duck: "G, they saw the mark you left yesterday"

GR: "so what? you didn't say anything right?"

Duck: "no of course not"

GR: "then we're fine"

You could see Regina looking down at her phone too where she sat with the Plastics and Cady.

You kept observing Regina, Gretchen was next to her and leaned over. "Who's 'Duck'? New guy?"

"Jesus Gretchen, haven't you heard of privacy?" Regina scolded her.

——————————————————————————————

After school, you drove home and Facetimed Regina "Party tonight right?" you asked.

"Mmhm, you gonna go?" Regina was also rummaging through her clothes

"Yeah," you said and put on just a black T-shirt, jeans, and a brown jacket. "How do I look?" You propped your phone up to show her.

"Lame, but fine" Regina responded

"That was mean Gina" It stung a little but you were fine. "Oh remind me to send you the set list we're practicing," You asked her.

"Shit, gotta go Duck. Karen, Gretchen, and Cady are coming to my house to get ready" She looked at the messages on her phone "I'll see you later" she quickly hung up. You changed your shirt to a loose tank top, which revealed your toned arms and the hickey, you wanted to exact a little revenge on Regina and make her a little jealous.

——————————————————————————————

Soona and the gang brought you to the party. You've been at this guy's house party three times over the summer. You grabbed a red solo cup and took it to the dance floor, and your friends joined you.

You normally didn't get this drunk unless you were with only a few people, because you lost your inhibitions a little too much. The only thing on your mind was Regina. Regina. Regina. Regina.

Your head buzzed and you looked for the familiar blonde, she was in the middle of the dance floor grinding up against some jock, which happened to be Shane Oman.

You got jealous, and when you were drunk you didn't think thoroughly. Regina didn't fuck anyone else besides you for a while, you understood 'friends with benefits' implied you were not obligated to monogamy.

You had decided to mess with Regina a little more, you joined a girl who was known for queer baiting, you didn't kiss her, but you definitely got touchy, she was lifting your shirt a little. You felt Regina staring daggers at you.

After a while, you excused yourself to the upstairs bathroom where there were far fewer people here. You wondered if that was enough to get a rise out of Regina. Then a knock at the door. "Occupied" you yelled out.

"Let me in, bitch" It was Regina's voice.

'Oh shit' You thought. You wanted to anger her enough that she texted you to come over to her house, but she broke your unspoken rule to not approach each other at parties or school. You opened the door "Shit Regina. No one saw you come in here ri-"

She slammed the door shut and shoved you against the wall, her left hand snaked around your neck, not enough to restrict air, but enough to show you how mad she was. "You're stupid," she said angrily. You looked up at her, your head still buzzed.

"Gina I-" You tried speak, but her hand squeezed a little tighter for a moment, before loosening her grip to grab your jaw.

"I'm gonna leave this party, and you're gonna meet me down this fucking block. We're going home" Regina's voice was full of venom. "Do you understand?" you could smell the alcohol on her breath, and the smell of her perfume.

You let out a faint "Yes"

——————————————————————————————

She called an Uber and you stood behind her like a kicked puppy. You were in deep shit. It was already 2AM when you left the party so everyone in Regina's house was asleep.

When you got to her house she practically dragged you up the stairs and pushed you onto the bed roughly "The fuck you think you were doing at that party?" She's never been so angry at you before.

"Regina, I'm sorry I-" you stuttered, she was mad at you and it scared you. But the alcohol in your blood and the way she towered over you, making you feel helpless, made your core ache with need.

She stripped off her shirt and straddled your hips, Regina took your arms and held them above your head. "You're a fucking tease" You were both still incredibly drunk.

"Regina, I'm sorry let me make it up to you" You pleaded with her.

She wore a mean smile "And how do you plan on doing that baby" You tried to wriggle yourself out of her grip, but she used her entire body to keep you down.

The more you tried to escape, the more pathetic you looked. Face flushed, pinned under the prettiest girl you've ever seen. "Shit, I'll do whatever you ask Gina, just say the word"

"Yeah baby?" she smiled "Whatever I ask?"

"Yes," you said breathily, though it was hot, you were scared of losing her favor. You wanted to be in her life as much as possible, you were obsessed. Anything to please her.

"Strip, get in the shower" She let go of your arms, climbed off you, and rid herself of the rest of her clothes. She turned her back towards you and walked toward the bathroom, then without turning, she crooked her finger, telling you to come follow her.

She didn't need to turn around to know you were watching her every movement. She turned the shower on and walked inside "Kneel" You did, she looked at your mouth and then down between her legs. Water beat down your back. "You know what to do baby" You nodded and started to gently kiss her clit, "Don't tease, just get on with it" Your slow kisses to her pussy turned into you sucking on it hard.

You looked up at her, and you made eye contact. She moaned then said "Keep that up baby, and I might forgive you" she gripped the back of your hair and it made you whine into her pussy. "Fuck- use your fingers too babe" Coating your fingers in her slick before slipping two fingers inside of her.

"God you feel so good," she said as you started rhythmically curling your fingers inside her cunt, you took your free hand and held her up. "Oh fuck" she arched her back and pushed her hips hard into your face. You kept your pace while she rode out her orgasm. She pulled your head away, and when she let go you just kissed her thighs.

"You satisfied, Gina?" you still were on your knees she brought you up and kissed you

"No, nerd. I wanna break you" Regina knelt now and saw her there you ached for her to just get on with it. Eating her out pulled obscene sounds out of her and made you wet, and she swiped a finger through your slit. "You're so wet," Then she slid two fingers inside. "If I let you finish, you gonna promise to be good for me, baby?"

Her thumb started to circle your clit "Sh-shit, yes Gina"

"Look at me" you looked down and she pressed your clit hard.

"Fuck Regina, I'll be good" you swore.

"Promise me?"

"Promise" You gasped out as she increased her pace.

Heat gathered in your stomach and your skin felt hot. You closed your eyes and tilted your head back, moaning Regina's name like a prayer. "Gina- fuck, I-"

"Words baby" Regina cooed.

You panted trying to speak, you finally gasped out "Gina, can I finish, please? please?"

She smirked "Only because you're so cute when you beg" She sped up "Come for me, come for your owner baby"

You covered your mouth in fear of waking up everyone in the house. Your body felt like a firework, and Regina knew how to play you like a violin.

She stood and kissed you, and her anger had dissolved. Just as you regained your breath, there she was to steal it away from you again.

You knew Regina was a bitch, but you couldn't help but melt into her touch when she washed your hair or kissed your shoulder. Her attention was intoxicating.

——————————————————————————————

You lay in bed with Regina and brushed her hair behind her ear. "Gina, about you kissing Shane tonight." you paused to really think about your words. "I know we aren't together like that, but you know me, if you start dating someone else, whatever we have has to stop"

She hesitated for a second "Of course Duck" she paused again "I only did it to keep up my reputation" Regina said. It was partially true if you wanted to keep up the secret. Regina had to play her part, she had to conform, it was comphet but you didn't bring up your thoughts to her.

"Gina, I'm sorry I was acting like that at the party" You apologized for making her jealous. You knew why you were jealous, but not why she was. Did she like you? Did she just want to fuck you? You never would expect anything beyond sex and friendship from her even if it broke you inside.

But she read you easily "Hey babe, did you get jealous?" she was smug about it, and you crossed your arms. "You did huh?" She provoked you but she held your face so gently and rubbed your cheek with her thumb, that you felt your attraction to her fall far deeper than you could control.

She gave you butterflies whenever she was around. You just responded with "I'm sorry"

"It's cute, Duck, you're fine. But don't do that again yeah?" She kept holding your face "At least not with that bitch you were dancing with, she’s such a loser babe"

"Yeah, fine fine. But anyone who isn’t you or your gang is a loser to you” you teased.

"Whatever. Now come here and hold me, baby" She had you wrapped around her little finger, more so than anyone else. You felt your feelings for Regina grow, but you didn't dare to confess. You didn't want to lose what you had.

You lay on your back and Regina laid her head on your chest, then you were stroking her back and held her close to you. You kissed her forehead sweetly and lovingly, earning an adorable 'Mm', and you were getting slowly coaxed into sleep by her gentle steady breathing.

Part 3 of Cheering Her Up

#regina george x reader #fluff #smut #renee rapp #regina george #mean girls #renee rapp x reader #mean girls 2024

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ddarker-dreams · 6 months

Text

Golden Girl.

Gojo Satoru x F Reader x Geto Suguru.

Warnings: The psychological damage inflicted from Gojo Satoru's presence, canon-typical violence, Gojo and Geto are both kinda questionable in their own ways. Word count: 16k.

-Index-

April 1st, 2005.

8:02 a.m.

You don’t get it.

This campus is huge. Unbelievably so. If someone said you’d waltzed into the Imperial Palace, you’d believe them, and not just because you’re gullible. Although, that’d certainly play a significant role.

Your suspicions strengthen after you walk over the third arched bridge. That’s an arched bridge too far. No school can have this many fancy-looking bridges, the schools back home are practically held together by chewed pieces of gum and scotch tape. Your jetlagged brain combs through the whirlwind you’ve endured in the past few hours. Did you give the wrong address to the taxi driver back at the airport?

He did look confused, but you hadn’t given it much thought then.

You go as still as a statue.

… What if this is the Imperial Palace? If that’s the case, you’re definitely trespassing, right?

How do you explain that to any guards that might happen by? You can envision the headlines now — Foreigner Extradited for Trespassing, Sentenced to Life, No Chance at Parole. All those hours you spent working on your student visa would be for nothing! And you’d be in prison, which is a bummer, because you’re not rich enough to weasel out of the criminal justice system.

You’ll have to join a prison gang, there’s no way around it. Would they let a fourteen-year-old in? In the event they don’t, you could always form one yourself. Leadership’s never been your thing, but it beats—

“Hey there,” a feminine voice calls out. “You lost?”

You whip your head around to the sound’s source. Instead of seeing an intimidating guard ready to haul you off, there’s a girl about your age. She has brunette hair styled in a bob, a beauty mark beneath her left eye, and an unlit cigarette hanging from her lips.

Unless the Emperor is issuing major budget cuts, this can’t be a guard.

You consider her uniform. The high collar, sheer tights, long sleeves, and brown shoes match yours, but the skirt’s different. Yours flares out and cuts off right above your knees. This minor discrepancy makes you wonder if you’re breaking the dress code on your first day. You push the concern aside for future you to deal with.

“That obvious, huh?” You laugh.

“Just a bit.”

She introduces herself as Ieiri Shoko, a first-year student like yourself. You respond in kind, offering up your own name and grade. It’s a relief to know you won’t be arrested or wandering this complex for an eternity. She walks by you and turns on her heel, tilting her head.

“Gonna come with?”

You nod and happily fall into step beside her. She doesn’t seem to be in a rush, not that you mind. It gives you time to admire the idyllic scenery around each turn. There are lush green forests, gardens, and more traditional buildings than you can count. The only detail you find odd is how empty the area is. Besides Ieiri, there isn’t a soul to be found.

“Ieiri-san, is today a holiday by any chance?”

“Just Shoko’s fine,” she says, feeling around her various pockets. “And I don’t think so. Why? Too quiet?”

“It’s almost like a ghost town.”

Shoko smiles. “Enjoy the quiet while you can.”

Well, that’s a bit ominous, but you’ve yet to meet anyone in the jujutsu world who is 100% normal. You think it might be an unspoken requirement at this point.

Shoko gives up on whatever she was searching for — a lighter, if you had to guess — and tucks the cigarette away. This reinforces your theory that those involved with jujutsu have one quirk at the bare minimum. By that logic, you must have some peculiar quirk of your own. Recalling your earlier Imperial Palace debacle, you realize it might be more than one…

“Oh, by the way. All our classes got canceled,” Shoko says.

You blink.

“On… the first day…?”

“Yeah. Something about a last-minute meeting,” she stretches her arms above her head and yawns. “I’m heading back to the dorms for a nap. I think yours is near mine, there are boxes with your name on them in the hallway.”

What a relief! There had been no word on the packages full of your personal belongings you shipped here ahead of time. The hellscape that is checked baggage had no bearing on you. Immensely pleased with this revelation, you set aside the urge to explore and accompany Shoko to where you’ll be living for the foreseeable future.

In keeping with the spirit of the rest of the school grounds, your room is spacious.

Shoko left you to your own devices. You can faintly discern her presence in the room beside yours, laying down as she said she would. You thought you’d want to do the same, but something about the crisp morning air sliced through your exhaustion. You’ll ride the high and crash later.

Adventure awaits — the exploration of the unknown, the sharpening of a faint, hazy image.

You’re back outside again. It’s amazing how, no matter where you are, you can feel the wind in your hair and the sun on your cheeks. This serves as a grounding reminder that you’re real. Reality and the ambiguous nature of jujutsu are often at odds with one other, fighting to occupy the same space. Each side spins a convincing speech about why you should give it credence while discounting the other.

Unlike a politician’s diatribe, there’s no changing the channel or turning down the volume. This invisible and perennial battle won’t ever gain total victory or retreat. There’s bound to be collateral, such is the nature of war. For some, it’s their life in a literal sense, for you, it’s sanity. Coherence. The incorrigible truth that two plus two equals four.

See, young kids aren’t given enough credit. They’re always watching, learning, and absorbing. They get the basic idea that two plus two equals four before they even know what numbers are. For instance, as a baby, you cry and writhe until your needs are met. There’s a framework. An adult in the vicinity plus wailing equals getting fed. Then later, it gets more complex. Not eating your vegetables plus getting mouthy equals timeout. So on and so forth.

You accrue this network of information that makes life navigable.

Then, while visiting some distant relative in the hospital, a massive hole gets blown into this previously steady network. Such was your experience.

Something strange sat atop the IV in the small, cramped hospital room. The adults exchanged well wishes for the man surrounded by beeping equipment and blinking screens. Everyone present focused on this man, except you. You observed this thing, about the size of a sparrow, that flitted to and fro. Whatever it was, it had too many eyes. Each rolled in a different direction, like a bowling ball that couldn’t stop spinning.

Eventually, a long yet thin appendage emerged from the unidentifiable creature. You stood petrified as it entered the man’s ear canal and sipped. The man groaned, beeps increased, and numbers flew high. It sipped harder. His screams grew louder. Everything got chaotic. People in white and blue entered the room. You heard words like ‘cardiac arrest’ and ‘defibrillation.’ Your parents dragged you away.

The creature continued to sip.

On the car ride home, you asked why no one stopped it. The creature plus its sipping equaled the man’s horrible pain. That’s what you figured, anyway. They asked for clarification. What creature? Where had it been? What did it look like? Since young kids are smarter than they’re given credit for, you recognized the tone that was directed toward you. Disbelief, but in a nice, adult way.

If you insisted on the creature’s existence, they grew worried. When you told your friends — who in turn, told their parents — their worry grew. If every drawing you scribbled tried to depict the creature’s likeness, their worry overflowed. You overheard words like ‘traumatic experience’ and ‘coping.’

So, you stopped mentioning it. This stopped the concerned murmurings you’d overhear. You tried really hard to believe what they said about nightmares and mean imaginary friends. This worked well enough until you noticed similar creatures everywhere. On the playground, bus, graveyards, and abandoned houses. They weren’t all the size of a sparrow either. Some were tiny enough to be mistaken for gnats. Others were huge and salivated large pools against the ground.

It was around this time that you developed a second shadow. A spinning golden ring that could fit in the palm of your hand followed you everywhere. No one else could see it, but unlike the creatures, this ring didn’t scare you. Just the opposite, in fact. You considered it a guardian angel.

If the gnats got too close, it’d slice through them.

When the huge, drooling ones reached out their mangled hand, it’d cut through their wrists.

Later on, you’d learn this ‘guardian angel’ was called a ‘cursed technique.’

Smiling, you descend a flight of stairs. From today onward, you’ll be surrounded by people who don’t discount the equation you spent your early years erasing. They’ll be around your age too! You already like Shoko, she’s pretty and has a calming presence. You wonder what the others in your class will be like. How many will there be? Twenty? Your social studies class topped out at thirty-four.

You hope you can befriend everyone.

The gears turning in your head grind to a halt upon noticing the view. Maybe it’s how the morning sun casts a soft glow upon the verdure, or maybe you’re just easily impressed. Whatever the case, the sight stokes awe inside you. Trees line both sides of the gravel path ahead, their canopies inclining as if leaning down to hear a whisper. Smudges of green streak through the air, accepting any destiny the wind bestows.

What an image, straight from the pages of a fairytale book!

You fish out your new phone, a hot pink Razr V3, recalling its camera feature. Even if the photograph isn’t award-winning, you want to preserve this moment.

You can’t explain it. This intuition isn’t rational, it doesn’t adhere to that ever so reliable two plus two. It transcends. The fall of a domino, a flap of a butterfly wing. Seemingly unrelated yet intimately interwoven by invisible lines.

Whether preordained or the consequence of chain reactions you’d have to trace since birth to understand, what happens next stains you its color. The soul grasps what logic dismisses. And right now, your soul says this moment in time and space should never be forgotten.

As for why, your soul suggests you uncover that for yourself.

Alas, you can’t actually stop time. Perception and reality don’t always agree. While it felt like everything came to a grinding halt, the wheels never stopped turning.

And so the powerful gust soaring from your right punches the air from your lungs.

Gritting your teeth, you dig your heels into the ground. The sheer force pushes you back some inches. Next comes a hail of debris. Chunks of soil, sediment, and splintered wood descend. Recognizing this threat, your mind yells at your body to move. Those earthly implements are soaring faster than a bullet. However, the baleful gale restricts precise movement. You’re nothing but a bag of flesh and viscera to the indifferent swell. It’ll send you tumbling the instant your feet lift off the ground.

Dodging isn’t an option.

Those rocks… your cursed technique could dice them up, but then you’d get pelted with shrapnel rather than stone.

Which is the better outcome? A body littered with numerous holes or a few craters?

Your arms fly up to protect your major organs. You’ll endure what you can.

Except, instead of enduring an onslaught, nothing happens. Nothing hurts, rips, or gets torn to shreds.

The wind hasn’t stopped, but it no longer touches you. You jump back, out of the line of impact. The debris parts like the Red Sea and grants you safe passage. From this vantage point, you’re a witness rather than an unwitting participant. The unrelenting force rages on. You gape at the path of destruction it’s left behind, indiscriminately swallowing trees, foliage, and the ground. It looks like a meteor surged in a straight line through the forest.

No matter what you’d chosen to do, if it weren’t for that abrupt opening, you would’ve died.

Heart thumping wildly, you snap your head toward the direction this miniature storm originated from. Was it a curse? If it is, then you’re hopelessly outclassed.

No, that doesn’t seem right, you think. You’re familiar with how it feels when a curse is nearby. Should it be close to your power level, it’s like getting splashed with frigid water. For curses above your abilities, that sensation gets amplified. It’s as if you’ve been plunged into the Arctic Ocean. Right now, you’re not experiencing either of those sensory nightmares.

A silhouette walks through the dusty haze that destructive force left behind.

“Whoops,” the person within says, “That was close.”

You run over, swatting the dust lingering in the air. Anyone close to that force could’ve gotten severely injured. Concern seeps into your being as the figure emerges.

“Are you okay?!”

The first thing you notice is a head of white hair. Next is this person’s height, you have to crane your neck to meet his eyes. Eyes that were, for some reason, covered by circular sunglasses. There’s a sideways grin on his face, the absolute last expression you were expecting. From his uniform, you guess he’s a student like yourself. His most prominent feature isn’t anything visible. It’s the sheer aura he exudes, you’ve never experienced anything similar. There’s no hostility, but it’s intense.

You inhale shakily.

“Never better. You?”

He sounds chipper.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine,” you reply, giving yourself a once-over.

You pinch your eyebrows together while assessing your condition. The white-haired figure notices this and asks, “Ya sure? Nothing hit you, right?”

“That’s the weird thing, though,” you frown. “I should be covered in dust, but there’s not a single speck.”

His grin widens, like he’s in on some joke you aren’t. This plucks a cord of irritation within you. Narrowing your eyes, you take a step back. You focus on the cursed energy engulfing him, then compare it to residuals left behind by the force. The residuals in the path it carved out are too faint to properly discern. All you have implicating his involvement is a hunch.

You remember how the gust itself felt, though. The ferocity that had every nerve in your body ringing funeral bells.

Your eyes flit between the gaping maw and the sunglass-wearing stranger.

“Want a hint?” He asks. You don’t miss the teasing lilt in his voice.

“You caused that surge,” you deadpan.

“Close enough, I’ll give half credit. Next question! What stopped you from getting buried in layers of dust?”

You have no reason to play along, yet scampering off feels like you’d be conceding something. The competitive nature boiling in your blood refuses to admit defeat. Especially after he subjected you to that terror, without even apologizing! It’s the least he could do. What an inconsiderate jerk. You’ll knock him down from that high horse if it’s the last thing you do.

Crossing your arms over your chest, you consider the information you have to work with. Whatever he did had to involve his cursed technique. Did he apply a shield to you? It’s the most obvious answer, but that doesn’t explain everything. A shield would lessen the damage, not negate it entirely.

How did he pull that off…?

As you’re piecing this puzzle together, someone in the distance yells, “Satoru!” drawing out each syllable. The person before you winces but doesn’t lose his boyish smile. You sense another presence heading this way. After you turn around to face this new addition, two large hands settle on your shoulders from behind. You bristle and try shaking them off, but this weirdo doesn’t let go.

An older man with a severe expression stands atop the staircase. His uniform is pitch black, denoting a different status than a student, if you were to guess.

“One hour,” he huffs out, “One hour, I ask for you to sit still and behave. And what do I come back to? An entire tunnel running through the school grounds?”

“It was for good reason, sensei,” this ‘Satoru’ insists. He squeezes your shoulders. “[First] here mistook a bug for a curse and yelped, ‘Kya, there’s a curse!’ I, being the good samaritan I am, dispatched the threat with what I thought to be an appropriate amount of force at the time.”

You make a face. “Eh?”

“Huh?” Yaga must find this explanation as convincing as you do. His countenance filters through multiple emotions. Confusion, frustration, disbelief, and then, finally, exhaustion. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “You couldn’t come up with anything better than that?”

“I didn’t come up with anything! Tell him, [First]! Are you going to abandon your savior when he needs you most?”

Yaga turns his attention to you, pity evident in his eyes.

“Satoru did… sort of protect me from something… in a way?” You mumble.

Satoru’s fingers twitch when you speak his recently learned name.

Yaga sighs. “We’ll discuss this later, Satoru.”

And with that, the first teacher you’ve met walks away, shaking his head. His demeanor reminds you of a disappointed parent. Suddenly cognizant of the unwelcome contact on your body, you jerk your shoulders forward. This time, he releases you. You get the sense he could’ve easily held on if he wanted to.

“Man, you suck at lying,” Satoru whines.

“Me? What sort of cover story was that? If you ever become a defense attorney, your clients are screwed.”

He throws his arms behind his head and grins. “You gotta admit, the impression was solid.”

“That was the most egregious part!”

“I thought it was a nice touch.”

You roll your eyes. Before this back-and-forth drags on, there’s a specific detail that’s nagging at you.

“By the way, how do you know my name—”

“Suguru, how long are you gonna sit back and watch? Voyeurism is frowned upon, y’know,” he cuts you off mid-sentence.

Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets at his not-so-subtle implication. Thrown back into a weirded-out limbo, you start slinking off. Forget trying to understand how he knows your name despite never telling him. These are the types your parents warned you about, you need to flee! Hormonal high school boys should be sectioned off until they’re no longer threats to society. Nuclear warfare pales in comparison.

“She’ll never want to come near you again if you keep saying things like that.”

Another student calmly strides out from behind a nearby tree. You squint, ensuring this isn’t an illusion. How long has this guy been here? Why couldn’t you sense his presence? Especially when he’s been so close, just a few measly feet back. The black-haired addition gives you a closed-mouth smile. Similar to Satoru, he’s rather tall. You’ll need a neck massage from all this looking up.

“Geto Suguru. It’s nice to meet you,” Geto greets.

You introduce yourself as well.

“It’s your first day here, correct? How are you finding everything? Have any questions?”

“None that I can think of, but thank you! It’s been uneventful, up to a certain point.”

Satoru yawns obnoxiously loud, interrupting your exchange. “Look what you did, Suguru. She’s all prim and proper now. I might fall asleep.”

You shoot him a scathing look but bite your tongue.

“What? No need to hold back. Say whatever you want, I can take it,” he asserts, tilting his head enough for his sunglasses to slide down. Two pools of frosty blues bore through you. You freeze up at the sight. Snowy eyelashes, glittering, gemstone-like eyes, why would he ever hide them? You’ve never seen such a bewitching color.

He strikes like a serpent at the opening you’ve given him.

“All this staring’s gonna make me shy. You can take a picture, if you want. I don’t mind.”

Any spell you were under withers and dies.

“Actually, I was just thinking that you remind me of a celebrity,” you say.

Satoru preens, interpreting your words as a compliment. Before his ego inflates enough for him to float away, however, you give him a smug smile of your own.

“Ever heard of Sanrio’s Cinnamoroll? You two could be twins! It’s adorable.”

His shoulders droop and Suguru chuckles, the sound coming out muffled from behind his hand. You spin around, content, humming to yourself as you walk up the stairs. You block out whatever Satoru shouts in retaliation. His words go in one ear and out the other. Something tells you this is the best strategy for dealing with him.

So far, you’ve met three classmates, and that was enough to exhaust you thoroughly.

You wonder what everyone else is like.

Later that evening, Shoko explains it’s just you four in your class.

You finish chewing your takeout, swallow, and then reply, “Eh? Seriously? But this place is crazy big.”

“Not many folks can use jujutsu,” Shoko says. She picks a mushroom up with her chopsticks and places it in your container. “Four students is a high amount, all things considered.”

You plop the mushroom into your mouth. Savory flavors coat your tongue, warming your heart and your soul. Delicious food is the antidote to all woes. Presently, your biggest woe happens to have white hair, unfairly pretty eyes, and a knack for getting under your skin. Recalling your previous encounter makes you grimace.

“Hey, Shoko. Would I get in trouble for spraying Satoru with water?”

Instead of responding, she stares at you, blinking owlishly.

“What’s up?”

“Haven’t heard any student but Geto call Gojo by his first name,” she explains. “We’ve only been here a few days though, so who knows.”

You tilt your head. “Who is Gojo?”

“Satoru. Gojo Satoru’s his full name.”

“... Ah.”

You swipe a pillow from Shoko’s bed and slam it into your face.

“I’ve been calling him by his first name?!” You whisper yell, heat rushing to your cheeks.

That’s far too intimate. This is awful, a tragedy, the end of your life that had just begun!

Shoko rubs your back reassuringly as you process the harrowing information.

This has been the first proper school day.

Teachers have come and gone depending on the class. You and Geto have been taking notes, Shoko’s fallen asleep, and Gojo occasionally throws a wadded-up note at the three of you. Shoko’s collection piles up on her desk, Geto throws his away after reading them, and you chuck yours back at Gojo when the teacher isn’t looking.

He catches it with a grin each time, as if you’re playing a friendly game of baseball.

This guy really irks you.

When it’s time to eat lunch, he’s the first to get up.

“What does everyone want from the vending machine?” Gojo asks while clapping, earning your attention. “It’s on me.”

Suguru requests Coca-Cola and Shoko, newly awake, says Oi Ocha.

“I’m okay, but thank you,” is your response.

Gojo swaggers over and you immediately regret sounding so polite.

“First you don’t open my notes and now you won’t accept my generosity? Is this what it’s like to get bullied?”

“I think bullying is typically worse than that,” you respond. His deep frown, although likely an act, still tugs on your heartstrings. Empathy is truly a double-edged sword. “... Georgia canned coffee, please.”

Gojo points a finger at you. “Aha! I knew it! Something about you struck me as a caffeine addict.”

(You throw a pen at him, which he easily sidesteps).

“Does the resident sugar addict have any room to talk?” Geto hums.

“Plenty. When you eat sweets, it’s to enjoy the flavor. In other words, an experience! When you drink coffee, though, you’re only torturing yourself to keep your eyes open.”

“Some people like coffee’s flavor,” Shoko chimes in. She rests her chin on her fist. “You would if it was sickeningly sweet.”

You take in the sight of your classmates bickering. It stirs a warm, pleasant feeling in your chest, like walking outside on the first day of spring. Such a simple exchange instills a sense of normalcy, no matter how fleeting. Gojo’s larger-than-life personality, Geto’s sneaky ways of goading him on, and Shoko’s occasional wry comment; you sear it into your memory.

There’s no real weight to the jabs everyone flings around, it’s like water off a duck’s back.

“You’ll meet lots of interesting folks, I’m sure,” your jujutsu mentor, Ishimoto Akane, had told you. “Make the most of each day. Forgetting to live is the worst injustice you can commit toward yourself.”

Smiling, you retrieve your pen/ammunition, intent on hitting Gojo with it eventually.

Drizzle and heat olive oil in a pan. Add grape tomatoes, seasoning, and minced garlic. Stir occasionally until the grape tomatoes break down.

A mouthwatering scent fills the dormitory’s kitchen. The clock reads 10:04 p.m, indicating how late this dinner is. You keep an eye on your pan as different shades of red smear together, forming the basis for your sauce. Content to leave it unsupervised for a spell, you walk to the drawer silverware is kept in.

The plates are up in an overhead cupboard. You stand on your tiptoes, straining your arm to grab a plate that has no business being up so high.

“Need help?”

You could recognize that voice in your sleep. Or, to be more specific, your nightmares.

“I’ve got it,” you insist.

“Yes, obviously, my sincerest apologies,” Gojo's cadence shifts to a somber, apologetic tone. “Please proceed.”

You stretch your body to its limits, the muscles in your arm crying out for reprieve. Your fingertips brush over the plate’s outer rim. Mistaking this for victory, you pull it out at an awkward angle. The porcelain comes tumbling down to its imminent demise. Out of instinct, you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for impact.

In the moments that follow, you hear nothing shatter.

Confused, you reopen your eyes to see Gojo Satoru holding the still-intact plate.

You stare at him.

He stares at you (from behind his sunglasses, despite the sun not being out).

Remembering your manners, you say, “Thank you.”

Gojo hums. The low note injects dread throughout your system, as you can guess how the melody will continue. You reach for the troublesome plate. In accordance with your premonition, he takes sadistic glee in raising it high above your head. It stays up there as if it were a full moon.

You take a deep, deep breath.

“Gojo-san, can I have that back?”

“Say ‘Pretty please, Satoru,’ and I’ll think about it.”

“...”

He stares at you.

You stare at him.

“From this day forward, you cannot have any more of my cooking,” you announce as if you were a politician making a new law known.

In what’s an exceedingly rare occurrence, Gojo doesn’t have an immediate retort. You may be unable to see his eyes, but you can tell his expression fell at your proclamation by the muscles in his face.

“Wait, really?”

“Really.”

“Really really?”

“Really really.”

Gojo silently hands over the plate with a bow.

“For you, madam.”

His melancholic act is so convincing and disproportionate to the situation that you can’t hold back your laughter. Gojo’s true strength is his ability to annoy and endear in the same breath. For this reason, your irritation toward his antics never lasts long. You’re sure he’s aware of this and uses it to his advantage. So long as it remains innocuous, you’ll play along.

“Start helping by chopping that basil and I’ll reconsider your verdict.”

Gojo gives a hearty salute.

“Yes ma’am!”

Geto plucks the manilla folder you’re holding and says your name. Perplexed, you glance at him.

“This isn’t worth rereading a fourth time,” he explains. “It won’t be anything near as dangerous as it’s been made out to be.”

He closes it and slides it across the table. You watch through heavy eyelids, blinking off sleep’s seductive whisper. The contents within — census data, maps, photographs — each piece of information refuses to absorb into your weary brain. You’re amazed you had the cogency to slap some proper loungewear on and stumble to the dormitory’s shared living space.

“S’gotta be somewhat important, though, if we got woken up at three in the morning over it.”

Geto laughs airily at that. “You’d be surprised.”

“What do you mean?”

“He means that anything involving the Zenins gets a fast track to becoming everyone’s problem,” Gojo adds from the doorway.

You turn your head in the direction of his hoarse voice. He didn’t bother to fix his bedhead or put on anything half-decent. He’s wearing a gray v-neck and slacks, unlike Geto, who at least put on a pair of jeans. His trademark sunglasses sit ajar on his nose.

Despite yourself, your heart skips a beat. He’s kinda cute.

Gojo gives you a lazy wave and grin. “Wow, you’re actually awake. I thought we’d have to drag you out of bed.”

“In the spirit of maintaining harmony, I’m going to ignore that comment,” you grumble, getting up from the floor to sit on the couch. Gojo sits to your left, slouches into the armrest, and throws his legs on the table. What terrible posture. “Going back to what you said — who are the Zenins? Are they important or something?”

Gojo furrows his eyebrows.

Geto blinks.

You glance between the two of them, feeling increasingly out of the loop. “W-What?”

Gojo, being the fiend that he is, breaks out into unapologetic laughter. You gape at him, your cheeks going from cold to scorching. Geto shakes his head in disapproval over Gojo’s behavior. Still, a small smile works onto his face, further exacerbating your embarrassment. Gojo loudly poking fun at you is one thing, but you’re used to Geto having your back Or at least abstaining from either side.

Vexed, you shoot up, ready to storm off, but Gojo’s hand encircles your wrist.

“My bad, my bad,” he manages through the occasional chuckle. “Come back. We’ll explain it to you.”

You grumble beneath your breath yet ultimately acquiesce.

Gojo peers at you from above his sunglasses. “Ever heard of the Big Three Sorcerer Families?”

You shoot him an unimpressed look. “Would we be having this conversation if I had?”

“Man, that must be nice. I almost feel bad ruining your innocence like this,” Gojo sighs, ever the melodramatic performer. “Hm… let’s see… think of them as the lame, jujutsu versions of Zapdos, Articuno, and Moltres.”

Sitting patiently, you wait for him to elaborate.

He doesn’t.

“Geto-kun, care to translate?”

“With pleasure. So, since cursed techniques are inherited, families often want them passed on from one generation to the next. The Big Three come from bloodlines that hold some of the strongest techniques. As you can imagine, this has granted them lots of influence and power over the centuries. How they leverage these advantages, well…”

Geto trails off and clears his throat.

“—They use it to advance their own agendas and snuff out any meaningful change,” Gojo finishes for him.

You nod.

“Okay, I think I get it! So they’re like jujutsu lobbyists?”

Gojo bursts into another fit of laughter. “I like that! Yeah, let’s call them that. Most of those geezers aren’t even jujutsu sorcerers themselves. They just sit around in the dark and scheme. It’s pathetic.”

Gojo doesn’t care about mincing words. He’s the type to call it as he sees it, for better or for worse. Rarely do you sense such acrimony festering beneath the surface of his remarks. This matter is different. He’s smiling, but there’s a tense underpinning to how he sets his jaw.

“Wait, okay, so, there’s the Zenins, but… who are the other two?” You ask.

“The Kamo and Gojo families,” Geto answers.

Gojo, gojo… that name sounds awfully familiar, doesn’t it?

This reveal doesn’t knock the breath from your lungs. You’ve been able to guess for some time now that Gojo came from money. How much exactly, you weren’t sure, but his designer clothes raised your estimates high. Your rich kid radar is as accurate as ever.

You point an accusatory finger toward the white-haired male beside you. “We have a double agent in our midst, Geto-kun.”

“It would appear so. How should we proceed?”

You stride over to Geto’s side, creating the appropriate distance between you and the traitor.

“Imprisonment without trial,” you declare, much to Gojo’s chagrin. “Solitary confinement too. Cosplaying as the working class is a federal offense.”

“Hah? What sort of kangaroo court is this?” Gojo complains. He removes his legs from the table and sits properly, then crosses his arms over his chest. Continuing your charade, you pay him no mind. Instead, you stand on your tiptoes, cup your hands, and whisper into Geto’s ear:

“The convict is disparaging our blameless judicial system. Shall we add ten years of hard labor?”

A malevolent gleam passes over Geto’s eyes.

“Let’s make it twenty,” he whispers back. You nod. Great minds think alike.

You return your attention to the couch, intending to update Gojo’s sentence, only to find he isn’t there. Yours and Geto’s deliberation couldn’t have lasted more than five seconds! Where did your prisoner run off to? His presence vanished as well, leaving not a single trace. It should unnerve you how in control he is of every aspect of his being. Maybe it would’ve had you not known him personally.

Warm breath fans against your ear from behind. “I’m taking this corrupt official hostage.”

With that, your legs give out faster than your brain can register. Your equilibrium is thrown into chaos as two arms lift you. The abruptness of it all has your limbs flailing for purchase and a squeak escaping your lips. Gojo takes care to ensure you don’t fall or harm yourself, but he doesn’t bother hiding his sadistic glee. You’re held bridal style against his firm chest.

Trying to wriggle loose is a meaningless endeavor. Accepting your fate, you go limp, but not without requesting assistance.

“Geto, are you really going to abandon me to the machinations of this criminal?”

Geto walks over, consideration etched into his countenance, stoking hope of rescue in your chest. He reaches for you. It’s almost imperceptible, but Gojo’s grip tightens ever so slightly. However, his hand doesn’t pry you from the jaws of the beast. He just pulls down your shirt, which has risen to reveal a sliver of your stomach.

Wow, what a gentleman.

“Did you ever consider that I might be a double agent?” Geto challenges, relishing in your visible frustration as much as Gojo. Such is the plight of those who wear their heart on their sleeve.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve learned my lesson alright,” you retort. The foreboding nature of your words isn’t lost on them. They await your next move, which you swiftly deliver. “Gojo-san, let me down. If you don’t, I will bite you.”

You can feel how he beams down at you. “Oh, I never would’ve guessed that’s what you’re into— ah, Suguru, a little help here…?”

Geto assesses the situation. After thinking it over, he helps steady you, then uses his newfound leverage to pull you free. He takes great care in putting you down, holding you steady until your feet are firmly on the floor. Your balance rushes to restore itself. In the meantime, Gojo clicks his tongue, processing the weight of Geto’s betrayal.

You give Geto a thumbs up. “Good work. No one ever sees a triple agent coming.”

“It was a split-second decision,” Gojo dismisses with a wave. His impassive expression morphs into a knowing smirk, like he just had a seismic revelation. “Ah, I get it.”

“You do?” Geto hums.

“He does?” You ask.

“Yes and yes. Suguru, you were holding out to see if she’d use her cursed technique, right?”

Geto doesn’t respond immediately, indicating Gojo’s theory holds some merit. Gojo stuffs his hands into his pockets and slinks back to the couch. His gait radiates smugness, although you can’t imagine why. Is that supposed to be a ‘gotcha!’ moment?

“I’ll admit, I am curious,” is what Geto settles on saying, his smile apologetic. Or it’s meant to come off as such.

“Why didn’t you say so sooner? It’s not like it’s a big secret or anything.”

Geto and Gojo exchange looks.

“You should be careful who you go about revealing information like that to,” Gojo warns. You’re not used to hearing this serious timbre in his voice. “Some cards should remain close to your chest.”

Even if he’s being sincere, you can’t help but feel patronized. You’ll be the first to admit it — certain nuances of jujutsu society are lost on you. Akane wasn’t the type to care for such details. She said worrying about all that bureaucracy would age you prematurely. You half agree with her. Certainly, you shouldn’t let that influence you in the areas it matters most, like combat. However, while you’re in Japan, you’re under their regulations. It wouldn’t be wise to forget that.

You purse your lips. “Obviously, yeah. I’m not going to go blabbering it off everywhere. But, I mean, you two are my friends. This’ll be our first time on the field together. Knowing what cards you have to deal with seems useful to me.”

Gojo turns his head to the side and a few seconds pass.

“Friends, huh?” Geto finally murmurs, testing the word on his tongue. His next smile reaches his eyes. “Who would’ve thought a little sincerity is all it takes to get you flustered?”

Gojo snaps his head back at Geto’s taunt. “Sorry, what was that? Aren’t you the one who—”

You clap to redirect their attention.

“Hey, hey, cut it out already. We’re going to be together for the next few days, right? Let’s all get along.”

“You just care about going back to sleep,” Gojo accuses.

“Yes. Exactly. That is all I care about right now. So, if it’s all the same to you, I’m headed to bed.”

You don’t wait for their response. As stealthily as you can, you sneak through the hallways, careful to avoid creaky floorboards. Upon returning to your room, you kick your house slippers off. The digital alarm clock on your nightstand says 3:53 p.m. Those two kept you up far later than necessary! If this assignment isn’t a big deal like Geto claims, you wish he would’ve said so sooner.

There’s always the option of sleeping during the car ride, but if there’s anything you know about Gojo, it’s that everything in his vicinity can be subjected to torment. You wouldn’t put it past him to draw on your face or blare the horn once you finally nod off.

Your head hits the pillow and you pray for rest to take you soon.

Meanwhile, back in the shared living space, Gojo stares at the spot you once occupied.

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“I think I get it now.”

“That so?” Gojo runs a hand through his hair. “As long as you don’t get it too much.”

Geto chuckles. After a pause, he muses, “Neither of us would be very good for her.”

“You gonna let someone else scoop her up?”

“Are you?”

“They can try,” Gojo smiles. There’s no kindness behind it.

Although this conversation could last well into the morning, in an unspoken understanding, they leave it at that.

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness. Purify that which is impure.”

Ink blots descend from above as if the sky were weeping. The viscous teardrops curve downward, creating a dome that swallows the surrounding area. Geto and Suguru have gone ahead, leaving you to carry out basic protocol. You jog to catch up with them. Geto slows down enough to make rejoining them easier, unlike Gojo, who carries on.

“So, this is the stomping grounds of the mean ol’ curse that sent Kenji Zenin packing?” Gojo hums.

“He sustained some serious injuries,” you remind him. Gojo just shrugs. “A fractured sternum and twelve broken ribs… that’s not exactly a walk in the park.”

“A Grade One sorcerer getting whooped that bad by a Grade Two curse? Probably deserved it.”

You sigh, recognizing that Gojo won’t empathize no matter what you say.

The three of you were driven from Tokyo Jujutsu High to Kaizu for this assignment. According to Geto, the information you received likely exaggerated the curse’s capabilities as a way for Kenji Zenin to save face. It looks better for him if the higher-ups deem the threat he faced severe enough to ship off two of the school’s most promising students to handle it. Regarding your inclusion, Gojo so kindly said,

“You’re like the little garnish on top of the entrée.”

You can’t find the energy to get upset if he’s right.

There’s no denying the immense gap in your abilities compared to theirs. You could feel it in the air the instant you met Gojo. For Geto, all it took was hearing a description of his cursed technique. The potential for storing and controlling curses at will is beyond your comprehension. There are so many applications, and so many advantages… you’re utterly outclassed.

Should this demotivate you? Perhaps. You’ll never be as strong as them, it’s delusional to think otherwise. An individual’s proficiency with jujutsu is almost determined at birth. That doesn’t mean it’s static, it just means you have to find ways to excel with what you’re given. Envy is a waste of time. You want to learn from them and hone your abilities. For this reason, you’ve avoided an inferiority complex.

What could be better than learning from the best?

The atmosphere inside the curtain is dingy. It’s like a dark filter glazed over your eyes, maiming any bright or vibrant colors.

Grass crunches beneath your feet despite summer’s abundant rainfall. Nature itself flees the scene, retreating into the woods surrounding this derelict nursery. The briefing you were given went over the business’ murky past. In the seventies, there was an unprecedented boom in births around this area. Working parents needed proper childcare until their children were old enough to attend school. What few facilities existed nearby found themselves overwhelmed. Then an older, childless couple, Mikami and Fujikawa Tetsuo, purchased a plot of land outside the town with their retirement money. They cited the picturesque scenery as their reason for choosing this location, believing that the unpolluted air would be good for the children.

The nursery was built and opened. For years, parents entrusted their little ones with the tight-knit staff headed by the Tetsuo’s. Nothing of note occurred until early in the eighties. On March 24th, 1982, a child was hospitalized after crying ceaselessly for three hours straight. The mother reported that when she picked her daughter up from the daycare, her daughter had been unusually distraught. She didn’t think much of it at first. Toddlers are known for being emotional. However, as time went by and her screams became hoarse, she felt something was terribly wrong. The little girl was given mild sedatives and IV fluids as her body began to suffer from dehydration.

The next day, all seventeen children at the daycare suffered the same mysterious ailment.

Each child underwent tests ranging from bloodwork to brain MRIs to determine what the inexplicable cause of this nightmare could be. Professionals in every area, ranging from renowned neurologists to child psychiatrists flew in from around the world. Naturally, an investigation was opened into the nursery and its owners. No formal charges were made against Mikami and Fujikawa, since no evidence of foul play could be found. Regardless, the community ostracized them and any employees present during the incident.

Tragically, none of the eighteen children recovered. From the instant their sedatives wore off until they were administered again, they’d screech, thrash, and display aggressive behavior toward nurses and family members alike. Parents were faced with the impossible decision of keeping their child ‘alive’ through life support, holding out for a cure that may never come, or granting them a peaceful yet permanent rest.

Only one family kept their child on life support. He remained in a vegetative state and died from complications related to an infection two months later. The seventeen other families, who had grown close through the harrowing ordeal, turned the machines keeping their little ones alive at the same time.

This report might be one of the worst things you’ve read.

Scanning the area, you note faint residuals of cursed energy throughout the decrepit playground. The swings, slide, and both sides of the seesaw contain trace amounts. Did curses form as a consequence of what happened here, or did a curse initiate the disaster? It may not matter now, but all those families never receiving proper closure makes your chest feel tight.

Painfully so.

Considering the officials never found physical evidence, you believe a curse was the cause. What were the victims supposed to do? What could they do? Non-sorcerers can’t perceive curses, much less defend themselves. They have to be chewed, swallowed, and digested.

You kneel at the playground’s edge, inspecting the planks of rotten and peeling wood. It must’ve been assembled by hand. Each piece was planned, cut, and dutifully laid down. All to hold the wood chips that’d protect the kids as they ran, laughed, and played. This place should’ve been a fond memory for them to recall throughout their life.

Instead, it’s the reason they’d never got to have one.

“The cursed energy is concentrated in the nursery room itself,” Gojo determines.

You follow his line of sight and squint. You could tell the building was submerged in cursed energy, but you couldn’t pinpoint an exact location.

“It’s moving in the same pattern, like a grid,” Geto says. Another observation you couldn’t make. “Starting in the top left corner, ending in the bottom right, then starting the process all over again.”

Standing up, you dust the dirt off your skirt. “Why would a curse do that?”

From a tactical standpoint, moving predictably is reckless. Any combatants could use the knowledge to their advantage. Curses have some degree of self-preservation, hence why they don’t waltz everywhere without a care in the world. They’re intelligent enough to avoid spots that sorcerers frequent. Fly heads are the lone exception, but that’s because they lack the intellect necessary to care for their survival.

A curse capable of inflicting such serious wounds on a Grade One sorcerer can’t be that weak.

Gojo exchanges glances with Geto, a semblance of understanding connecting them. You’ve witnessed this wordless exchange before. No matter how much they bicker over conflicting values or petty non-issues, they maintain the ability to synchronize their thoughts and actions.

“What is it?” You snap. As soon as the acrid words leave your mouth, you regret it, although they don’t react. Taking a deep breath, you try again. “Communication is important for these missions, guys. Keep me in the loop… please?”

Geto parts his lips, but Gojo cuts him off. “There are eighteen cribs inside. The curse is fixing the blankets in each one.”

You shiver.

“... Oh.”

“How do you want to go about this, Satoru?” Geto asks. “It can’t be as simple as walking in and exorcising it.”

“Why not? Its cursed energy is consistent with what you’d expect of a Second Grade. We both know this job’s smoke and mirrors, anyway. Let’s wrap it up already and head home.”

“Isn’t it strange the curse hasn’t been drawn out, despite a curtain being cast?” You point out.

For the first time since exiting the car, Gojo looks at you. You stare back at the two black circles that obscure his omnipotent eyes. Something’s been off ever since you embarked on this mission. It’s like an itch you can’t scratch, as its location shifts elsewhere whenever you try. His words have had an edge to them when directed at you. You’re used to his lackluster manners, but this is different.

This cuts and it cuts deep.

Are you that incompetent to him…?

Gojo redirects his gaze toward the ramshackle building.

“I’m getting this over with,” he says. Simply, decisively. Leaving no room for argument.

Leaving no room for you.

Massive tendrils of cursed energy coil around him, flowing unimpeded like water through a rushing brook. You step back solely from reflex. Anticipation thrums through the air and ignites every nerve in your body. You’re left wide-eyed and breathless as it gathers and grows, its potency hundreds of times greater than anything you’ve been able to achieve. It feels as though minutes have dragged by, reacquainting you with the surreal sensation you underwent upon meeting Gojo Satoru that fateful day.

“Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue.”

Up until this point in your life, you thought you knew destruction. What hubris, what naivety. Gunfire, grenades, tanks, bombs, missiles; they are nothing but ants before the looming skyscraper that is Gojo Satoru.

This is destruction in its raw, purest form.

This is what it means to be the strongest.

… Somehow, you feel lesser than that ant.

A speck of dust would be a more fitting description.

You expect total disintegration when you reopen your eyes. You aren’t disappointed.

Concrete, wood, glass, steel, plastic, stone, and fabric alike were eviscerated. The ground where the nursery once stood is gone. A bygone era wrought with tragedy. The force behind this apex of energy blasted the wood partition around the playground, leaving nothing but a shadow to signify it ever existed.

Gojo lowers his hand and turns away from the wreckage.

“Don’t you think you went a bit overboard, Satoru?” Geto’s tone reminds you of the many scoldings Yaga has given the white-haired menace.

“Just wanted to ensure the threat was dealt with, so Kenji can sleep through the night without wetting himself,” Gojo replies, smirking. “Alrighty then, who wants to sightsee—”

“Naptime… naptime…” A garbled voice intones from the aftermath of Gojo’s attack.

The deformed curse lifts itself like a marionette fastened to invisible strings. It’s tall, with an emaciated build and haggard skin. Long clumps of thick hair emerge from its scalp, greasy and matted. Each feeble step it takes is accompanied by a snapping sound, as if its joints are begging for collapse. The humanoid shape disturbs you most of all. Cracked lips, bloodied eye sockets, chunks of deathly pale skin sloughing off brittle bones; this curse looks more like a corpse than anything else.

Most damning, however, is the sheer power it’s radiating.

“Do… they… slumber…?” It croaks.

Suguru assumes an offensive position, but Gojo puts an arm out, stopping him.

“Something’s off,” Gojo warns. If you thought he sounded serious before, that doesn’t compare to his timbre now. “Don’t attack it.”

The curse’s legs give out. That doesn’t stop it from crawling on. Lanky fingers claw at the rubble, searching desperately.

Geto summons a handful of curses in its radius. He keeps them on standby while the three of you track every movement, every ebb and flow of cursed energy. The curse grabs and cradles the sediment in its crooked hands, then rocks the amalgamation as if it were a baby.

“Did you hit it?” You whisper, knowing fully well the question is pointless. You don’t care. You need any semblance of control possible when confronted with the terrifying unknown.

“I did. The impact inflicted zero damage,” Gojo removes his sunglasses and tucks them away.

“A special condition, then?” Geto proposes. “One that makes it impervious to all harm until…”

You hear a sniffle.

Then a whimper.

And a gurgle.

“Hush, hush, hush, hush, hush, hush, hush—”

The curse repeats this mantra with increasing aggravation until its shrill voice is all you can hear. The cursed energy that enveloped it seconds prior flows out in multiple directions, like a heart pumping blood to the rest of the body. The energy is absorbed. Not a meager trace remains, every drop was sucked dry by multiple sources.

All is still.

All is silent.

A bloodcurdling wail reverberates throughout the curtain.

Eighteen appendages propel out of the curse in the middle, puncturing it from the inside out as if the limp mass was a cocoon.

There’s no need for deliberation.

The three of you scatter in different directions.

“Cursed Technique: Ophanim.”

Two glowing, golden rings the size of wheels manifest by your side. The outside surface is adorned with closed eyes, each arranged individually on top of the other rather than in pairs. The two rings work in tandem to slice through the appendage barreling toward you. You recall them to your side, running at a breakneck speed to avoid the five fleshy appendages still seeking your demise.

Gojo and Geto are in a similar predicament. Running, leaping, and dodging the seismic attacks that leave massive craters in its wake. A single hit from that would crush your body in an instant. Then there’s the disorienting wailing, originating from multiple locations throughout the curtain’s interior. You can’t pinpoint where the sounds are coming from.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins, oxygen rushes with each sharp inhale, and your muscles strain to keep up with the demands you make of them.

The sixth appendage, which your cursed technique cut through, lurches from above. Whole and better than ever. Unlike before, its momentum is lightning-fast. The change is so instantaneous that you have no time to respond accordingly. Death’s harbinger looms, engulfing your existence in its hungry shadow. Instead of slicing it off at the wrist, you propel your rings up, accelerating their spin at the cost of speed. Flesh and cartilage rips above you in the shape of a thin slit.

The appendage plummets down.

Through the ringing in your ears, you hear voices yelling out your name.

An unpleasant, viscous substance coats you from head to toe.

You grimace and wipe off what you can. Geto’s curses managed to cut the appendage off at the joint, preventing it from rising and trying to crush you again. Your rings barely managed to carve a hole big enough to span the width of your body. That doesn’t mean you’re safe just yet — the five remaining appendages that have you as their target are seconds away. Unlike the one you just faced, their speed is manageable.

The more damage inflicted, the faster they are after healing, you think. This must be why Gojo and Geto are dodging instead of going on the offense.

However, since you remained still to avoid getting crushed by what your rings hadn’t cut through, the other five appendages are inbound. They’ve fanned out, blocking any angle you’d use to dodge.

You dismiss your cursed technique.

What can be done here? This curse is easily a Grade One. The centermost part is invulnerable and the eighteen limbs growing off it speed up when damaged. Summoning more rings so you can escape this attack means the next will come swifter, building and building to unimaginable speeds. You know your limits. The second healed limb was a hair below the fastest you’ve ever run.

Gojo and Geto could handle the levels above that. Maybe there’s a limit to how many times the limbs can regenerate, reaching that could exorcise the curse. No curse is truly invincible, even if it seems like it in the moment. You must be the reason why they haven’t commenced a counterattack. They knew anything above a second regeneration would do you in.

Is that really the only way?

Something wet drips on your head.

You use what little time you have to glance up.

Suspended midair is a small outline, made visible by the viscera that spurted from your cursed technique’s earlier attack. Sluggishly, you blink, wiping the blood from your eyes to ensure you aren’t hallucinating. The outline’s edges wriggle and squirm. You realize that it’s doing so in time with the incessant wailing.

“What do you think you’re doing, spacing out in the middle of a fight?”

Gojo must’ve warped in front of you.

You recognize the hand motion he’s making, and cry out, “Don’t! That’ll only make it—”

“I know, I know,” Gojo launches a devastating blow that obliterates the five incoming appendages, reducing them to pitiful scraps. “I didn’t just run a marathon for you to give up and become a pancake.”

“I didn’t give up,” you snap back.

He glances over his shoulder and grins. “Good. Cause we need to hose you off as soon as possible.”

You let out a noise in between a laugh and a cry. How can he crack jokes under these dire circumstances?

“Gojo—”

“Ah ah ah,” The menace cuts you off, “Satoru. Call me anything else and I’m leaving you to handle this on your own.”

While speaking his untimely quips, he continuously forms and releases his Cursed Technique Lapse, Blue. This forces the broken appendages into a cycle of stitching themselves together only to get destroyed again. It stuns you, how he can casually hold a conversation while performing a technique that’d use all your cursed energy to execute once. Never mind countless times in rapid succession.

“Satoru,” you try again, to which he hums, “This… thing above me, do you think it’s…?”

“The weak spot for this Ju-On ripoff? Yeah. Just noticed that. Suguru’s curses are self-destructing near them, so their invisibility’s useless.”

The six appendages that tracked Satoru join the fray, granting Geto additional space to maneuver unhindered. Floating blobs covered in the innards of curses appear one by one like macabre lanterns in the night sky. You can’t stop yourself from admiring how effortless they make it look. It was all you could do to avoid the curses’ attacks, that required every ounce of your cognition. Meanwhile, they pieced together the curses’ gimmick and started countermeasures.

“Anything broken?” Satoru asks.

“Just a few sprains.”

“Great. Now, I’m about to ask for a lot, but it’s nothing I don’t think you can’t handle.”

You exhale shakily.

“There’s another application of your cursed technique, right?”

How does he know that?

You’ll worry about this oddity later.

“There is, but,” you stare down at your blood-soaked hands, “Why are you asking?”

Satoru takes a moment to consider his response. The gory splatters are reforming faster and faster, you’ve lost count of how many blasts he’s used to cut them down. It’s almost imperceptible, but you can tell he can’t keep this up forever. Each subsequent use of Cursed Technique Lapse: Blue requires more energy than the last. If he’s a sliver off in his calculations, then the appendages will heal instantaneously and skewer your body faster than death can claim you.

Geto leaps down from a hovering curse.

“There are seventeen sources, just like you said,” he huffs, wiping the perspiration trickling down his temple. “Each one is visible now.”

Seventeen sources?

“This eyesore’s a distraction. Those screaming curses — they’re the real target here,” Satoru says.

You consider the curse a few feet above your head. “So we should attack them, right?”

Geto shakes his head. “We tried that. They didn’t sustain any damage.”

“Seriously?”

“This is just a theory, but,” Satoru takes a deep breath, “Seventeen of the eighteen victims from this place had their life support pulled simultaneously, right?”

Huh. So he did read the briefing after all.

This conjecture prickles at your skin like tiny needles. The screaming, the small stature these curses have, every detail comes crashing down at once. Maggots writhing beneath your skin would be more pleasant.

It isn’t them, you tell yourself, because you have to. It’s an echo. The curse they left behind.

You steeple your fingers. Cursed energy thrums around and through you, reverberating in your bones, and crackling throughout your soul. Simultaneously. That’s the key here. These curses can pull off their various immunities by using conditions to their advantage.

The two warding off the original curses’ attacks before you are strong, yes, but this niche fits you well.

If you’re able to perform it properly, that is.

You accept every drop of cursed energy your body can handle. Once you’re filled to the brim, it’s expelled, rushing through the air like geysers.

“Cursed Technique: Null.”

Your ability is versatile if not simple.

You can call forth golden rings that perpetually spin clockwise. Their size, speed, and sharpness are determined by you. At this point in your training, you can maintain two of these rings without sacrificing speed or sharpness. Should you bring out any more, they will dull and slow down for each addition made. Two could slash through steel, four could cut the same slab halfway, six would make a sizable dent, eight would leave a scratch; so on and so forth.

There’s an additional application beyond this.

Cursed Technique: Null — the pinnacle of the innate ability you inherited, Ophanim.

The sorcerer creates three rings around any object or organism. One spins around the target horizontally. The other two slant left and right respectively, all spinning counterclockwise. The closed eyes adorning the ring’s outside fly open. Unblinking, hypervigilant. If what they’re enclosed around is significantly weaker than the sorcerer, it can halt the movements of whatever or whoever is within.

Your record is halting thirty mice for a total of two minutes and four seconds.

Afterward, you can either dispel the rings or pull them toward the epicenter. The rings then slash through the target like a fruit slicer.

You see the seventeen silhouettes emphasized with blood.

As you will it, three golden rings surround each one. The cursed energy swaddling them hisses and resists your designs. Their wailing crescendos, culminating at an ear-piercing pitch. The fussing stops abruptly as the eyes on each ring open wide. Seventeen different targets, fifty-one rings… it is draining cursed energy from you fast.

Four seconds. This is as long as you trust the halt to work.

That leaves the issue of cutting through them.

These aren’t the used soda cans you’ve practiced on. They are curses, Semi-Grade One if you were to guess. You’re a Grade Three sorcerer. The chasm here won’t be bridged by a miracle, you’ll have to risk catapulting across and plummeting to your demise. Satoru’s likely unaware of your technique’s specifics, as even you required trial and error to determine this much. You never found documentation on Ophanim. Every unraveled facet is owed to you.

These fifty-one rings are too dull. They won’t make so much as an indent.

What you need here is a binding vow. Your own strength isn’t enough. Risk, danger, and death breathing down your neck; these are the ingredients you require. There’s a chance it won’t work and you’re condemning yourself to an early grave. If you don’t try, though, you don’t know how long Satoru and Geto can keep those appendages down.

Time to leap across.

For every second I don’t exorcise these curses, ten of my bones will break, you think. Should I reach ten seconds, my heart will stop.

Cursed energy surges through you. It finds the prospect of your end tantalizing, but without providing itself, won’t have the opportunity to claim you.

One.

(The rings gain immeasurable speed).

Two.

(It hurts, but the curses will hurt too).

Three.

(Simultaneous incisions are made through seventeen curses).

The wailing stops.

…

So does your breathing.

August 15th, 2005. Grade One Curse ‘The Caretaker’ and Semi-Grade One Curses ‘Little Ones’ were exorcised at 9:34 p.m. in Kaizu.

Hospital rooms aren’t renowned for their interior design.

Flimsy pillows, scratchy gowns, thin blankets, bright yellow lights, ghostly white walls, it’s an affront to the eyes. You almost want to continue resting if that’s all you’ll get to look at. Considering how stiff your neck is and how your limbs feel heavier than a grand piano, you assume you’ve done enough sleeping.

You prop yourself up as much as you can. This slight shift makes your body complain, nice and loud.

Footsteps rush over to your bed. You hear your name spoken, intermixed with a relieved sigh.

“You don’t stay knocked down for long, do you?” Geto muses. His smile is gentle and his eyes crinkle in delight. “Welcome back. How do you feel?”

“Like I got run over by a train,” you rasp.

You’re in desperate need of some vocal warmups.

Geto grabs a water bottle from the windowsill and hands it over. While you gulp the heavenly elixir down, he continues speaking.

“You weren’t out for long — two days. Well, two and a half days. It’s noon now.”

You relax after hearing this. Geto knew how to assuage any worries you might have before you dared to voice them. Everyone has their own way of bringing kindness into the world, this happens to be his.

“Seriously? I was expecting you to say it’s the year 2010 or something. No flying cars yet?”

“None that I’ve seen,” Geto’s laugh sounds light and airy. “Shoko’s reversed cursed technique is truly a marvel. It accelerated your healing, but I imagine the pain will linger a while longer.”

You’ll have to cook Shoko one of her favorite dishes when you get back. You don’t want to think about how long it would’ve taken for you to heal naturally, much less if it’d heal right. Bones are finicky like that. You imagine yours weren’t happy at how you offered them up on a silver platter.

She spared your family so much pain. You’ll forever be indebted to her for that.

Glancing around, you notice three mismatched chairs surrounding your bed. Geto follows your line of sight.

“Shoko and I finally chased Satoru out about an hour ago. He’s lived in this room since you were admitted. Didn’t sleep a wink either,” Geto gives you an expression you can’t quite place. “Around the forty-two-hour mark, he started making strange suggestions.”

Heaviness seeps into the air, thick and palpable, like a noxious gas.

“What kind of suggestions?”

“Suggestions like killing the higher-ups, for starters.”

Your thudding heart leaps to your throat. “... Huh?”

“It’s not anything he hasn’t said in jest before. This time, however,” Geto fixates his attention on the intravenous line threaded into your arm. You can feel the weight of his stare. “He wasn’t joking.”

It feels like you’re in one of those dreams that mimics reality so well, the line separating the two becomes increasingly distorted. You entertain the theory briefly. A single sweep of the room dispels the illusion. The loose thread on Geto’s shoulder, the sounds of carts rolling down the long hospital corridors, the lemon-tinged scent from cleaning supplies; could a dream be this detailed?

You don’t think so.

Sensing your haziness, he clarifies, “I talked him out of it by speaking in your stead. I assumed you wouldn’t want that.”

“What… what do the higher-ups have to do with anything…?”

How do they factor into the two plus two equals four equation?

Geto pulls a chair over to your bedside, sits, and contemplates. Such a grave visage doesn’t belong on a fifteen-year-old’s face. It reminds you of a father preparing to explain why he and their mother are getting a divorce to their children.

He weighs his next words on a scale only he’s privy to.

“Satoru had a gut feeling that there was more to the Kaizu mission. He must not have wanted you to have that in the back of your mind out on the field, since all it takes is one mistake to—”

He cuts himself off. His complexion takes a pallid shade.

You give him a gentle smile. Geto is more considerate than you initially gave him credit for. Ignoring the dull ache, you lean forward, placing your hand over his.

“It’s okay. You can keep going.”

The tips of his ears turn red.

He blinks rapidly, clears his throat, and then soldiers on. “R-Right. Well, you saw how he acted. With his Six Eyes, he spotted the remains of another sorcerer when he looked at the nursery. The briefing conveniently omitted the fact that Kenji wasn’t alone. This confirmed Satoru’s suspicions. He wanted to wrap things up fast to get you out of there, but… that curse proved challenging.”

“I’m getting this over with.”

Ah. So that’s why he came off that way, you think. Still… couldn’t there have been a better way? Why is blocking people out his go-to?

“We believe the Zenins — those in Kenji’s immediate circle, to be specific — hoped that you’d be… killed, to emphasize how formidable the threat he faced was. Since this job was assigned through the school, some of the higher-ups must’ve known and granted their blessing.”

“... Oh.”

The room’s air conditioning whirrs to life, billowing the beige curtains draped over the closed window. Outside, a cicada crawls over the glass pane. It pauses to recite its buzzing melody. Since it’s summer, you can expect to see and hear these insects until autumn’s chill sweeps away the heat.

You hope Satoru witnessed a similarly trivial scene while sitting in this room.

It’s important to remember just because you feel stuck, the world won’t stop spinning onward.

“Would it be okay if I called you Suguru?”

He nods without hesitation.

“Suguru, earlier you said that you changed Satoru’s mind by voicing my perspective since I couldn’t,” you start, your cadence gentle. You handpick each word with great care. “Does this mean that, personally, you agreed with him?”

His countenance is like that of a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar. This look doesn’t overstay its welcome. Once he assesses you, from your open posture to your soft stare, he’s back to his usual self.

“Busted, huh? And here I thought you’d be too groggy to pick up on anything incriminating.”

“A corrupt official such as myself must remain vigilant,” you reply with a cheeky grin. Then, you reorient yourself to communicate what’s been gnawing at you properly. “There’s a lot I don’t know about these ‘higher-ups’ or ‘Zenins,’ that you keep referring to. What little I do know doesn’t paint them in a favorable light. For all I know, they could be irredeemable in every sense of the word. But…”

“... Even though this is a selfish wish, I’m making it anyway. Say they do have to go. That it’s 100% certain they’re just that bad. I don’t want you or Satoru to be the ones to carry it out. Intentionally killing someone… could there be anything worse than that? Doesn’t a part of yourself die with them?”

A lump grows in your throat. You force it down.

“So, thank you for stopping him and yourself. Sorcerers are meant to fight curses, right? Protect those who can’t protect themselves. That sort of stuff.”

Suguru squeezes your hand gently, as if you were made of porcelain.

It stops you from shattering.

After a few minutes, your erratic breathing settles. He whispers your name like he’s making a promise.

“You’re right,” he says, a newfound resolve built into the very fabric of those two words. “Protecting the weak is what matters most. Tossing everything into disarray would threaten that. It’s easier to fix what’s broken than to demolish and rebuild from scratch.”

… Is that what you meant?

Exhaustion clouds your senses. You must’ve burnt through your scarce reserves of energy. You can vaguely discern Suguru running the pad of his thumb over your hand, before detaching himself. He readjusts your pillow so it supports your head better. After murmuring your gratitude, you sink into sleep’s warm embrace.

Right as you’re traipsing the fine line between wakefulness and the unconscious, there’s a light sensation of something brushing your hair back.

This unknown doesn’t inspire fear or outrage.

Instead, it lulls you further into the recesses of peace.

You’re discharged from the hospital later that day.

An auxiliary manager from Tokyo Jujutsu High drives you back. You spend the car ride staring out the passenger side window, taking in the bustle of busy citizens and dazzling lights. It never fails to amaze you how people wordlessly maneuver around each other to maintain the flow of traffic. It’s a tempo that can’t be instructed, rather, one must adapt in real time without a conductor.

Can non-sorcerers truly be considered weak?

The description torments you as if it were a thorn in your side.

Your fingers drum over the dashboard.

What does it mean to be strong, anyway?

The next time you activate your cursed technique, you can summon and maintain four rings without sacrificing sharpness or speed.

For the past few days, you’ve been playing around with different formations. Four rings orbiting your body provide considerable defense from projectiles and close combat. Then, if you let two out, you gain the means to attack. Lastly, ditching defense to pour everything into offense is a viable option as well. Your biggest obstacle is how mentally taxing it is to track and manipulate four rings at once.

It requires great concentration. This isn’t an issue if you’re alone, but you doubt that curses will play nice and let you stand perfectly still.

You flip your My Melody notebook to the next page and scribble down,

Two rings uptime — twelve hours.Four rings uptime — one hour. Four rings uptime w/ distractions — ten minutes. Maximum distance — one hundred meters. Maximum rings at once — sixty. Uptime on maximum rings — five seconds.

Thinking back to The Caretaker, you twist your lips.

If you’d been sent on that mission by yourself, would this have been enough to win the fight? You’re alive because you were with Satoru and Suguru. There’s no denying the infallible truth. You can’t always rely on reports to accurately grade a curse. There’s also the chance once certain conditions are met, the curse can gain strength throughout the fight, and—

“Cute handwriting.”

“Eek!”

Hugging your notebook to your chest, you jump back, indignation rushing through you like molten magma. Who snuck up on you? How did they do it? You can ascertain the presence of others in your vicinity well. You know when Shoko’s sneaking out through her window at night, if Suguru’s about to enter the room, or when Utahime is seconds away from busting into the classroom to lecture Satoru about levitating her lunch onto the roof again.

Squinting, you assess the assailant. Pearly white hair, round sunglasses, a lean and towering figure…

“Satoru? You’re back?”

According to Shoko, Satoru was called to Kyoto for business relating to the Big Three not long after they returned from the hospital. It’d been two weeks since then. You’ve gotten so used to having him around, that his absence felt pronounced. Shoko mainly lamented that her ‘walking free meal ticket’ was gone whereas Utahime rejoiced. You’ve never seen your upperclassman so ecstatic.

Her hopes and dreams will be dashed come morning.

“Just got in, yeah. Why? Oh! I know! You must’ve missed me terribly. Here, here. It’s alright. C’mere and tell me all about it— oof!”

There is a barrier that separates Satoru from everyone and everything.

‘Infinity,’ he calls it. The ability to slow down encroaching mass to such a degree that it appears as if it stopped. He can keep it activated for long lengths of time. One day, he intends to reach a level where he’ll never have to turn it off. Anyone else who proposed a goal like that would either be conceited or delusional. The amount of cursed energy necessary to pull that off is immeasurable.

Satoru isn’t just anyone, though.

So when he sets an impossible goal, it enters the realm of feasibility.

His infinity is active once you leap toward him, lasting up until the very last millisecond. When you breach the threshold that denies access to anyone else, it recedes, rushing away to accommodate your presence. Infinity remains present, molding itself around your shape. The top of your head, the slope of your shoulders, down to your soles; for a fleeting moment in time, infinity chooses you over Satoru’s parameters.

Your cheek hits his chest. He has to steady you so you don’t go tumbling back. While he does this, you snake your arms around him, squeezing him tight. In doing so, yet another anomaly occurs.

You’ve rendered Gojo Satoru speechless.

When you pull back, you notice his sunglasses are crooked. You straighten them out for him and nod in approval. Smiling ear to ear, you chirp,

“Welcome home, Satoru!”

He scratches the back of his neck, uncharacteristically quiet.

“... Isn’t this a school, though?” He finally manages to get out.

“Pfft, I didn’t think you were the type to get hung up on details like that,” you laugh. “Home’s anywhere you want it to be. For me, that’s here.”

You gesture to the surrounding area. Tall trees sway per the wind’s wishes, their green leaves painted blue and silver by the night sky. The moon overhead serves as your silent witness. No matter where you are, it will find and pursue you to the ends of the earth. Crickets chirp, cicadas buzz, and frogs croak by ponds rippling with their young. The night air is damp, but the coolness granted by the sun’s absence makes it tolerable.

“Honestly, I don’t know what to make of you sometimes,” Satoru tries painting a veneer of nonchalance over his words, but you can see through the cracks. You’re getting better at doing that. “Suguru said you were as peppy as ever; I didn’t believe him. They checked for brain damage, right? How many fingers am I holding up?”

(He holds up two).

“Ten,” you reply without missing a beat.

“Funny girl.”

“I learned from the best.”

You both silently size one another up. Or, in Satoru’s case, down, because he’s freakishly tall. You’re the first to break the supposed standoff. Laughter rings through the air, just yours at first, but it’s soon joined by his. The two of you stand in the middle of a forest at midnight cackling like a bunch of witches before a sabbath.

You feel absurd and giddy in a way that only comes from being around Satoru.

Some point after the laughter dies off, you can feel Satoru’s eyes scanning over every dip and curve of your being.

After reaching some conclusion, his shoulders droop. The dopey grin on his face shifts into something more neutral, more reserved. His hands find their way into his pockets. He kicks a pebble into the woods, and you both listen to it tumbling downhill until the sound fades away. The thickets shift from wildlife’s constant antics, accommodating what little fauna lives inside Tengen’s barrier.

“I’m not going to take back what I said, because I meant it,” Satoru asserts. He doesn’t have to elaborate — you know what he’s referring to. “Had you… had that mission gone as they intended, I wouldn’t have hesitated.”

An owl hoots on a distant tree branch.

Chills nibble all over your skin like little bug bites. You hug yourself to stave the sensation off.

“Even if you knew that isn’t what I’d want?”

“Even then.”

“So, you’re admitting it’d be for your sake?”

“Most things are.”

“I don’t buy that,” you frown. “You’re kinder than you realize.”

His eyebrows pinch together and his rosy lips part. It takes him a moment to dislodge the words stuck in his throat.

“... Not many people would agree,” he smiles thinly.

“Fine, just me then, since that’s easier to prove,” you hold up a single finger and raise another for each subsequent point. “One, you always leave my favorite coffee cans where you know I’ll find them. Two, whenever we’re facing a curse, you step in front to guard me. Three, if I look all sad and homesick, you make stupid jokes to take my mind off things. And four, there’s what happened in Kaizu. You—”

“I told you to use a technique you weren’t ready for.”

You blink.

He tucks his sunglasses away, removing yet another barrier. His crystalline eyes shimmer beneath the moon’s glow.

“How much do you know about your mentor’s history?”

Ah, yes, your mentor — Ishimoto Akane.

She stands at 5’8, boasts piercing green eyes, short, tousled black hair, and a tattoo of a thorny rose that envelops her entire left arm. When it came to reading the room, no one could fail as spectacularly as her. She never minced words, found basic tasks boring, and doted over her iguana named Wormwood like he was the second coming of Christ. When she wasn’t pampering Wormwood, she could be found in her very disorganized garage, tinkering with cars or motorcycles. Her neighbors filed numerous sound complaints thanks to her speakers blasting disco at unholy hours. Somehow, she never got caught.

For lack of a better word, your jujutsu mentor is eccentric.

Most notably, she saved you and your parent’s lives from a curse when you were six. You’ve been joined by the hip ever since.

As for her history…

“Um, well, I know that she’s from Omachi. She moved out of Japan in her late teens because ‘jujutsu sorcerers are an absolute drag,’ or something like that.”

“That’s a start,” Gojo hums. “Let me fill in the blanks. The Ishimoto family goes back a ways. They might not be as influential as the Big Three, but their connections are nothing to scoff at. They’re like little leeches, sustaining themselves off others. Arranged marriages are their whole thing. Akane was set to marry some third son of a Zenin bigwig. She dipped on the day of the wedding.”

That sounds like your mentor alright.

“Personally, I find that hilarious. Her family and the Zenins aren’t of the same opinion. They essentially disowned her. Anyway! Fast forward a few years. Rumors spread that the infamous Akane is popping up in Tokyo every now and then, with some kid by her side. Ring any bells?”

You point to yourself and he nods.

She took you on training trips under the guise of an ‘exchange student program’ in the summer, which your parents considered to be an excellent opportunity. You felt bad for deceiving them, but explaining the whole ‘fighting invisible monster things with emotion magic’ would’ve made for a rough conversation.

“It wasn’t until a couple of months back that I ran into her. I came right out and asked what I’d been curious about — why did she come back? She just shrugged and said she was done being a teacher. That answer didn’t satisfy me. She’s stubborn, I’ll give her that. I’m far worse though,” he boasts, fully looking and sounding the part. “In return for picking up her tab at an izakaya, she fessed up the truth.”

He steeples his fingers together, pantomiming a hand motion you’re intimately familiar with.

“Cursed Technique: Null, the advanced application of Ophanim. Akane’s convinced an ability like that, at its full potential, would be crazy strong.”

She never said anything like that to me, you think.

You shake your head. This isn’t the most pressing matter now.

“Satoru, what are you getting at here?”

“That you shouldn’t think I’m kind. I wanted to judge your technique’s potential for myself, so I had you take on more than you could handle.”

“You wouldn’t have let me die, though.”

He chuckles mirthlessly. “And what a hero I am for that.”

You purse your lips. You’ve never seen Satoru be this hard on himself. His cadence is the same — lighthearted, easygoing — but there’s an underlying acrimony to it. His smile doesn’t reach his brilliant eyes. He comes across as a spirit mimicking another’s likeness. This should unnerve you, maybe it will upon further reflection.

Right now, however, you just want him to get across that you aren’t upset. What’s done is done.

“It’s—”

Satoru puts a hand up, stopping you prematurely. “Oh no you don’t. Don’t forgive me, not yet, anyway. You need to get better at looking out for yourself. You’re nice to a fault.”

You glare at him halfheartedly. “What’s so wrong with being nice?”

“Living in a world like this, where there are people like me.”

“A world full of Gojo Satoru’s… that is a terrifying thought,” you murmur. His lips twitch upward, but he catches himself. “Bleh, what is it with you people and rejecting basic human decency! Akane was the same way. I’m fed up with it!”

You storm toward him, your eyes narrow and jaw set tight.

“I’m going to be who I want to be and that’s that. Maybe I’m naïve—”

“—Oh, it isn’t a maybe, you definitely are—”

You hush him by placing your finger to his lips, much to his surprise, if his wide eyes are of any indication.

“—But you don’t get to tell me how to act or think or feel. That’s my business. I forgive you, alright? Now cut it out with the brooding. Let’s be real here. Doing that’s for you, not for me.”

There’s an intensity to his stare you’ve never experienced prior. It makes your head feel light and hazy. Remembering yourself, you pull your hand back, heat rushing to your face. You may have gotten carried away. He isn’t wrong about you exercising more vigilance, but something about him critiquing a core aspect of your identity stings. The description ‘oversensitive’ can join the same limbo your ‘nice to a fault’ and ‘naïve’ proclivities hang out in.

Finding your current predicament too overwhelming, you break eye contact.

“Alright, alright, I get it, quit scowling. Remind me never to piss you off again, it’s scary,” he sounds more like himself, much to your relief. “I thought of a happy medium, just for you.”

Satoru compromising? Did you die during that fight after all? You never thought you’d see the day. Shoko isn’t going to believe you.

“And that happy medium is…?”

His dumb grin makes a triumphant return. He knows he’s got your attention, no matter how cool you try to play it.

“Keep being your sweet little self. If anyone tries taking advantage of that quality, and I mean anyone, come tell Suguru or myself. We’ll take care of it.”

What is he, a member of the mob?!

Whatever, it’s a step in the right direction. You think. Maybe.

“I’m not a snitch,” you huff.

“Fine, I’ll use my own discretion then.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re gonna have to get used to it.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “How do you figure?”

“Call it intuition,” he hums, smoothly sliding his sunglasses back into place. It makes you angry how cool he looks while doing so. “Or, better yet, love at first sight. Yeah. Let’s go with that, actually.”

Wait, what?

Your heart thunders against your ribcage and you gape at him like a fish.

“You…! Y-You can’t just say something like that!”

“But I did.”

“Ugh, I’ve had enough. I’m headed to bed. Go find somebody else to mess with.”

Satoru pauses, considering the words you’ve spoken without any real bite. Then he smiles. Not in the cocky, arrogant manner he’s infamous for either. The curvature is gentle. Almost sentimental. It takes you aback and makes you wonder if your eyes are malfunctioning.

“I can’t,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It has to be you.”

It has to be you, it has to be you, it has to be you…

These five damning words loop in your head like a mantra. Who gave him the right to sound so sincere?

“Sleep well. You get all grumpy if you don’t. Having one Utahime around is more than enough, I don’t need you getting on my case too.”

Satoru turns around, pulling one hand out from his pocket to wave halfheartedly. You observe his retreating figure before snapping out of your daze. He drops a cryptic line like that and dares to casually waltz away, whistling while he does so! The nerve! The audacity! The whistling is off-pitch too! Jujutsu Tech seriously needs to consider adding music theory to the curriculum.

You jog to catch up with him and his stupidly long legs.

“Hey, Satoru!” You call out.

He stops and looks at you from over his shoulder.

“If you’re gonna watch out for me, I plan to return the favor,” you say, your tone leaving no room to argue. “You hear me?”

He waits until he’s facing forward again to respond. For this reason, you can’t see his expression. All you can make out is the outline of him giving a thumbs up, the edges of his skin swathed in silvery moonlight.

“Mhm. Loud and clear.”

December 23rd, 2017.

8:02 p.m.

You assess the man in front of you.

Pearly white hair, bandages wrapped around his eyes, a lean and towering figure… it’s Satoru, alright. There’s no mistaking his remarkable cursed energy. You could sense it — sense him — even in your deepest sleep. Amongst those at Jujutsu Tech, you’re the only one who can tell when he’s about to warp out of thin air. It’s become a running joke of sorts. Gojo Satoru has the Six Eyes and you possess a sixth sense for him.

Or so you thought.

“Are you hearing yourself?”

He sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Loud and clear, yeah.”

“This isn’t funny, Satoru!”

“I’m not laughing, am I?”

“No, but,” you inhale shakily, wisely taking a second to tame your tongue. “You’re not taking this seriously— not taking me seriously.”

He frowns. You come close to regretting your words, falling just a few inches short. Arguments aren’t your forte. Determining when to surrender ground, bolster your defenses, or charge into enemy territory; this is a skill that requires practice. Especially when facing Satoru. You don’t want to consider him an opponent, but that’s what he feels like right now. An imposing wall blocking you from the road you have to take.

You regret turning up the duplex’s heat. Chilly as it is outside in the throes of winter, the air in this room has become scorching.

“Is that genuinely what you think?”

And there it is. He already knows the answer, as do you. He simply wants you to have your confession on record.

You grab the water bottle you left on the kitchen countertop, drinking enough to help ease the lump in your throat. This isn’t the time to cry. Not yet. Not before anything major occurs. The crisis hasn’t taken the stage, Christmas Eve holds that honor. Illogical as it may be, you don’t think you’ve earned the emotional release crying brings. That should remain a consolation prize to you in the future.

The you who will witness the horrors Geto Suguru plans to orchestrate.

The you who will learn how this decade-long saga ends.

Can the human heart endure anguish worse than this?

Tomorrow, this question will receive an answer, whether you want it or not.

“... It isn’t.”

“Good,” he says, somehow soft and firm. He opens up his arms. “C’mere.”

You’re sinking into him before he finishes the word. He secures you against his chest and the two of you tangle together like you’d unravel should you part. Satoru rests his chin on the crown of your head, mindlessly tracing patterns into your back. Or so you think, until you recognize the distinct grooves and curves of the characters which form Gojo.

He engraves it into you over and over again as if casting a spell.

This action must soothe him. You count each thump of his heart, noting how it settles into a steadier rhythm as the seconds tick by. The world’s strongest sorcerer is made of flesh and blood just like you are. It’s easy to forget that those you love and admire are mortal, regardless of how well they hide it. Those close to godhood must act the part, lest their audience murmur in suspicion.

“I don’t think I could do it, Toru.”

He doesn’t need to ask what you mean.

“Intentionally killing someone… could there be anything worse than that?”

No, you desperately scream to your younger self, as if there were any way to make her hear you. There really isn’t.

“I know.”

“... Could you?”

Satoru’s muscles stiffen. From this alone, you can glean his answer. From your lack of prodding, he must piece this together too. Talkative as you both are, it’s in these pockets of total silence that your communication shines best. Everything from the subtle hitching of breath to the twitch of one another’s lips reveals streams of information to sift through.

You can tell he doesn’t want to let you go, but you manage to wriggle out of his vice-like grip, creating a few inches of distance.

Reaching up, you undo the bandages around his eyes. He leans down to aid you in your task. Once the last strip comes off, you fold the linen neatly and put it aside. Satoru’s pretty eyes follow your every movement. When your attention returns to him, it’s impossible to overlook how hard he’s straining to fight back a smile.

He quickly abandons the farce.

Large hands seek out yours. Subconsciously, you meet him halfway, automatically drawn to him as if you were both different ends of a magnet. His slender fingers interlace with yours. His countenance radiates such fondness, such unfiltered reverence, that you find yourself getting embarrassed.

“W-What?” You choke out.

“Just thinking about how I’m the luckiest guy alive, is all,” he hums. His grin widens at how his unabashed compliments fluster you. Shame isn’t in his lexicon. “You went from looking like you wanted to bite my head off to doting on me.”

You roll your eyes yet chuckle nonetheless. He visibly perks up at the sound. He must’ve made you laugh thousands of times over the years, but he still treats each instance as if he’d experienced the most delightful composition.

He whispers your name.

“You trust me, right?”

“Of course.”

“Then do this for me, baby.”

“But…” you trail off, unable and perhaps unwilling to reinforce your argument, “Everyone is going to be risking their lives. Nanamin, Ijichi, ours and Iori’s students; even Shoko’s going out on the field. How am I supposed to sit still knowing that?”

“You don’t have to sit still, my little energizer bunny.”

The deadpan look he receives has him (wisely) reconsidering his word choice.

“I’m not asking because I don’t trust you, I’m asking because there’s no one I trust more,” Satoru tries again. You bite your lower lip. It’s unfair how much his rare glimpses of sincerity move you.

“And this is all based on a hunch?”

“Mhm.”

Satoru lifts your left hand. He caresses your skin, his smile softening into something tender. An expression that’s exclusively for you.

“Historically, my hunches are rather reliable.”

You can’t argue with the truth.

Suguru appears to have some unknown design for Okkotsu Yuta, who is to remain at Jujutsu Tech during the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. The special-grade curse Orimoto Rika poses too many risks for him to be on the battlefield alongside allies. Since everyone down to the Ainu society is being called upon to deal with this threat, you’ve been awaiting your assignment. There’s no way they wouldn’t utilize every resource available.

Satoru ruined this assumption.

He personally requested that you remain on standby at the school.

He didn’t even tell you this himself. You found out from Maki of all people, who earlier asked why you were stuck ‘babysitting the exchange student.’ You were confused. This made her confused. Then you both remembered the menace that is Gojo Satoru and everything started adding up.

His explanation upon answering the phone?

“Oh, I was just getting around to telling you about that!”

Needless to say, you didn’t share his enthusiasm.

“Alright,” you sigh. “I’ll keep an eye on Yuta until everything is finished.”

Content, he squeezes your hand. As he does so, the gemstone on your ring finger catches the light, mesmerizing you both.

You close your eyes and smile.

‘Call it intuition,’ huh?

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #reader insert #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #golden girl #my stuff

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s0ulryo · 1 year

Text

Flustering König Headcanons .:*¨༺

[König x Reader] Synopsis: Flustering König plus some general relationship stuff. Tags: Softish, kinda silly, there’s not a lot konig content so i will continue to contribute, I forgot the other tags, established relationship (i forget to put this tag on a ton of things whoops) Notes: Prolly ooc n not proofread, big men go brrr, originally this was gonna be a drabble but I couldn’t think of one plot to stick to (whoops x2)

Thank you @theoutlawfaleena for letting me write about this!

(Reader is always gn unless specified otherwise.)

Despite his massive stature, immense physical strength, and overall intimidating presence — König is a fairly reserved guy, outside the battlefield, that is. He’s not reserved out of humility or timidness, though — he’s reserved due to his anxiousness, constantly fearing being bullied or made fun of in some way.

König outside of the field is quite a fascinating sight. He rarely speaks, and when he does, it’s quiet and rushed, almost like he’s afraid to say something. He also tends to fidget a lot when speaking.

He also could be better with eye contact. Towards the beginning of your relationship, he would always look past your face or focus on your hands — he’s still not great with eye contact, but he’s much better than he was previously.

He tends to lose focus or entirely forget what he’s saying when he makes eye contact with you. It’s quite a funny sight; imagine this big guy fidgeting with his hands (or your hands) and diverting his eyes away from yours, looking at his feet or anything remotely interesting to spare him from embarrassment.

“Well, then I thought it would be cool to….” Then, swallowing thickly, König stops speaking, shifting his gaze from your eyes to his shoes.

“König is everything alright?” You ask him — your eyes filled with concern.

Stuttering, he mumbles out a yes and becomes super fidgety while continuing his story.

Stuttering is something that only happens when König is with you. When he makes eye contact with other people, he tends just to go silent— something that most people overlook because he's usually pretty quiet anyways.

The stuttering, though, comes as a result of wanting to talk or to continue to talk to you — but he tends to get nervous and back out mid-way when speaking, making him stutter.

He feels like a total idiot when he stutters around you, but he knows you don’t mind, which he’s super thankful for.

Something that noticeably flusters him is pet names. Whether he is saying or receiving the pet name, he will totally get flustered by them.

His favorite pet names to call you are ‘sweetheart,’ ‘darling,’ ‘love,’ or ‘honey’ (,or some Austrian German variation of those). He likes these in particular because they have a pleasant sense of intimacy.

König has definitely called you during his free time on the base or when he was able to when deployed and has totally addressed you by a pet name, forgetting that he was in a professional environment (and that his fellow operators are nosy) and got so much shit from his colleagues.

He really wanted to pass away that day due to the embarrassment the other operators teasing put him through.

Again, König likes pet names due to the sense of intimacy they have. That being said, he has some personal favorites of what he appreciates being called.

His favorite pet names to be called by you are either ‘love,’ ‘dear’, ‘big guy,’ or ‘handsome.’ He likes these in particular because they give him a sense of stability — they help ground him and help him remember that you adore him.

‘Big guy’ and ‘handsome’ make him feel happy and giddy — like smiling and kicking his feet giddy. He knows he’s taller than the average person. Still, König never really acknowledged his overall appearance, so the fact that you think he’s handsome and you recognize his physical features makes him feel special.

König, on the field, is someone else entirely, though. Sure he’ll still get flustered, but that’s covered up due to the sheer amount of adrenaline he’s running on — sometimes König won’t even think about what he said or what had been said to him; he’ll just bounce around and do his thing while being on that adrenaline high. However, he’ll be thoroughly embarrassed once that feeling wears off.

5K notes · View notes

mortytheestallion · 4 months

Text

let the light in

Word Count: 3.7k+

Warnings: Rick Sanchez x F!Reader, sex pollen, unprotected sex PIV, angst if you squint, cunnilingus, squirting, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), rick being kinda mean, this fic is 18+ minors dni

A/N: this was a fucking beast of a fic i've been trying to wrangle for months. based on this ask

>> Come over.

>> Emergency.

> real emergency? or morty didn’t like your vat of acid emergency?

>> I’m not gonna ask again.

Rick usually enjoys messing with you too much. He’ll beat around the bush as long as he can because it drives you insane. He loves to dangle the unknown in front of you for as long as possible, right up until you just can’t take it anymore.

You don’t bother to rush over anymore. You used to fall all over your apartment, scrambling to find your keys amidst paperwork and weekly takeout. Cursing and throwing piles of clothes everywhere, just for them to be sitting nicely on the hook you never use.

Only for Rick to need the screwdriver two feet to the left of him.

“It’s important I don’t get distracted,” He would grumble at your obvious frustration, a self-important thank you as you hand it over and he sends you back on your way.

Asshole.

Or the time he’d let Morty’s ointment sit too long, and you had to help wrangle him back home. You seemed to be the only one who got bit, however, as Rick made it away unscathed. Typical.

You let out a sigh, uneasiness settles like a stone deep within the pit of your stomach.

You don’t have time to look up from your phone before a portal appears in the corner of your room. You pause for a moment, taking in the green glow and slight pulsing sound. It must really be an emergency if he couldn’t even wait for you to make the drive. It wasn’t long by any means, but you can’t ever remember a time he’s gone out of his way to portal you over.

Slight annoyance runs through you at the convenience he’s withheld from you all this time, but you push it away. This must be urgent. That doesn’t stop you from lacing up your shoes, slowly rising to meet the portal before the familiar falling sensation hits. You still haven’t gotten used to it.

The garage is dark, save for something that glows blue in the corner. It's not lost on you that the house’s defense barricades are currently in place.

Rick’s sitting low on the chair he keeps at his workbench. Slouched as he braces his arms against his knees, long legs splayed open.

His hair is even more unruly than normal. There’s a cut above his eyebrow, and dried blood that mars his lower lip. His usual look of boredom adorns his face, yet the slight twitch of his lips betrays his cool demeanor as he looks you up and down.

Your instinct is to shrink away from him, but you hold Rick’s gaze. His signature lab coat is missing, his blue longsleeve is riddled with holes and burn marks. More dried blood makes it cling to his right side, but if it bothers him, he doesn’t show it. His long legs are spread wide as he casually lounges there, he looks much more broad than usual.

“Are you okay?” Your breath catches, “I mean, is everything okay?” You curse yourself at the way your voice quivers under his unrelenting gaze. You hate that he has this effect on you.

“I got hit on Gearworld-” Rick pauses, as if weighing whether or not to divulge more information, “Idiots are testing bioweapons on non-gear life forms.” His brow quicks at your panicked expression, he lazily holds one hand up to signal he’s going to continue.

“I know this isn’t —uh, what you imagine when you slip those pretty little fingers into your pants at night, but I really need your help.”

Your eyes go wide at his request. Sure you’ve helped him on all kinds of different planets in all different kinds of ways, but never anything like this. You can feel the heat creeping up your neck at the implications of what he’s asking. You can’t help but bite your lip, it doesn’t slip past you how Rick’s hips buck in response to the small action.

You can’t find the words. Why now? Why me?

“Now—now or never, baby,” His voice breaks your trance, “I got a fucking problem here and if you’re not into it don’t— I’m gonna take care of this myself.”

“Why me?” You bite your lip, suddenly shy as you shift your weight. He lets out a groan, his spare hand dragging across his face in annoyance. Always the drama queen.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” You’re locked in a stalemate. His chest is heaving from whatever they’ve injected him with, although you have a pretty good idea by now. He looks at you like he’s hungry. It makes you lose your train of thought. He lets out a groan and a soft fuck. Pleasure shoots down your back and settles down deep in your spine, it makes you shudder.

““You didn’t think I wouldn’t notice the way you ogle me? I had to pull you out of an alien hole for god's sake, because you were too busy watching me instead of doing what I told you.”

“You’re such a dick!” Embarrassment washes over you like a flood. The blood rushing through your ears is so loud as it carries the thump thump thump of your heart.

It’s so Rick to have known about your feelings before you did. Part of you wishes you could crawl inside your apartment and never leave again. You’d just have to get used to the 24 DVDs piled against the TV, and apparently salisbury steaks are back. You could make that work.

“Yeah I’m a dick with a problem so either get riding or get the fuck out.”

Fuck he’s mean. You hate that it turns you on. You like to think that under different, less dire circumstances he’d be nicer. You know he cares for you, he wouldn’t keep you around if he didn’t. It’s so sick. You’re watching him get better, be better, and yet he seems to revert back just when you need him the most.

You take a step toward him and he’s on you, instantly. His shoulders drop as rushes to get his hands on you. He huffs rucking your pants down your thighs. You kick your pants off the rest of the way, watching as he wastes no time to rip your lacy underwear off your body.

“Fuck it feels good to do that for real,” you quirk an eyebrow at his statement, but he ignores you in favor of sucking a bruise where your hip meets your thigh. His other hand trails upward, tugging on your shirt to indicate he wants it off. You comply quickly, letting out a soft moan as he bites the tender flesh spot he’s been nursing below you.

Rick always runs warm, handprints burning into your skin as he grips any piece of you he can get his hand on. You whine at the loss of contact as he uses his workbench you’re pressed against as leverage to bring himself back up to your level.

You squirm underneath him, the press of the cool metal against your back combined with his rough clothes against your front proves overwhelming as he takes your face into his hands.

He kisses you like you’re air and he’s drowning.

You go limp against him, allowing him to lick into the wet cup of your mouth. The metallic taste floods your mouth, he’s kissing you so hard his lip resplit. You can feel yourself clench around nothing as you bite it and he groans.

His face is rougher, you realize, more than you imagined. Stubble rubbing against you as he makes his way down your neck sucking and biting. You can’t help the mewls coming from your mouth that he elicits, you can tell it’s fueling his ego as huffs below you.

His sweater itches against you, but the burn only fuels the arousal as it pools within your core, you whimper as his hand brushes against your front. Your soft sounds egg him on as he returns to your mouth, he gives your lip a rough tug with his teeth before plunging back in with his tongue.

Rick had always been rough with you, this was something else though. He shoves a knee between your thighs, groaning at how warm you feel against him. One hand reaches around to grip the back of your neck as the other catches the back of your thigh to bring your leg around his hip.

He grinds against you this way, holding you so tight you worry you might break in half. You sigh against him, desperate for any contact that allows pleasure to ripple through you as the rough material of his pants continues to catch against your clit.

Affection from Rick was so rare, you continue to drink in this feeling, relishing in being special enough to have him give you so much of his attention.

You let out a whine as he breaks the kiss, upset at the loss of contact. He sucks air in through his teeth as he leans back, taking a moment as his eyes rake over your body. You take this as an opportunity to explore him with your hands, taught skin supported by firm muscle bounces back against your fingers.

You don’t miss the way he’s straining against his pants, bulge prominent against the khaki adorning his legs.

You take the natural pause as an opportunity to push his sweater up indicating you want it off, he wastes no time to fulfill your request as he rips it from his body in the blink of an eye. Goosebumps raise on his skin as his bare form meets the cool air, Rick presses himself back against you seeking your warmth.

“Are you gonna fuck me, or-or are you just gonna��oh!” You squeal as he tweaks your nipple in warning, he gives into your request, nonetheless. You feel a slender finger drag down the length of your body. You lean forward to capture the corner of his jaw, biting softly to busy yourself as you wait for him to touch you.

Your heart leaps, a shudder makes its way down your spine as his fingers catch on your clit, giving his attention to where you need it the most. You’re already wet and warm for him, a low groan escapes his throat as he feels you.

He nudges a long finger between your folds, drinking in the sounds it pulls from you. He watches your expression intensely, the slightest indication of pleasure spurring him on as he seeks your validation.

You can tell he’s holding himself back, sweat beads along his hairline as he’s lost deep in getting you off. You wish you could reach out and smooth his furrowed brow, but you’re cockdumb on his fingers alone. You always thought it would be good with Rick, but you didn’t know it would be this good.

You buck into his hand as the arousal floods deep within the pit of your stomach, it's almost overwhelming how electric his touch feels.

He shifts underneath you, attacking the soft spot above your collarbone as he sucks the flesh tender. He removes his finger from your clit, choosing to run it through your soft slit instead. You moan loudly at the sudden shift in contact, he grunts in response, releasing your shoulder from his bite.

You open your eyes as he removes his hand, sucking in a breath as he brings it to his mouth and sucks.

You gush as he moans around his fingers, the sound vibrating through his chest as you watch him savor you. He releases them with a pop, a strand of salvia linking them back to his mouth. He doesn’t hesitate as he pushes those fingers into you, and you jolt at the sudden contact.

Your fingers are gripping the workbench so tight you’re sure if you looked down they’d be white. Your back arches as his fingers slide in easily to the knuckle.

“Is this what you wanted?” He murmurs, but you know he wouldn’t hear the answer even if you had one to offer him, eyes half mast watching his fingers pump in and out of the tight channel of your pussy. He slips another finger into you, and your arms give out at the wave of pleasure that assaults your senses.

Every muscle in your body tightens as he angles his hand so the flat edge of his palm can press against your clit. He continues to curl his fingers against the spongy piece inside you, focusing on how your cunt pulses slick and hot against him.

“Fuck– Rick, I-I might, I’m gonna—” He can barely hear you, too distracted by the lewd he elicits out of you. There’s sweat beading along your hairline, he can feel your lowering muscles spasming as he twists and scissors his fingers.

He picks up the pace, you can feel yourself dripping against his hand, clenching as your orgasm rapidly approaches. He moans as you grip his forearm, nails digging into the muscle.

“Fuck!” You cry out as he fucks his fingers up, he twists his hand to press circles against your clit and you scream. You clench hard around him in soft, hurried spasms that make him choke on the groan he was about to let slip. He feels the rush of liquid that flows out of you as you burst across his knuckles.

He watches as you arch off of his workbench, shuddering as he pulls pleasure out of you in waves. He thinks he could come in his pants from this alone, the pollen coursing through his veins making him lightheaded. His skin is too tight for his body, limbs feeling as though he’s moving through molasses.

Every time you touch him feels like a douse of cool water. He shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of heat that makes his vision blur. He wants to bring you closer, he’d bury himself inside of you, carve himself deep within your chest if he could. Every cell within his body is screaming, urging him to lick and suck and devour you.

“I can’t– I’m not gonna be able to be gentle with you,” you peer up at him, eyes wet from the intensity of your orgasm, “I won’t be able to take it slow.”

You swallow, eyes flicking down to his crotch before meeting his gaze.

“Do you think it’ll fit?”

He barks out a laugh before curling his fingers you didn’t realize were still inside you. You cringe, at both the tender feeling and the loud squelch that emits from below you.

“Yeah, yeah sweetie, it’s gonna fucking fit,” Rick wastes no time undoing his belt, wolfish grin ghosting his lips. He lets out a deep moan and fuck as he pulls himself out.

You can’t help the noise you make at the sight of it, he’s thick and leaking. You wish you had more time, you’d love to take him in your mouth and make him see god. You take him in your hand instead, brushing your thumb along the top of his cock and humming when his body jerks with it. He thrusts into your grip impatiently, your fingertips catching every ridge and crevice along his length.

You gasp as a calloused hand reaches up in one swift movement to grab your throat.

He enters you with one swift movement, pushing your legs up to get a better angle, ignoring the way you groan as your back hits the wall.

You ignore the pain, blooming for him—sucking him in with your molten heat that nearly blinds him. You want to make it good for him. You want him to know that you can be good for him. You want him to come back after a particularly rough day and bend you over his work bench, or call you in the middle of the night purring for you.

“Fuck, Rick, oh my god,” your eyes roll back, cunt contracting around him. He responds with a heavy slap to your ass that lurches you backward, almost off of him before he slams back into you. His strokes are deliberate and powerful, he fucks you so hard he can hear it.

He fucks and fucks you, every slam of his hips making your lashes flutter. You’re shuddering around him, walls spasming as you cross the line into overstimulation. You let out a strangled cry, your second orgasm hangs in front of your face and you start to push back against him, desperately seeking release.

Rick’s jaw clenches, clicking from an old injury. He’s trying to control himself, but you’re burning hot and tight as all hell. He bites the inside of his cheek as you blossom around his length, throwing his head back as the loud slap slap slap of his hips keeps you dripping on his cock.

You allow yourself to drink in Rick’s distracted state, dragging a soft hand up and down the side of his body, relishing in the way he shudders and gasps at your touch. The idea that he’ll discard you after this, making excuses about not being himself or reacting to the effects of pollen hits you like a truck. It almost sobers you out of your cock-drunk state.

He draws you out of your spiraling with a strained gasp as your fingers find tender flesh, you hesitate before digging into the soft muscle with your nails. It pulls on your heartstrings to willingly inflict pain on him, but any remorse is instantly washed away at the way his dick twitches inside you.

“Sh-shit, do that again,” Comes that dark, gritting baritone as he releases his grip on your legs, choosing instead to wrap a calloused hand around your neck, quickening his pace with sloppy thrusts. Rick lets out an honest to god moan and you clench around him. He pulls out abruptly, and you whine at the loss of contact.

Hurt floods your features, anxiety clawing its way up your chest at the smallest sign of rejection. There's not enough time to ruminate before he’s back on you, sliding to the hilt. You hiss at the return of pressure, pain searing into you. Adjusting around him, you slide your nails down his back. He moans arching into your touch.

“I don’t–,” He’s interrupted as a particularly deep thrust hits something spongy within you and you’re writhing under him. He captures your jaw in his firm grip forcing you to look up at him through hooded eyes.

You look utterly fucked out. Tears leaking from the corners of your eyes make his cock twitch, he’s ready to come but he needs to tell you first. He needs you to know.

“I don’t think you understand just how fucking long— ” Your eyes go wide, “I’ve wanted to hit this hot fucking cunt.”

Each of his words is punctuated with a particularly hard thrust. Your breath hitches in your throat at his confession.

“I know I’ve been a dick lately—”

“Jesus, fuck, Rick, just shut up and fuck me!” You can’t take it anymore, god knows how he’s doing it in his state. Your outburst earns you a hard slap to your ass that he’s holding off the edge of the workbench, whimpering as his fingers dig into the burning flesh. Part of you wanted to hear what he had to say, but you need it to be from him. Not from the Rick with aphrodisiac poison coursing through his veins.

The room is dense with the sound of wet flesh coming together again and again as he takes his thumb and rubs it over your clit in short, quick circles. His cock throbs inside you, you feel your pussy making room for him where you didn’t think possible, allowing him to carve you open and make you his. He grips your hips harder as you try to push away from him, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Uh-uh, I’m not done with you. You–you wanted the Rick, baby, I’m gonna make sure it’s worth your while.”

His pace begins to chase something frantic, you writhe under him as he licks a hot stripe up the side of your neck. You’ve been reduced to nothing but high pitched moans, panting and shivering under him. Your pleasure crests until you feel you’ll explode.

And you do. Your vision goes black as your orgasm racks your body and you explode wet– nearly pushing him out of you as you shove the heels of your hands into your eyes because you cannot look at him right now.

“Fuck,” He rasps, “Goddamn, did you— you just– you’re–,” it just melts into a pile of sounds before he’s groaning sinfully, a last, hard thrust before there is the telltale sprouting of warmth within you.

You're drunk on him, absolutely fucked out as your walls still spasm around him. You yelp as he drops you back on the workbench before dropping down to his knees.

He ducks his head to slide the flat of his tongue through your folds, tasting the slick that drips from you. You shudder, clumsy hands tugging his hair, pulling him off you. You manage to prop yourself up on one arm, looking down at him.

“God you’re fucking filthy.” “You like it.”

His chest is heaving, cock rehardening already from where it rests above the waistband of his unzipped pants. It makes you cringe, he must be in so much pain.

If he is, he doesn’t let it show. It's something you’ve always noticed about him, the lengths he goes to hide himself from the world. From you.

He’s given you this, even in his own fucked up way he’s given you this. It makes your heart swell. Worry picks at you from deep in your subconscious, but you push it away for now. You want to give him something back, he knows how you feel but you need him to know.

It’s why you’re sliding off the bench, sinking to your knees as he rises above you.

“Damn, I would’ve fucking injected myself with that shit if I had known it would’ve gotten you here like this, for me,” He’s so fucking smug, stupid smirk gracing his lips as you take him in your mouth. You’ll wipe it off though, prove to him why he chose you.

Make sure he’ll always want to choose you.

#rick and morty #rick sanchez #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez fanfic #rick Sanchez/reader #Rick C-137

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haknom · 11 months

Text

A COMPLETE GUIDE TO DANCE (AND DEFINITELY NOT LOVE) — NISHIMURA RIKI

SYNOPSIS: Niki felt his world crumble after hearing his doctor’s words—he wouldn’t be able to compete in his biggest dance competition. After an incident that left him injured with the need of 4 months to recover, life was considered terrible. When he receives the news that you, a newcomer, would be taking his spot he knew he had lots to teach you. Starting with putting you in your place.

PAIRING: dancer!niki x dancer-fem!reader (ft. enhypen, soobin from txt, jisung from nct dream, dino (chan) and wonwoo from seventeen, sunwoo from tbz, and mentions of many more).

GENRES: highschool au, dance au, (kinda) enemies to lovers, unrequited love, romance, some angst, and lots of humour.

WARNINGS: crying, a lot of insulting (they hate each other at the start), injuries, mentions of blood (nothing rlly serious), eating, kissing, mentions of overthinking, lmk if i missed anything!

PLAYLIST: here!!

NOTE: special thanks to @soov and @hanniluvi for helping me write parts i struggled on ☝️☝️ but here is the final product!! i was determined to finish this so It took me about a week. very happy! title is also from @sunoksunny and it literally fits the fic so well which makes it even better. ty to @amakumos for proofreading as well🤗

WORDCOUNT: 15604 words

TAGLIST: @soov @redm4ri @ox1-lovesick @urszn @feeeli @taejays @hanniluvi @dakkisz @dimplewonie @ddeonudepressions @xiaoderrrr @ja4hyvn @mmaplepastries @essmarye @w3bqrl @jennaissantes @yenqa @yeokii @yyunari @wvnkoi @flwrshee @starz4hyunz @eulris @alicesolengg @ohmylix @txtbrainrot @miyaheartsjortega @eneiyri

STEP 1.

Dance was Riki’s most prized possession. Growing up he was told he had impeccable talent in dancing which only made him love it even more. He loved the compliments he got and took them in as motivation to continue improving his talent to wow others even more.

As a child, he always peeked inside his parents dance studio when classes were happening. He learned a few tips and new moves that he made a mental note for to practice once he returned home in front of his mirror.

The dance studio was like a second home to him. Although his parents were the ones who owned the studio, he was spotted there way more than they were.

If you couldn’t find him in his room playing video games, he was most likely in the dance studio with dimmed lights and dancing flawlessly in front of the mirror.

It ended up becoming a habit of his; rushing to the dance studio once school ended and staying there until dinner was served. His uniform drenched in sweat, tie loose, his shoes squeaking once harshly pressed against the polished floor with music playing to back it up.

Nothing—besides video games—but dancing with friends or alone could bring him the joy he needed to survive.

But for it to all crumble away after hearing a few words made it feel like everything meant nothing to him.

“What?” He didn’t want to believe what his doctor said was the truth. “I said you’ve severely injured your ankle. It must’ve gotten worse since you continuously danced on it and ignored the pain until it became unbearable.” Wonwoo spoke while pushing away from his desk causing his chair to roll over to Riki.

“Therefore, you won’t be able to partake in any practices and competitions for 4 months.” He said in a disappointed tone. Riki’s eyes widened. Suddenly it became harder to breathe upon hearing those words. Words that he never wanted to hear.

He felt like he was suffocating. Body becoming immobile with the throbbing in his ankle not making it any better. It made him irritated and frustrated. He wanted to cry there and then but fought back the tears until his appointment was over.

His opportunity to attend the biggest dance competition he ever had that could practically predict his future career was gone in a mere second. It was 3 months away but he would still need an extra month to heal. There’s no way he’d heal in time.

“Here, you seem like you need it.” Wonwoo’s voice pulled him out of his suffocating thoughts as he looked up in confusion but the single droplet that fell from his lash line was enough to answer his unsaid question.

He was crying and he hadn’t even noticed it. The grip he had on the edge of the chair tightened as he harshly bit his bottom lip—hard enough to draw small droplets of blood. Wonwoo felt terrible. He knew how much dancing meant to Riki.

Ever since Riki was a little kid, he always had something new to say about dancing every time he visited Wonwoo’s office. It was something that never changed. So breaking the terrible news to Riki was already hard enough but seeing his reaction made it even more difficult.

“Dr. Wonwoo, please come to the main office.” The nurse said on the intercoms. “I have to go, stay healthy. Don’t knock yourself out because of this, it won’t be that bad. Mum, please monitor how he is for the next 4 months and come back monthly for a checkup. Call if you have any worries.” He smiled at her, she smiled at him, and then he was gone.

“Riki, let’s go. It’s best if you start resting now.” His mother said as she reached for the crutches left by Wonwoo but he didn’t move an inch. He was still trying to process the sudden heartbreaking news.

He wasn’t able to dance nor partake in the competition that was in 3 months. The one he had been training for his whole life only for it to be swept away before his eyes. How else was he supposed to react?

During the drive home he didn’t bat an eye at the studio. Looking at it then at his ankle would only make what was supposed to be reality be reality. It had been an hour since they left the doctor's appointment. An hour for Riki to take in everything that had happened. And he did, sadly.

Slowly, one by one, tears began flowing from his eyes in silence. It wasn’t a bad cry but more of a silent cry. It began to progress into something even worse causing his shoulders to shake to his sobs and sniffles.

It was a terrible sight to see which only made his mother feel even worse. She knew it wasn’t her fault but seeing her own son react in this way made it seem like it.

Rolling into the driveway didn’t stop Riki’s sobs. Nothing did. Not even the so-called comforting hugs from his sisters and parents. Once it was time to sleep, his eyes were dry and puffy. It was like he cried out every salty tear he had within him.

“Riki?” His mother called from his doorway. She sighed at the silence and walked over to his bed. His body shuddered at the sudden cold feeling of the ice pack on his injury.

“Lift your leg, if you can.” She whispered as he followed through. Gently, his mother placed a soft object, most likely a pillow, motioning him to relax his leg once again. She covered him with a medium weighted blanket and smiled at his drowsy state.

“Sleep well.” Her voice sounded distant and close to a mumble as he felt himself slowly falling asleep by the minute. With the little amount of energy he had left, he thanked her, causing her to stop in her tracks for a moment and smile even brighter.

It was like the moment his door clicked shut, it felt as if a switch labeled 'SLEEP" was activated, swiftly transporting him to dreamland. 99.9% of him was hoping whatever had happened earlier was a part of his dream. The other 0.1% knew it most likely wasn’t.

Waking up the next day with the same throbbing pain from yesterday proved his hope was useless. In return, he can never dance again no matter how hard he tries or prays.

STEP 2.

It had been a week since the doctor’s appointment. He was doing quite better than before. The news finally sunk in, leaving him to cry less but it wasn’t as bad as he expected.

Once he found out the more he rested the faster he could heal, fighting the urge to dance wasn’t that hard. He even switched to singing to distract himself—but spoiler alert, it’s definitely not his thing. At least he still had video games and friends to keep him occupied for the time being.

He took his seat on the bus already tired from using his crutches to get to the bus stop. “Woah, what happened to you!” His friend Jake exclaimed from the seat across from him. He turned around to face the boy and sighed.

“Long story.” He was tired of explaining it to everyone who had asked before. Jake hummed in response, grabbed his backpack and fled to the empty seat behind Riki.

“So, how’s the dance for your competition coming along?” His question made Riki freeze. Although he was getting better, that didn’t mean the thought of the competition didn’t hurt him. “Wait, are you not competing?” Jake asked.

“Apparently, my ankle will heal in 4-5 months. Maybe even 3 and a half if I’m lucky.”

“So you’re not participating?”

“Only if my injury doesn’t heal before the performances,” he explained. “But you’re still going to be behind, right? Soobin might have a replacement for you instead.” Riki looked directly at Jake with daggers.

“Just saying, that’s what happens during our choir performances, especially the solos.” He backed away, hands in the air for his defense and took his seat.

He wasn’t completely wrong and that’s what Riki hated.

He didn’t like the thought of being replaced after working so hard to get to where he was. If he were to get replaced, he hoped it would be someone with enough talent and skill like him, for example, Chan or Jisung, his close friends on the team.

The bus stopped at another spot, picking up new passengers. Riki adjusted his crutches to make an easier walkway and leaned his head on the window.

He really didn’t want Jake to be right.

Monday mornings always had a scheduled 7:15 AM dance practice before attending classes followed by one during lunch but Riki's condition made him limited to many things and waking up early wasn’t one of them.

The dark circles showcased under his eyes proved his point. The constant throbbing pain he felt throughout the night made sleeping a struggle. He definitely would be napping the moment he got home.

As he walked with his crutches under his armpits, heads turned at the sound in shock. The boy who boasted about dancing 24/7 was now incapable of doing so.

“Dude? What's up with you?” Chan came running over to Riki in a hurry. “April Fools is a month away, are you perhaps doing it earlier?” He inquired. Riki looked at the boy in confusion. “Are you being for real? Chan, I seriously injured my ankle.” Chan’s eyes widened at his words.

“Impossible! What about your competition, the one you’ve been training for since forever?”

“Can’t,” Riki exhaled, “I can’t participate in it anymore.” They stood in front of his locker with a crutch laying on Chan’s.

“You’re lying.” He spoke in disbelief.

“I’m not, but I wish I was.” Riki pulled out his notebooks, slipping them into the opened pouch of his backpack.

“And this isn’t bothering you? Come on, it’s the biggest event of your life!” He exclaimed. Riki looked at Chan while shutting his locker shut with a loud slam.

“Of course I was sad—very sad. But still, why are you offended by this more than I am?” Riki truly was unsure of how and why Chan felt like this but the way Chan walked away in annoyance was not a good enough answer.

“Okay then…” He mumbled, swinging his backpack on then grabbing his crutch. All he had to do was walk to his next class which was located upstairs. Hopping up the stairs on one foot would definitely drain his energy.

Usually, he and Chan would walk to History together but that wasn’t the case for them today. He was long gone—nowhere to be seen, and that only took him 5 minutes to get there. It was like he was teasing Riki but really wasn’t.

The bell rang the moment he stepped foot in class, shocking everyone especially his teacher, Mr. Junhui, meaning he would have to go through another explanation process.

“What happened, Riki?” Mr. Junhui questioned as he sighed, opening his mouth to speak whatever flew out but someone beat him to it.

“He hurt his ankle and can’t participate in the upcoming competition.” Chan said, anger visible in his voice.

All heads turned to look at Chan, including Riki’s. “Really? Is that true?” A classmate asked. Riki cleared his throat and nodded. “Sadly, yeah.” He said as the classmate gasped.

“How did you feel when you heard the news?” She asked once more. “Heartbroken. I cried a bit, which is quite embarrassing to admit, but it’s not like you can choose what happens in your life.” He took his seat, beside Chan, while placing his crutches at the side of his desk.

He slouched over his desk, letting out a deep sigh. Once Mr. Junhui began teaching, Riki looked over to Chan in curiosity. “Stop,” Chan mumbled and looked away from his curious gaze.

“What am I doing wrong?” Silence. “Come on, are you really mad?” Silence, again.

“Chan—”

“Are you really going to throw away the competition just like that?” He whisper-shouted, startling Riki with his sad but slightly annoyed tone. “Look, I really don’t have a choice. For the most part…” Riki hesitated.

“You or Jisung could replace my spot. That’s an even better opportunity for you both.” As much as he didn’t want to say those words, there was still a high chance of them being his replacements.

Chan tucked his bottom lip underneath his teeth at the thought. They promised each other to pursue a career in dance together. This competition being the only one that could decide whether or not it was possible just had to take place at the wrong time.

“No thanks. There’s no way I’d take such a big opportunity like that away from you over a silly injury.” Chan said dryly but nicer than before. His attention was then brought back to focusing on Mr. Junhui’s teaching. Riki smiled to himself with the urge to tease him even more.

“Hey, can I have a pencil?” He asked, gaining his attention again but his eyes still on their teacher. “Get your own, you probably have one somewhere in your backpack.” He’d emphasize.

“Chill, I organized it the other day. I had nothing else better to do.” Riki said while reaching for his own backpack as Chan hummed in amusement. He pulled out a pencil he kept for this exact occasion. “Perfect,” he mumbled in satisfaction and began writing on the assigned worksheet from a while ago.

Chan glanced at the boy then did a double take at his pencil. “What the hell is that?” He asked. “A pencil, what else?” Riki said, stating the obvious with a chuckle. “Riki, that’s at least 5 centimeters. Is this your way of making me give you a pencil instead?” The said boy looked over at Chan offended.

“Hey! Is that what you think of me?” Riki questioned as Chan nodded. “Well then, you know me so well!” He whispered with a smile, opening his hands for a new pencil. Chan scoffed at the action but still handed him a pencil either way.

It was way better than the one he was previously using. “Thank you,” he said, smiling growing even more. Chan looked at Riki’s happy state as he wrote the date and his name on the blank worksheet, a smile slowly growing on his own features.

There’s no possible way for him to stay mad at a boy like Riki.

Riki was starving. A slice of toast wouldn’t easily fill him up for the whole morning. Once he arrived in the empty gym, he took a seat on the edge of the stage and placed his backpack on his lap.

His crutches leaned on the edge of the stage as he waited for the rest of the dance team to arrive for practice. It was silly that they were having practice in a gym where competitive team sports members trained all day long instead of a studio like usual.

But after the incident during one of their practices that caused what looked like a distinguishable fire to take place, left many more damages than they all had expected. Lesson learned at the time; don’t leave a fireworks machine near inflammable objects near a group of teenagers.

The sound of the heavy metal doors opening echoed through the silent gymnasium revealing his dance team. “Well you’re here early.” The coach of their team, Soobin said. “I have nothing else to do,” Riki joked while pointing at the obvious cast on his foot.

“You hurt yourself? How?” Soobin asked,shocked and confused. “Riki injured himself?” Jisung said, appearing from behind Soobin. “Fouettes,” he started, “I must’ve injured myself the day we were practicing them.” His words elicited a few reactions from the crowd of students.

“I thought the pain was from me practicing a lot which should go away eventually but the more I kept practicing, the more painful it became. Almost unbearable.” Riki said before taking a bite of his sandwich. “Then my mother took me to the doctors, and guess what. That’s when this came in,” he pointed to his covered ankle and crutches.

“Did it hurt?” Yunjin, another member, asked. “Eh, not as much as before since I stopped putting pressure on it. But when receiving the news, yes. It’s going to take at least 4 or 5 months to heal.” He said, gaining Soobin’s attention.

“That means you can’t participate in the final competition.” Soobin seemed worried about Riki's condition and the final competition. His slender fingers delicately weaved through the strands, messily fixing up his hair obviously stressed at the thought of having to change the final lineup. The real question is: who would match his dance style the most?

He’d let out a deep sigh with a shake of his head. “Everyone, let’s start with stretching.” He said as they placed down their belongings and claimed a free spot in the gymnasium. Riki watched in amusement as they all went about with doing their own different stretches.

“So this is what we look like…” He mumbled, stifling a laugh at the same time. It wasn’t because they looked weird but more so silly. He was glad he didn’t have to partake in the stretching session.

“I’m here! I’m sorry that I was late,” a voice exclaimed from the entrance of the gym doors. All heads turned to look at the exhausted figure. Soobin’s eyes seemed to have lit up at the sight of you as he approached you with a huge grin.

Why aren’t you angry… You thought at the sight of Soobin’s expression not changing. “Ah, Y/N, just the person I was looking for.” He said as you raised an eyebrow at his words. What the hell was that supposed to mean?

STEP 3.

“What?” You questioned, confusion evident in your features. “I’ll tell you in a bit, first join the group of stretchers.” He instructed as you hesitatingly nodded, cautiously dropping your bag to the ground and heading off to join the crowd.

Soobin smiled to himself, satisfied with his mind. Since Riki was incapable of participating in the final competition, you could cover for him. Your dance styles were very similar and were both passionate in the things you did. Determined to complete it flawlessly no matter what the consequences were.

It was as if you two were the same person placed in different bodies. Quite creepy.

You weren’t able to forget about Soobin’s words from a moment ago. Curiosity crept up your body with an even bigger urge to find out what he was talking about. In silence, you stretched your limbs as the others partnered up to assist each other with specific stretches.

It was awkward. You had only recently joined the team, around a month or two ago, and seeing everyone in friend groups and so on made you feel like an outsider. In your time alone, you were able to learn the names and faces of some members on the team.

For example, Yunjin who hung out with another group of girls; Karina, Chaeryeong, Jiwoo, and another face you couldn’t place a name to. Then there was a group of both males and females consisting of Haewon, Changmin, Haerin, and Jaemin. And once again another face you couldn’t place a name to.

Although you knew most of their names and faces, that didn’t mean you had spoken to them one on one. There were many times when you’d coincidentally eavesdrop on their conversations whenever you were nearby and eventually picked up their names.

As well as those times when Soobin would call them over or say their names during group sessions. It helped a lot with matching their names to their faces.

Riki packed away his container into his backpack, unaware of Soobin’s tall figure approaching him. “Riki!” He called from a few steps away from him. He looked up at the sound of his voice, flinching once he noticed Soobin standing right in front of him.

“Yes, coach?” He asked. “So, I understand you won’t be able to participate in the final competition…” Soobin started as Riki’s eyes lit up. “Oh, about that. My doctor informed me that if I rest a lot my ankle may heal in 3 and a half months instead.” He said, causing Soobin to ‘ah’ in understanding.

“But either way would you be ready in time?” He asked the boy who sat before. Riki pondered for a moment. He wanted to say yes but if he was being honest, he didn’t want to perform.

With his injury holding him back, all his team members would improve their dancing to perfection while his would look sloppier than ever. He would be behind.

“I wouldn’t,” he said with a frown. Soobin gave him a tight-lipped smile in return. The way he felt was understandable. Once known as one of the team’s best dancers and ended up as the ‘worst’ in a blink.

“That’s okay.” Soobin reassured him, feeling even more terrible. He wasn’t sure if he should still tell him about the news or keep it to himself. “But enough of that. What is it that you wanted to say?” He asked as Soobin hesitated.

“I mean, you seemed like you had something to tell me when you first arrived in front of me.” Riki said as Soobin shook his head. “Well, since you’re incapable of performing…I was thinking of having someone take your spot,” he started as Riki nodded. “Yeah I was thinking that was going to happen. I was thinking of someone like—”

“Y/N.”

“—Chan or Jisung—what?!” He exclaimed at his words. It’s not like he didn’t know who you were, it was only because of how long you’ve been on the team.

“Why her? There’s way more capable people on our team who have been here way longer than she has. Are you even sure she has enough potential and is prepared?” He asked, leaving Soobin quite offended by his choice of words.

“First off, be nice. Second, you guys are practically the same people. Your talents are similar and your desires to complete tasks perfectly are the exact same.” He said, Riki’s face contorted in discomfort.

“Although she’s only been on our team for a month or two, she was still able to show her true skills and determination, which is why I think she deserves to be qualified for something like this.” Soobin finished his sentence. What nonsense was he even talking about?

Riki couldn’t argue back. Soobin was his coach and whatever he had ready to say back wasn’t anything nice. “Okay,” he mumbled, “Go ahead, it doesn’t bother me.” He said in a convincing unbothered tone.

That was a lie.

It bothered him a lot. It felt like he wasn't being appreciated for his skills. Yes, he was jealous. How could he not be after losing his biggest opportunity to someone he wasn’t even acquainted with?

If it was given to someone he knew or had incredible talent that he had seen before, that wouldn’t have bothered him as much as you did.

Soobin smiled and nodded while clasping his hands together. His actions infuriated Riki even more but he held back his anger and watched Soobin walk off to gather the group of dancers in silence.

“So, as you all may know, one of our dancers is terribly injured and won’t be able to participate in the final performance.” Soobin said as they all nodded with frowns displayed on their faces. “No worries! Riki and I had come to an agreement that someone else will replace his spot in the competition. Y/N, congrats!” He cheered while clapping, alone.

Everyone gasped, eyes wide as they hastily looked over at Riki who seemed more furious than ever. You, on the other hand, stood in confusion. Who was Riki and why were you chosen to take his spot?

Suddenly all eyes were on you, some shocked, scared, and confused but one face in particular caught your attention. He didn’t show a physical reaction to Soobin’s words. Instead his eyes showed it all. It carried many emotions, specifically sadness, jealousy, and most of all, anger.

What trouble did Soobin put you through now?

STEP 4.

You filled up your water bottle using the water fountain that was located outside of the gymnasium. The wind blew the trees as they swayed in sync. Nature reminds you a lot about dancing. There were many aspects that were similar to the things used in dance which made you fall in love with nature as well.

Photography was also something you enjoyed. Combining it with nature only meant perfection. It was even prettier than alone.

You’d place the cap back onto your water bottle after taking a short sip, sighing in satisfaction. It had only been 10 minutes since practice ended. You noticed everyone was gone from the gymnasium when you peeked into the windows.

Walking around the corridor that led you to another building of the school—Drama class, you sighed at the thought of your group presentations that were due today. Everything was finished and ready to be shared but you still felt slightly nervous. You continued your walk to the building before being brought to an abrupt stop.

“What the—”

“Listen, I don’t care about teaching you the 4 dances I choreographed myself, but just because you replaced my spot in the big competition after joining our team only a month ago doesn’t mean you’re better than me.” He said while staring daggers into your narrowed eyes.

You were genuinely very confused. Who was he and why was he talking about the incident from a few minutes ago? Why the hell did he look like he was about 2 feet away from you?

In your peripheral vision, you located a blurry silver-grey item that caged you in his little compartment. You turned your head to get a better view of the item which appeared to be a crutch.

You looked back at the boy who stood in front of you then down to his feet. He stood on one foot somehow maintaining his balance. Connecting the dots in your head, you were finally able to figure out who he was.

“Oh, you must be Riki.” You said, slightly unphased by his approach. He definitely wasn’t what you were expecting him to be like. At the sound of his name and reactions from everyone in the room, he seemed to be very admirable. You were quite excited to meet him but he turned out to be nothing of that sort.

“Are you really trying to intimidate me with your crutches?” You said in disbelief. He stiffened in his spot. Clearly his plan didn’t work. You bursted out in laughter. That’s definitely a new way to approach someone.

“Whatever, keep my words in mind. Meet me today after school in the gymnasium. We can start practicing there,” he said as your laughter came to a halt. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m not free today.” You explained as his brows furrowed, unsatisfied with your response. “Let’s just start tomorrow,” you said and began walking away.

He was speechless. For someone who's quiet during all practices you sure knew how to run that mouth of yours. He hated it and slowly began to hate you as well. It was safe to say the feelings were mutual.

Riki kissed his teeth in frustration while raising up his crutch at your now far away figure to only drop it by accident. He sighed at the sight of it on the grassy ground and reached down to pick it while maintaining his balance on one foot.

It would’ve been a lie if he told you he didn’t have time tomorrow to start your practices because he did. His injury made him unavailable for many extracurriculars nowadays.

He took a seat in the same place from yesterday’s practice during lunch, the edge of the stage. He awaited your arrival, watching time pass by on his phone, timing you. It was 3 minutes past 3:00. Only 3 minutes ever since the bell rang. Yesterday’s practice showed your habit of being late and he hated it.

The opening of the gym doors echoed through his thoughts as he looked up from his phone, spotting you in the distance. “You’re late,” he said in a stern and annoyed tone as you walked over to him. “Why should I be on time for someone like you?” You said while rolling your eyes leaving him to scoff at your words.

He ignored your previous sentence and watched you place your backpack down on the polished wood floors. Even the way you placed your backpack down ticked him off. Who throws it so carelessly as if there’s nothing delicate inside?

You began stretching on your own as an unsettling silence fell between you two until his irritating voice had to break it. “Do you have anything prepared to showcase your skills?” He asked as you stopped in your stretching position.

“What?” You asked, genuinely confused. You were never informed of this. “Like a premade dance… Have you never attended auditions or something?” He asked as you shook your head. “I only dance for fun, why should I compete to win?” For some reason, your answer irritated him.

Should he really let you take his opportunity at this rate? You both had different mindsets when it came to dancing. Your responses left him unsatisfied and frustrated which was never a good sign.

He took a deep breath to calm himself down before proceeding with asking questions. “So you have nothing to show?” He asked as you thought for a moment. “Well, there’s one thing,” you started while walking over to your backpack to get your phone.

“So unprepared…” He whispered but with the shallowness of the gymnasium, his words echoed over to where you stood. You rolled your eyes while mocking his annoying voice in return. On your phone you pulled up a song you normally enjoyed on a daily basis and walked over to where he sat.

“It’s nothing long, so don’t get your hopes up,” you warned as he laughed. “I wasn’t going to anyway.” Once again, you rolled your eyes at his words and waited for the song to play while getting in position.

As the first beat sounded, your position switched. You proceeded with the choreography you had practiced for most of your teen years. Riki didn’t know what he was witnessing or whether to be traumatized, amazed or both.

He had always been too focused on his own movements and never noticed yours. You practiced at the back end of the gymnasium while he practiced in the area near the doors. That was definitely something different about you two.

Your movements were sharp and clean, similar to how he viewed himself. It was impressive how similar your dance styles were. Maybe Soobin wasn’t saying nonsense like he thought he was.

He watched in amusement as you went along with the dance. It’s been a few minutes since you’ve started the dance. He wasn’t sure how long it was supposed to be but he truly wanted to see more.

“Okay… You can stop staring at me now,” You said in an awkward tone. “I was not!” He exclaimed with slightly wide eyes. You nodded with a hum as he rolled his eyes.

“Anyways, I could do way better than that.” He insulted you as you scoffed. “In those crutches? Yeah, please.” You retorted with narrowed eyes. He cleared his throat in embarrassment as you stifled a laugh. “That’s what I thought,” you mumbled.

“So, we have only 3 months, meaning you’ll have to practice a lot. There are 4 dances; 2 solos, a duo, and a group dance. Are you sure you could do them all?” He explained as you nodded. “Yeah, right.” he mumbled and you raised your hand in a punching motion.

“Whatever!” You exclaimed and walked over to your backpack for a sip of water. Thinking back to his words before, you were curious as to who the second person included in the duo was.

“You said there’s a duo dance, right? Who’s included?” You asked, eyes filled with genuine curiosity. Mostly everyone on the dance team didn’t take a liking to you. A few would start up short and quick conversations with you but nothing else.

Judging by yesterday’s incident, their perspective on you had gotten a lot worse even if you hadn’t done anything.

“It’s Chan, my friend.” He said while searching through his phone for previous dance practices to show. “He’s a great dancer and quite closed off. It’ll be hard to build a relationship with him, so don’t try to.” He warned.

After witnessing Chan’s anger once he found out Riki injured his ankle, he was worried about how he felt after finding out about the news. He would’ve been 100% against that fact.

You had no clue who Chan was. There wasn’t a face you could match his name to but didn’t bother asking for an in-depth explanation of who he is.

“What about the group dance?” You asked. “Right. It consists of most of our team members; Jisung, Changmin, Yunjin, Haerin, Jaemin, and Chaeryeong.” He lists as you nod. Finally, people you knew.

The lineups weren’t bad at all. You’ve watched their dances many times and admired how they moved in their own ways.

“Here,” he said while handing you his phone. “Don’t do anything silly with it.” He warned with narrowed eyes as you took the device from him. “Wasn’t planning on it.” you looked at the screen.

It showed him in what seemed to be a dance studio. The lights were dimmed but his face was still visible. The subtle shine on his forehead showcasing the sweat from his hard work that caused a few strands to stick against it.

You began to play the video, revealing the first solo dance. By the looks of it, the dance seemed to be intermediate level which wasn’t bad for you. But the more you watched the choreography in his other 4 dances, it became harder.

During the duo performance, he and Chan moved very fast. It was almost impossible to distinguish what moves they used. You weren’t sure if you’ve seen Chan’s face in person yet. The video didn’t show his as well as it showed Riki’s aggravating one.

“Okay. Like I said before, there’s only 3 months to learn those 4 dances. In the group dance, there’s not many solo moments but more duo moments. I’m not sure if they’re going to tune the dance to fit everything again, but yeah. Goodluck.” He smiled and took his phone back from you.

These 3 months will definitely be the worst moments of your life.

STEP 5.

Although it's only been a few days since your first practice with Riki, you hated it. You returned home with sore limbs at least everyday. Your mind was occupied by learning these dances before the deadline that you even forgot about the semester switch.

Semester 1 was finally over while semester 2 rolled in meaning there would be new classes, new assignments, and new classmates. You were usually excited to see who your classmates would be but today wasn’t the case.

“What are you doing here?” You asked in annoyance. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” He said. Biology, previously known as your favourite class, was now your most hated timeslot on your schedule. You looked around the room, looking for any other empty seats but there was nothing.

The only empty seat happened to be beside Riki, your new lab partner. He held a cocky smile across his lips as you grimaced at the sight. “What are you planning, weirdo?” You insulted and took your seat beside him.

“What makes you think I’m planning something?” He asked while twirling his pencil between his fingers. “I don’t know. But whatever it is, don’t bother asking me. I’d rather be the one walking in crutches than do anything for you.” He looked at you, smile faltering. “Well, that’s insulting.” He mumbled.

At least you only had to share one class with him in the morning.

Or so you thought. Walking into all 4 of your classes being greeted by an unpleasant sight, Riki. And to make things worse, the only free seat was always beside him. How bad must your luck be?

“Can I have a pencil?” He asked but you ignored him. “Hello? I’m talking to you.” He said while lightly poking you in the shoulder. He acted like a child who wanted attention from their parents.

“Hello—”

“Take it.” You harshly placed the pencil in his hand and searched through your pencil case for a new one. “Thanks,” he said. You sighed, thinking that was the last of his troubles but no, it was only the beginning.

As class progressed, he only bothered you even more. Asking for an eraser, highlighter, for you to get him a new sheet of paper. You would’ve declined all his requests and forced him to do everything on his own but he always found a way to use his injury as an excuse.

“It’s literally two steps away?” You said in disbelief. “Two steps I can’t take. Hello, did you forget?” He pointed at his cast as you rolled your eyes in return and followed through.

After this, every turn you took whether or not you were in class, he was there. His back and injured ankle was pressed against the brick wall with his crutches under his armpits. You quickly turned on your pivot foot and immediately began to walk the other way.

All you wanted was a peaceful lunch but he just had to ruin it. There was no dance practice too, it was perfect.

The sound of his crutches tapping the concrete floor quickened from chasing after you as hope began to drain from your body. Each tap showed his determination and strength, showing that he wasn’t letting an injury stop him from doing what he wants. He created a distinct rhythm that echoed through the surroundings, making you want to walk even faster.

Each step, the intensity grew, finding a way to overcome the physical obstacles you put him through. He just wouldn’t stop–his determination was killing you. You trying to tire him out only fueled his passion to catch up, wanting to annoy you even more.

Finally giving up, you turned around with a very annoyed look as he staggered on his feet, trying to maintain his balance from the sudden stop.

“What do you need now?” You asked, the annoyed tone still lingering in your voice. “Why do you always suspect that I have a reason?” He asked back, causing you to narrow your eyes. “So, you did that for no reason?” The annoyed look on your face never left and only deepened at the sound of his laughter.

“Of course not,” his laughter died down, “... Um, what was I here for again?” He looked up from his shoes and was met with your irritated face. “Hurry up or I’m leaving.” You warned as his eyes grew in size.

“I just remembered,” no he didn’t—he didn’t have a reason to talk with you but still wanted to do so, “Mr. Sunwoo said he wanted to see you.” He explained. “That’s all you had to say? And what does he need to see me for?” You asked as he stiffened. His mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water as the thought of an excuse. “All he said was that he needed to see you. I don’t know the rest,” he said.

You looked him up and down and walked away. His hesitation was skeptical but you still went to the teacher’s faculty office either way. The walk over wasn’t that bad but with the humidity from the sun, it only felt worse.

Once you opened the office door, you were greeted by the sound of banging. You were concerned and confused at what it could’ve been but shrugged it off and continued your walk over to Mr. Sunwoo’s desk.

But to your dismay, the closer you got to his desk, the louder the unpleasant sound became. You stood at the opposite end of his desk, his back facing you. “Mr. Sunwoo,” you called but there was no response.

“Oh, hi sweetheart,” he said as a female teacher walked past his desk. He was known to be a flirt amongst many of his colleagues but the more you got to know him, you were able to see how nice he was. “The printer isn’t working at the moment…” He pointed at the said object and banged on it even harder.

You swore you heard a crack in response. He clears his throat at the sound and stands up tall, “Lovely day, isn’t it?” She hesitatingly nodded as he laughed awkwardly. “Fancy a coffee later? If you’re free, of course!” His voice raised in volume as she quickly walked away from him, shaking her head frequently.

He sighed as she disappeared into thin air and looked down at his now broken printer. “Mr. Sunwoo,” you called, startling the poor man. “Oh, Y/N! Hey,” he greeted with a slight smile. You smiled back as your eyes flicked over to his printer. He followed your gaze and sighed once more.

“Printy—I mean, my printer broke just now. I think I printed too many things at once…” He says, staring at the huge crack displayed on the printer’s surface. “I can tell…” You mumbled while looking directly at it. “Anyways, what brings you here?” He asks while grabbing his half filled coffee mug that sat near his computer.

“Riki said you needed to see me?” You said with an unsure tone. He didn’t seem like he needed to tell you anything. Did Riki lie to waste your time? “Uh… I don’t recall telling him anything about that?” He said also confused.

He definitely did lie.

“Oh, then that’s okay! I’ll see you tomorrow in English.” You waved goodbye as he did the same and went in for a sip of his now cold coffee. Today was just not his day.

STEP 6.

Riki sat on the bench, still dressed in his P.E. uniform. “What’s the point of wearing the uniform if you can’t even participate?” You teased as he rolled his eyes. “At least I still get marks for wearing it.” He retorted as you flipped him off and walked away.

You returned to the court, ready to play. Dodgeball was always a competitive game. Always having to dodge the balls that were thrown at you while trying to get others out added to the thrill of it all.

Your team members, Jake, Haerin, Sunoo, and Hyunjae and the opposing team members, Changmin, Chan, Eunchae, Heeseung, and Chaewon all stood on opposite sides of the court as everyone else stood on the perimeter of the court.

You all awaited for the blow of the whistle that commenced the game. As it blew, everyone ran to the middle, grasping a ball immediately. Some were thrown there and then while others ran back to their side of the court.

Riki watched from his spot on the bench in boredom. He focused more on the opposing team than he did with yours, finding theirs more amusing to watch. There were a few moments when he’d glance over at your team but it never lasted long.

You grinned in satisfaction at the sight of someone being hit by the ball you had thrown a second ago. He looked over at your team, catching a glimpse of your smile. He rarely saw you smile. Whenever he was around, you scowled.

However, something about this particular instance felt different. It was as if he saw you in a different light, finally seeing you without that angry face you’d make at him all the time. Seeing such a brief moment of your smile, made him feel…wait, what is he saying?

Side tracked from his thoughts, he notices Chan sitting beside him, a clear sign he had been eliminated from the game. “Why are you looking at her like that?” He asked as Riki immediately averted his eyes to the floor.

“Who?” Riki asked in an attempt to act clueless. He was clearly flustered that Chan had caught him looking at you, who would’ve thought. “You were staring at Y/N with a weird gaze,” he explained as Riki laughed nervously.

“Actually, I was staring at a bug that happened to be flying around her.” Riki explained in return, hoping Chan would buy it.

“Where is it?” Chan said in disgust. They both hated insects anyway. “Well, um, it flew away. Yeah…” He said as Chan nodded. Maybe he was seeing things.

“So, how is the training going?” Chan asked while looking at Riki. “It’s not bad, really, I think you two will be ready to practice with each other by next week.” He said as Chan grimaced. Right, the duo dance.

Before he could respond, you appeared before them. You stared at them with a blank look, you were spaced out. The boy who sat beside Riki looked quite familiar but you weren’t able to pinpoint where you had seen him.

“I’ll see you later,” Chan said to Riki while rising from his seat. “Is class over?” He asked you as you nodded to leave, not sparing you a glance. “Who was that?” You asked as he looked at you in disbelief. “That’s Chan, the boy you’ll be working with.” He explained as you nodded in realization.

Now you were able to pinpoint where you had seen him; during the big news at practice. He was the boy who looked at you with many emotions through one single glare.

He didn’t seem to like you at all. How were you supposed to do a duo dance with him if you two couldn’t even get along? You sighed and walked off to the changing rooms to prepare for your next class.

Riki, on the other hand, still questioned what happened earlier. What was he thinking about after he saw your smile? Why did that happen?

“You haven’t changed yet?” Your voice echoed through the silent gym as he looked over at you, startled. “Oh yeah, let me go do that. For now, start practicing? I don’t know.” and rushed over to the boys’ change rooms to change.

You watched as he hopped away in confusion. He was acting more differently than before but you weren’t sure why.

Instead of thinking even longer, you decided to go start with your stretching routines so you were ready before he returned.

While finishing up with your final stretch, the sound of crutches approached you, causing you to look up.

“Okay, let’s work on the last solo dance today and practice the first one.” He said while walking right past you. He didn’t even spare you a glance. You nodded at his words as he took a seat in the same spot as usual and got straight to work.

As you danced, he evaluated your moves. Your phone was set below his feet against the stage’s foundation, recording your moves.

During this moment, he took time to steal a few glances at you while using the excuse of evaluating you.

He was impressed. It had only been a few days, almost 2 weeks since you guys started practicing the first solo and you already got it down during that time being.

Once you were done, you walked over to your phone and crouched down to stop the video recording. He didn’t realize it until you stood back up that you were really close.

You watched the video with a slight smile on your face, not moving from where you were which only made Riki’s heart race even more.

But why?

STEP 7.

It hasn’t been long since Riki claimed that he hated your guts. During his moments of bothering you, he felt joy. But he was unsure why. Was it because he got the chance to annoy you or to speak with you? It confused him.

As time went on, the two of you began bickering less. It hadn’t come to a full stop but occurred ever so often. During those quiet moments, he was able to see more of your personality, even from afar.

You weren’t that bad of a person he thought you were. Forget about those times where he had insulted your skills and capability of participating in the competition. You were way more prepared than other team members and he was sure of it.

It’s not that he didn’t feel bad for his previous remarks, yet there was still a lingering feeling where he wondered why he uttered such hateful comments.

“Mr. Crutches, stay focused.” You said while tapping his worksheet with your pencil. “I get that you may not want to be paired up with me because I don’t either but we still need to pass this class.” You flipped through the stapled pages while releasing a hefty sigh.

His eyes looked at you then down to the booklet in front of him titled in bolded letters, “ROMEO AND JULIET (THE SCRIPT)”. Mr. Sunwoo seemed to be a sucker for romance. He was always speaking about plays even if they had a teeny tiny bit of romance.

You glanced at Riki who looked down at his script. Your desks were situated in front of each other which only made things even more awkward. Holding eye contact was not his best forte. You’d be lying if you said he wasn’t attractive at all. If only he kept his mouth shut, maybe you would’ve developed a crush on him a long time ago.

The longer you stared at him, you were able to notice more of his features. His lashes weren’t long but if you looked at them for a while, you could pick up on the separated lashes. His nose bridge was proportioned almost perfectly as well as his lips.

“Why are you staring at my lips?” He asked as you looked into his eyes in shock. “What are you talking about?” You asked instead of answering him. “If you like them that bad, just say that. I get that almost everything about me is perfect. For example, my dancing, mindset, friendliness, confidence, me looking great everyday—”

“Okay. Can we focus again?” You asked, interrupting his non stop complimenting. “I wasn’t finished though.” He frowned, leaving you to roll your eyes. “Save that for another time. We have to present this section to the class and attend practice right after.” You explained, avoiding eye contact with the boy.

“It’s a team practice and with your history of being late, I’m sure Soobin wouldn’t care.” You raised your hand in a punching motion at his words. “If we weren’t in class right now, I would’ve actually done it.” You said as he chuckled.

“Sure.” He teased. In return, you harshly flipped to the next page in your booklet, startling him in return. You were quite the scary type.

Unlike Riki’s words from English class, you arrived to practice on time. The only thing that was different from the usual setting was the quiet and dark atmosphere. At first, you thought you were late but that turned out to not be the case.

As your eyes adjusted to the dark gymnasium, you were finally able to spot something in the distance. “Where is everybody?” You asked the figure that stood far away from you. Their back faced you as they shrugged at your question.

In any horror movie, the main character would be cautious in situations like this but you weren’t. You were genuinely curious as to where everyone was and with the urge to find out, you approached the figure.

“Are we too early?” You asked. It was a quick assumption to think they were on the dance team and not something else, for example, the Badminton team. You were now standing behind them as they began to turn around. “I doubt—”

“What the hell are you doing here?” His sudden harsh and annoyed tone caught you off guard as the lights suddenly flicked on. “Amazing timing!” A voice exclaimed from the entrance. You both looked over at the boy in crutches with a confused but annoyed face—for two different reasons.

Of course, you were both confused on why the lights were off in the first place but Chan was annoyed with the fact that you were standing right in front of him while you were annoyed by the sight of the boy walking towards you two.

“Where is everyone?” Chan asked while pushing past you. You looked at him in shock but he still didn’t apologize. “Enough questions, we have work to do.” Riki said while hopping over to the stage.

“Work? What work?” Chan asked as you both looked over to Riki. “The duo dance… Did you really forget?” Riki reminded Chan, causing his brows to furrow. “You mean I have to do the duo dance with… her?” He pointed at you and whispered the last part but it clearly wasn’t quiet enough.

“Hello? I’m literally standing right here.” You said as he waved his hand in your direction as a way to shrug you off. “Enough of that. You expect me to dance with her? Why not Chaeryeong or Haerin? I’ll accept anything else at this rate.” You scoffed at his words and walked over to the sidelines.

“You’re like Riki but worse.” You insulted while slipping off your backpack. Riki whipped his head in your direction in confusion. “As if you’re any better,” Chan mumbled. Your words didn’t have an effect on him like you thought they would. He would love to be compared to his best friend.

Although he knew how Riki could be towards others, it didn’t bother him. “Moving on…” Riki said in an attempt to clear the awkward air. Something you didn’t understand about Chan was why he had something against you even though the two of you never spoke.

Only a few days ago, you found out about his name. You share P.E. with him and Riki this semester but even then you weren’t able to figure out his name until now.

“Listen, if you two are going to argue like this, clearly practicing won’t work. So… I have an even better idea!” He cheered while grabbing his crutches once again. The little amount of movement he did made you both realize he had never sat down in the first place. “That’s why I’m leaving you two to practice on your own. If Y/N and I could do it then you can too.” He said, ready to walk (more so hop) away using his crutches.

“Aren’t you the same person who told me not to build a relationship with Chan?” You asked the boy who froze in his spot. “Forget about that and just focus on the dance please. There’s only 2 months left.” He explained. “But where are you going?” Chan asked Riki.

“Monthly doctor’s appointment. Wish me luck,” he mumbled and left. There you were, both you and Chan looking at each other with a present scowl on each of your faces. He looked like he didn’t want to be near you at all and you were glad you could say the same.

It was like the situation with Riki all over again. Although the two of you were slightly starting to get along now (a few insults were still thrown into the conversations between you two but other than that it wasn’t so bad), it took a lot of bickering and eyerolls to get there.

“As much as I don’t want to dance with you, we have 2 weeks to practice. Don’t fall behind,” he said while walking over to his phone then back to you. You mimicked his words to yourself as he pulled up the dance video from his perspective.

You were now able to see his face more clearly than the video taken on Riki’s phone. Once the video ended, he pulled his phone back while placing it on the ground. “Sadly, I have to teach you this dance, alone.” He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his sweats.

You rolled your eyes. “Let’s just get this over with.” You said while walking away to begin your stretching. “Till this day I wonder how Riki tolerated you while practicing.” He mumbled and walked away to begin his own stretches.

Real question was, how were you supposed to tolerate each other for 2-3 weeks?

STEP 8.

Forget what you said earlier about Biology becoming your most hated subject. It was like your teacher, Mrs. Jihyo knew what you loved most—nature. Her announcement gained many different reactions from the students around you, especially Riki.

His jaw dropped with a very disgusted expression present across his features. The thought of being out in nature for longer than 10 minutes gave him chills.

“What’s wrong with you?” You asked the stiffened boy beside you. “What? Nothing.” He said, shaking off the jitters from earlier. There’s no way he’d make it obvious that he was afraid of insects to you.

You hummed teasingly as he softly nudged you in the shoulder. “You’re way scarier than nature anyway.” He insulted you, making you glare directly at him. Suddenly, your gaze softened as your eyes lit up at the memory. “Oh right, I just remembered. Why did you tell me that Mr. Sunwoo wanted to see me although he never said that?” You asked as his brows furrowed.

Trying to recall the moment, he tilted his head side to side. “I don’t recall doing so?” He lied. What was he supposed to say if he didn’t know why he did that in the first place? “Oh, okay. I was just wondering.” You said and directed your attention back to Mrs. Jihyo.

Why did he feel guilty? You didn’t seem to be hurt by his comment but still it felt terrible lying. He’s done it before in other situations but this one made him feel most guilty for what reason? Whatever he felt when he was around you was a feeling he hated.

It was almost like he went to sleep with a burning hatred for you and woke up with…feelings? As much as he wanted to refuse this thought, there was still a possibility.

“Riki and Y/N? You two will be partners for the walk. Y/N, stay with him so he doesn’t fall behind, no offense, Riki.” Mrs. Jihyo said, pulling Riki from his thoughts. His eyes slightly widened after taking in her words. The two of you would most likely be alone for the next hour in nature. Could his situation get any worse?

You stifled a laugh at Mrs. Jihyo's unintentional insult. “Alright everyone, let’s get moving!” She exclaimed with a bright smile as everyone followed through. “Dude, pay attention.” You shook his shoulder, bringing him back to reality. “Oh right.” He mumbled and grabbed his crutches as you began walking away.

He inhaled deeply in preparation for what torture he would have to go through.

One step outside was already enough to tell Riki that this trip would be terrible. It was humid and slightly muddy from the previous rain storm a few days ago.

The group of students were quite far from you both. You had a silly smile on your face as you looked around, examining every detail of the scenery. Riki, on the other hand, struggle with dodging any crawling insects that approached his shoes.

He held back the multiple screams he needed to release so badly but refrained from doing so. It would’ve been embarrassing.

“I love nature.” You said with a relaxed sigh. “You what?” His voice was slightly shaky as he continued swatting at mosquitoes that flew within his vicinity. “It’s a relaxing place to be. It helps clear my head whenever I’m worried or stressed about something.” You explained as he stopped moving in disbelief.

“So you’re telling me, you find an environment invested with feces and disgusting insects relaxing?” You turned around at his voice and nodded your head. “It’s not that bad.” You defended. “How?” He asked while catching up to your spot away from him. You two walked alongside each other, him hopping on his crutches but still managed to stay neck-and-neck with you.

“It’s similar to dancing—well, that’s how I view it.” You started, a smile slowly making its way on your face. He looked at you, intrigued by what else you had to say. “For example, the trees. When it’s really windy outside, they sway in sync, right?” You used your hands to emphasize your words as he nodded.

“That’s similar to, I don’t know, dancing as a group?” You said as he nodded once more. From his perspective, you looked like a child explaining their favourite game or toy. The corner of his lips turned up slightly which he was unaware of.

Your smile was contagious. Eventually the subtle upturned smile he wore before grew into an even bigger one. You continuously boasted about your love for nature and how similar it was to dancing while he watched with a gaze everyone but him could specify.

Next thing he knew, you both were standing in front of the group of students led by Mrs. Jihyo. His smile dropped the moment his eyes landed on the familiar faces as a light shade of pink covered the tips of his ears. Hopefully, nobody caught him smiling like a dork.

STEP 9.

It’s been a few days—almost a week since you and Chan began practicing with each other. At the start, you despised each other, and with every meeting, your hatred for him grew stronger. He would continuously belittle every move you made during practice with him, making his presence unbearable. He was even worse than Riki, whether you wanted to believe it or not. But now, that anger is fading away, and he seems a bit more likable.

It was 7:20 AM, 30 minutes before the team practice. You and Chan both came to an agreement to meet an hour to a few minutes earlier to perfect what parts needed perfecting.

“Let’s take 5. By that, I mean let’s rewatch the practice video.” He suggested as he walked over to stop the phone from recording while you went to grab more water.

“Here,” you handed him his water bottle as he accepted it with a smile. Out of breath and tired, you both took a seat on the cold polished gymnasium floors. The lights were dimmed with the cloudy sky darkening the room even more.

The two of you pointed out little details that could be changed or worked on, taking turns each time.

Riki didn’t know what to do. He was very early for practice and doubted that the doors would be unlocked anyway. Hopping over to the doors, he tested if the door was unlocked by pulling the knob lightly. There was no jammed noise and instead it clicked open quietly.

About to walk in and head over to his designated spot, he paused. His eyes squinted in an attempt to make out the figures— you and Chan.

It was understandable since you were both practicing for the competition anyway but the way Chan looked at you as you spoke and the way you laughed at whatever words he said made his heart pang from what could possibly be jealousy. His best friend who originally hated your guts because he felt as though you robbed him of his biggest opportunity now smiling while staring directly into your eyes? How else was he supposed to feel?

Instead of walking further inside he left. He shut the doors softly and took a seat on the nearest park bench and thought of the quickest excuse to tell Soobin once he arrived.

The only thing that made whatever he felt feel worse was his confusion. He still was unsure why he felt this away around you and what he felt when he was around you. And the question that bothered him most, did you feel the same way around him?

“Riki? I didn’t know you were here this early! What happened to you not being able to wake up around times like this?” A familiar voice spoke a few steps away from him. He looked up from his fiddling fingers and was met with a sight he went head over heels for.

You were smiling at him, shocked but happy. “Oh hey.” He greeted, putting on his most convincing smile. “Chan’s here as well if you wanted to say hi. I mean, you’re best friends after all right?” You teased and walked towards the water fountain. You filled up your empty bottle, still on your break time as Riki watched.

You were so concentrated on filling up your empty bottle without creating any spills, yet you looked so beautiful, causing a small swarm of butterflies to form within him. Seriously, what was this feeling?

“You should come watch us practice.” You suggested, breaking the silence between you two. “I’m practically done learning the dance, it’s been at least a week. There was a lot of dedication.” You explained as he hummed. He found you very impressive and he meant it everytime.

“So,” you turned around with a full water bottle in your hand, “Are you coming? Team practice is in a few anyway.” You said. He pondered for a moment but eventually gave in. He trailed behind you as you held the door open for him to enter. Chan turned around at the sound of your return, eyes landing on Riki. “Riki, hey!” Chan cheered while rising from his spot on the ground and walking over to you both.

“Practice starts in about 10 minutes. Spare us 4 minutes to show you the dance?” Chan asked as you nudged his arm. “He already agreed to watch. There’s no time to waste.” You said while setting up the music.

Riki sat in silence while watching you both perform the dance he and Chan choreographed together. If he was being honest, you and Chan danced great together. There was definitely chemistry between you two. He was jealous but still watched with open eyes to spot any subtle mistakes.

He couldn’t help but keep his gaze set on you. He glanced at Chan whenever he got the chance but they never lasted long. Seeing you two slightly smile at each other, compliment each other’s dancing, and do so many more things that he and Chan were supposed to do only fueled his jealousy even more.

But what was he jealous about? The fact that Chan had gotten close to you and shared smiles with you or the fact that you got the chance to dance with Chan on one of the biggest stages to the dance that they both choreographed together? It was confusing.

The doors opened as all your heads turned to face the entrance. “Oh, you guys are early.” Soobin said while placing his bag on the ground. “Chan and Y/N, did you finish learning the duo dance?” Soobin asked the two as you nodded in sync.

“Okay that’s great. Rest for a week or perfect your previous dances, anything works. After that, we will work on the group dance. The final project before we put everything together.” Soobin explained as everyone nodded. “1 month left,” Jisung muttered to Chan who stood beside him.

“It felt like we just found out about Riki’s replacement just yesterday.” Chan said as Jisung agreed. “You guys are so extra,” Changmin said with a sigh. “Goodluck on practice, I’m heading to the store nearby. I haven’t eaten anything and I’m starving.” Changmin said while grabbing backpack and leaving the gymnasium.

Jisung and Chan chuckled at his sudden appearance and walked over to Riki who sat on the edge of the stage as always.

“So…? When are you getting your cast removed?” Jisung asked, gaining Riki’s attention. “Not sure. He hasn’t given me a date yet,” He responded dryly. “You know, Y/N isn’t that bad of a person. I guess I was just being selfish.” He said while smiling softly at the memories from the past few days.

“Really? I figured.” Riki said while reaching for his water bottle in his backpack. He was acting drier than usual but Chan and Jisung didn’t bother asking why. Instead, they shared a confused look to each other and shrugged it off.

“Oh! Also, you know about the group dance? Who will be my partner now since it’s quite different from before.” Jisung asked while leaning on the edge of the stage. “Most likely Y/N. She’s replacing Riki’s spot anyway.” Chan responded as Riki nodded. “Either that or Soobin may change the setup.” Riki said, then took a sip from his water bottle.

“Ah, okay. I’ll see you guys later. I’m going to practice my parts.” He explained as he pushed himself up from the ledge. “Goodluck, don’t injure yourself like this guy.” Chan teased while pointing at Riki who glared at him as Jisung laughed. “Promised.” He said and began his stretches.

“I’m going to head to class,” Riki said while grabbing his backpack and crutches. “What? The bell doesn’t go till’ 15 minutes.” Chan said in confusion. “I have unfinished homework to complete.” He said and left the gymnasium without letting Chan respond. Weird.

He had no homework to complete but he couldn’t last in that gym any longer. It felt like the moment at the doctor’s office all over again and he hated it. He hated the suffocating feeling of jealousy but couldn’t say anything about it. Why? Because he didn’t want to lose his best friend.

STEP 10.

“What’s wrong?” His older sister said as she took a seat beside him. The comfort of the couch engulfed her figure as she held back a relieved sigh. “What do you mean?” He asked Konon as she scoffed. “You’ve been looking down ever since you arrived home. Is it because of the competition next month? I thought you accepted the truth last month…” She said as a frown appeared on her face.

“It’s not that.” He said while placing a pillow on top of his legs. “Then what is it?” She asked and turned to face him completely. He hesitated. “Riki, what is it? If it’s not something you want to tell me then that’s okay.” She reassured him as he sighed. “What does it feel like to have feelings for someone? Or a better way of putting this—What do I if I think I have feelings for someone?” He asked in embarrassment.

“You like someone?!” She exclaimed, shocked. “Shh, why are we yelling?!” He whisper-shouted and searched the living room for anybody but there was nothing. “Okay, maybe I do, but I’m not sure! That’s why I’m asking you for help.” He explained as she nodded in understanding.

“Okay… Let’s get straight to the point, was there ever a moment when you wanted to, you know, kiss her the moment you laid eyes on—” She asked as Riki rushed to cover her mouth. His head dropped low as his skin flushed a dark shade of red, earning a muffled laugh from his older sister.

“So it really happened. I was only kidding, Riki.” She teased as he removed his hand from her mouth. “Can’t believe my younger brother is in love…before me…” She said in disbelief. “Who’s the lucky person? Tell me more!” She sat up straight, more intrigued than ever.

“It’s someone on my dance team. She’s the one who replaced my spot in the competition so I’ve been teaching her the dances recently. But, we hated each other at the start.” He explained, leaving Konon to nod. “So, enemies to lovers basically?” She asked as he shrugged. “I guess, I don’t know. But ever since then, I mean you could say I fell for her? Believe what you want.” He said as Konon laughed.

“Okay… What’s holding you back from confessing?” She asked.

“My best friend.”

“Oh, well that’s new…” She awkwardly rubbed the nape of her neck unsure of what to say next. “Why’s that?” He looked at her then down at his hands. “I think he likes her? I’m not even sure if she likes me back in the first place. They seem way closer than we do.” He said a slight frown present on his face.

“Worst thing of it all, I don’t want to do anything that’ll make me lose my friend, you know?” He said and looked over at Konon. “No, I understand you completely.” She took his hands in hers. “I say… Confess. You never know how wrong that can go.” She suggested as Riki shook his head.

“It won’t end well, trust me. It’s fine, I’ll just push down these feelings until they’re gone.” He said while getting up from his seat. Konon grabbed his hand, pulling him back down into his seat. “How would you know that if you wouldn’t bother trying it out?” She asked as Riki looked at her in annoyance.

“It just won’t go well.” He said. “At least try?” She pleaded as he stared into her eyes. “No promises,” he said and grabbed his crutches to leave. At least she tried.

“Alright, the lineup is quite uneven.” Soobin said while pacing down the line of dancers. “Jisung, who was your partner previously?” Soobin questioned as Jisung pointed at Haerin. “Okay… Who doesn’t have a solo performance in this competition?” He asked. Yunjin raised up her hand, gaining his attention.

“Since the numbers are uneven, you can have a solo part in this. Technically you’ll be leading the group, kinda?” He shrugged as Yunjin smiled. She’d be noticed for a bit at least. “Then we’re all set!” He cheered with a clap. “Jisung and Y/N, you two can be partners. The rest stay the same.” Soobin instructed and walked over to the stereo, playing the song associated with this dance.

“Let’s get to work!” Soobin said as everyone nodded.

Jisung hasn’t seen you dance up-close before. Observing from afar, he noticed how Riki and Chan hated you at the beginning but now it was different. You all seemed like friends and to be honest he wanted to join in on the small group too but was too shy to communicate with you.

So, after hearing that he had a chance of being paired up with you he was thrilled. This could be his chance to finally communicate with you after chickening out everytime he built up the courage to.

You could say, he looked up to you a lot.

“Is this right?” You asked, bringing him back to reality. “Is what right?” He asked with a confused expression. You showed him your attempt of doing a certain move in the choreography. “Oh, yes that’s correct. If you can, you can try extending your arms a little more just for a bigger effect. Can I adjust one of them?” He asked, seeking permission first.

You nodded as he reached for your left arm, extending further. “There, much better.” He complimented. “Now try putting it all together.” He said and you did as told. He hummed in satisfaction and gave you a smile. “Here, take a break for now. You seem a little tired.” He suggested as you nodded. “Okay, tell me when you’re ready to continue.” Then you walked away to your backpack.

First of all, you were a very nice person. Very determined as well. This might be one of his favourite performances yet.

Riki sat on the floor, legs outstretched due to his cast. Watching you and Jisung train together only reminded him of the conversation with his older sister yesterday. Should he really tell you how he felt and face the chance of rejection or keep everything to himself and most likely watch you end up with Chan? He didn’t know which one to choose, they all sounded like terrible options and the outcomes didn’t make them any better.

To distract his mind, he pulled out unfinished work that he had to complete before his morning classes. It was a perfect distraction in his opinion. Chan was absent from school today which made his day survivable. Not that he didn’t like Chan anymore, he just couldn’t stand the sight of you and him smiling at each other left and right.

Reflecting on the conversation from yesterday, Riki was definitely jealous and definitely had feelings for you. There was no other way he didn’t. All the signs were obvious and explained why he felt like that whenever you were around him. Did it really take him that long to figure it out?

The snapping of his pencil pulled him out of his thoughts. The previously sharpened tip now shattered and jagged made him sigh. He didn’t have any spare ones on him nor did he have a pencil. Maybe finishing unfinished work wasn’t the best idea.

There was one month before the final competition and eventually that month became 2 weeks. He didn’t know how to feel. He was over the whole situation but he still felt worried. Worried for you and your performances. Were they going to go well or would they be a complete disaster?

He ran his fingers through his hair while letting out a heavy sigh. Maybe he should confess to get rid of part of his stressful thoughts, right?

“A penny for your thoughts?” Your voice suddenly came from out of nowhere as you took a seat beside him. He fought back the heat that rushed up to his face and dropped his hand into his lap.

“I’m fine,” He said, lying straight through his teeth. “Really? You looked like you were stressed out over something.” You brought your knees up to your chest with your arms. “Are you really, really, really sure?” You said while peering over at him.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. What about you?” He asked and looked at you. The two of you made eye contact for a few moments before you looked away and sighed. His gaze was too intense for you. During those few seconds, you could sense the sincerity behind his question.

You were really worried about your performances but tried to take your mind off of them many times. It was a big opportunity and you didn’t want to disappoint anyone.

“I’m just worried about the performances. Like, I don’t want to disappoint anyone especially you since, you know, you choreographed everything. It was also originally your spot which only makes me feel even worse if I mess it up.” You ranted as he listened.

“Don’t worry about me. You’re not upsetting anyone if you make one tiny mistake on stage. It’s the same as practicing. Is this your first performance?” He asked and you nodded. “Then don’t worry too much about it. Take it in as an experience.” He said, looking at you as you did the same.

“Break is over, let’s get back on track!” Soobin exclaimed as he walked back into the gymnasium—no one noticing that he left in the first place. You two stared in each other’s eyes for a brief moment before he ushered you to head back to the centre.

“Goodluck, I’ll be here if you need anything.” He said while giving you a slight smile. You smiled back at him and jogged over to the forming group of dancers.

It felt like he was forgetting something after you had left. It wasn’t until you began practicing with Jisung again when he remembered what he was supposed to say. His confession. He was so caught up in reassuring you that everything would be fine that he even forgot about the most important thing.

Seems like it’ll just have to wait.

He began packing up his belongings as you walked over to him. “It’s finally over. But there’s still rehearsals.” You whined and grabbed your backpack. You were tired of practicing to the same 4 songs for the past 3 months. You could most likely guess every single one of them by the first 0.1 second.

“You know what, let’s go somewhere.” You suggested as Riki looked up at you confused. “Like where?” He asked but you shrugged, unsure of where to go too. “Let’s just walk—or hop… and see whenever it takes us.” You said as he sent you a glare, causing you to laugh. “I didn’t mean it that way, I swear.” You defended.

You both followed random paths, majority of the time hoping you wouldn’t get lost. “Are you sure this is trustworthy?” He asked as you stopped in your tracks. “Honestly, I’ve never been down here but it’s cool.” You said while looking at the small river nearby. “Look!” You pointed at the stream of water.

“Doesn’t it have a nice flow?” You asked as you both walked over to it. “Yeah, I guess.” His disgust for nature was slowly going away the more you forced him outside. You looked over at him as he looked back in confusion. You seemed like you had something to say but judging by the scenery he already knew what it was.

“It reminds you of dancing, doesn’t it?” He asked, causing you to crack a smile and nod. “You know me so well,” you stood up from your spot on the grassy floor and dusted off your pants for any excess grass.

“Okay. What now?” You asked the boy behind you. He shrugged, “I don’t know.” He said. “Yeah, I don’t have anything either. What time is it?” You asked and he shrugged once more. “My phone’s dead in my backpack.” He said. “Yeah, mine too…Okay, let’s pray that we get home safely.” You said, all hope gone from your body.

You walked past him as he fought back the urge to stop you but failed miserably. “Wait,” he called, hand holding your wrist. “What?” You asked as he avoided eye contact with you. Silence fell between you both as he hesitated uttering the words he’s been waiting to say for the past week only to have to wait longer once they didn’t come out.

“Nevermind, it’s nothing.” He said while softly letting go of your wrist. “Oh okay, then let’s go.” You mumbled, trying to clear the awkward atmosphere. Half of you wished what he stopped you for was what you thought it was—a confession. But to your dismay, it ended up being nothing.

The walk back wasn’t any better. It was filled with silence as you both thought back to the supposed conversation from earlier. His thoughts were filled with him confessing while your’s were filled with different thoughts. If he confessed, would anything good happen? And did he even like you the same way you liked him?

STEP 11.

Today was the day you’ve been worried about. It was finally D-Day. To be honest, it felt like you and Riki hated each other’s guts a day ago but now that you got along you weren’t sure how to feel. One thing you were sure about were your feelings for him.

You always tried to make it less obvious in case he didn’t feel the same way to save yourself the embarrassment and always covered it up with silly remarks. Ones that you didn’t mean after your so-called enemies arc.

You wiped your sweaty hands on your pants out of nervousness. The crowd was huge, that’s for sure. One peek through those curtains was enough to spot around 400 people.

“You’ll be fine, I swear.” Riki said while using his crutches to get to you. “There’s so many people out there, are you sure we’re seeing the same venue?” You said anxiously while reaching for the dark red curtains once more. “Yes but looking outside will only make things even more nerve wracking.” He said while using one hand to close the curtains before you could fully open them.

“I don’t get how you’ve done this many times.” You said as he laughed at your words. “I’m not sure either.” He said, laughter dying down. “Here,” he let go of his crutches and placed both of his hands on your shoulders to direct you to the nearest chair. “Take a seat for now to calm down. You’ll do perfect during your first two solo performances. The other two are with other team members so you’re not alone.” He reassured you.

He struggled to balance on his non-injured foot and you took notice of it. “Don’t let go of your crutches before you end up falling to your death,” you scolded while picking them up off the ground and heading them to him. “Right,” he said, taking note of your words.

He looked at the time on the clock that hung above you. “You’re on in 5 minutes. I’ll be backstage in the meantime cheering you on, okay?” He asked as you nodded. The thought of having to go on stage under 5 minutes was terrible. You watched Riki exit the stage, heading through the doors that led backstage and exhaled a shaky breath.

“Are you nervous?” The voice from the boy in front of you asked. “Pretty much yeah.” You bounced your leg anxiously as Chan chuckled. “You’ll be fine. I overheard your’s and Riki’s conversation a bit and he’s right. You’ll do great during your solo performances.” He said and you smiled slightly.

“Thank you, I—”

“On call, the first performance starts in 3 minutes.” A member of the stage crew said. “That’s you,” he said and gave you a pat on the shoulder. “I’ll see you for our performance, goodluck.” He waved goodbye and you did the same.

Everything went well during rehearsals but you were still nervous. You were now performing to a way bigger group of people than before. There being recruiters who would evaluate your performances as well only added to your nervousness.

You sat there overthinking for too long judging by how fast those 3 minutes went by. Next thing you know, you were standing on stage as everyone in the crowd awaited the start of your performance.

All you had to do was leave everyone satisfied and impressed. And so you did. Although it wasn’t as good as other contestants, you were still glad you were placed on the podium for solo dances.

You were thankful for the silver medal that hung around your neck. You ran over to backstage, 30 minutes left to spare before the duo dances began. Riki sat on one of the seats near the monitor that showcased all the dances on stage. He had a dorky smile on his face. One that you mirrored as you ran over to him in joy and pulled him into a hug immediately.

Once you let go of him, you held the medal higher for him to get a closer look. “I saw it, I watched the whole thing.” He said with a proud smile. Although you had only 3 months to learn all of the dance moves to these 4 songs, you learned them perfectly. There wasn’t one mistake he could spot on the monitor when watching you. Were you always this good at everything?

Seeing you in the medal that he previously claimed to be his while showcasing your beautiful smile was enough to set him off the edge. But this time, there wasn’t a feeling of anger nor jealousy. He’s not sure what came over him and made him feel any of these feelings but next thing you know, you felt his lips on yours, leaving you both in shock.

You both pulled away from each other, eyes wide. “Wait, I’m sorry for that.” He apologized immediately, embarrassment fueling his body. You cupped his face or cheeks with your hands as he looked back up at you.

You searched his eyes for any signs of regret from his previous action but there was nothing. Instead, his eyes glanced down at your lips for a brief moment yet you still caught it and smiled. With no more time to waste, you immediately pressed your lips against his once more.

If this was what he’s been imagining for everytime he saw you, he sure didn’t blame himself. Although there was no verbal confession between you two, the act of a kiss spoke more than you two ever could.

But not for all.

Too focused on what was going on between the two of you made you both unaware of the boy who stood at the entrance. All he wanted was to tell you congratulations on the medal you had earned, not you earning your first kiss with his best friend—the boy you probably had feelings for.

With 20 minutes left to spare before his performance with you, he walked away from the doors, heading towards the nearest window for fresh air. All he had to do was pull himself together to be able to face you again. That wouldn’t be so hard on his part. Although he felt terrible from what he’s seen, he knew there was never a chance of you liking him back.

For most of his time knowing you, he was mean and ignorant. You two only became ‘friends’ recently but he still doesn’t know why he fell for you so fast. It was odd. But still, he’s happy for his friend. From the looks of it, he seemed to be head over heels for you since that day in P.E. class.

It was quite obvious but he only played along instead of embarrassing him further.

You and Riki pulled away from each other silly smiles plastered on both of your faces. “You know… Do I still have to verbally confess my feelings to you even after that?” He asked as you laughed. “I guess not unless you really want to. But also, you should really start a habit of using some sort of lip balm or something.” You teased as his hand flew up to his lips in a haste.

You let out a laugh at his reaction and let go of the sides of his face. “I was only kidding, don’t worry.” You said as he rolled his eyes. “I was going to do a silly pickup line on you but I don’t think you deserve that anymore.” He said while taking a seat on the nearest chair.

“Wait, now I’m curious. What was it?” You asked but he shook his head and refused to respond. “No, honestly. I was only kidding, I swear!” You pleaded as he sighed. “I guess you deserve to hear it,” he started as you became intrigued.

He pointed at your medal as you looked down at it then back at him in confusion. “Notice how you got a 2nd place medal? That’s because I’m the one for you.” He said and you looked at him in disgust.

That’s what you begged for? He stared back at you, no embarrassment shown. How was that even possible after saying an atrocious sentence like that one?

“If you just asked me out I hope you know I’m planning on saying no.” You said as terror appeared on his face. “Oh come on, that was a good pickup line! I thought about it once you received your medal, see I’m a really creative person.” He complimented himself, causing you to fake gag.

“Creative where? That was traumatizing. Never do that again please.” You said as he scoffed. “As if you could do any better,” he said while crossing his arms. “Let’s not go back to that arc, it wasn’t our best one to be honest.” You suggested with a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh right. I forgot all about that.” He said and laughed awkwardly. “Anyways, I’m sure you have to go soon, right? At least 15 minutes passed with us talking, and well, you know.” He said, becoming slightly embarrassed and flustered at the memory. “You’re cute and yet so childish,” you teased with a smile.

“Am not?!” He argued.

“You quite literally are…Did you not hear the ‘pickup’ line you told me a few moments ago?” You said in disbelief.

“Hey, in my defense I warned you before I even said it.” He said as you nodded in a teasing way. “Yeah, yeah, okay.” You patted him on the shoulder, showing him that you ‘believed’ him even if he did warn you. Teasing him was quite fun.

“On call, duo performances start in 5.” The same member in the stage crew from earlier said. “Oh well, I’ll see you later.” You told him and waved goodbye. He smiled and wished you good luck while waving goodbye all at the same time.

Although it took quite a while, it was all worth confirming his feelings in the end. If there was something he learned during these three months, it was definitely these new feelings and his love for you and only you.

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