#Best General English Book

[vivabooksin]

Best General English Book for Competitive Exams in India - Viva Books

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[burningvelvet]

will never get over the fact that mr. heathcliff and mr. arthur huntington are canonically more attractive than mr. rochester.

aside from the fact that they're both described as being handsome, and mr. rochester is described as being not handsome, we can see this play out in the text. while it's a point that mr. rochester's love interests only want him for his money/status, with arthur and heathcliff that's not entirely the case (you could argue that isabella is partly concerned with heathcliff's newfound wealth, but imo if he wasn't handsome as well, she probably wouldn't bother).

like helen I Love My Bible graham sees arthur and immediately starts drawing and painting him to sublimate her very very obvious attraction that everyone (including him) is aware of. even though she's told he's horrible, she says I CAN FIX HIM!!!! JUST LOOK AT HIM!!! and annabella just openly cheats on her husband with him for years. like helen, isabella linton is told that heathcliff is horrible but she's like BUT HOW CAN THAT BE TRUE WHEN HANDSOME? HAVE YOU SEEN HIM? and as soon as mr. lockwood meets heathcliff in the very beginning he becomes obsessed with him. even after heathcliff lets him be attacked by his vicious dogs, mr. lockwood refuses to leave him alone. not to mention that even the initially biased and usually critical nelly agrees that he's handsome, and cathy literally dying because she regrets not marrying him

— although cathy/heathcliff's bond is much more than skin deep / isn't about looks or regular forms of attraction (bc they have an almost twin-like, spiritual bond) i feel like seeing him healthy and handsome and "glowed up" really hurt cathy 10x more than she was hurt before his return, bc back then she could maybe try to delude herself out of missing him as much by remembering him when he was in his slovenly servant role & embarrassing her infront of the lintons — but seeing proof of his potential & that he always did have it in him to accrue & maintain wealth/education/fashion (and yes, good looks too), & that he could've/would've done so if he'd married her, is really what helped to kill her (aside from... y'know, the whole childbirth thing of course - but the narrative does heavily imply that the drama from heathcliff's return decreased her chances of surviving childbirth, so when i refer to her death, i'm looking at the more internal/emotional causes)

[britneyshakespeare]

Let slaves in mind be servile to their fears;

Our heart is high instarred in brighter spheres.

Fernando, IV.ii of Love's Sacrifice (1633) by John Ford

[jonquilandlace]

Resist accepting absence of evidence as evidence of absence.

[mygnolia]

to weave my love ⭒ n. riki

⭒ SYNOPSIS -› Riki is good at many things- dancing, making fun of his friends, playing it cool (debatable.), Hell- he’s even good at saving people from falling buildings without getting whiplash. But the things he’s bad at? Well, it’s asking you out to prom, and trying to balance the shared assignment he has with you…while being Spider-man.

⭒ PAIR -› spiderman!nishimura riki x fem-pres!reader

⭒ GENRE -› fluff, banter, action ⭒ TROPES -› classmates to lovers, idiots to lovers ⭒ WC -› 17k (i’m sorry idk why either.)

⭒ INCLUDES -› SPOILERS FOR GREAT GATSBY, cursing, non-graphic injuries (reader discretion advised), yes i made the patching up with first aid kit trope SUE ME!! takes place in a busy city similar to new york never specified, reader is rich, jake and heeseung are seniors and riki’s a junior, is riki stupid? yes… jake reveals stuff because he is also a little silly, reader wears a red dress!

⭒ GREAT GATSBY -› basically jay gatsby has this weird amt of money but no one rlly knows how he got it (nefarious reasons) and hes been in love with this girl daisy for five years but then she got married to tom buchanan but he gets rich so he can get the house across from her and wistfully watch her and he pines after her like CRAZY but he dies at the end

⭒ REN SAYS...special huge fat kiss to thena @sensitively-taken you will be in the will when im a millionaire THANK YOU for helping me with so much of this I WUV U AND I WLL BE WAITING FOR UR HUENING FIC!!! | LIBRARY

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM PRE-ADULTHOOD STRESS, IF THAT’S EVEN A THING.

What exactly does Riki have to worry about as a seventeen-year-old junior in high school? Right now, his most daunting responsibility is catching up on the chapters of The Great Gatsby because the only thing Riki’s actually read from the novel is that the main character shares a name with his best friend and senior, Park Jay. His second most daunting responsibility is handling the fact that with the new seating chart in his Literature class, it means he’s sitting next to the object of his very subtle affections, you. 

See, the problem with having a crush on you is that Nishimura Riki’s committed to thinking that you’re way out of his league, and unfortunately, the boy believes that almost too well. Not only are you minted beyond his wildest dreams (having seen your posts on social media), but you’re hardworking, helpful, and dedicated to your role as student body treasurer. He’s already understood that you’d never go for a guy like him. Maybe someone more like Park Sunghoon, whose parents’ salary matches yours. If Riki lived in a rural estate with generational wealth, handling the whole ‘Spider-Man’ thing might be a bit easier for him, considering he wouldn’t have to try so hard in school. It might even change the fact that Riki dealt with some alleyway criminals last night and is currently catching up on lost sleep, as your English Literature teacher goes on and on about a project on the book you’re reading. 

In class, and even sometimes outside of the classroom, your small tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings has landed you in some awkward situations—like now. 

“I don’t really tell anyone this, but I hate Daisy.” And instead of getting a response, you glance over to see Nishimura Riki slumped on the desk. Without trying to make preconceptions about what could land him in a situation like this, you poke his arm, stifling a smile at how his eyes widen when you’ve caught him rubbing the very obvious sleep from his eye. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, still fighting the post-nap grogginess, “Did I miss anything?” 

(Nope.)

Shaking your head, you return your attention to your teacher as he continues to answer questions. The second Mr. Yoo assigned a report, you wanted to die even more considering the work you had to do on top of the impending due dates. But for it to be partnered? And for you to get seated and paired with the one boy who's known for not caring about school? Maybe things are a little stacked against you, but there has to be a reason why Riki’s somehow still passing all his classes…right?

Considering it’s the last assignment about the book, you’re glad that you already read it so many times to know what you want to put into words. And in retrospect, answering a few open-ended questions about it can’t be that hard—the hardest part would be getting your partner to stay awake in class. 

A small tap at your side makes you turn to face Riki, who you see has frantically written a page full of notes about the project in the past three minutes and how he can succeed. “Can you go over the first part? Sorry…I was…y’know.” 

“It’s a partner project. And we’re partners.” You wince at the awkward wording. 

Great! Riki was caught sleeping and that was your first impression of him for your paired assignment? Riki feels so stupid in front of you right now—in front of your meticulous notes with annotations and proper highlighting. He wants to curl up into a ball when he sees you glance over at his haphazard attempt to look like he was paying attention when, in truth, he was trying to remember the dream he had just ten minutes prior. When you offer him a small smile and nod, leaning over with your notebook in hand, he sighs in relief, thanking whoever it was that let him get away with his naps without the consequence of irritating you afterwards. 

The bell rings when Mr. Yoo stops talking, and you pause, startled by the sound. Instead of leaving, however, you pack your bag and shuffle to his side of his desk, continuing to parrot details about your report in hopes that it all makes sense. You need to make sure he knows what he’s doing. 

“I think one of the questions he mentioned was like ‘Is Gatsby a good person?’ and do you remember how in Chapter Eight…” The rest gets zoned out and forgotten in the boy’s head, because he in fact does not know what happened in Chapter Eight. He doesn’t know what happened…in any part of the book. But he agrees anyway, pretending like he understands what scene you’re trying to explain. What he notices is how thorough and dedicated you are towards ensuring he comprehends what you’re explaining, and although it could be because you don’t want him to fail you both, he chooses to believe you’re doing it because you tolerate him. 

You’re so engrossed in covering all the little details and telling him random tidbits regarding the book that you don’t realize your feet have made it all the way to the cafeteria. “But here, let me get your number. I’ll totally explain more over text.” 

Riki is definitely not freaking out when he silently grabs his phone and hands it to you with the contact page, staring a little longer than necessary at the cute smiley face you added to your name. “Thanks,” he mumbles, forcibly tearing his eyes away from the ten digits of your number, “For helping me with this, too.”

“Of course! The Great Gatsby is a fun read for me. A little hard to read sometimes because of some of the characters, but still easy to understand.” And Nishimura RIki realizes that he has to do well. He’ll read the book five times over if it means gaining your approval. 

Jake notices something a little different about the tuft of black and blonde hair when his friend walks in. The first thing is that he’s actually here, and that you’re next to him, smiling. The boy rubs his eye to make sure he’s not dreaming somehow, but when he looks up again, you’re waving goodbye and joining your friends across the room. 

“Did you get hit with something while fighting a villain that makes you more bold? I feel like I just saw you and ____ talking,” Jake starts when Riki finally joins him with his lunch. 

Riki laughs, shoving Jake’s head out of embarrassment and opening his chips. “It’s just school. Got some project in English and she says we’re partnered.” He looks over at his friend chuckling, rolling his eyes at how Jake pokes at his side and wiggles his eyebrows. 

“I better hear you two are dating by next week.” 

“Who’s dating by next week?” Heeseung places his bag of food in front of them and takes a seat, opening the fast food he got last period and stuffing a fry in his mouth. 

“Riki and ____. Let me have one,” Jake answers, reaching inside the bag. 

Heeseung looks over at his junior curiously. “You asked her out?” And the two older students hear a groan from the boy in question. 

“Me and ____ aren’t anything, for your information.” He prods at the vegetables on his tray and takes a bite before a look of displeasure washes over his face. “You’re both way too excited for two guys who do not have girlfriends.” 

“Hey! You know the girl I’m always fighting with is the reason why I’m single. I have to focus on studying to do well in school to do better than her.” Heeseung’s whining falls on deaf ears as Riki smiles victoriously, seeing how defensive the former got. 

Jake offers him a shrug of defeat. “I got nothing.”

The three of them fall into normal conversation and Riki finally explains everything that happened during English.  “So you’re telling me your plan to ask ____ out went down from 18 months to 6?” And with a nod from the younger, they both groan once more. Heeseung exclaims, “We’re both going to graduate, dumbass. Make the plan go down to like…two months? Please?” 

Jake cuts in before Riki has a chance to respond. “Make it one and a half, so we can see you with a prom date before leaving forever.” 

“You act as if you’re going to die after graduation. It’s like you’re begging to be a super senior.” 

And they’re silenced immediately. 

“Do you think the guy I was with earlier hates me?” you ask on the other side of the room. Minjeong stares at you blankly, waiting for your explanation. “I don’t know if you saw when I walked in but I was talking to this really tall guy with blonde hair and black tips. He seemed really out of it, like he kept staring at me and nodding. I think I scared him off by talking about the book too much.” 

Sunghoon, who is also listening in, opens his neatly packed lunchbox and begins mixing his noodles. “I think you did scare him off, ____.”

“Not helping,” Minjeong interjects, “Just talk to him more and maybe he’ll warm up to you. You two sit together in class anyways, so hopefully he’ll talk more?” 

“I know him,” Sunghoon comments, “Well, sort of. I’m friends with Jake who’s friends with Riki, and it seems like all that boy does is sleep.” 

“Maybe he’s really good at subconscious in-class comprehension?” you try, taking a bite of your sandwich. “I just hope it doesn’t interfere too much with treasurer stuff.” 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE IF HE SWINGS INTO ANOTHER WALL AT 100MPH LIKE HOW HE ALMOST DID TONIGHT.

All he’s had on his mind since school ended till now is how he should probably text you, if he really discarded the slimy acid monster from last week properly, and when the prom theme is going to be released, but there’s something amiss that confuses his spidey-senses and makes Riki much more alert. 

He snaps out of whatever train of thought he had before, focusing on the situation at hand and looking around to follow his instinct. Riki cautiously plants himself on the side of a random apartment building to get a sense of what's going on. A tingle of some sort of in the air permeates the material of his suit and leaves him shivering from the cold. 

He doesn't like it one bit. 

Moving to the side of the building to the top, the boy finally catches a glimpse of something when he gets a decent view of the city and highway systems. Riki knows something’s wrong with the bridge the closer he gets. He zips from one side of the tall, metal tower to the other, crawling down on all fours making sure he isn’t caught. He feels the electric feeling once more, only amplified. It runs up his spine and he wants to slap it, almost like a frantic, summertime bug. The air around him is charged with something he has never recognized before. With a puzzled expression under his mask, Riki continues to investigate the surrounding area. 

Riki finds a lone figure with some sort of attachment to his left arm, like a long glove made out of metal. The bulkiness of it seems to have no impact on his body as the man fiddles with the contraption, and the boy watches with bated breath as the machine fizzes and spurts with electricity. It begins to glow as power concentrates on his plated palm and the superhero sees it for the first time. It’s like a fizz, like a match striking at fire only to produce a quick burst of friction, but it almost feels liquid when he watches the person play with the flickering blue ball of electricity. It dances in the dark in a hauntingly beautiful way, with bolts jutting out from the metal as it spurts and buzzes with a life-like manner. 

A spark. 

“Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” The sound of Riki’s voice from the end of the bridge causes the stranger to look up with wide eyes. Although Riki fully expects it to simply enhance strength or block damage, the immediate strike of blue that flies straight towards him is anything but defensive. With a yelp, he jumps away, this time refusing to show himself. 

What the hell was that?

He knows he should go back down there to change things and get the person and the metal pieces away before it escalates, but when he goes back down to watch, it's ten times worse. The bright blue illuminates the scarred face of the villain as he’s picked up the metal arm–but this time, it’s no longer clunky and sparking, but fused into his arm. 

Riki’s face pales at the sudden change before his body acts on its own and he shoots out a web to stop the man. 

The villain is shocked by the intrusion, but quickly yanks free from the webbing and flicks another bolt of electricity, one that flies much faster now that the metal flows into the arm instead of simply resting on the skin. It’s unlike something Riki has ever seen, something that is so controlled in motion and yet so erratic in nature, and it instills a deathly fear when it grazes his arm he hisses in pain. The sharp feeling springs Riki into action as he jumps away. He’s lucky another bolt isn’t sent his way, seeing how the villain’s too busy marveling at the power of his new gadget.

“You know that fucking hurts, right?” He yells out, cupping his wound. “Maybe leave the gadgets to the kids!”

The man scoffs. “It better have hurt. I sacrificed half my body for this to work.”

“But why?” All Riki wants is answers. Some sort of explanation.

The man charges up yet another bolt, almost like a laser gun is built into the machine. “Less talking, more running, Spiderman.” 

That scared the shit out of him. 

The boy doesn’t have time to think as he jumps out from the dark tunnel to the bridge and up the metal towers—he hates having to fight with people right below. The villain follows in pursuit, almost crumbling the metal with his engineered arm as he hoists himself quickly. Riki continues to jump between the structure to avoid the flashes, trying to get out and apprehend the man as quickly as possible. When he reaches the top, however, he feels death is near as he glances down at the villain below who’s quickly gaining on him. He shoots out webs to slow him temporarily, letting himself fall and swing from the side of the tower to escape. 

What he doesn’t see on the way across the bridge is the flash that misses his cheek and hits his thigh instead. It burns, and mid-air, Riki gives the wound a quick assessment before he lands on the metal, immediately forcing his body to climb. While dealing with his wound, he fails to notice the villain swinging from the bridge support lines to meet him. 

He needs to end this fast before he becomes burnt toast.

Riki doesn’t often rely on instinct to carry him, but he can tell that the villain he’s facing isn’t just a criminal. 

“Land another hit, would you?” he tries to say, his voice strained from the pain in his arm and leg. It doesn’t do much to deter the man in front of him as the arm continues to destroy and bend the metal on the way up. “What are you going to do now, Sparky?”

The man says nothing, charging energy into his metal glove again before aiming and focusing on the target: him. 

Riki jumps off, not able to properly land his web in the right spot as he goes from one section of the bridge to the other. The man behind him looks enraged at the boy’s attempt to escape—so much so that he reaches out with his normal hand to try to grasp the suit when Spider-Man swings past him. Instead of the feeling of fabric, the villain feels sticky spider fluid on his fingers. Riki shoots out a web, one that curls around the villain’s wrist and drags him off the tower. Instead of being able to launch him into the surrounding waters, the man slips from the poorly shot-out webs and falls from mid air into the sea of frantic cars, including one semi truck that collides directly with his arm. In the air, the boy winces when he hears honks and shouts from the impact, hoping it’s the last time he’ll have to witness it.

With his gaze trained on the falling figure, the weakly attached web breaks, and Riki all of a sudden starts falling down as well. He curls up defensively before bracing for impact, curling into himself when he feels the metal dent and the truck driver scream from outside of the parked vehicle, the body of the villain right in front of it. 

Riki staggers, holding onto his arm and thigh the best he can before getting up. With wobbly steps and a small jump, he lands near the unconscious man, whose metal arm is cracked and fizzling—something that Riki knows is bound to leave more scars. 

“Call the police. I’ll get rid of the pieces.” Although Riki wants to figure out who the criminal is and make sure he’s properly apprehended, the gashes in the boy's limbs leave him winded and exhausted. With hot metal scraps bound together by webbing in his hands, Riki swings out and dumps it somewhere rural, trying his best to cover the pieces with the pounding headache that 

Riki revisits the secluded spot under the bridge, looking for clues to the man’s identity, and his expression falls when he notices a lanyard dangling near a trash can. 

His name, his position, and the company. FLiGHT Corp. The company name caught the boy’s eye, and he pockets the item before leaving. 

It seemed like he was a normal research scientist, but Riki’s recollection of the scars and tattered skin leaves him retracting his last thought. He heard something about the failure of a time travel machine at FLiGHT, and if the mass of the incident was anything to go by, he was in the center of it. 

No matter how many times Riki tries to get it out of his head, on the way home, all he can think about is the inexperience he displayed and the lack of response he gave Riki during the whole time. But Riki can’t bring himself to really take away someone’s life—and maybe for that, he’s a horrible superhero. 

He knows he should stop the man before it's too late, and especially with how many self-proclaimed villains there have been, it's not easy to see so many innocent people ruin their lives chasing a power that inevitably consumes them. He knows it’ll only get worse if he lets them run free.

And while the superhero has never been fully honest with himself, there are many times where Riki hates his role as Spider-Man, and wishes that he was just some teenage boy who didn't have the lives of others in his palm. He wishes he didn't have to sacrifice so much to stay behind a mask—and he wonders deep down if there’s anyone else who felt the same. 

His swings lead him across the city above hundreds of lives he has to protect, and he tries to find some semblance of peace. He thinks about how he has his homework due despite having just risked his life, he thinks about how your project is going—and about you. 

In the night under the stars, Nishimura Riki wishes for something just a bit normal. He wishes a good night for himself, but also for you, wherever you could be.

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE FROM TRYING TO READ THIS BOOK IN ONE NIGHT.

The Great Gatsby is exactly like how you described it; a little hard to get through but fun with the plot’s eccentric characters. He’s pretty sure he could’ve just used a detailed SparkNotes explanation for the book, but having a crush can make someone do weird things. And in Nishimura Riki’s case, his infatuation has got him reading a novel about morally-skewed characters and rich society to impress you. 

When you come into class barely on time, Riki gives you a confused look when you sit down, but doesn’t comment on it any further. Instead, he takes out his book and tries to act like his eyes weren’t closing shut from exhaustion by the time Daisy was finally confessing how she loved Gatsby. 

The moment Mr. Yoo stops talking, however, Riki isn’t asleep—much to your surprise. He has his book out, pages filled with sticky notes and a whole section of his notebook dedicated to characters (written in bright red to keep him awake) and their traits. 

“I got it.” It’s the first thing he says when you two are left to do in-class work. It’s ominous, and maybe a little too enthusiastic in a high school literature class for a boy who doesn’t even care that much for school, but you’ll accept it with open arms if it means you get a helping hand on your project. 

“Continue,” you tell him slowly, leaning back in your chair to listen to him. And you don’t know why, but a small part of you thinks that the boy who sleeps every period the book was discussed wouldn’t have much to say or contribute to such an open-ended prompt, but life is full of surprises. 

What you fail to notice is how Riki is nervous and his stomach does at least twenty flips before he swallows dryly and starts rambling in hopes to impress you and redeem himself from his embarrassing slumber a few days ago. 

“So you know how our prompt is based on one character and basically all their actions?” he asks, and you nod, absentmindedly thumbing a sheet in your journal. “I’m thinking we should talk about Jay Gatsby because so much is revealed to us about him that we might as well use it to our advantage. Y’know, talking about how the theme of exploitation and secrets is veiled under Gatsby’s desire for Daisy.”

“You don’t think Gatsby’s a good character?” Riki wants to tell you that Gatsby is more relatable than good or bad, but he shakes his head. 

“I mean, not really.” He feels like with those four words, he’s completely changed the trajectory of his relationship with you from a positive slope to completely downhill—and a wave of panic washes over him. “Should I? I mean, I could see him as more redeemable if you gave me examp-“

You wave your hand to quell his worries. “To be honest, I don’t like him either. But he’s an interesting main character to write about, so I think we should go with your idea.” 

To win your approval feels like he’s won at least three fights against a villain in a row without getting any bad injuries—it feels good. And for the rest of the period, you are able to finish a detailed outline of your work for the next few weeks, mapping out sections for each other, and he even gets to see a part of prom planning on a word document you had open. He considers your shared productivity a win when he packs up and bids you goodbye before leaving for lunch. 

One wave doesn’t catch Riki’s attention from across the room. Not even two, or three calls of his name could get Nishimura Riki out of his thoughts, and Jake frowns before moving up in the lunch line. 

“Something’s caught your eye again.” Jake feigns innocence and sighs dramatically as he places the food down next to Riki’s plate. “Could it possibly be our school treasurer?” Jake laughs, leaning over to catch a glimpse of what’s got his friend so entranced and non-responsive.

Riki scrunches his nose, annoyed, but never breaking his gaze from where you’re sitting. “We talked in class–like, a lot,” is all he says, paying his friend no mind. “She’s genuinely so understanding.”

“God, I don’t think you can be any more down bad for her than you are right now.” Jake picks at his food, and despite his concentration directed towards the olives on his pizza, he’s able to dodge the flying loaded nacho that goes his way, even if he wasn’t the one with superpowers.

“Can you shut up?” Riki grumbles, laying his head on his arms as he notices you smile and point to something. “I just got pummeled into a semi truck last week. Let me have this before I die tomorrow.” 

“Very grim,” his friend notes, ruffling the younger’s hair, “I think this is exactly what all of those mental health assemblies that we get are for.” And Riki basically tunes him out, too tired to fight and too used to the teasing remarks to come up with anything useful in response. 

Riki sits up a bit, letting his head rest on his propped elbow as he looks at the school food and touches another nacho gingerly. “Y’know, I read the book for English so she wouldn’t think I’m an idiot.” 

His friend snickers, successfully pulling out yet another sliced olive from the cheese, much to the disgust of Riki. “She probably already thinks you’re an idiot.” 

The superhero debates throwing another cheesy nacho in Jake's face, before deciding to eat it instead. “Don’t say that asshole! You make it seem like I have no chance with her.” 

Jake shoots him an exasperated look that makes Riki break eye contact. “That’s because you don’t.” 

“I’ll prove to her that I’m worth her time.” Riki says somewhat wistfully, still stealing glances from a few tables away. “Maybe I’ll ask her out to prom, show up in my suit. Do that cheesy upside down kiss shit people say Spiderman does.” When his friend raises an eyebrow at him, Riki shrugs. “I will! Well-maybe not the Spider-Man thing, but prom definitely.” 

Jake continues to look at him unconvinced as he takes a bite out of a slice of pizza with mangled cheese. “You barely talk to her in class and you think you can ask her out to prom as Nishimura Riki?” And the younger grins, eyes still stuck on how your eyes crinkle and how your shoulders shake with laughter. 

“Yup.” And his fate is sealed, just like that.

“What’s your project about, anyways? Didn’t you tell me last night that she gave you her number? Must be pretty serious if she wants to text you.” Riki furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. 

“It’s just tying the theme of the book to one character and writing about how they show it. So we did the theme of money and Gatsby, because it’s easy and mentioned so many times.” 

Jake gawks. “You must really like her,”

“I was planning to read it regardless of who I was partnered with.” 

“Okay- that’s debatable.” There goes another one of Riki’s nachos.

“Gross.” 

He thinks things are going pretty well for you two. The report is being written and your quotes are basically finding themselves, so Riki should give himself a pat on the back for pitching the initial idea for how to go about your assignment. Maybe reading the whole book offered him a few useful pointers, and he goes to sleep that night satisfied with your progress. Maybe Heeseung and Jake were right—maybe he could finally ask you out by prom. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO SAVE THE CITY FROM YET ANOTHER MONSTER TERRORIZING THE STREETS.

He wakes up the next morning, not expecting his alarm to alert his senses to danger. It rings in his head and makes him feel delirious, trying to shake sleep off as he looks out the window for any visible sign of what's wrong. If he could hear the danger in his head then that meant someone could be hurt, and he could go to school without a few hours of sleep if he worked fast enough, right? 

Riki slips into his suit without much thought and goes to crack his window open, only to look back at his clock and read the horrific time of 6:23AM. 

Who the hell picks a fight with a teenager at this ungodly time? 

Then, he shoots from his wrists, once, twice, and suddenly, he's off, covering more ground through the air in just three seconds than he ever could while walking or running for minutes on end.

The source of his tingling spidey-sense is some large metal centipede creature that was setting off car alarms in a neighborhood near the market. Thankfully, no one was really awake to be caught in the crossfire, but he has to figure out how the hell he's going to catch that thing in...he checks his watch…twenty minutes? 

Hopefully, his instinct will help him win this time—again. 

The web he shoots out does nothing to stop the monster, and considering how it connected them both, the threads only drag the superhero to the edge of the building he was initially watching from. With some yelling and pulling, he finally detaches, and realizes that the odd sizzling feeling in his bonds must be from the same source as a few days ago; Spark. 

He had this gut feeling that a villain as strong as him wouldn’t have been destroyed so easily, but his wounds were so deep and the blood loss so bad from a few nights ago that he couldn’t have truly dumped him in the ocean without fainting or suffering something permanent, and although Riki hoped things in the universe would work itself out, the presence of the giant fifty foot insect alone is proof that things were not in his favor. 

He jumps off the building onto another, working quickly as he strings up a few webs between the houses as a wall for the monster, watching it slide and knock over cars in its wild pursuit. The monster spends a few seconds breaking down the wall of webbing and climbing over it, the many legs easily breaking through. As the superhero jumps across buildings and keeps track of the centipede’s movement, he has no idea why it isn’t going for him, and that makes his job much harder without the attention of the monster. One glance at the direction the centipede is headed in sets off another ding in Riki’s head—but this time, it finally clicks why the centipede is headed away from the boy. 

It’s attracted to the power plant. 

Riki immediately jumps and swings off of a lamp post, using the momentum of gravity and the force of his swing to propel him faster than the slithering creature. Squinting, he holds out his fist and points his pointer and pinky out, following the movement of the centipede as he aims. 

Bam. 

He sends clusters of silky white threads down precisely at the first pair of legs to pin it down. The webs stop the creature momentarily, and Riki doesn’t have time to watch how the body shrinks up and fizzes out with blue shocks as it tries to wiggle loose and malfunctions. This fight would be over soon, and the boy smiles when he jumps down to shoot more webs to apprehend the centipede. It wiggles and sends electricity out through parts of its body, trying to pry itself out. He expects it to simply be a robot of sorts following a mission considering its avoidant behavior, but as he approaches the tail, the monster suddenly swings at Riki, and its mass and speed is incomparable to the boy’s reaction speed. 

Riki lands into a tree and someone’s garage, feeling the crumbling wall falling all over him and the sudden pain blooming in his lower back. 

This fight will, in fact, not be over soon. 

With his superhuman abilities, Riki grabs onto the metal of the car beside him to hoist himself up, coughing from the dust, and jumping over the rubble to see how quickly the centipede creature can get out, without regard for his current state. The sound and rumble of the giant monster is all he needs to know that the traps are effective, but not at the previous capacity. 

The plan is simple: apprehend the legs and crush the head, where Riki assumes the decision-making and programming is taking place. But the monster’s angry and erratic actions throw a wrench in his plan. Its legs move faster, digging into the cement and leaving ruin in its wake as it continues down the road. While both the villain and superhero are fast, the distance between the power plant is finite—and only grows smaller and smaller.  

Although Riki can feel the bruises coming, he runs and swings, hearing the wind in his ears as he catches up to the centipede in no time. He tries the same tactics again–aim, shoot, stick, all the while keeping his distance. Although the monster’s body spans incredibly long, and should carry an immense amount of weight, the way it snaps at Riki’s flying body and sends shockwaves through his core leaves him shivering as his body slams into the ground, coughing. It hurts all over, and it feels like there’s weight on his eyes when he tries to open them and get up. His head is spinning as he staggers onto his knees, clutching his chest as he watches the centipede shrivel and crackle. 

It seems like the voltage produced is a double-ended sword, one that burns up the centipede body as much as it deals damage, and with the way the mutant creeps towards the electricity of the plant, Riki gets the feeling there’s a magnetic pull that forces the mutant to continue to crawl even against its instinct to stop. 

Despite his waning strength, however, Riki knows better than to half finish the job like last time. He creates a net from experience, weaving together the thickest and most durable threads to trap the entirety of the slowly approaching creature. It seems to crawl slowly up the makeshift barrier, knocking its head against the white and spreading the bright blue waves of its energy throughout. The boy watches as the thin white mass absorbs all of it and clings to the creature. It works, finally, after his attempts to nullify its movements, and he knows that despite the ache in his every step, the almost mummified centipede that hangs between several roofs for all the neighbors to gawk at is his sure sign of victory. 

All he remembers is hearing a familiar call of his hero name before his legs give out and his head hits Jake’s chest. 

Holy fucking shit is the first thing Riki thinks when he wakes up. 

He’s not out of his tattered suit and he feels grimy all over, but his body has done wonders in reducing the otherwise fatal injuries he got. No human body should be able to withstand two energy-filled blasts, but his suit and superhuman healing are of greater help than ever in alleviating the damage from his wounds. 

He knows why he’s in his bed with bandages thrown over his open wounds. He knows that every time something like this happens, it’s Jake who shoos away the concerned civilians, telling them he’s a medic. Jake is not a medic—rather, he’s a seventeen year-old boy who knows about his friend’s double life and with all the times he’s saved Riki, someone might as well dub him the greatest medic of all time. 

The clock on his bedside table has only served as a bearer of bad news. He looks over to see how it’s practically midday, and he’s missed yet another day of school from fighting crime. He’s in no condition to get up or get his bag, seeing how his hair is frizzy and his cheek has a cut that would warrant questioning. It seems only fair that he stays absent, and before he falls back asleep, he only prays you aren’t too mad at him for leaving the seat next to you empty.

But you aren’t mad, just worried. The soreness in his muscles doesn’t go away though, and he groans when he sits up in his bed, with bandages around his arms and an ice pack discarded next to him. 

He’s most definitely not coming to school like this. 

While you bore holes into the clock hanging off the wall, that doesn’t speed up the time. Two minutes pass, then another minute. As your classmates find their partners and begin discussing, you notice how the room gets louder with the due date looming near. It’s the first time you’re alone without the familiar boy beside you, and something hangs low in your chest when you put in a pair of earphones and open your laptop. 

Riki’s absence should have no effect on you. After all, you’re both just high school students who’ve talked once or twice, and yet you still look over at the empty chair. Staring doesn’t make Riki appear, though, and you return to your edits. It feels empty without his insight, or without him asking you to help him with a passage. Riki was your solution to all things boring. If he wasn’t doing his work, then you two were laughing at something on his phone. And if you agreed to both do something other than the report, then you could ask for an extra opinion when deciding prom details. There was something freeing about working with him that attracted you. Riki knew how to lighten the mood on days that weren’t so good for you, but he also worked hard and let loose at the same time. There was a perfect balance in Riki’s life that you aspired to have; it was a good mix of playful, dedicated, and fun all in the same vein. 

The words blend together on your screen. Jay Gatsby this, Tom Buchanan that, it all looks monotonous the more you keep trying to read and comprehend what exactly you’re talking about. 

Before class is dismissed, Mr. Yoo steps to the front of the classroom to gather everyone’s attention. He introduces your new novel for the next month, explaining yet another large assignment associated with the text. 

Truth be told, you don’t pay attention to any of it. 

The only thing you remember to do is to grab extra copies of the printed graphic organizers, as you get out of your seat and rush out when class ends in pursuit of one specific boy. 

“Sim Jaeyun!” The call of his name diverts Jake’s attention from his phone to your waving arm as you weave through the students and finally reach him. 

“You can just call me Jake,” he explains, “what’s up?” 

You begin to reach into your backpack, trying to feel for your folder, and pull out a few sheets. “These are for Riki.” 

Jake cheers internally for his friend who’s busy recovering at home. “What, you got a crush on him or something?” 

He tries to play it cool by teasing you, but the smile you bite back leaves the boy questioning if there really is anything going on. Jake knows better than to tell you anything about Riki’s feelings, and opts to instead grab the papers and to thank you for looking out for his friend. 

“Is Riki okay?” You have to know, just to make sure he’ll be here tomorrow to cure your boredom. 

What Jake says is much different than the nonchalant wave and half grin he gives you. “He’s just bedridden.” 

“That’s pretty serious! Did he come down with anything?” He seemed fine yesterday, so what’s the catch?

He blurts, “He just got badly hurt.” 

Immediately, Jake knows he’s fucked up. 

Your confusion and silence answers him far more than words ever could–he basically hears the gears turning slowly in your head.

Jake weakly defends, “His parents had a fight with him because he hit his head or something. He’ll be fine by tomorrow. Just bedridden from sadness, y’know?” 

The look you give him is unconvinced, but when Heeseung pats him on the shoulder and waves to you, the boy realizes that maybe staying quiet would’ve been the better decision. 

“I’ll see you later, ____.” And he’s off, waving half-heartedly and dragging a very confused Heeseung out of the cafeteria. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE TRYING TO WAKE YOU UP AS GENTLY AS HE CAN.

Ever since March started and flowers began to bloom, your energy seemed to do the opposite, dwindling until Riki catches you mirroring his frequent in-class action: sleeping. And it worries him beyond belief, because you’re not the type to fall asleep like… ever. However, Riki does not have the heart to wake you up, even if it’s with a little nudge that you probably barely feel with how light he taps. It breaks his heart to have to ask you to review what he has done, because the bell is about to ring and the teacher might just send you to detention if he catches you off-task. 

The allergies always make Mr. Yoo irritable, and Riki knows not to get on his nerves. 

Your eyes flutter open to the pokes and prodding from none other than Nishimura Riki, who gazes at you softly when you adjust to the bright classroom setting once more. 

Panic settles in. “Wait- how long was I sleeping for?” 

He shrugs and scrunches his nose, not giving you an answer as he finishes scribbling something in his notebook. 

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” Your hand squeezes into a fist at the frustration that you’ve let your partner down. 

And yet, Riki seems to be unfazed, frowning when he sees you stressing out. “Don’t ever sweat the little things, yeah? If there’s anything you ever need to talk about–trust me, I know what it’s like to have a lot of pressure on your shoulders.”

Smiling at him, you respond with, “Thank you, really.” 

Being treasurer is daunting in the spring. It’s full of requests, forms, and small tasks that leave you spent by the end of the day. “But,” you glance at the clock to see just how much time is left, “how’d you know?” 

He motions to your open computer with a now dark screen. “I saw your document pulled up. ____’s tasks or else she will be kicked out of student government,” he taunts, snickering when your eyes grow wide with embarrassment and you lightly nudge his shin with your foot in warning. 

“It’s not polite to snoop,” and although you say that, you catch something in your peripheral vision. It’s a few drawings of a figure and gadget drawn, shaded from rigid shapes with small descriptions pointing to different places. You weren’t sure what was more surprising; how good the drawings were, or the subject of his imagination. 

Weird. Inherently, there was nothing wrong with Riki drawing a villain, and you chalked it up to him being creative. Nothing more, nothing less. 

He puts his hands up in surrender at your last comment, his grin showing anything but. Just one look at the boy makes you realize that everything you’ve just thought about is foolish. 

There’s no way he’d have time to be a villain and a student. With one final thought, you let your raging thoughts rest and focus on the present; him. You’ve seen his hair messy, especially after his naps, but when Riki tries to style it like how he did today, you pay more attention to the streaks of blonde and how he often hides behind his bangs and scrunches his nose. It’s cute. He’s cute.

The truth is, you enjoy being around him like this, joking around and never worrying too much about your responsibilities and expectations. It’s refreshing. Being around Riki gives you the feeling that things will be okay in the end. 

You snap out of your thoughts to see that his desk is empty, while your’s hasn’t changed one bit.

“You’re going to sell prom tickets now, right?” He makes small talk before leaving for lunch, closing the notebook you were suspiciously eying before slipping it into his bag. 

“Yup,” you answer, popping the ‘p,’ “I’ll see you later,” and you two part ways.

All the long lines and constant distribution of change doesn’t allow much wiggle room for you to daydream. As time goes on, the ticket-selling line grows smaller and smaller, but the only thing you truly care about is eating the lunch your parents packed you. Your sandwich is probably sad and soggy now that there are only a few minutes of lunch left. When you finally sign off one last time after triple checking the forms are all correct, you let out a sigh, leaning back and finally getting a break. 

Then, it hits you that you’re not even sure if the boy you’re fawning over is attending the biggest event of the year, and you feel stupid for forgetting to ask. 

-

Yesterday was a rookie’s mistake–today, you’d make sure you get an answer from him.

“Are you going to prom, Riki?” is the first thing you ask when he sits down, grabbing his book and laptop with a little too much enthusiasm. 

“I’m thinking about it.” Yeah, whatever confidence he had when convincing himself he’d ask you out isn’t serving him well at this moment. Quite frankly, Riki feels lame as ever trying to be nonchalant around you. “You?” 

“I’d have to set up, so I would be there, yes. But whether or not I have a date is another story.” You smile to lighten the mood, but Riki watches you and nods, focusing back on signing into his laptop and getting his notes for the new book you’re reading. 

“Well, you’re not the only single one here.” And he wants to reprimand himself for saying something without thinking. “If someone asked, would you say yes?”

You think about it carefully, really because you don’t have anyone in mind when it comes to prom if Riki’s not planning on going. “It’d have to be someone I know—someone I talk to somewhat regularly. I’d be nice to be with someone who doesn’t make it awkward.”

Nishimura Riki might die from over-thinking if he keeps on wondering whether or not he fits that description to a tee.

RIKI'S TO-DO LIST BEFORE PROM

☐  talk to ____ regularly 

☐  don't make it awkward 

☐  be..cute? 

The boy decides that his superhuman responsibilities might be easier to complete than any of those three things. 

He switches the subject to stop his head from hurting too much. “Did you finish the report?” 

You still, and Riki’s question reminds you of the report looming over your head. In your defense, you two hadn’t brought it up much in the past week, and he didn’t seem to worry over how much of your time was spent emailing teachers or making spreadsheets. Although caught off guard, you’re quick to respond with, “What did we have to finish? I thought we were done since last week, but if there’s anything else-” 

“Sorry,” he rushes out, biting his lip, “I meant, if you finished reading it.” And the answer is no, you haven’t read it since your last edit on it three days ago. 

Within a few clicks, you find the document and scroll to the bottom, seeing the small note that Riki left that said ‘let me know how it looks.’ It’s sweet to know he thought about your input as much as you did his. 

“While some can agree that Gatsby’s rise into high society was sketchy, Gatsby still retains the same reserved character from years ago, and doesn’t manipulate others into success or use his money for nefarious purposes. It’s not like he changed after his wealth, and it could be argued Gatsby loved Daisy until his last breath and was willing to die as long as she was happy, emphasizing the theme of sacrifice. 

So, is Jay Gatsby a good person? The question targets the morality of a character who many can empathize with. Those who are charmed by his overwhelming love for Daisy would say that he’s committed textbook crimes, but focus more on the intent behind it. To pine after someone from a distance isn’t easy, but to pursue her after years of separation is even harder. It’s universally agreed, however, that love as a driving force doesn’t nullify what he’s done to others and the dirty schemes he’s enacted to gain the power he has. Therefore, Gatsby makes for an interesting main character, and highlights just how twisted a system around money can be.” 

The last page is–for the most part–his writing, and your admiration for him grows when you finish reading and scroll to hit your Works Cited page.

“It’s good,” you tell him wholeheartedly, “Didn’t think you had it in you.” 

Riki cracks a smile at your light teasing, soaking up your praise. 

“Now you know.” He shrugs. And he can only hope that you like him as much as you like his literary skills. 

NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE COMES TO THE REALIZATION THAT HE IS EXACTLY LIKE JAY GATSBY,JUST WITHOUT THE MONEY—DESPERATE FOR THE GIRL OF HIS DREAMS, DYING YOUNG, AND A FRAUD HIDING BEHIND SECRETS.

Nevermind the last one, he has to hide when he has an identity to protect as the city’s only superhero, but Riki feels his heart sink to his heels when he read a few weeks ago how much Gatsby simply adores Daisy. When Gatsby died, he scoffed, closing the book with a sudden disinterest. If he were the male lead, he wouldn’t have been laying in a pool for target practice. Maybe being a superhero teaches you how to avoid being easy bait for all your enemies, or maybe Gatsby was too carried away with love to think straight. 

Fighting crime gives you insurmountable experience with sneaking around, but it wasn’t something he could just teach to anyone. When he gets this horrible gut feeling that something’s happened to you, he just knew something was wrong. He might not be easy to catch, but for anyone else? Definitely.  

For everyone else, prom was a month away, but for you, it was three weeks of talking to your advisor and president, arguing with your other board members, and sitting behind that damn money box for another five days to sell tickets. For you, it was realizing that you were supposed to buy streamers and balloons yesterday on your way home from school. It was the thinly veiled disappointment in your board member’s texts when they told you they were at a loss for words. ‘I’m sorry, and I know you’re busy, but how could you forget? Prom is so important for all of us. What if they don’t have what you need anymore?’ It all repeated in your head as you bit your lip in frustration and slipped on the first pair of shoes you could find. Although it was dark and dangerous, you could care less if it meant avoiding the passive aggressive comments you’d get tomorrow during your meeting.

There it is again: that little tendency to not pay attention to your surroundings. 

You yelp when you feel someone grabbing your wrist and pulling you in, muffling your screams as he pulls you along. To see him on the news was worrying, but to see Spark in person with your life on the line is even worse. 

Tears spring to your eyes as you struggle against the metal to no avail, and you curse every previous moment you spent worrying about balloons rather than your safety.

Spark suddenly stops, shoving you against the wall before his hand grabs a brick with his metal arm, beginning to climb. “Don’t let go.” And you don’t think twice before holding on.

The city view would be beautiful if you weren’t hearing your heartbeat in your ears or if you weren’t dangling from the railing of some company building, trying to wiggle yourself free of the rope around your wrists. 

Spark speaks up, drumming his fingers on the railing next to you. “You wouldn’t happen to know where your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is, would you?” And you furrow your eyebrows, genuinely questioning for a moment if he really knew how the superhero operated. 

A voice from across the street puts a temporary hold on your thoughts, and you glance up to see a flash of blue and red soaring through the air, followed by a groan and a beam of light next to you. Seeing Spark’s powers right in front of you spurs you into action, yanking at the rope and trying to take tiny steps away from where they were fighting.

“From what I’m seeing, you wanted to hold someone hostage because you’re not feeling too good, huh?” Spider-Man shouts as he shoots out webs and blocks hits. You shake your head in partial disbelief of how unserious he is, but also how unbelievable all of this seems. “You tried to take a potion or something? I’m going to tell you this now, but these usually don’t work.” 

Riki’s assumption is right, and considering how Spark now has a leg and arm from metal instead of just the arm, the procedure for the additional limb couldn’t have been easy. The superhero still proceeds with caution, making sure to pay attention to anything new as he dodges and fights back. 

The villain immediately gets back up, stumbling for a moment before he regains his stance and runs towards the boy. You hear the clanging of fist hitting metal from their fight, and considering the difference in height and build, you’d expect Spider-Man to be easily flung to the side, but he holds his weight in battle. 

Riki aims for around the left shoulder, where an abundance of stitches cover the skin and fuse the metal into muscle. He lands a hit, and almost another one, before a punch to the side knocks him from his momentum. The boy wheezes when his back makes instant contact with the ground, rolling and getting up before Spark has time to shoot. 

He notices how quickly the gadget generates electricity now. Before, the beams took longer, and were easily predictable, but now, it glows bright for a moment before it fires directly in Riki’s path. The boy dodges the first, but the second one almost hits the top of his head before he ducks and creates distance. 

From the roof-top, Riki scans his surroundings before making the split-second decision to jump. 

He swings to the other side of the building, keeping you in his peripheral vision as he works on apprehending the villain in front of him. They spring into yet another fist fight, with Riki’s agility easily letting him avoid punches and land precise hits to make the previous injuries even worse. 

You think Spider-Man has the upper hand in this, seeing as how none of Spark’s punches seem to slow down the superhero, but you hear something loud before you can register it. 

You figure out what happened after Riki stumbles and suffers a blow to the stomach, sending him tumbling to the edge of the building. Spark knew that Spider-Man was avoiding his left arm—he knew that one wrong move paired with the tungsten material would have a lasting effect on the superhero’s fist. 

Riki coughs from the impact before his spidey-sense rings, pulling him back into battle as he runs as fast as his body can take him. 

You. He still needs to save you. 

With renewed vigor, he continues to avoid the flying sparks as he ducks between structures and uses the terrain to his advantage. He can tell, though, that the villain is slowing down. The shots are less accurate–a telltale sign that the enhancer Spark tried is working against him. 

Between all of the chaos, Riki finally lands a proper web, yanking as hard as he can to pull Spark to the ground. He stumbles, grasping at thin silk before Riki lets go on his side. The villain’s balance is off, giving the boy an advantage as he closes the distance, hopping over a thrown slab of metal and landing a solid kick into Spark’s ribcage. As he stays down, Riki continues to aim for muscle and flesh, his head spinning as he packs punch after punch to keep the villain apprehended. 

Spark’s body–curled into itself to absorb the hits the best that he can– hides the growing blue flash that he’s slowly charging up with his remaining power. The moment it escapes from under his abdomen, Riki directs his efforts towards avoiding the electric glimmer. The villain rolls over, his body tattered from the consistent injuries, and he fires what seems like an intense bullet of energy. It zips by the boy’s cheek, cutting the mask and leaving blood to run down in its wake. Time slows down as the superhero tries to process the unlocked speed of the burst, and Spark loses focus marveling at his new abilities. Never before had either of them seen power so concentrated, and it inflicts both fear and excitement. 

He lifts his arm, the other holding it up for support, and Spider-Man notices the fizzle of bright blue. Riki’s about to jump out of the way, preparing for yet another high-speed bullet, but before Spark fires, something clicks. The arm doesn’t directly point to Riki–but it skews off to the right.

Except, he’s no longer aiming for Riki in the split second that the boy blinks. He’s suddenly aiming at you, where your hands are tied to the railing and your feet are dangling from the bent metal that holds you precariously over the edge, leaving a fifty foot drop in its wake. When you see the blue energy in the villain’s palm growing slowly bigger, you pull at the rope desperately with zero regard to the tender rawness of your wrists. 

In your attempt to somehow break the rope, your cry of fear snaps Spider-Man into action. 

Riki pushes his sore body to jump as quick as he can, leaping across the rooftop to the building over. He easily avoids the metal railing, grabbing onto your arm as he yanks hard on the rope, the force of it separating a piece of metal from the railing. He immediately jumps, sending out a web to swing him back up. It all happens in a flash–first, you were bound to the edge about to fall to your death, and all of a sudden, you’re tightly pressed against Spider-Man’s chest with your bound wrists still attached to the metal. Shutting your eyes, you trust Spider-Man entirely, closing your eyes to avoid seeing just how far up you were. Wind rushes in your ears and leaves your stomach fluttering with butterflies until the superhero sets you down on a secluded rooftop. 

“Please,” he begs, “don’t leave. I’ll be right back.” 

You’d be a fool to do anything but wait. 

Riki checks on you one last time before diving down, springing himself back up with another web. The damage from the blasts is recognizable even from far away, and yet, he notices the reflective shine of a metal arm on the edge of the building before Spark lets go. 

To Riki, Spark is dead after dropping from a fall having taken that much damage, but he hears no impact. Making haste, the boy fails to find any figure no matter how hard he looks, but Spark’s laboratory has to be here somewhere. The badge from a week ago was stuck on Riki’s mind, and he could only imagine the reasons why he pursued this life. Was he recreating something? If he needs to power some sort of machine, then the heart of the city is a perfect place to harness the electricity for any large scale project. As much as he wants to dedicate the rest of the night to searching the city for some sort of clue, the fact that you’re still stranded on that rooftop after having just experienced a life-changing event blares like an alarm in his mind. 

He quickly leaves, returning to where you’re seated.

Without the fear of falling to your death from earlier, you were able to focus on undoing the knots from the rope. Red scratch marks and irritation bloom on your wrist, and the reality of it all happening still hasn’t settled in. Despite not being harmed once, the fear and incessant pounding of your heart overwhelms your senses, and it leaves you heaving with confusion. 

A pair of footsteps only become apparent as Riki walks closer, taking a seat beside you and letting out a large sigh. He stares at the stars silently as if he doesn’t have a cut on his cheek and bruises waiting to paint his skin purple–as if he isn’t hiding his true self under a facade. 

“You’re not hurt, are you?” You shake your head, grateful that Spider-Man was the reason you got away without a real injury.

“Thank you, really, for saving me. I don’t know how you manage to do it.” 

Riki chuckles under the mask. “Eh, you get used to it,” you hear Spider-Man say. “You fight a couple bad guys, get over a fear of heights and eventually you get the hang of things.” 

Scoffing, you gently rub at your wrists to ease the redness. “Easy for you to say. I haven’t been taught a crash course on how to avoid being supervillain bait just yet.” 

“Maybe you should learn it sometime,” Riki responds absentmindedly, “someone like you shouldn’t have been out so late doing whatever it could’ve been.” 

Sighing, your mind drifts off to think about the balloons and streamers that are not in your hand. “I had stuff for my upcoming events.” 

He knew about all of it when you’d explain your cryptic reminders and notes on your computer, but he still feigns curiosity. “What upcoming events?” 

“Just prom,” and he hears just how strained it makes you. 

Riki tilts his head in faux confusion. “What do you have to do for prom?” 

He notices how you immediately slump, as if the mere mention of prom deflates your happiness. “It’s only a few weeks away, and I was supposed to get decorations for our venue yesterday. I just wanted to slip out before my parents noticed.” 

Despite the fabric over his eyes, Riki’s expression shifts from surprise to pity when he understands your stakes. “You still need to be careful. Is your student council strict?” 

“Not strict necessarily, but judgemental–I ran for the position because I thought I could help my school raise funds and find more opportunities, but it just feels like no one truly wants to try anything new.” You wave it off as if it’s not that important, as if it isn’t the reason why you find yourself stressed so often. “I just don’t want to disappoint or give people something to talk about.” 

Despite not being involved with school the same way you are, the boy next to you resonates with the fear you currently face. The fear of letting people down was a large part of why Riki continued to put on that mask and step into the most dangerous situation of his life; he never wanted to sit down to hear the news that Spider-Man quit. 

So he keeps doing his job, even if some days are harder and some fights aren’t worth winning–just like what you do. 

“Yeah, I get that,” he tries to console, “You must be doing a lot for everyone around you, and I’m sure a lot of people appreciate what you’ve done. Don’t beat yourself up too much, yeah? You’ll always have me.” He smiles, but he knows you don’t see it. You’re looking at the stars, trying to calm your mind and return to your life before everything happened. 

You glance over at Spider-Man, wondering if he’ll truly be around for you when you need it. “If I need to talk to you, should I step out of my house past 8PM again?” 

Riki chuckles, watching clouds slowly dim the moon’s glow in their path. “If I’m not fighting crime, I’ll show up at a moment’s notice.” 

There’s no way he means it, but you grin, feeling a lot of the pressure and stress of earlier slowly wash away. After all, nothing happened to you–Spider-Man made sure of it. Maybe things really were going to be okay. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah? Don’t you have stuff to do anyways?” 

You shrug, nothing really coming to mind. As you get up, you remember having to run a plagiarism check on your work, and how Riki told you to text him when you got home after your student government meeting. 

Riki. Spark. Spider-Man. 

“Wait,” you tell Spider-Man, sitting back down on the cement, “I need to talk to you about something else, too.” 

“It’s not like my dinner’s getting cold,” the superhero mumbles quiet enough that you can’t hear. 

“There’s this guy,” you start, paying no mind to how dirty your clothes are getting when you cross your legs. 

Spider-Man scoffs, looking off into the distance, and it makes you believe he has to be your age or older. “You have a crush on him, or something?” And a whole tidal wave of deja vu hits you in the chest. 

‘He must be badly hurt’ isn’t just something people say. People don’t just draw insanely detailed drawings of Spark’s arm and machines without notes to follow unless they knew. People wouldn't just randomly miss school without any impending signs. You’re sure of it–the tired naps in class, the random drawings of superheroes and superhumans alike, or how awkward he could act–it all makes sense.

Your classmate, aka Nishimura Riki, aka the guy who you’ve questioned if you had a crush on for the past few days, might be a villain. 

The swirling feeling of trepidation in your stomach leaves three words running around your head. 

What. The. Fuck. 

Although you tried so hard to stop thinking about it, Jake’s comment from before rubbed you the wrong way. It was sometime last week where you couldn't get your mind off of the implications of his words, but that feeling was brushed underneath your responsibilities. 

Until now. 

“Yeah, there’s this guy,” you breathe, feeling your chest constrict, “Nishimura Riki. I think he’s Spark.” 

His blood runs cold. 

“You think this…why?” 

You take a deep breath, trying to organize all your thoughts. “Well, first, it was his friend, Jake. He said that Riki was badly hurt, and I was really confused at first, but tried to let it go.” 

Riki was going to strangle his best friend. 

“And then, I was looking at him in class, right? And keep in mind, he’s pretty cute, and we sit next to each other, so I just noticed how good his hair looked that day, but his notebook was out, and I saw all these drawings of Spark. Like, the arms, the metal things, even the projectiles! Who would know the ins and outs of that thing if it wasn’t Spark himself?”

He didn’t know what to think about first; the fact that you gushed about him for the first time, or if he should even tell you that Spider-Man would know those things, too. 

“And sometimes, I notice he’s a little awkward around me. I can’t explain it. It’s like he’s paying attention to me. That must’ve been why he captured me.” He wants to laugh at how damn close you are to figuring it out, but in reality, nothing is funny about the situation. 

Nishimura Riki is actually listening to this, right now, as Spider-Man–not Spark. The awkwardness, though? It was his crush on you, and was not superhuman related in the slightest.  

“I don’t know,” he attempts to divert, pretending to focus, “I saw a badge for FLiGHT. You know the company that’s been making time traveling machines? I saw a glimpse of his name and face. It’s not that guy you mentioned.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “And you haven’t gotten him caught?” 

“Villains aren’t easy to find, y’know. It’s not like playground hide and seek,” Riki defends, crossing his arms. 

You shrink in your spot, feeling sheepish for questioning a superhero so bluntly. 

“Plus,” he continues, “Spark has never had a hostage. Wouldn’t it be pretty mean of that friend of yours to kidnap a girl from his class?” 

“Yeah—that makes sense. Thank god,” you breathe, closing your eyes momentarily. “Then what do you suspect all that evidence leads to? Maybe he’s a secret agent?” 

“I think,” Riki continues to keep up his clueless facade, “Your friend might just be clumsy. Or creative. I mean, maybe he went through a break-up?” Nice one, Riki. 

You shake your head. “No, there’s no way he has a girlfriend. You’d think I like guys who are taken?” Scoffing lightly, you then remembered that Spider-Man really would have no idea who any of you are. 

He shrugs and stands up stretching before motioning for you to follow him. “I have no idea what you high school kids do. Come on, let’s get you home.” 

As you hug him tight, the cold air whips around your body and leaves goosebumps in their wake. You barely open your eyes from the fear of seeing yourself inches from hitting a building or up in the air. Spider-Man only yells his confirmation after asking how to get you home, finally placing you on the ground outside of your large gate. 

“Thank you for saving me tonight.”

“Anytime. Figure things out with that friend of yours, and don’t go out late, okay?” You nod and take his words to heart. 

“Goodnight, Spiderman.” 

—-

Nishimura might die. One, because he has this horrible guilty feeling in his stomach, and two, because of a villain. 

Yesterday, he ignored the salmon and rice bowl that waited for him back at home, choosing to follow the coordinates he saved on his phone after he took you home. It led him to a seemingly harmless auto-shop, with an arrow on his GPS pointing to a garage that was shut down completely with nails and blocked with boxes. The exterior pointed to it being abandoned, but Riki suddenly saw some light coming from a makeshift above.

The boy scaled the wall as quietly as possible, glancing into the source of the whirring. He caught small glimpses of something–metal, glowing, blue. 

Or at least, for a few seconds it was on until the power went out. 

The voice that complained from inside the room sounded identical to the man Riki fought. Spark grumbled, turning on a flashlight and quickly waving it around. Riki ducked from the window and held his breath, waiting for the man to suspect something. 

Nothing. 

One lightbulb slowly flickered back on, and then the other dingy light followed. The space was cramped with the metal equipment in the middle, resembling what Riki had seen in the news. 

He was right–it was the same time travel portal that was ruined from a few months ago. 

Spider-Man continued to observe the man as he worked and drilled, plugging certain wires or pausing momentarily to read from a journal. To anyone, it’d seem peaceful, like some sort of renovation project. But in reality, it was so much more than that. 

Riki searched for any sort of information about the machine, trying to see what exactly was left to do until his gaze landed on something. 

There was some sort of date on a bright pink sticky-note, and Riki’s eyes widened when he finally comprehends it. 

The machine was scheduled to be completed tomorrow. 

-

A street lamp next to Riki dies out—which was a clear sign that something was powering up. From the dark, he hears the metal from the same place as last night moving again, and he knows that Spark has left. His presence sends anyone down the street and immediately running, leaving the area for only them two. 

Riki finally sees the completed metal build. Half of his body is wrapped in or replaced with metal parts as he sets down the metal portal, beginning to push it in the direction of the power plant. 

A truck or car would make things much easier, but whatever.

Riki wants to cry from fear and run away. He wants to leave and pretend he never saw anything from last night. 

He’s going to die fighting Spark and he will quite literally a) never finish highschool and get that stupid diploma, b) finish explaining how Gatsby is not a good person and is naturally selfish, and c) he’s never going to tell you how he’s had a small crush on you ever since he saw your cute campaign video as to why you should vote y/n l/n for student body treasurer last spring. 

“You sure that thing works?” Riki asks, jumping into action as he sends webs to immobilize the machine. 

“You’re annoying, you know that?” Spark sends a projectile in the superhero’s direction, hitting the wall behind him instead as Riki jumps out of the way.

With another duck mid-air and the roof of a flying car dangerously close to his nose, Riki thanks the dance practice he does for his flexibility as he shoots another web and swings away. 

Spark is uncontrollable by now, sucking the light from street lamps and fizzing wires in his wake. He has no idea how he’s supposed to get in contact with the villain like before. The body of his suit fizzes with bright electricity that sizzles and pops. It illuminates Spark’s figure, making him easy to spot, but not so easy to defeat. It’s an overload of power, causing the voltage to escape between the joints and gaps of the metal pieces in his suit. And Riki can feel it; the air is heightened and so are the stakes of this fight—and with how the man that stands in front of him looks upgraded and menacing, he knows only one person can make it out of this fight alive. 

“You injected the city’s ‘Gas and Electric’ into your system or what?” Riki calls out, making light of the situation. If he’s being honest with himself, he’s scared out of his wits seeing the six foot figure with blue and white shooting from every crack, looking like a nightmare to touch.

Riki avoids a few more angrily thrown objects, using the momentum of his jump from the side of the building to zip from the top of a yellow fire hydrant to go from one side of the street to the other. “You’re slow!” He taunts, tucking in his legs to avoid a shot of electricity directed at him. 

The screech of metal from the nearby hydrant can be heard as the top flings off, making Riki lose his anchor/ Before he can process it, instead of smoothly landing on the building, he crashes into it faster than expected, groaning when his back makes contact with the glass and he tumbles into the living room of someone’s apartment. 

“Fuck,” he curses, fighting his aching limbs to get up once more. 

And the solution hits him. Literally. 

When he steps out and quickly attaches a web to the top of the building, he’s met on the way up with a splash of water from the hydrant to his face, and Riki splutters as he wipes his mask, regaining focus as he lands on the concrete and hides behind the ledge. 

Water. If he can get it in contact with Spark and pour enough water on the right spot, the excess of electricity blazing from his mechanical body should work against him. 

“Too scared? You should know better than to run away.” The superhero rolls his eyes, crawling away silently to avoid being seen by Spark. Riki does his best to look around for something, and finds a black flower pot in the corner, using a web to grab it before he scales the side of the building and runs away while Spark is distracted as the villain also climbs the wall to face him there. But when Spark climbs the ledge and scans the premise, Riki is nowhere to be seen. 

Instead, Riki swings across the street and fills the pot with water, heaving the extra weight as he shouts out from the sudden pain in his side. He stumbles on the pavement, crying out from the injury as the pot falls with his whole plan. 

Maybe this is where Spider-Man dies. 

He sucks in a deep breath before rolling from his back onto his knees, ignoring the wound to pick up the flower pot. The hydrant still shoots out water, and the superhero rushes towards it, causing Spark to follow. He narrowly avoids another shot from behind him, reaching the yellow hydrant before dropping the pot on the ground. Spark is th 

While Spark has always been intelligent, Riki could tell that the man didn’t fear the water, believing he’d be invincible to the elements now that his suit was perfected. There was something off, Riki could tell, and he would make sure to use it to his advantage. Spark was uncontrolled, and his powers drastically decreased the more he used them. There’s no way his body isn’t in overdrive with how recklessly he’s been letting himself get hurt. 

Riki uses a web to get himself on higher ground instead of fighting, waiting for the supervillain to follow. If he could get Spark off the edge and fall into the growing puddle of water, it should slow him down. 

Spark scoffs. “Run away, then. Like you always have.” Riki hears the wall crumbling under the villain as he climbs within seconds, immediately preparing to fight when he makes it onto the rooftop. But Spider-Man was also prepared, jumping from his crouched hiding position and attempting to catch Spark off guard. 

All he can focus on now is pushing him off. There’s no way it’d be easy, considering he had to focus on his touching any of the electricity off of his suit. Riki delivers a kick to Spark in the ribcage near his heart, where he’s fused metal into flesh. The villain coughs before taking a step back, his metal arm reaching for Riki’s outstretched leg. He grabs it, twisting with anger before the boy meets the ground in a violent throw. Not only is the slam greater because of the enhanced strength, but the power seeps into Riki’s skin, leaving it hot from the energy radiating off of his palm. 

The boy groans, flipping to his side to avoid a fatal hit to the chest. He reaches for Spark’s normal arm, swinging the villain’s body away with as force as he could to create distance between them. 

Riki has been in enough fights to simply know when to run, even if he doesn’t know what’s coming. He could feel the tingle of the charge as it powered up, and with its energy so unrestrained and its user so unstable, the large attempt to hit Riki sends the villain stumbling back from the force. The more Spark uses his powers, the more likely he’s going to end up dead. 

“Your skin can handle that anymore!” he shouts, getting ready to swing himself closer as a plan manifests itself in his head. “You’ll die like this!” 

Spark seems to know that too as he wipes his mouth and recovers from Riki’s attacks. 

“You think I care?” He shouts, desperately pressing his wounds to stop the bleeding. “You think I have anything else for myself?” The vulnerability of his character shines through as he clutches his bleeding wound without regenerative powers to help. “You think I didn’t know that when I did it to myself--what they did to me?” 

Riki doesn’t respond, grimacing as he continues hand-to-hand combat. Although he takes a solid punch to his jaw that’s forming a deep purple bruise, he manages to trip Spark onto the ground.

The man stumbles back from the head injury, the pounding from earlier not letting him to think straight. Riki doesn’t try to injure him anymore, but he instead blocks an incoming punch and tries to force Spark towards the edge. 

The villain barely notices how much space there is left, and the boy lunges with full force. They tackle each other into the ground, and Riki gets off after apprehending him once more. 

The city's a mess, and Spider-Man’s eyes want to shut down so badly, but he takes a few steps in Spark’s direction, pushing him off the side of the building as quickly as he can. Riki hears the thud before he peeks over the edge, seeing the water erode all of the engineering from the machinery. He slowly descends from the rooftop. 

“You were in the accident, huh?” Riki shouts on top of the plethora of sounds. Pain, buzzing electricity, splashes of water as he lands next to Spark; it all echoes in his ears as he pours the water from the pot on Spark’s body. “Why did you try it? Why did you want to go back so bad?”

“If I could go back,” Spark coughs, trying to get away from the large pool of water, “I could’ve prevented the accident from taking the lives of the people around me. I could’ve saved them.” 

Spider-Man understands loss, and he understands the regret that comes with failure. He understands how the man in front of him feels after having everything taken away from him, but his emotions could never justify his actions. 

“You know you can’t change things,” Riki responds, “You tried your best, Spark.” It’s the last thing Riki tells the villain before his body slumps and police sirens grow louder and louder. It’s the last thing that he continues to think about, even if the medic quickly assesses the severity of his wounds. 

“I’m fine- really,” he pushes away the hands of a concerned woman as she holds a roll of bandages. “There’s something else I need to do.” 

Riki knew he had to tell you about this–he couldn’t just let you confide in him about..well, him, without your knowledge. And Riki wasn’t morally perfect, but he knew an explanation would be the only way to fix things.

Your house looks different when jumping over the fence instead of standing in front of it. When he realizes he has no idea what room belongs to you, he racks his brain, suddenly remembering how yours was the only one with a gray balcony over the pool. And so he climbs, slipping from the exhaustion creeping into his body. 

You’ll understand after he explains everything, right? 

“____, a little help?” And what the fuck is Nishmura Riki doing outside of your door? You go to investigate the muffled sound, inching towards the curtains and pulling them back to expect him there. When you hear a half yelp and a hissing sound that follows right after, without a person anywhere in sight, your heart drops to its stomach. 

Do not say it’s true. 

“Riki, where the fuck are you?” you ask, traversing out when you don’t see him anywhere across the glass. 

“Down here.” You run in the direction of the voice, and your eyes grow comically large and you gasp, staring down at the sight before you. 

“Holy shit.” 

There Nishimura Riki is, with his mask half burned off his face and his blonde and black hair messy and matted to his forehead with sweat. The suit is ripped in multiple locations with gashes and purple replacing the healthy skin underneath. His face is in more of a grimace, as he holds onto the web with both hands and one foot planted on the stone of your balcony—read; the bottom of your balcony. 

“A little help?” And you see his sheepish emotion through the tattered fabric, embarrassed after you had to find him in such a compromising situation. “I’m a little worn out and I think my webs are getting weaker.”

You’re a little frustrated with him for being out so publicly, but more scared and worried for his condition. Your gaze narrows on the mask, tattered and covered with scratches, but clearly visible. It was Spider-Man’s mask. The material gives way to a familiar face, and your mind almost blocks you from putting the pieces together. It’s impossible, almost horrifying to think of the implications of what it means to wear the blue and red suit. 

Instead of being the villain, Riki is, in fact, the savior.

The harsh truth is that your classmate, who you spent the last month working on a project with and suspected was a villain, is the same superhero that went out and risked his life every night fighting crime. It’s jarring to see him like this, breathing heavy and straining against the stone of the balcony, and his cough snaps you out of it. “What the fuck do I do?” 

Riki tries to put his hand up in surrender and shuts his eyes at your harsh tone. “Okay, okay, I get-“ and he cuts himself off with a yelp as his footing slips. 

He holds out his hand, and you immediately bend over the smooth railing to grab it, leaning back on the heels of your feet to help him up the most that you can. You’re filled with confusion when the boy hobbles over the cool surface of the balcony and lets his head rest on the stone, not saying much as he catches his breath. You watch the rise and fall of his chest and how his right arm goes to nurse the left side of his ribcage, wincing and sucking in a pained breath as he assesses the smear of red on his fingers. 

Sitting there with your mouth agape, you’re not really sure what to think about first; to check if RIki’s alright, to think about how your city’s greatest superhero is your English project partner, to yell at him for going to your house instead of his house to fix himself up, or to think about how good his side profile looks in the moonlight. Maybe you should’ve just been relieved that the boy you started to like wasn’t a fear-inducing villain.

“Okay, first of all, we need to have a huge talk. But I’m not a medic Riki- I’m going into accounting for fuck’s sake.” He hears the amount of curses flying from your lips as you ramble, and sees how stressed you look watching him sit against your railing. 

“I don’t know how to help you. And also,” you lower your voice and scoot closer, looking around at the large property to really make sure no one’s listening. “you’re Spider-Man?” 

The information all hitting you at once is worse than when your history teacher told you your essay was horrible. At least then, in her office, you could process everything. But here? You’re about to faint. 

“I’m pretty cool, huh?” And of course Nishimura Riki says such a thing, taking deep breaths as he shallowly presses on the blossoming bruises on his skin and wipes the sweat from his brow. 

“Pretty fucking stupid is what it is, Riki.” You cross your arms and try to take a look at where he’s been hurt, hoping that at least he has some sort of regeneration ability that helps him heal much quicker—because there’s no way he could deal with all of this on top of school. 

“I have my reasons,” he says, his voice quiet. 

You pause. “For being Spider-Man?” 

“No,” he shakes his head. “For coming here.”

“What could possibly make you want to come over to my house instead of the nearest hospital? What’s that important to you?”

“I really want to ask you to prom.” 

You simply stare at him, surprised. 

“You came to my house, even though you’re like, a punch away from passing out, to ask me out? And you couldn’t have, I don’t know, asked me anytime during the classes we have together?”

Riki somehow finds it in himself to frown and shrink from your angry piercing gaze. “I can’t because talking to you makes me nervous–so yeah, I’m sorry I’m half conscious on your balcony in my suit instead of at your door with a poster.” 

You’re conflicted, your mind still reeling from the recent discovery and your flood of emotions. Ever since you questioned his identity on top of your feelings for him, you had a hard time really knowing if you could like Riki if he turned out to be a villain, so to know that he proved both of your theories wrong leaves you quiet as you think. If possible, the color in the boy’s face drains even more when you go back inside, but the door stays open, and he thinks he hasn’t ruined things after all. You emerge with a bottle of isopropyl alcohol, a bowl of warm water, and a pristine white towel. 

“I’m not mad about that, you idiot,” you reprimand him, setting everything down as you examine the cuts on his face. You squeeze the towel and start to dab at his skin, avoiding the cuts as you clean it. “Who does this for you if not me?” 

“Jake.” 

“Seems like a pretty good friend.” Riki nods in response. 

 “I’m sorry,” he sighs, sitting up to properly address you, even if you weren’t able to meet his gaze. 

“For what?”

“For putting this on you–all of it. Not just the whole Spider-Man thing.” He knew he’d have to tell you at some point, or else it’d eat him up inside to know he kept all of it from you. 

“Look at you, saving me mid-air and talking to me as if you didn’t know who I was.”

You notice a flash of regret through his wince as you clean up a cut with antiseptic. “I meant it when I told you I knew what it was like to have a lot of pressure.”

“Guess I wasn’t so far off, then. If we never talked, would you have told me?” Riki shakes his head, and the simple motion leaves you somehow disappointed. 

“How do you ever tell anyone you’re…y’know, Spider-Man?” Even if it’s a hypothetical, you shrug, not being able to answer.

“How’d Jake find out?” 

Riki chuckles and hisses at the same time before trying to remember. “I think I just kicked his window in after a nasty poison got hold of me. He was a little too excited to have Spider-Man on his bedroom floor, and less excited to know it was me. I’m not really supposed to tell anyone, though.”

“Then why’d you tell me? You could’ve just gone back to your friends.” 

“I felt guilty–I know, I know, it sounds stupid. I’d definitely get my identity revealed at this rate.” You shake your head. 

“Not stupid. Keep going.” 

“I didn’t care that you suspected me, or if anyone else did, because I knew it was never true. But I felt so bad knowing you were sharing to me how you felt without even knowing it was me who was listening–like I was holding something from you.” 

You admire his honesty, and when you look at his furrowed brows and his lip that he’s been gnawing from worry, you can’t even imagine what he’s had to hide and do for this. In a way, you look up to him more, for trying his best even if he’s gotten all odds stacked against him. Riki’s commendable in your eyes–he always had been, ever since you woke him up in class. 

“I like those things about you, Riki. That you’re honest with yourself and the people around you as much as you can be, and you try to help others when you can. I’m glad we got to know each other more this past month.” Talking to him feels different than talking to Spider-Man from a few days ago; it feels raw, like you’re not just confessing something to a brick wall anymore. If none of this ever happened, you doubt you’d get the chance to tell Riki any of this properly. 

The boy stays silent, taking deep breaths while processing what you’ve told him. “I’m glad I could help you out.” 

You furrow your eyebrows. “I hope you know I don’t like you because you help me out. I like you because you’re attractive, and because you’re genuine,” you blurt. 

Riki laughs despite his ribcage hurting everytime he does so. Riki nods and mumbles a ‘thank you,’ also glad to truly get to know you. While his crush was more of an infatuation with your hard work and amiability, the past few weeks really opened his eyes to who you were. You never wanted to disappoint, and even if your recklessness left you in some dire situations, Riki could see how much effort you really put into things. 

There wasn’t anything else he needed to tell you–you were smart enough to see how much he cared about you.    

You’re so close, your lips glossy with lip balm as you watch him carefully. You hear and see it all; the heavy, labored breathing from his body healing itself rapidly, and the way his hand is full of rough cuts and calluses as his fingers intertwine with yours. But your eyes catch a glimpse of his mask tossed to the side, the blue shining in the corner of your eyes as you’re reminded of who he is right now, and what role you play. You are still ____ ____, but he’s a superhero.

It makes you momentarily forget whose suit you're peeling away, whose skin you're cleaning. It reminds you that he’s just the boy in your English class that you fell for. “What does that make us?”

“Prom-goers,” he answers with a slight nod. 

You smile, wiping a cut before placing the towel back into the bowl for the last time and getting up. “We can be prom-goers, yeah.” 

You’re not sure if you’re ready for anything, and you’re thankful that he understands that, too. As much as it warmed your heart to see him again and hear his confessions, the blaring truth still hangs over your head. You grab his mask, finally looking at him before handing it back and grabbing your things. His secret identity wasn’t something you could just ignore. 

“Go home, Spider-Man,” you turn your back on him, and time slows when you falter before sparing him one more look. “I want you as Riki, not like this.” 

MAYBE NISHIMURA RIKI DOESN'T NEED TO DIE–OR ALMOST DIE–ANYMORE. 

He went home that night with his scars somewhat cleaned and his bruises miraculous healing on their own, and even if slipping through the window left him clutching his side in pain, Riki silently jumped up to celebrate his multiple victories before slipping out of his suit and finally getting some rest. 

Riki’s scared of how he’s affected your relationship. He’s worried you’ll avoid him in the halls, and he’s worried you’d never want to see him again after putting you through all of it. As much as he'd understand how upset you'd be towards him, he hopes he did the right thing by telling you.

But you see him on your way to English, and you call his name. His eyes search for yours in the crowds, and you two see each other before you crush him in a hug. 

Riki isn’t sure how to feel at first, but eventually wraps his arms around you as relief settles in his stomach. 

“Thank you for saving me, Spider-Man,” you whisper, loud enough for only him to hear. 

He smiles at you, ruffling your hair as you go to English together. “Anytime, ____.” 

NEVERMIND, NISHIMURA RIKI MIGHT DIE WHEN HE SEES YOU IN YOUR RED PROM DRESS.

But first, he has to try something out. 

He curses to himself when silently zipping from a tree outside your family property to the top of your house, staring past the ledge two and luxurious stories to your well decorated porch light and door. He just prays that Google Maps is  right about how secluded the area is, so no one can see him pacing around your rooftop, with flowers elegantly wrapped in his hand (courtesy of your mother’s sleek envelope from a few days ago). 

“Fuck it,” he says to himself, shooting a web and dangling himself down. Riki’s upside down figure watches swirled window frames and meticulously designed accents as he descends, and he wonders what kind of shady business your parents could’ve done to afford something so grand. 

He faces your door—hanging down instead of rightside up, but he’s still here on time like he promised. 

The door opens at 6:00PM like he instructed you to, but what he didn’t tell you what to do was shriek and slam the door. On his nose. With a loud yelp, Riki clutches his nose, rubbing the spot you hit and trying to apply pressure to alleviate the pain. 

When the door slowly creaks open again, you face with the image of Nishimura Riki, aka your boyfriend, aka your English partner, aka Spider-Man, curled upside down in the fetal position as he cradles the sore spot on his face and swings slightly from the breeze. 

“You scared me, dumbass! How was I supposed to know it was you? It was so hard to see!” 

Although muffled, Riki’s able to mumble, “You have a porch light for this reason, _____,” and a jab at his stomach from you follows his sarcastic remark. Finally, his nose feels better, and he straightens out to finally look at you. 

Pretty, pretty, pretty, and the boy wonders how you look even more stunning with a glittering red dress and perfectly done make-up. “I like the red,” he says, trying not to freak out over your beauty. “Reminds me of a certain neighborhood superhero.” 

“I have some blue spider earrings to match.” With a beautiful smile, you turn to show him the little accent, and it melts his heart. “Are you okay, though?”

“I’m fine. I should’ve probably put more thought into that.” 

You snicker, sliding into your heels and closing the door behind you. 

“One of us is better at romantic gestures, it seems.” It warrants a scoff, and Riki brings a gloved hand to poke at your forehead teasingly.

“Let me have a do-over, then?” And the way your lips curl up into a bright smile leaves him quiet and in awe. 

“What, were you going to kiss me? Very original, Spider-Man.” With the way the fabric shifts over his features, you can tell he’s pouting. 

“I thought girls liked this.” 

You shrug, pretending you aren’t swept off his feet by the effort he’s put in. Taking a step in his direction, your hands reach up to gently pull the mask over his chin, ears, and then his nose. 

Whispering quietly, you ask, “You’ve kissed other girls upside down?” 

Riki’s quick to shake his head. “You’re the only girl I’d withstand a head rush for.” And god, you just can’t stop yourself from grinning at his sweet, genuine words.

You lean in, placing a small kiss on his nose as a silent apology. Then, you close your eyes and lean into him once more, feeling his hands carefully holding the side of your head and his lips on yours. Your kiss with Riki is saccharine and slow, making you pull away when the urge to beam at him is too much. Your cheeks definitely hurt by how romantic he’s being, and you can’t resist kissing him once more.

“I’m not gonna lie,” he starts, finally letting himself down, “It feels weird.” 

“You ruined the moment.” And he really didn’t, but you enjoy his subtle reactions to your light digs at him. 

“Whatever.” Riki laughs. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

You nod, sitting down on the porch and dragging a manicured nail over your lips with the ghost of his affections, thinking about how you literally just kissed Spider-Man. 

Riki comes back, dusting off his suit and smoothing out the wrinkles, with a large bouquet of red roses and one blue one snuck in there. Your lips stretch into a grin and you accept the bouquet, keeping a mental note to read the card in there.

“You never cease to amaze me, Riki.” It’s the last thing you mutter to the air before you loop your arms around his neck, urging him to lean down as you kiss him once more—this time rightside up, but still as sickly saccharine as the one before it. Your heart is fuzzy with fondness and your eyes glitter with adoration. 

“So, which kiss was better?” he asks when you pull away, a little breathless and dizzy.

You swat his arm and walk past the gates, seeing the sleek limo waiting by the curb. “I don’t know, Spider-Man. Maybe show up in your suit and we’ll try it again.” 

REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE ALWAYS APPRECIATED AND ALWAYS READ!

RIKI FIC DONE!!!! ngl y/n u were right there how did u not know riki was spiderman but whatever idc she's a hard worker not smart LMFOAOAO. my first ever action fic so i hope you enjoy! also i hate the ‘oh he pined after her for 4 years she liked him for 2 months’ bs because I WAS IN IT. and it sucks so i tried to deviate from it :)

꣑ৎ permanent fic taglist (TAGGED IN TEASERS, FICS, HEADCANNONS, DRABBLES, ETC.): @dimplewonie @minleeeknow @heeheesang @mintpjzroll @llvrhee @firstclassjaylee @in-somnias-world @rairaiblog @suneng @mavlogist @sensitively-taken @sumzysworld @simpjay @moons-v @riksaes @txtari @jungwonscatcus @tya0 @sasfransisco @woorcve @shypen @pinkriki @rikisluv @saranghaohoshi @lilifiedeans @wonmyheart @k1ttyluvr @nikisgfff @ramenoil @laurradoesloveu @lvcky-g1rl-syndr0me @ikeulims @missychiefs1404 @qwonyoung23 @yangjungwonnie @onementally-unstabel-kid @microwvdstrawb3rri3s @blooqz @anormieee hi permies hope u enjoy! kith

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

25 Prose Tips For Writers 🖋️✨ Part 1

Hey there!📚✨

As writers, we all know that feeling when we read a sentence so beautifully crafted that it takes our breath away. We pause, reread it, and marvel at how the author managed to string those words together in such a captivating way. Well, today I'm going to unpack a few secrets to creating that same magic in your own writing. These same tips I use in my writing.

But before I begin, please remember that writing is an art form, and like any art, it's subjective. What sounds beautiful to one person might not resonate with another. The tips I'm about to share are meant to be tools in your writer's toolkit, not rigid rules. Feel free to experiment, play around, and find what works best for your unique voice and style.

Power of Rhythm 🎵

One of the most overlooked aspects of beautiful prose is rhythm. Just like music, writing has a flow and cadence that can make it pleasing to the ear (or mind's ear, in this case). Here are some ways to incorporate rhythm into your writing:

a) Vary your sentence length: Mix short, punchy sentences with longer, flowing ones. This creates a natural ebb and flow that keeps your reader engaged.

Example: "The sun set. Darkness crept in, wrapping the world in its velvet embrace. Stars winked to life, one by one, until the sky was a glittering tapestry of light."

b) Use repetition strategically: Repeating words or phrases can create a hypnotic effect and emphasize important points.

Example: "She walked through the forest, through the shadows, through the whispers of ancient trees. Through it all, she walked with purpose."

c) Pay attention to the stressed syllables: In English, we naturally stress certain syllables in words. Try to end important sentences with stressed syllables for a stronger impact.

Example: "Her heart raced as she approached the door." (Stronger ending) vs. "She approached the door as her heart raced." (Weaker ending)

Paint with Words 🎨

Beautiful prose often creates vivid imagery in the reader's mind. Here are some techniques to help you paint with words:

a) Use specific, concrete details: Instead of general descriptions, zoom in on particular details that bring a scene to life.

Example: Instead of: "The room was messy." Try: "Crumpled papers overflowed from the waste bin, books lay spine-up on every surface, and a half-eaten sandwich peeked out from under a stack of wrinkled clothes."

b) Appeal to all five senses: Don't just describe what things look like. Include smells, sounds, textures, and tastes to create a fully immersive experience.

Example: "The market bustled with life. Colorful fruits glistened in the morning sun, their sweet aroma mingling with the earthy scent of fresh herbs. Vendors called out their wares in sing-song voices, while customers haggled in animated tones. Sarah's fingers brushed against the rough burlap sacks of grain as she passed, and she could almost taste the tang of ripe oranges on her tongue."

c) Use unexpected comparisons: Fresh similes and metaphors can breathe new life into descriptions.

Example: Instead of: "The old man was very thin." Try: "The old man was a whisper of his former self, as if life had slowly erased him, leaving behind only the faintest outline."

Choose Your Words Wisely 📚

Every word in your prose should earn its place. Here are some tips for selecting the right words:

a) Embrace strong verbs: Replace weak verb + adverb combinations with single, powerful verbs.

Example: Instead of: "She walked quickly to the store." Try: "She hurried to the store." or "She dashed to the store."

b) Be specific: Use precise nouns instead of general ones.

Example: Instead of: "She picked up the flower." Try: "She plucked the daisy."

c) Avoid clichés: Clichés can make your writing feel stale. Try to find fresh ways to express common ideas.

Example: Instead of: "It was raining cats and dogs." Try: "The rain fell in sheets, transforming the streets into rushing rivers."

Play with Sound 🎶

The sound of words can contribute greatly to the beauty of your prose. Here are some techniques to make your writing more musical:

a) Alliteration: Repeating initial consonant sounds can create a pleasing effect.

Example: "She sells seashells by the seashore."

b) Assonance: Repeating vowel sounds can add a subtle musicality to your prose.

Example: "The light of the bright sky might ignite a fight."

c) Onomatopoeia: Using words that sound like what they describe can make your writing more immersive.

Example: "The bees buzzed and hummed as they flitted from flower to flower."

Art of Sentence Structure 🏗️

How you structure your sentences can greatly affect the flow and impact of your prose. Here are some tips:

a) Use parallel structure: When listing items or actions, keep the grammatical structure consistent.

Example: "She came, she saw, she conquered."

b) Try periodic sentences: Build suspense by putting the main clause at the end of the sentence.

Example: "Through storm and strife, across oceans and continents, despite all odds and obstacles, they persevered."

c) Experiment with sentence fragments: While not grammatically correct, sentence fragments can be powerful when used intentionally for emphasis or style.

Example: "She stood at the edge of the cliff. Heart racing. Palms sweating. Ready to jump."

Power of White Space ⬜

Sometimes, what you don't say is just as important as what you do. Use paragraph breaks and short sentences to create pauses and emphasize important moments.

Example: "He opened the letter with trembling hands.

Inside, a single word.

'Yes.'"

Read Your Work Aloud 🗣️

One of the best ways to polish your prose is to read it aloud. This helps you catch awkward phrasing, repetitive words, and rhythm issues that you might miss when reading silently.

Edit Ruthlessly ✂️

Beautiful prose often comes from rigorous editing. Don't be afraid to cut words, sentences, or even entire paragraphs if they don't serve the overall beauty and effectiveness of your writing.

Study the Masters 📖

Please! Read widely and pay attention to how your favorite authors craft their prose. Analyze sentences you find particularly beautiful and try to understand what makes them work.

Practice, Practice, Practice 💪

Like any skill, writing beautiful prose takes practice. Set aside time to experiment with different techniques and styles. Try writing exercises focused on specific aspects of prose, like describing a scene using only sound words, or rewriting a simple sentence in ten different ways.

Remember, that developing your prose style is a journey, not a destination. It's okay if your first draft isn't perfect – that's what editing is for! The most important thing is to keep writing, keep experimenting, and keep finding joy in the process.

Here are a few more unique tips to help you on your prose-perfecting journey:

Create a Word Bank 🏦

Keep a notebook or digital file where you collect beautiful words, phrases, or sentences you come across in your reading. This can be a great resource when you're looking for inspiration or the perfect word to complete a sentence.

Use the "Rule of Three" 3️⃣

There's something inherently satisfying about groups of three. Use this to your advantage in your writing, whether it's in listing items, repeating phrases, or structuring your paragraphs.

Example: "The old house groaned, creaked, and whispered its secrets to the night."

Power of Silence 🤫

Sometimes, the most powerful prose comes from what's left unsaid. Use implication and subtext to add depth to your writing.

Example: Instead of: "She was heartbroken when he left." Try: "She stared at his empty chair across the breakfast table, the untouched coffee growing cold."

Play with Perspective 👁️

Experiment with different points of view to find the most impactful way to tell your story. Sometimes, an unexpected perspective can make your prose truly memorable.

Example: Instead of describing a bustling city from a human perspective, try describing it from the point of view of a bird soaring overhead, or a coin passed from hand to hand.

Use Punctuation Creatively 🖋️

While it's important to use punctuation correctly, don't be afraid to bend the rules a little for stylistic effect. Em dashes, ellipses, and even unconventional use of periods can add rhythm and emphasis to your prose.

Example: "She hesitated—heart pounding, palms sweating—then knocked on the door."

Create Contrast 🌓

Juxtapose different elements in your writing to create interest and emphasis. This can be in terms of tone, pacing, or even the literal elements you're describing.

Example: "The delicate butterfly alighted on the rusted barrel of the abandoned tank."

Use Synesthesia 🌈

Synesthesia is a condition where one sensory experience triggers another. While not everyone experiences this, using synesthetic descriptions in your writing can create vivid and unique imagery.

Example: "The violin's melody tasted like honey on her tongue."

Experiment with Sentence Diagrams 📊

Remember those sentence diagrams from school? Try diagramming some of your favorite sentences from literature. This can give you insight into how complex sentences are structured and help you craft your own.

Create a Sensory Tour 🚶‍♀️

When describing a setting, try taking your reader on a sensory tour. Move from one sense to another, creating a full, immersive experience.

Example: "The old bookstore welcomed her with the musty scent of aging paper. Dust motes danced in the shafts of sunlight piercing the high windows. Her fingers trailed over the cracked leather spines as she moved deeper into the stacks, the floorboards creaking a greeting beneath her feet. In the distance, she could hear the soft ticking of an ancient clock and taste the faint bitterness of old coffee in the air."

Use Active Voice (Most of the Time) 🏃‍♂️

While passive voice has its place, active voice generally creates more dynamic and engaging prose. Compare these two sentences:

Passive: "The ball was thrown by the boy." Active: "The boy threw the ball."

Magic of Ordinary Moments ✨

Sometimes, the most beautiful prose comes from describing everyday occurrences in a new light. Challenge yourself to find beauty and meaning in the mundane.

Example: "The kettle's whistle pierced the quiet morning, a clarion call heralding the day's first cup of possibility."

Play with Time ⏳

Experiment with how you present the passage of time in your prose. You can stretch a moment out over several paragraphs or compress years into a single sentence.

Example: "In that heartbeat between his question and her answer, universes were born and died, civilizations rose and fell, and their entire future hung in the balance."

Use Anaphora for Emphasis 🔁

Anaphora is the repetition of a word or phrase at the beginning of successive clauses or sentences. It can create a powerful rhythm and emphasize key points.

Example: "She was the sunrise after the longest night. She was the first bloom of spring after a harsh winter. She was the cool breeze on a sweltering summer day. She was hope personified, walking among us."

Create Word Pictures 🖼️

Try to create images that linger in the reader's mind long after they've finished reading. These don't have to be elaborate – sometimes a simple, unexpected combination of words can be incredibly powerful.

Example: "Her laughter was a flock of birds taking flight."

Use Rhetorical Devices 🎭

Familiarize yourself with rhetorical devices like chiasmus, antithesis, and oxymoron. These can add depth and interest to your prose.

Example of chiasmus: "Ask not what your country can do for you – ask what you can do for your country." - John F. Kennedy

Even the most accomplished authors continue to hone their craft with each new piece they write. Don't be discouraged if your first attempts don't sound exactly like you imagined – keep practicing, keep experimenting, and most importantly, keep writing.

Your unique voice and perspective are what will ultimately make your prose beautiful. These techniques are simply tools to help you express that voice more effectively. Use them, adapt them, or discard them as you see fit. The most important thing is to write in a way that feels authentic to you and brings you joy.

Happy writing, everyone! 🖋️💖📚 - Rin T

Hey fellow writers! I'm super excited to share that I've just launched a Tumblr community. I'm inviting all of you to join my community. All you have to do is fill out this Google form, and I'll personally send you an invitation to join the Write Right Society on Tumblr! Can't wait to see your posts!

[gowns]

Why Kids Aren't Falling in Love With Reading - It's Not Just Screens

A shrinking number of kids are reading widely and voraciously for fun.

The ubiquity and allure of screens surely play a large part in this—most American children have smartphones by the age of 11—as does learning loss during the pandemic. But this isn’t the whole story. A survey just before the pandemic by the National Assessment of Educational Progress showed that the percentages of 9- and 13-year-olds who said they read daily for fun had dropped by double digits since 1984. I recently spoke with educators and librarians about this trend, and they gave many explanations, but one of the most compelling—and depressing—is rooted in how our education system teaches kids to relate to books.

What I remember most about reading in childhood was falling in love with characters and stories; I adored Judy Blume’s Margaret and Beverly Cleary’s Ralph S. Mouse. In New York, where I was in public elementary school in the early ’80s, we did have state assessments that tested reading level and comprehension, but the focus was on reading as many books as possible and engaging emotionally with them as a way to develop the requisite skills. Now the focus on reading analytically seems to be squashing that organic enjoyment. Critical reading is an important skill, especially for a generation bombarded with information, much of it unreliable or deceptive. But this hyperfocus on analysis comes at a steep price: The love of books and storytelling is being lost.

This disregard for story starts as early as elementary school. Take this requirement from the third-grade English-language-arts Common Core standard, used widely across the U.S.: “Determine the meaning of words and phrases as they are used in a text, distinguishing literal from nonliteral language.” There is a fun, easy way to introduce this concept: reading Peggy Parish’s classic, Amelia Bedelia, in which the eponymous maid follows commands such as “Draw the drapes when the sun comes in” by drawing a picture of the curtains. But here’s how one educator experienced in writing Common Core–aligned curricula proposes this be taught: First, teachers introduce the concepts of nonliteral and figurative language. Then, kids read a single paragraph from Amelia Bedelia and answer written questions.

For anyone who knows children, this is the opposite of engaging: The best way to present an abstract idea to kids is by hooking them on a story. “Nonliteral language” becomes a whole lot more interesting and comprehensible, especially to an 8-year-old, when they’ve gotten to laugh at Amelia’s antics first. The process of meeting a character and following them through a series of conflicts is the fun part of reading. Jumping into a paragraph in the middle of a book is about as appealing for most kids as cleaning their room.

But as several educators explained to me, the advent of accountability laws and policies, starting with No Child Left Behind in 2001, and accompanying high-stakes assessments based on standards, be they Common Core or similar state alternatives, has put enormous pressure on instructors to teach to these tests at the expense of best practices. Jennifer LaGarde, who has more than 20 years of experience as a public-school teacher and librarian, described how one such practice—the class read-aloud—invariably resulted in kids asking her for comparable titles. But read-alouds are now imperiled by the need to make sure that kids have mastered all the standards that await them in evaluation, an even more daunting task since the start of the pandemic. “There’s a whole generation of kids who associate reading with assessment now,” LaGarde said.

By middle school, not only is there even less time for activities such as class read-alouds, but instruction also continues to center heavily on passage analysis, said LaGarde, who taught that age group. A friend recently told me that her child’s middle-school teacher had introduced To Kill a Mockingbird to the class, explaining that they would read it over a number of months—and might not have time to finish it. “How can they not get to the end of To Kill a Mockingbird?” she wondered. I’m right there with her. You can’t teach kids to love reading if you don’t even prioritize making it to a book’s end. The reward comes from the emotional payoff of the story’s climax; kids miss out on this essential feeling if they don’t reach Atticus Finch’s powerful defense of Tom Robinson in the courtroom or never get to solve the mystery of Boo Radley.

... Young people should experience the intrinsic pleasure of taking a narrative journey, making an emotional connection with a character (including ones different from themselves), and wondering what will happen next—then finding out. This is the spell that reading casts. And, like with any magician’s trick, picking a story apart and learning how it’s done before you have experienced its wonder risks destroying the magic.

-- article by katherine marsh, the atlantic (12 foot link, no paywall)

[bwabys-scenarios]

Hello dear! How are you? Could you please do Perv! Chrollo if it's not too much trouble? I haven't seen much Perv Chrollo content out there, and I'd love to see that in your writing! You can ignore it if you want, have a nice day ♡ (Sorry if it seemed confusing, English is not my first language ☠️)

His pretty girl

Perv!Chrollo x Fem!Reader

warnings: perv behavior, panting stealing, reader is mentioned to be chubby, excessive gift giving, somno, dubcon, reader is innocent and naive, breeding kink, pregnancy, bit of Yandere chrollo if you squint, Chrollo calls you princess/angel/goddess, minor manga spoilers about Shalnark

A/N: not the biggest chrollo fan but him being head over heels in love and just a big softy with his lover does do something for me.

NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @pannacottababy @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

Unlike most pervs, Chrollo is much sneakier with his perversion. You won’t catch him sniffing your panties or jacking off to pictures of your cute face… but you will find pairs of your panties covered in his cum in your dresser, and lots of pictures of you saved on his phone if you go looking.

Chrollo absolutely adores you, he enjoys seeing you blush and stutter when you find a particularly nasty love letter stuffed into your mailbox, or those pair of missing lacy panties folded neatly on your bed, with strange stains on them.

He first fell for you when Shalnark introduced him to you. You met Shal through the Hunter exam years ago, though you didn’t pass. Regardless, the two of you stayed good friends, with Shal making sure you stayed safe while under his care.

But Shalnark was quick to back off the second Chrollo showed interest in you. You were just too cute, with your chubby frame and pretty face. Chrollo had never really put much thought into his sexual preferences, but seeing your plump ass and fat tits was enough to awaken something… sinful in him.

After that first meeting, you started receiving little gifts from him. At first, they were just pretty trinkets that Chrollo found on his missions, but as his obsession and adoration for you grew, those little trinkets because expensive dresses and luxurious jewelry.

At first you thought it was just him being generous with you, considering your living situation wasn’t the best. You were very appreciative, your cheeks heating up and your voice small when he smiled sweetly after you thanked him.

But over time, strange things started happening that you just couldn’t explain!

Your windows would be open in the morning when you were sure you closed them last night… and what was that sticky stuff on your face?

Chrollo had gotten into the habit of breaking in to watch you sleep. In the beginning, it was because he felt such intense love and care for you that he just couldn’t bear the thought of you getting harmed in your most vulnerable state!

He’d sit at the edge of your bed, reading a book while gently stroking your cheek. It was cute, you seemed so content and happy in your sleep when he was with you. It made his heart soar thinking that maybe, just maybe he had something to do with it.

But soon those soft and innocent intentions shifted when he noticed how… revealing your pajamas were sometimes. Those flimsy little shorts and the fact he could see your nipples through your thin white tanktop had his cock straining against his pants.

You always looked so soft and peaceful, something he wanted to protect and cherish. You were the only person linking him to the normal world, where your biggest problems were paying rent on time and figuring out what to eat for dinner, while his were trying to keep his friends from dying and which heist he should plan next.

You lived in a completely different world than him, and that was some of the appeal. Chrollo had never lived a normal life, but with you, he could have some shred of normalcy. He could marry you, make you his sweet little wife and live out the rest of his days keeping you happy and safe.

But… deep down Chrollo knew this was next to impossible. He was a wanted criminal, with more enemies than he could care to remember.

He still liked to imagine it, though. You, sitting in a rocking chair your swollen belly, carrying his child. He’d come home from a heist, carry you upstairs and ravish you, making sure to be extra careful with your delicate body.

Chrollo stroked his cock to this thought, his tip gently pressed against your lips as you slept. He’d done this exact things countless times… he hadn’t been expecting you to wake up right as he buckled his pants after cumming on your lips.

“… Chrollo?”

You rubbed your sleepy eyes, then wiped at your mouth, grimacing. Did you drool in your sleep? It was too dark to make out what was on your hand… but there was just enough light to see your friend Chrollo standing there, peering down at you with a slightly surprised expression.

He quickly took on his usual calm, charming facade. “Hello, (Name). Shal asked me to come watch over you. Apparently there’s been a few break ins in town that got both him and I worried for you.”

It was all lies, but something he loved about (Name) was her naïveté. You smiled sweetly, your cheeks heating up. “Really? You came to make sure I was okay?”

Chrollo nodded, setting his book on your nightstand before sitting at the edge of your bed. “Of course… I don’t think you understand just how much you mean to me, (Name).”

You didn’t have time to react, he was already leaning closer to you. His eyes were captivating in the moonlight, reflecting the light and shining like jewels.

“You’re divine, (Name), like an angel sent from Heaven just for me.”

He cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing against your lip. “I want you, more than anything.”

Hearing this from a handsome man like Chrollo felt unreal. He wanted you of all people? It was hard to believe.

As if sensing your hesitancy, Chrollo tilted up your chin. “Do you want me to show you?”

Before you could answer, his lips met yours. He had been holding back for so long, he needed this, he needed you. You were always so sweet to him, making sure he was eating well and even coming to visit him when you could. How could he ever ask for anything more than you?

It wasn’t long before his tongue entered your mouth and his hands slipped under your shirt to grab at your perky, plump tits. You whines softly into his mouth as his thumbs ran over your sensitive nipples.

“Like that, princess?”

He gave them a soft pinch, biting down on your lip as he moved one hand to your shorts. He didn’t both with taking them off, he ripped them and pinned you down, one hand pinning your wrists and the other unbuckling his pants.

“My darling…”

His eyes settled on your pretty cunt, wet and glistening in the moonlight. Chrollo had a few one nights stands in the past, but he never felt like this before. Your pussy, all wet and ready for him was enough to have him groaning into your neck as his cock sunk into your warm heat.

He grabbed onto your hips, his fingers sinking into the soft fat. You were so cute, tears pooling down your cheeks as you blubbered incoherently, too fucked out to speak. He leaned forward and kissed those soft lips of yours, so soft and gentle with his little angel.

“Shh, just take me okay? Fuck, you’re divine, my angel, my goddess…”

With one leg over his shoulder as he pressed your bodies together, Chrollo fucked into you. He tried his best to restrain himself, but god you looked way too pretty when you came around his cock for the third time.

You clung to him for comfort and some sort of stability as he mercilessly pounded your sensitive cunt. “Pretty, god you’re just gorgeous, my sweet girl…”

By the end of the night, you were too exhausted to even speak, your pussy full of his seed. He held you now, cooing softly as he peppered kisses along your cheeks and jaw. “Did so well, such a good girl…”

From then on Chrollo’s obsession with you would only deepen. He’d marked you up, leaving love bites all over your neck and chest. You were his, and he’d make sure everyone knew that.

It wasn’t long before he had moved you away, somewhere you could be together and also under the radar. After Shalnark’s death, he became a bit paranoid that Hisoka would come after you next.

So now there you were, belly swollen with his child as he held you in his lap, his palm resting on your baby bump.

Chrollo had you, and although it wasn’t quite the life he had expected, he was still happy with it. You were here with him, carrying his baby and unable to get a way, even if you wanted to.

And that was enough for him.

[what-even-is-thiss]

If you’re having trouble picking a language to learn you might want to evaluate why you want to learn a language in the first place

Do you want to do it to connect with your relatives? Because you’re moving to a country where you don’t speak the language? Then you already know what you have to do. Get out there and start watching YouTube videos and bothering your grandma to teach you, silly. Just do it.

If you just want to speak a second language for its own sake and don’t really care what, just pick a language that’s common in your region and/or will help you in your career. These types of languages will likely have local news stations in the language, local people to talk to, local language exchanges, a presence on streaming services in your country, etc. In the US this is almost always gonna be Spanish. Sometimes it might be something like German or Chinese but it’s usually Spanish. I give this suggestion because then your motivation is always staring you right in the face at the library when there’s a whole section you can’t read and motivation can sometimes be the hardest part of language learning. And if there’s a lot of stuff to watch and a lot of people to talk to that can also keep you from getting bored.

If you wanna be quirky or different but still want something easy just pick a language with a lot of speakers that isn’t spoken much near you that preferably also has a large presence online so you can watch and read content in that language. So if you live in the US likely something like Mandarin, Japanese, Portuguese, Arabic, Hindi, Russian, Korean. These languages also have a lot of monolingual speakers so they have a lot of tv, books, and movies made for them and they’re writing in their own language on social media websites.

If you want to learn a dead language decide which ancient culture you’re personally most abnormal about and pick that one. If you’re doing it for spiritual reasons to read a holy book then again you already know what you’re supposed to be doing, silly. Get reading. Find a quirky teacher on YouTube.

If you want to learn an endangered language and/or are interested in language preservation see what endangered languages live near you and if they’re open to outsiders learning them. Local universities often work with minority language groups to make dictionaries and they may have a program locally to help preserve the language you might be able to participate in. If that’s not possible where you live for whatever reason, I’d suggest finding one that you just really like and whose speakers are happy to teach to outsiders. If you’re looking for ones with a lot of resources available to you then something like Hawaiian or one of the Celtic languages would likely be your best bet, but look around. There’s a lot of people out there doing the work to make endangered languages more accessible.

If you wanna play on hard mode then pick a language that’s spoken in a country where almost everyone speaks English because you’ll have to defeat the locals in 1v1 combat before they’ll let you speak to them in their own language. So basically learn a Scandinavian language.

If you want to learn a conlang (why?) then decide which kind of nerds you want to make friends with. If you want to make friends with regular nerds, learn something like elvish or Klingon. If you want to make friends with people that just like conlangs, learn Esperanto. These are generally the most active conlang communities. If you want to just learn a language in a week and only sort of approximately say what you mean then learn toki pona.

If you’ve fallen hard in love with a language then pick that one. It doesn’t matter if it’s impractical or you don’t have a concrete reason. If you know that your love for that language and its culture is enough to keep you going then it’ll keep you going. You’ll find resources if you’re determined enough. Go. Be free.

[ldrfanatic]

Italian Theodore Nott Headcanons

So... by popular request (I think like literally one person commented on a post from ages ago) and also because I'm still working on my most recent part to the '13' Series (linked here) here's some Italian Theo headcanons to keep you sated.

sorry if this is inaccurate it's based off of my own knowledge of italians and what I think Theo would be like

slytherin boys masterlist works

So, unlike most, I don't think that Italian Theo would be a whore. Let me explain:

Sure Italian men like to flirt, (although Theo doesn't), but they do it because it comes so natural to them and because more than anything, they value their partner.

They're well dressed and take pride in their appearance (something Theo does do) but they don't always entertain the people of the heads that they turn

They also have a natural air of confidence that Theo has and doesn't even have to use

However, just because Theo isn't a whore doesn't mean that he doesn't have his own little clique of fangirls.

In general:

As a person, Theo is incredibly quiet. His English is not the best as he grew up in the Italian countryside and spends his breaks there. He spends most of his time observing, and the rest of his time, mentally translating sentences from English to Italian and vice versa (and yes that's exhausting).

He does however take food incredibly seriously (as most Italians do I feel). His favorite kind of pasta is Paccheri and he will die on the hill that the Italians were the first to make Pizza (who else could make bread, sauce, and cheese taste so good?). He was also incredibly shocked when he found out the drinking age in England was 18. Theo had a glass of wine with dinner every night since the age of ten.

Another thing he doesn't quite understand about England is the frequency through which they drink tea throughout the day. At most, he has a cup a day while some of his English friends have four to five cups a day and usually, one cup with every meal.

Theo also had a very strong connection to his mother. Now that she's gone, he spends a lot of time in his head with his memories of her. It's not all that shocking to anyone really that he doesn't quite have the time or the patience for girls.

Platonically:

As a friend, Theo is a little more open but not much. His two closest friends in the group are you and Lorenzo who's also Italian. He'll talk to either of you and open up a little, but only if no one else is around. He's a bit impartial to Mattheo although he does think the boy is a loose cannon and he actually secretly despises Draco and his blood purity nonsense as it reminds him too much of his father (whom he also hates). So yeah, he spends the majority of his time with Lorenzo and Blaise.

In regards to your friendship with Theo, he's a complete gentleman. He never sits too close in fear of startling or offending you. He opens all of the doors the pair of you walk through and carries your books to class when you have the same class.

In fact, despite being significantly more well mannered than any other boy in your year, the only thing that hinted to you that Theo felt anything towards you other than indifference were small smiles and shared secrets.

Romantically:

Before you even became friends you'd caught Theo's eye. The first time he'd noticed you, you were comforting a crying first year muggle-born that Draco had bullied to tears. You spoke so kindly and softly to the boy. Theo knew then that you weren't like everyone else in Hogwarts. Most people were too afraid to stand up to Draco but the next day, you punched him square in the jaw and told him to stop being such a prick.

The first person to find out about Theo's crush on you was Lorenzo of course. He didn't tease him for which Theo was grateful. Now as stated, Theo is an incredibly quiet person so it's not clear to you that Theo has crush on you.

Also, once Theo has decided that he likes you, other girls don't even approach him anymore. Not after the Ravenclaw incident. A Ravenclaw from your guys' year approached him and asked him out. He didn't even acknowledge her. Just stood up and left.

He does however, make an attempt to spend more time with you whenever her can. He sits with you at meals and during lessons, he asks you for help in charms (even though he's already receiving high marks, but you don't know that). He brings you soup when your sick.

The way that you find out Theo has a crush on you is actually really surprising for you.

Lorenzo came running up to you after Potions one day, completely out of breath. "Y/n! Come quick." He didn't give you any room to disagree as he grasped your wrist firmly and began dragging you down the corridor towards the courtyard. When you got out there, your stomach dropped.

For the first time since meeting him, you saw Theo fight. He had Addrian Pucey on the ground and was currently pummeling the poor boy. The scariest part was that he remained completely calm, cold. Mattheo and Draco were standing on the sidelines egging him on while Theo ruthlessly delivered blow after blow in dead silence. He didn't even wince as his knuckles began to split open and bleed.

Blaise was desperately trying to pull Theo away but he wouldn't budge. Finally, you snapped out of your stupor and approached the boy. As he was throwing punches with his right arm, you approached him from the left and placed a hand on his left shoulder apprehensively. "Theo."

At the sound of your voice, Theo stopped immediately. He didn't look at you immediately. Instead, he stood and kicked Adrian who was on the ground rolling in pain. "Stay away from her." The crowd dispersed as the fight ended. When Theo turned to look at you, his eyes were blazing. For the first time since you'd known him, Theo was burning with rage.

"Theo come on." He let you lead him away in complete silence. Worse than what Adrian had said to you, Theo was ashamed. He couldn't believe that he'd let his emotions take over like that. Now he may have lost you for good. When you finally stopped in a secluded corridor, Theo turned away from you.

"Theo?" He was silent and your concern grew. It wasn't Theo's usual kind of silence, it was a silence that made your heart feel heavy. "Theodore."

"Don't."

"What?"

Finally Theo turns to you and his eyes are glossy. It was startling almost, to see the normally calm and collected boy tearing up. "Don't do that tesoro. Yell, push me, hit me if you need to, but I'm not Theodore. Not to you."

"What happened?" He sighed.

"I overheard Adrian say something completely vile about... you. I couldn't let him talk about you like that. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me cuore. You are the only light in my dark life."

You reached out and grabbed Theo's hands in your own. "That's incredibly sweet of you Theo. But why would you do that for me?"

"Isn't it obvious! I am entirely and irreversibly in love with you. I cannot live without you and I will not allow anyone to say such things about you."

After that, Theo took you out on a date. Thanks to his Pureblood lineage, Theo's family was quite wealthy. And his father had always taken to making sure he was well cared for financially, perhaps out of guilt from his emotional abuse.

For your first date, Theo took you to a London shopping district with his Black Card. At first you refused to spend any of his money. That is until Theo became resigned to buy you everything that your eyes lingered on for more than five seconds despite all your protests.

To end the date, he treated you to a nice dinner and then brought the pair of you back to Hogwarts.

As your boyfriend:

As your boyfriend, Theo's go-to nickname for you is either tesoro (treasure). He spends a lot of time staring at you which Mattheo teases him endlessly for of course.

He wishes you could meet his mother, but he adamantly refuses for you to meet his father. Instead, he introduces you to his grandmother. She teaches you how to make pasta from scratch and you and Theo often sneak into the kitchens at Hogwarts to try and make it there.

He makes it pretty clear that you're the only girl for him. He even tells you one night how his mother's dying wish was for him to find someone that he loved wholeheartedly and who loved him as much. Theo knows that this person is you, and he has no shyness in telling you.

He hates to see you cry, but if for any reason you're feeling sad, he recites Italian poetry to you in a soft and devoted tone.

Questo nostro amore, vita mia

lo prospetti felice

destinato a durare per sempre.

Dei del cielo, fate voi che lei dica il vero,

che lo prometta sincera e dal cuore,

che si possa per tutta la vita

mantener questo patto inviolabile

(This love of ours my life; I predict will be happy; destined to last forever.; Gods of the sky, do what you deem to be true; that promises to be sincere and from the heart,; which can be for a lifetime,; keep this inviolable covenant.)

When Theo speaks his native tongue it makes you a little weak in the knees. The way that his lips curve around the words and his tongue effortlessly forms each syllable makes your heart swell.

Overall:

Italian Theo is a complete cutie with impeccable manners and expresses more romance in ten minutes with you than most men express in their entire lives. He sees you as a light that brightens his life that he will do anything to protect.

----

help this is so bad

[readyforevolution]

By Nichii Nahama

‘Soooo you mean to tell me that someone down your ancestry line survived being chained to other human bodies for several months in the bottom of a disease-infested ship during the Middle Passage, lost their language, customs and traditions, picked up the English language as best they could while working free of charge from sun up to sun down as they watched babies sold from out of their arms and women raped by ruthless slave owners.

Took names with no last names, no birth certificates, no heritage of any kind, braved the Underground Railroad, survived the Civil War to enter into sharecropping... Learned to read and write out of sheer will and determination, faced the burning crosses of the KKK, everted their eyes at the black bodies swinging from ropes hung on trees...

Fought in World Wars as soldiers only to return to America as boys, marched in Birmingham, hosed in Selma, jailed in Wilmington, assassinated in Memphis, segregated in the South, ghettoed in the North, ignored in history books, stereotyped in Hollywood...

and in spite of it all, someone in your family line endured every era to make sure you would get here, but you receive one rejection, face one obstacle, lose one friend, get overlooked, and you want to quit?

How dare you entertain the very thought of quitting. People, you will never know survived from generation to generation so you could succeed. Don’t you dare let them down!

It is NOT in our DNA to quit!’

[wrr000]

Black Myth!Sun Wukong x mortal!reader - general headcanons (part 2)

Part 1 is here

Warnings: messy, short, english isn't my first language

we already know that being with sun wukong may be difficult sometimes, but it isn't like any regular relationship because well, your lover isn't a regular boyfriend

...and he brings you (probably) the most unexpected gifts

one day while flying on nimbus cloud he saw a beautiful tree covered with pink flowers and thought immediately about you, but it didn't come to his mind to simply pick these flowers

so he brings you the whole tree instead. with roots. and says "it's for you. i heard that mortals adore flowers"

monkey king also likes to giving you anything that's gold and i mean anything, not only gold coins or jewerly

armor (doesn't matter if it's wrong size), different types of weapons, plates, figurines; as long as it's gold it works

even if most of these items were completely useless he really just wanted to make you happy!

it's one of his own ways to show love

wukong won't admit it, but he asks you to read books to him just because he loves your voice

he's old, but not old enough to care about some boring sheets of papier

it may be a little controversial, but he doesn't get jealous

he has a high ego and knows that he's one of the best; insanely strong, clever, confident and hadsome

there is no reason for him to being afraid of other men

maaaybe he gets a little bit jealous when some like Erlang is around and won't hesite to strike him down if necessary

but he just genuinely trust you. he can't imagine that you, his precious treasure, could leave him

it goes without saying - wukong has a huge soft spot for you, but don't expect him to admit it

[samsno1]

Flowers

Castiel x GN!Reader

i love his eyes. that's it, that's the tweet. guys...this is very sweet but i don't know if i'm satisfied?? tell me what you think, writing castiel is very hard, lawd

Summary: In a hunt, a flower appears over your pillow after you come back to the motel room at night. Who left it there?

Warnings: FLUFF, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, i pictured s4/5 cas in this, use of y/n, sweet confession, NOT PROOF READ, that's it? english isn't my first language

WC: 2.5k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

When you started hunting with Sam and Dean one of the last things you expected to encounter was an Angel, especially after discovering they aren't “harps and halos" like in the books you read as a kid, but instead soldiers and sometimes assholes.

Castiel was an exception to the “asshole” part, he was actually very sweet when it came to you and the boys. Helped you, saved you and cared for you. In that sense, Cas was just like the Angel stories, a guardian of the humans he was in charge of.

And for you, it was fun teaching Cas about humans and how they behaved, helped him when he didn't understand Dean's pop culture references, got him to watch classic movies and listen to music and he was always very keen into doing so, curious and intrigued in what you explained to him.

Those big blue eyes always gave you his full attention, sometimes with that little frown that you started to call “The Angel Frown” while he questioned you about something that, to you, was basic knowledge. You were always as patient as possible with him, always clarifying what you could in words he could understand and that ended up always making him come to you for help.

In conclusion, you and Cas got closer and you started to catch yourself staring when he wasn't looking, admiring his smiles, drowning into his sapphire eyes and wishing that he had just more doubts about how people acted so you could spend more time with him.

You knew, from what Castiel told you, that Angels and feelings, human feelings at least, weren't compatible and that things such as love and romance weren't truly a reality for him and his siblings, they were warriors after all, created to serve their Father and that was it. 

Even when Castiel rebelled for the Winchesters, letting go of the “I don't serve men” mindset was difficult but you, Dean and Sam were there for him. You were more understandable then the brothers because you knew Cas was trying his best.

And because you fell for the Angel, but nobody needed to know that.

One night you arrived at the motel room you were staying at, after waving goodnight to Sam and Dean, them going to their separate room.

You opened the door and sighed deeply in exhaustion. It had been a long day of questioning and more questions appearing then those answered. At first you guys thought of a vengeful spirit, then cursed object, then witch. All of those possibilities were still up and it was driving you three insane. People were dying and you felt useless.

Once you closed the door and threw your stuff in the closest table you turned to your bed, where your bag was placed to get some clothes to take a well deserved shower. But, when you looked at your pillow, you noticed a single pink flower sitting over it and you furrowed your eyebrows.

You approached the flower slowly, skeptical about it, your hunter instincts telling you this wasn't good news. You slowly reached for it, as if it could bite your hand off, and picked it up. You analyzed the plant, very confused and grabbed your laptop.

You searched until you found a flower similar to the one you were holding and learned it was a Camellia. You looked between the screen and the flower and you searched up what a pink Camellia meant because, as much as you knew, flowers weren't really something you looked into.

What you found was shocking. According to the internet, a pink Camellia represents admiration and appreciation and Camellias and general represent love and affection. You widen your eyes at the flower in your hands, looking around your empty room as if someone would pop up and explain what this was doing at your bed. Wrong room?

You couldn't think of anybody that could give you this willingly. It definitely wasn't Sam or Dean because, first, they spent the whole day by your side and, second, unless they meant it platonically, the boys didn't see you like that. You loved them and they loved you, of course, but, to them, you were like a sister Dean loves you like he loves Sam, the same way Sam loves you like he loves Dean and vice-versa.

The only person that came to your mind was…No, it couldn't be, he said himself, love for him was basically unachievable but you couldn't help but wonder, even if your rational brain said it was stupid to think Cas would mean that. You smiled at the flower, that tinge of hope lightning inside you.

You looked around the room to look for something you could fill up with water and found an empty beer bottle. That'll do.

You washed the bottle to get the smell of alcohol off and filled it up with water, placing the little flower inside.

The pink color of the petals clashed with the transparent green of the bottle and you smiled at that. It looked cute in a way. You thought, even if this didn't come from someone you knew, you were keeping it, at least the flower.

You left the makeshift vase in your nightstand and took your stuff to the shower, peeling off your suit and your tie on the way, leaving it on the ground as you locked yourself inside the bathroom.

In these moments, Cas thanked his abilities of becoming unseen because you arrived just as he was leaving the Camellia over your pillow. He spent the day researching flowers, finding an interest in how humans always gave them to the people they cared about or to the ones who passed. He wanted to give you one to show you that he cared for you and also as a thank you for being patient with him for a long time.

He always felt happier around you, a warm feeling inside him always seemed to bloom. He felt the need to be close to you, like you were a human magnet. Everytime you looked at him he felt a weird feeling in his stomach, your smile was always something he felt the need to chase, he wanted to see it always in your face. He admired the way your eyes would shine when you were talking about something you liked.

When he saw you placing the flower on the nightstand with a smile he felt that weird feeling in his stomach again. He would do anything to see that look on your face again.

That hunt lasted a week, taking you three too long to figure out it was a witch and even longer to find said witch and to say you guys were fed up was an understatement. 

For that long week you dared to say you missed the Angel, you thought about calling him, praying to him, multiple times but what were you going to say when he arrived? Missed you? I just wanted to see you?

Everything you thought sounded too intimate so you discarded the idea of calling him.

But two more flowers appeared on your pillow after that pink Camellia. A Peony that you learned meant for the Chinese something along the lines of “the most beautiful” and a stunning Carnation in a light red shade that represented admiration. At this point you were very intrigued about who was the one giving you the flowers, Castiel still on your mind. You didn't want to get your hopes too high, you were probably overthinking it anyways, making your heart speak louder than your brain.

You were lying on your bed, staring at the tiny bouquet of three flowers given piece by piece to you. It was your last night in that room, Dean having insisted he needed the sleep so as to not crash the Impala from tiredness. You had offered to drive as you weren't as bad as he was but, of course, that was an immediate no from the older brother so all of you settled for one more night.

As you close your eyes and start to fall asleep, a sudden flutter of wings gets your attention. It's dark in the room so you take a peek and for sure it's Cas. You hold back a smile and close your eyes, pretending to be sleeping.

You feel the Angel approaching the bed, his presence making your heart quicken in your chest. From what it sounds like, he's just standing, watching you and you start to feel very nervous.

Castiel on the other hand arrived to see your sleeping form and couldn't help but watch. You looked peaceful, your breathing was calm and you looked…pretty. Cas thought all his father's creations were wonderful but he felt like you could top them all, literally, in your sleep.

He had another little flower in his hand which, to him, had a very self-explanatory name, a Forget-Me-Not.

He spun the blue flower on his fingers, debating if he should leave it inside the vase or besides you, over your pillow. 

He approached you and while he was placing the flower next to your head he felt a gentle hand wrap around his wrist and instantly froze on the spot.

You opened your eyes and looked at his near-horrified face. You smiled at him.

“Got you” You said, a little above a whisper and looked at the flower he was holding. That one you knew the name and what it meant and you felt warmth spreading through your cheeks, not just at that one flower, but knowing now that all those flowers you received came from Cas.

“I'm sorry for disturbing you” He said as he retreated his hand and you held the Forget-Me-Not. He was tense, not looking at you.

“So you were the secret admirer leaving me these flowers?” You asked as you slowly sat up on the bed and placed the blue flower inside the bottle with the three others. You placed both your hands over your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. “Why?”

He looked around. What was he supposed to say? Himself barely knew why he was doing this but it felt right so he kept going with it. He noticed that the flower meanings resembled things that he felt or thought of you and he enjoyed collecting them for you, especially after you kept them.

“These flowers all have a meaning behind them” He started “Take them as a thank you for…being helpful with my understanding of human behaviors” 

You smiled stupidly at that. The way he said it sounded like something he had rehearsed before coming to you to say it, the words too polite. But yet, that's one of the things you liked about him.

“You didn't have to Cas…They are beautiful, thank you” You said and looked at the flowers again, biting your lip. You felt his eyes on you, it was always intimidating. You knew that it was just the way he was, look right into your eyes while you talk to show you had his full attention, his beautiful blue orbs hypnotizing.

Cas analyzed every aspect of yours as you sat in front of him, his eyes wondering over your figure and his hands moved faster than his thoughts and he reached for your shoulder, his palm traveling from your shoulder blade to the end of your upper arm and back up, tracing a pattern over your skin. He longed to touch you and be closer to you in a way he couldn’t explain so, in this moment, you both alone, he decided to fulfill this wish.

You widened your eyes and looked up at Castiel who was entranced by the movement of his hand, goosebumps flaring up on your skin.

“Cas?” You said and acknowledged your call with a hum “What are you…?”

He finally looked at you, his hand steadied on your shoulder.

“When I’m around you I always feel this need to touch you, be closer and this…” He shakes his head, finding a word to define how he felt. “Warmth comes over me everytime you smile”

His eyes bore through yours and you could only stare back at him, shocked.

“Cas, you’re saying–”

“I think I might love you, Y/N” He interrupted. The way he said it sounded like a confusion, a slight approach, as if he was tiptoeing around the thought, not sure if he wanted to grasp it or just keep his distance.

You were dumbfounded. He sounded so sincere and your heart started to beat faster, his hand over your shoulder felt like it was burning through your skin. It all made sense, the flowers, the way he was always keen on talking to you even when you did most of the talking and he just listened with a faint smile and pure interest, he just didn’t know because he never felt like this before, he didn’t know what loving was like.

You landed a hand over his cheek, your eyes practically watering with an emotional overload at his words. You thumb rubbed the light stubble on his cheek and you pulled him in for a hug. You wanted to kiss him so bad but you were on a baby steps basis with the Angel.

You hugged him tightly, his hands hesitantly wrapping around your frame as you let out a deep breath. When you pulled back, you didn’t pull away completely from him looking between his eyes and his mouth, a giddy smile on your face.

“I think I might love you too Castiel” You said and he widened his own eyes, a light chuckle coming out of you at his reaction.

Your chuckles were cut off by his lips on yours and you gasped in surprise. His mouth was as soft as you expected, his lips moving against your in perfect sync. He was impressively a good kisser, one of his hands gently holding at the back of your neck while the other slid down to your waist.

You felt like a bomb had exploded inside you, a foreign feeling of happiness spreading to every single cell on your body as your arms wrapped around his neck to hold yourself when he sat on the bed, pulling you over his lap, making you yelp.

You both pulled away, your arms still wrapped around each other and he had a light smile on his face. You one hundred per cent had a shocked look on yours, your cheeks hot and breathing heavy.

“Where’d you learn that?” You asked, absolutely knocked by the kiss.

“Dean told me a thing or two” He said and you couldn’t help but laugh, your body shaking against his as he also chuckled. “It seems like I did great?”

You stopped your laughs and looked in his eyes, drowning in their ocean blue. You gave a peck to the corner of his mouth.

“You did amazing” You said as one of your hands played with the hair at the nape of his neck and he pulled you in, the warmth spreading through both of you yet again, never wanting to let go.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback helps me make those writing better. Thank you for reading, XoXo.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

more commonly confused words

this time, with examples

affect vs. effect

Usually affect is a verb meaning "to influence," and effect is a noun meaning "result." But effect occasionally is used as a verb meaning "to bring about."

Example: Social activities may affect your grades, but the effect should be small!

than vs. then

Than is used to indicate a difference between two things and is usually used in the phrases “more than” or “less than.” Then indicates a sequence of events or items.

Example: The data indicates that Americans work more hours than Europeans.

Example: Add the butter then the sugar to make the cookie dough.

farther vs. further

Farther refers to additional distance, and further refers to additional time, amount, or other abstract matters.

Example: You may be further from an "A" than you think, so when you study, go no farther than the best place to concentrate.

loose vs. lose

Loose means that something is not firmly in place or could be removed easily. Lose means to no longer have something or to have misplaced it.

Example: This bracelet is loose on my wrist; I hope I don't lose it again.

its vs. it’s

Its is the possessive of “it,” and unlike other possessives, does not use an apostrophe. It’s is the contraction of “it is” or “it has” and is never used to mark the possessive. 

Example: It’s been many decades since the college changed its graduation requirements.

less vs. fewer

Less refers to bulk amounts and uncountable items, or nouns that can’t be quantified by just putting a number in front of them. Fewer refers to countable items, or nouns that can be quantified just using a number.

Example: After inventory, there are fewer guavas and less flour than we ordered.

entitled vs. titled

Entitled means to have a right to do or have something. Titled refers to the name or label of something.

Example: I feel entitled to own this book, because it is titled “Dimitri” and that’s my name also.

between vs. among

Between is used when two things are concerned (the word comes from "by twain" in Middle English), while among is used when more than two things are concerned.

Example: Between you and me, these mistakes are common among all of us.

feel vs. think

In common usage, feel means to sense, to be emotionally affected by something, or to have a general or thorough conviction. Think means to use reason or to examine with the intellect.

Example: I think that you can write better than you have, though I feel encouraged by the improvements in your writing.

which vs. that

Use that in restricting (limiting) clauses: "The rocking chair that creaks is on the porch." In this sentence, one rocking chair is singled out from several – the one that creaks.

Use which in nonrestrictive (in effect, parenthetic) clauses: "The rocking chair, which creaks, is on the porch." In this sentence, the fact that the rocking chair creaks is tossed in; it is not added for the purpose of identifying the one chair out of several. 

Important Note: Use who for people, in both restrictive and nonrestrictive clauses.

A technique that can improve your writing is proofreading, which can show you unintentional errors.

since vs. because

Since is often used to mean because: "Since you ask, I'll tell you." Its primary meaning, however, relates to time: "I've been waiting since noon." Most people now accept since in place of because; however, when since is ambiguous and may also refer to time ("Since he joined the navy, she found another boyfriend"), it is better to say because or after, depending on which you mean.

Example: Because you are intelligent and careful, your writing has improved since the beginning of this course.

commonly confused words part 1

[dovveri]

strangers

synopsis: trainee life is a lot tougher than you thought, but with three other trainees you met along the way, you have a little more hope that it’ll all be worth it in the end.

warnings: bad eating habits, mentions of vomiting and self-induced vomiting, swearing, suggestive, TOE-SUCKING, alcohol and parties, lots of feelings and trainee life angst

w/c: 19.2k !!!!! why is this like half of my entire bachelorette series jeezus

a/n: requested!! i actually dont fill reqs this quick but i had the idea alr and i lwk love writing poly i just think its so much messier and more confusing and FUN so writing this came a lot easier than writing other reqs do. also u lwk only have to read half of this and be happy yippee happily ever after OR u can potentially hurt urself and enjoy the angst but idk it’s not THAT bad so 🤗

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

“y/n?”

you blink, tilting your head up from your hiding spot under the table in the recording studio. it’s nayeon, one of the korean trainees. you hurriedly wipe your eyes on your sleeve, stumbling upwards and almost knocking your head on the bottom of the table.

“s-sorry. were you using this room? i’ll get out now-“

“no no! it’s okay i was just going to get some practice in and i saw you. are you… are you okay?” you appreciate her speaking slower for you, your grasp of korean still wasn’t the best.

“y-yeah i’m fine. i’ll just- leave you to it- sorry again-“

“are you sure? today’s actually my day off so i don’t have to be doing anything. i’m happy to just listen if you want…?”

you gulp, avoiding her gaze, nayeon was one of the trainees that everyone knew would most likely make it. you didn’t see much of her because she was always off on side jobs filming as a background dancer for music videos, booking small modelling gigs, and she was generally in more advanced classes than yours and was even set to debut in a group with a few others before the idea was scrapped. she was steadily making a name for herself even before the public knew her, something you couldn’t help but be envious of. but here she was, offering to listen to you of all people.

“i- um-“

“it’s okay. you can take your time.” she smiles sweetly, “i tried to take a few english classes but it’s a lot more difficult than i thought it’d be. so i can understand how hard it must be to come to a different country and learn a whole new language.”

“t-thank you. i was just um- i was actually just thinking about calling home and… and quitting.”

she nods, eyes filled with empathy, waiting for you to continue.

“i just- don’t think i can make it. there’s so many talented people here and this has always been my dream but i’m just not good enough and i don’t even- it doesn’t even make sense for me to be here when i could be back home getting an education or i don’t know- doing something with my life.”

“you don’t think what you’re doing now is something?”

you sigh, gripping your arm firmly, "it- it is but i don't know if it's all going to work out in the end."

"and you think going back home and going to school will guarantee things working out for you?"

"well- i- no, not for certain but-"

"so isn't the only difference that you actually want to do this? you don't want to end up working an office job for the rest of your life right?"

"but- like i'm more likely to get an office job than i am to debut-"

"i'm sure the office jobs will wait for you. idol life won't. if you don't make it, then the office job will always be there right? it's up to you though, i'm not trying to convince you to stay or leave, i just think it's a shame when you have a real chance at getting what you've dreamt of your whole life. you were scouted weren't you? did you know i auditioned to get in? and i had to hide it from my family because they didn't think this was a realistic job prospect, not when i was still in high school. so if you think you don't belong here, just remember you beat out other auditionees to get your spot as a trainee here, so you were good enough for that." she smiles brightly, her two protruding front teeth proudly on display, giving her the adorable likeability to a rabbit.

her words bring you back from the edge of panic, you've always looked at her through a lens of jealousy, wishing you had as much natural talent and star power as she did, but right now, you could see she was so much more than that, and you respected her for it, admired her for it.

"thank you nayeon." you finally meet the older girl's eyes, and her smile grows even brighter.

"of course. do you have any training schedules to get to right now? or do you want to stay here and practice some vocal chords with me?"

"would that be okay?" your eyes widen at her offer.

"yes! don't be silly y/n i know we're all meant to be competing or whatever but we're most likely going to debut in a group right? we can't just be out for each other's throats all the time."

you smile, finding her attitude refreshing, most of the trainees you had met were exactly like that, and you felt even more isolated when it was obvious they made no effort to get to know you because of the language barrier, to them, it was just another advantage they had over you.

"c'mon. let's see what you got."

your motivation reinvigorated, you spend the rest of the afternoon cooped up in the recording studio with nayeon, practicing together but also joking around and laughing, being the kids you were in an industry that stripped you of that freedom.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"これの読み方を知っていますか?"

"いいえ、私は愚かです."

you shuffle uncomfortably in your seat, unable to shake the insecurity that they were talking about you. you were currently in your intensive korean class, waiting for the teacher to appear. the class was mostly quiet, except for the two girls sitting a table away from you, whispering and laughing, pushing each other around playfully.

when you glance towards them again, one of them meets your eye. you panic, whipping your head back down to your open textbook.

the girl who saw you whispers something to her seatmate, nodding towards you, bringing the other girl's attention to you as well.

you strain to see what they're doing in your peripheral vision, but the little giggles and whispers have you shrinking in even more on yourself, thinking they were making fun of you for whatever reason.

you don't notice when the one who spotted you first is suddenly standing next to you. she waits for you to acknowledge her, but when you don't she giggles again, leaning down and tilting her head so you had to look at her.

"hi. my name sana. you?"

"y-y/n."

"y/n? nice to meet you! that momo." she steps back a little and points at the other girl who waves shyly at you. you stare back at her, dumbfounded, reciprocating her wave.

"you... korean good?"

you blink, unsure of what to say, "umm... it's okay i guess."

sana grins, all teeth, almost blinding you, running back to her seat and picking up her textbook, skipping back towards you and plopping down in the empty seat next to you. she points at the page, "how to do?"

you look down to the question she has circled, it was part of the homework set from the last lesson. you flick back to that page in your own textbook, showing her and trying to explain with gestures what it was asking.

when it clicks, that blinding smile graces her features again, her eyes lighting up and quickly scribbling down the answer. then she turns to momo who seemed to be doodling little drawings all over her workbook instead of studying.

"モモリ馬鹿野郎 ! これがあなたのやり方です."

you shrink back into your seat, thinking she was done with you, only needing you to help her with her homework, and now that she was done, she could go back to making fun of you.

but instead, momo looks over curiously, standing up and hovering over the two of you. sana starts talking in rapid japanese, her hands flailing around excitedly.

momo nods along, and then she seems to get a moment of realisation, her eyebrows raising and mouth opening in the shape of an o, an "ahh!" escaping her.

sana looks back to you, "thank you! you so smart!"

you still don't really follow their conversation but you nod, shyly rubbing the back of your neck, "it's okay."

"we sit here?"

"sorry?"

sana frowns, an adorable pout forming on her lips, thinking over how to say what she wants. then she grabs momo's hand, gesturing between the both of them, "friends!", then she grabs your hand, gesturing between the three of you now, "friends?"

your hand is sweaty against sana's, you take note of how soft it feels against yours, heart stumbling a little over itself. you nod sheepishly, not expecting sana to grin, pulling you into a hug immediately.

momo goes to grab her things, and then settles into the seat on your other side, "sorry for her. she very huggy."

sana pouts, flicking momo's forehead playfully after she pulls away from you, "you like it too."

momo giggles, rolling her eyes.

things were moving so fast your brain was playing catch up. you knew the people here were a lot more affectionate than back home, but you still felt your heart racing from being in such close proximity with sana, and now momo too, the both of them squeezed against you and conversing lightly in broken korean and japanese while waiting for the teacher. it wasn't unwelcome though, this was the first time someone had asked you in such a straightforward way to become friends, it was refreshing, definitely better than the trainees in your vocal and dance classes who refused to interact with you at all.

when the teacher finally comes, he looks a little surprised at the change in seating, but doesn't comment on it, diving straight into the lesson.

sana and momo both try their best to keep up, sana remains fully engaged in the lesson, asking plenty of questions, while momo is the opposite. she's easily distracted, when the teacher goes on one of his off topic rants, she starts doodling in her textbook again, you repress a laugh at the stick men she drew frolicking around in fields with rainbows and stars. you can't help yourself but bring your pen to her page, adding a little deranged dog to her drawing.

she looks at you in surprise, but lets you finish, giggling at the result and drawing in some fur for the dog, fixing up your sorry attempt at a puppy.

the class finishes uneventfully after that. momo yawns, closing her book with relief while sana stretches, standing up and grinning down at the both of you.

momo looks at her warily, squinting, "what?"

"what?"

"you have not good look on your face. what you do?"

"what do you mean momoring?" sana's grin only grows wider.

"i don't want to get in trouble again."

"you woooon't. what you think y/n? want to sneak out get fried chicken and beer?"

momo groans, slumping down on her desk, muttering to herself in japanese while sana laughs at her reaction.

you look between the both of them, raising an eyebrow. you knew you shouldn't, but you hadn't had real food in so long, the company's strict diet and weight requirements always on all of your minds. and you hadn't really gone out and explored korea since you arrived. you'd pretty much been confined to the dorms and the company building, eating cafeteria food and living the same routine everyday, you knew the korean trainees would often get together after late night practices and have small gatherings the company wouldn't know about, but you were never invited to those.

you grin cheekily, "you have a plan?"

sana laughs, pulling you up to stand, hugging you once again in glee, "yay!! i knew we good friends! of course, it's not the first time momoring and i have snuck out." she pulls away with a wink.

momo grumbles behind you, slowly standing up as well, "last time you got us caught you said we were helping 'clean the streets'. stupid. we had extra exercise requirements for two weeks."

"we won't get caught this time! i promise! and if we do i pay for all our food."

momo perks up at that, eyeing sana, then holding out her pinky.

sana giggles, linking their pinkies and then dragging momo by their pinkies, and you by your hand out of the classroom and back towards the dorms to get ready.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"sana- move!" momo grunts, shuffling around in clothes too big for her, a cap that dipped over her eyes, and a mask to hide her face.

"shh! you're gonna get us caught!"

"no you are!"

"okay they're gone let's go." sana slinks forward in similar attire, careful to avoid the security cameras, flapping a sleeve behind her frantically to gesture the both of you to follow. momo glances at you, rolling her eyes but smiling, tiptoeing forward and following sana.

you're body is surging with adrenaline. you had always been a 'good' kid. you've never tried sneaking out of anywhere before. you were also trying to hold in your laughter at how stupid the three of you must look, the sunglasses covering your eyes while indoors and at 9pm at night glazing your vision.

you make it halfway across the main entrance, almost to the exit, hands shoved in your pockets.

"... y/n?"

you pause, heart pounding. the two in front of you stop as well, sana looks back at you in alarm.

you decide the best course of action is to pretend you didn't hear them. after all, they couldn't be sure you were yourself right now right? the absurd disguises made sure of that. you take another step forward.

"y/n what are you wearing? you look like vector from despicable me."

curse sana for lending you that naruto cosplay. you forgot how visible your disguise was.

you turn on your heel slowly, terribly embarrassed to have been discovered like this, mind scrambling to come up with an excuse for what the three of you were doing.

but you're stopped in your tracks when you realise who was teasing you with a wide grin, two front teeth on display. she laughs when she finally sees you, it's loud and bright, it'd scare you away if you hadn't already heard it plenty of times from her when she had found you in the practice room that day.

"you look so stupid. wait-" she whips out her phone, and before you can protest, she snaps a quick picture, laughing at her phone after checking the result.

"nayeonn!"

"i can't believe you tried to sneak out wearing that."

you pout, crossing your arms protectively over yourself, "i wasn't trying to sneak out!"

she raises an eyebrow, "yeah and i'm not gorgeous." she jokes sarcastically, before peeking over your shoulder and nodding behind you, "and who are those two losers behind you?"

you turn, taking off your ridiculous sunglasses and waving to let them know you were fine and to join you. sana tilts her head curiously, moving back towards you, tugging along momo who takes off her cap, blowing her hair out of her face.

"oh! you're the japanese duo that came here on the same day! i'm sorry i don't remember your names but i saw you dance and you were incredible." she directs the last part at momo, who blushes at the compliment, nodding and hiding behind her hair. sana grins though, bowing down and bringing momo down with her.

"i'm sana! this is momo!"

"nayeon. it's nice to meet you both." nayeon smiles sweetly, bowing as well and gesturing for them to stand up. "where were you guys headed?"

"chicken and beer! you want to come?" sana quips happily, excited to meet anyone new.

"how were you guys going to get beer?" nayeon jokes with a smirk.

sana tilts her head confusedly, she looks adorable in the clothes that drown her.

"you're all underage right?"

sana looks to you in confusion, not seeming to understand what underage meant.

"ah- none of us are 18..." you gesture to the three of you.

sana makes a sound of exclamation, not having thought about that particular detail.

nayeon laughs brightly, finding the japanese girl's antiques endearing. "good thing you have me then! c'mon. i know the best place as well, and no one from the company will go around there so we won't get caught." she winks, pulling a mask and cap out of her jacket pocket and slipping it on.

you blink, surprised at the change in events.

nayeon shrugs, "always gotta be ready if we're training to be idols right?" you can see the smirk in her eyes, before she charges forward without an answer and leads the four of you into the night.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

your shoulder hurt.

there's another bout of laughter, you flinch, preparing yourself.

sure enough, nayeon's large hands come clapping down on your arm, you wince, trying to smile your way through the sting of each slap.

it doesn't help when sana realises why you look constipated, cracking up even more pointing at you with a hand over her mouth, which makes nayeon laugh again for absolutely no other reason than that you were all wasted.

"nayeonnie calm down- you're going to kill y/n-" sana chokes out between giggles.

nayeon blinks, looking at you, face brightly flushed. she pouts, leaning in close, "what did i do?"

you flush even brighter, blaming the alcohol and not the way nayeon's eyes are glued to your lips, squinting and trying to focus on one part of your face only with her wobbly vision. you push her off of you gently, rubbing at your shoulder with a grimace, "you hit people when you're drunk.""

nayeon coos, chasing after you, "awwwwwh did i hurt you? poor baby. here lemme kiss it better." nayeon purses her lips together, pushing her face towards you while you whine and laugh, trying to push her away.

sana pipes up at the word, "kiss? who are we kissing? i wanna kiss!"

momo snorts, playing around with the bottle cap of the soju you had gotten to after you had all decided the beer wasn't enough. her face is probably the most flushed of you all, but she was also probably the most sane of you all currently. "don't you kiss enough?"

sana whines, poking momo's cheek, "no! you don't let me! c'mere-" she leans forward, tickling momo's sides, trying to get her to let her defenses down and land one on her. momo laughs, pushing sana off, scrambling away in urgency.

you aren't faring much better, but then you get an idea, "sanaaa! kiss nayeon! she's trying to get me!"

sana turns to you both, and she's never one to turn down a kiss so she leans across the table, yanking nayeon's head towards her and pulling her away from you. but what surprises you is when she plants a sloppy kiss right on the eldest's lips.

you look at momo, expecting to see a similar look reflected, but she rolls her eyes, calmly picking up the bottle and bringing it to her lips again to take a sip.

they break away with a smack, exaggerated on sana's end who giggles and licks her lips, grabbing the bottle from momo and taking a sip as well.

nayeon blinks, her brain seeming to catch up with her body 2 seconds late. when she realises what happens, she stands up abruptly with a screech, her metal chair scraping against the floor in pain. you wince at the sound, but laugh when you catch her face, now brighter than momo's, hand over her mouth in shock. sana and momo easily join you, cackling as nayeon flails around, sounds coming out of her mouth in incoherent phrases.

it seems the shop owner has had enough of the four of you though.

"yah! out! all of you! bedtime! 2am now! go go!" you all continue laughing as you're ushered out of your seats. you're all too drunk to notice the way the shop owner has fondly been watching you for the last few hours, cleaning around and keeping her shop open later than she normally opens, recalling the days she was young and stupid as well. she shouts at you while she pushes you out the door, but she also shoves a plastic bag of takeaway chicken into your hands as she pushes you out, telling you all to go home and not to cause too much trouble at this time of night.

you all laugh and thank her, sana even goes to kiss her cheek, cooing at how adorable she was in her apron and wrinkles.

when you've finally calmed down and take in the chill air of the night sky, you shiver a little, the alcohol sloshing around in your body not enough to keep you warm.

momo sidles up next to you, linking your hands together easily and pulling you against her.

you grin at her, tightening your grip around her hand that she's shoved into the warm pocket of her jacket pocket.

the peace is quickly disrupted when nayeon sends a stumbled kick your way from behind you. she misses though, tripping over herself and almost falling face-flat onto the ground save for sana hooking onto her waist quickly, pulling her back up with a laugh.

nayeon wraps an arm around sana's shoulder, thanking her for the support. "yah. you two. kiss. i can't be the only one who had to kiss someone today."

sana pouts, "why do you say that like you didn't like it?"

nayeon sputters, squinting up at sana from her slouched position, her weight almost entirely leaning on sana, "no i didn't- i didn't mean it like- no but- ugh-"

sana giggles, shuffling around so she can accommodate nayeon better.

momo turns her head, "no way loser. you two only kissed because you're both so kissy."

"what does that even mean?!"

"sana kisses everyone when she's drunk. and you're just as bad nayeon. i don't know how you can go drinking with just one person. you need at least 2 or 3 to hold you up when you get drunk." momo teases, sticking out her tongue.

"respect your elders you little shit!"

you all laugh at that, nayeon may have gotten you all drinks but she wasn't that much older than you. and she looks hilarious bringing a fist up in the air and waving it around like a little angry old lady, too much spite in too little a body, it was cute.

"wait... so the only one i haven't kissed yet is y/n?"

you freeze, ready to make a run for it at the earliest sign of danger.

nayeon grins, pushing sana off of her and towards you, "let's change that!"

your eyes widen, legs tensing up, ready to rush forward, you pull your intertwined hands out of momo's pocket. but right as you're about to take off, momo smirks, yanking you backwards and spinning you around until you're met with the soft, ready lips sana has wating for you.

"mmf-!"

your eyes are squeezed shut when momo spun you, terrified of falling onto your face, but now all you can feel is her hand still holding yours, sana's coming up to steady your hips, her lips pressing against yours gently.

all too quickly, she breaks away with a giggle, licking her lips again. it must be a habit.

you stare at her dumbly, mouth hanging open, lips tingling with the faint taste of strawberry soju.

nayeon has ended up on the floor without anyone supporting her, cackling loudly and pointing at your dumbfounded look.

momo stifles a few chuckles as well, her hand still wrapped tightly around yours.

sana simply smiles, closing your mouth with her hand, brushing a thumb over your jaw in the process, then tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

you flush up immediately, whipping around and staring at the floor, the tips of your ears bright red.

sana laughs, cooing, "awwwwh! you're so cute! look at her guys! she's blushing!"

"no!" you speak up indignantly, voice squeaky, "i'm just drunk!"

"you're more red than me!" momo joins in, trying to get a look at your face better with a laugh, her nose scrunching up in glee.

you whine, trying to pull away from her, but she doesn't let your hand go, so you end up pulling her along with you as you stomp forward, eager to get home and away from your teasing new friends.

sana laughs, running after you both.

that left nayeon, still on the floor in the middle of the street at 3am. "guys! hey guys! don't forget me! come back! hey- wait!"

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

the four of you grow easily close after that night. and it helps that by chance, you're all allocated into the same dorm room for the new year. it's definitely a surprise since nayeon was one of the company's top trainees, and the rest of you were foreigners and had only been around for about 2 months. you'd heard it was meant to help the three of you get better at korean, having to converse in korean daily with a korean roommate so that existing friends like sana and momo couldn't get away with just talking in japanese when they were in the comfort of their dorms. plus, it seemed both sana and momo were making a name for themselves amongst the trainees as well for their bubbly idol personality and raw talent respectively.

"how's this?" nayeon comes out of the bathroom and does a little twirl, her hair already curled and makeup applied dazzlingly. she's wearing a pretty silk white dress with little blue bows decorating it, matching the blue ribbons she's used in her hair.

sana squeals, immediately bounding upwards and poking at her. "it's so cute! when did you get this?!"

"the last family trip i went on! are you sure it's okay?" nayeon pouts.

but then momo yells out from behind her, still doing her eyeliner in your shared bathroom mirror, "you look fine stop digging for compliments."

sana laughs cheerily when nayeon sputters back at her, latching onto the older girl and pecking her cheek, "it's okay nayeonnie i don't mind. i'll praise you anytime you want." there's a slight lilt to her voice, she finishes with a wink.

nayeon blushes immediately, but tries to cover for it by turning to you. "y/n? what do you think?"

you roll your eyes from your spot on sana's bed, more focused on applying the dark blue nail polish on your hands. "it's pretty."

"just pretty?" you can hear the pout in her voice.

you sigh exasperatedly, looking up at her in mock annoyance. "you're gorgeous, beautiful, stunning, exquisite, glamorous, everyone at the party will have their eyes on you."

you can hear momo fake gag from the bathroom, and sana bursting into giggles. but nayeon crosses her arms, frowning, "you see when you list it out like that it makes it a little harder to believe."

"ugh nayeon! you look good! what more do you want from me!"

she laughs, leaning down to squish your cheeks together affectionately, "thanks darling, i love my little thesaurus."

you grumble, careful not to get the drying nail polish onto sana's sheets. sana comes back to her position next to you, grabbing your hands and starting to blow on your fingers.

"what time does the party start again?" momo yells out from the bathroom, slipping into her outfit for the night.

"like... 10 minutes ago but it's fine. no one interesting is gonna get there on time." nayeon squeezes in next to you as well, leaning her head on your shoulder.

"that's because you're only interested in yourself."

"hey! i can revoke my invite to all of you!"

"you wanted us to go because you'd be, quote, bored out of your mind with all those mindless prepubescent boys trying to get in your pants! besides, we all got our own invites anyway."

"what?! why didn't you tell me?!"

"you were so cute thinking you were doing us all a solid or something for inviting us." sana speaks up with a giggle, "we couldn't break that!"

"you couldn't sana! i wanted to tell her and shove it up her proud ass but you just love to watch cute girls fumble around don't you?"

sana giggles again, going back to blowing on your nails.

but then momo steps out of the bathroom, clad in a very short bodycon dress, her makeup and hair fully done, the dress cutting open at her midriff showing off toned abs, pretty gold necklace decorating her neck, outlining her collarbones and the plunging neckline that pretty much ended at her belly button, tying together the cutout.

the three of you all stare at her, eyes roaming over the mass of skin, mouths open in... shock.

sana licks her lips slowly, eyes not bothering to meet her best friend's again, "you look... good."

momo smirks, imitating what's meant to be nayeon, "just good?"

nayeon bristles then, snapping out of her stupor, "shut up momo. don't you think you're... showing a bit too much skin?"

momo starts looking around for her shoes, bending over criminally with her back to you all, it's almost comedic how all three of your gazes lock onto her ass immediately. "this is nothing compared to some of the outfits they put us in when we do our showcases. besides, it's not like you can talk." she snorts, turning back around with heels in hand, her smirk never leaving her face as she watches the three of you, knowing exactly what you were doing.

"yeah but you'll... get cold."

"it's an indoor party."

"shut up!"

she laughs, standing back up after slipping into her shoes, "okay! ready to go?"

you gulp, standing up shakily, forcing you to look at her face and not ogle your friend's very attractive body. "y-yeah. took you all long enough."

"you finished practice earlier than us, you had more time to get ready. now let's go losers."

she leads the charge out your tiny shared room, nayeon gets up and follows grumpily. you look back down to sana who's still got her gaze locked on the way both girls' hips sway with each step. you roll your eyes, poking sana and dragging her up with a laugh. sana lets you, her brain short-circuiting, only able to be tugged along.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you honestly had no idea how a party of this scale went unnoticed by the company. there were so many trainees you recognised, and even a few idols that were lesser known to the public. it was at someone's house, you don't remember who's, but there was no way you could've gotten away with a party this size back at the dorms.

music was blasting, drinks were being circulated, people were dancing and grinding up against each other. it wasn't a surprise to see the amount of rowdiness going on, that's what happened when you force a bunch of teenagers to undergo strict training and diet regimes, and forbid anything that could get anyone into any sorts of controversies in the future in case you made it and got famous.

the four of you had naturally split up when you arrived, being pulled away by different friends and people wanting to greet you. you spot momo on the dance floor already, not that it was difficult to seperate her from everyone else. sure you were all trainees and went through mandatory dance class, but everyone knew momo was something else when it came to dance. she had an aura about her, one that made people back up and give her space, circling her on the crowded floor and watching in awe of her moves.

you can hear nayeon before you spot her. she's with jihyo and jeongyeon, two other trainees that she was set to debut with, and granted, was naturally close with. they were all top-notch trainees at the company, everyone knew of them, knew that the next group coming out of jyp would most likely include the three of them.

that left sana, someone people naturally gravitated towards. her adorable happy-go-lucky energy was infectious, it was impossible not to fall in love with her at first sight. she was currently surrounded by a crowd of people, laughing and smiling, face tinged with the pink of alcohol.

eventually, someone gets people together for a game of spin the bottle. you're all sitting in a big circle in a room away from the rest of the party, chattering excitedly with the buzz of liquors, an empty soju bottle laying in the middle of you all.

"okay party people! game time!" the original host of the party, jackson wang, saunters in with a charming grin, plopping himself down between mark and jeongyeon. "so i'm gonna assume we all know how spin the bottle works. and if you don't... well you'll find out! who wants to go first!"

everyone looks around at everyone, antsy, unwilling to go first. jackson rolls his eyes, "alright losers. guess it's me." he bends forward and spins the bottle. everyone watches with anticipation, breaths held.

it lands on one of the younger trainees, ryujin. she makes a face of disgust, cringing, but jackson ignores it, quickly swooping in and kissing her.

when they break away, ryujin quickly downs her cup of whatever concoction of alcohol she has, wiping at her lips and pushing him off of her playfully. jackson laughs, backing away and returning to his seat. ryujin goes forward, places her fingers on the bottle, then spins it.

again, you all wait in anticipation, eyes locked on the dizzying movement, until it slowly lands on bambam.

ryujin groans again, bambam looks like he just won the lottery. "nope! i'm not kissing one of you gross guys again, jackson tasted like he doesn't know what a toothbrush is. gimme a dare."

there are shouts of disapproval, but ryujin ignores them all, sitting on her haunches, unmoving.

"okay just because you made that totally untrue comment about my breath, i'll give you one worse than kissing bam." jackson looks around the room, thinking to himself, mark whispers something in his ear and they both snicker, "alright. suck someone's toes for 10 seconds."

"pfft is that meant to be a dare?" ryujin easily leans forward, pulling yeji's sock off and immediately wrapping her lips around her toe. yeji squeals, trying to pull her foot away but ryujin is persistent amongst everyone's hollering and cheering, counting down the seconds.

she finally breaks away with a laugh, making a show of licking her lips while yeji blushes, yelling at her and slapping her arm, shoving her drink into her hand and making her rinse out her mouth.

bambam shyly goes forward next, he spins the bottle, and it lands on nayeon. his eyebrows almost get lost in his hairline with how far up they go, his head shooting up and looking at nayeon who was leaning on jihyo heavily, still laughing at the whole ryujin-yeji situation.

his boys clap him on the back with a cheer, pushing him forward towards the older girl. nayeon blinks, turning her attention to him, realising he had spun her.

her eyes meet yours for a second, and then they flit around the room, landing on sana and momo respectively, it's so quick you wouldn't have noticed if you weren't already locked on her gaze.

bambam moves forward shyly, kneeling in front of her, unsure of what to do. she leans back a little as he comes closer, putting on an encouraging smile, looking up at him.

he takes a breath, then dives down, you can hear their teeth clacking as he accidentally goes in too aggressively, nayeon cringes, but tries to make up for it by tilting her head, pressing her lips against his, trying to urge him to slow down, but bambam moves almost too eagerly, like he's eating her up. in the end, nayeon has to gently push him off of her to get him to stop, he looks dazed as he collapses back in his spot, bright blush on his face all the way down to his neck. nayeon tries to look polite and laughs it off, moving forward and quickly spinning the bottle to move everyone along.

only for it land on momo.

"oh hell no." they both say simultaneously, blushing furiously and gaping at each other from across the circle. you catch sana's eye, supressing a laugh as you look between the two of them.

"dare! i pick dare!"

sana perks up, taking the opportunity immediately, "okay i dare you to kiss momo!"

the boys around the circle all laugh, agreeing with her energetically, starting up a chant. momo sends a death glare towards sana, who just sticks out her tongue at her, making an exaggerated kissy face mimicking momo and nayeon kissing.

with no choice, nayeon shuffles forward, crouching down in front of momo who can't look her in the eye.

"don't fall in love with me or anything hirai."

that gets momo to snort, meeting nayeon's equally nervous gaze, "as if i'll be able to think about anything other than getting rid of the taste of you-" she's cut off, nayeon leaning down to plant her lips on her in haste.

momo blinks at first in confusion, then she's closing her eyes and circling a hand around nayeon's neck, pulling her in just a little closer and returning the kiss. they ignore the roar of the crowd, nayeon thinks to herself how much better momo's lips felt against her own than bambam's teeth did.

that thought quickly rips her away though, scrambling backwards and wiping at her lips in mock disgust, laughing breathily with a pretty blush adorning her face.

momo looks on after her, her expression unreadable. after things settle down again, momo leans forward, spinning the bottle.

sana doesn't even give anyone the chance to think, sliding forward and into momo's lap, cupping her cheek and bringing their lips together. momo reacts automatically, hands circling sana's hips and slotting them together, like they've done this countless times in the past.

watching nayeon and momo kiss was silly, fun, but this, this was something different. you glance at nayeon, who has a hand at her lips, staring at sana and momo make out in front of everyone, eyebrows furrowed slightly. you look back, swearing you can see the hint of a pink tongue poke out from sana, momo's hands tightening around the other girl's hips in reaction, before sana finally breaks away. she stands up, sauntering back to her spot with a proud grin, people are cheering, throwing confetti, bowing down to her as if she just brought rain down in a drought. she thrives in the attention. momo on the other hand is breathing heavily, expression shielded behind her hair, biting her lip and clenching her thighs together.

sana does a round around the inside of the circle, giggling and skipping along in her little pink slip. she finally arrives back to her original spot, bending down and spinning the bottle.

it lands on one of the younger trainees, dahyun. sana smiles sweetly, crawling forward. she whispers a few words to dahyun, who nods shyly, breath picking up, then sana leans in, just pecking her before pulling away again. nothing like the kiss she shared with momo.

you decide you need a drink.

at this point in the night, the kitchen is thankfully much less chaotic. most people are playing the game, on the dance floor, or passed out around the house.

you spoon a ladle of the jungle juice that probably has ludicrous amounts of liquor in it into your cup, gulping it down thirstily. you don't know why you suddenly felt so stifled in that room, feeling hot even in the little cropped top and skirt you're wearing.

"y/n?"

you turn, of course it's your three roommates, all looking very concerned for you.

"hey. you okay?" sana comes up to you first, cupping your cheeks, placing the back of her hand on the front of your forehead.

you wave her off with a chuckle, "yeah i'm fine guys. why did you leave the game?"

"because you left." momo says simply, taking the cup you're still holding in your hand away from you, sniffing the contents.

"you didn't have to do that. i was just taking a water break."

"riiiight. water." momo raises an eyebrow unimpressively, pouring the rest of your drink down the sink nearby.

"i'm fine though seriously! you guys should get back to the game."

"you're not coming?" sana pouts.

"not really feeling it anymore."

"do you wanna go home?" nayeon speaks up then, coming forward to lean on sana's back, her face resting on sana's shoulder, looking up at you with wide eyes.

"what? no! you guys have fun. seriously, stop worrying about me i'm fine!"

"we can't have fun without you."

"i'm sure you can."

"no. we're not the four of us without you. we're just... the three of us." sana tilts her head like a confused puppy, her proximity to you making you dizzy, you're not sure if it's the alcohol, or the fact that she was so close, but you can only focus on her lips, which then remind you of the way her lips had been on momo's lips, that had been on nayeon's lips. yeah you were definitely a little more than dizzy.

"wooahh- too much to drink i think." momo sidles up next to you, catching your waist, and holding you up against her. she jokes, "didn't think you'd be the same kinda drunk as nayeon y/n. i don't know if we have enough personnel to take care of the both of you."

you groan, pushing yourself back onto your own two feet, leaning back against the kitchen bench, "don't compare me to that trainwreck."

"hey!"

you all laugh, sana's hands coming down to squeeze nayeon's that are around her waist, turning to peck her cheek.

"i'm getting tired anyway. let's go home."

"what? guys no- you don't have to do this for me- you can stay-"

"we're not doing this for you idiot. i wanna sleep too. i'm gonna be grumpy tomorrow morning if we don't get enough sleep and i have dance practice with jyp."

"you're always grumpy in the mornings momoring."

"no i'm not!"

"yes you are." nayeon quips.

"shut up or i'll kiss you again im."

that makes everyone pause, processing the words in their head. momo doesn't even seem to realise what she's said, staring fiercely back at nayeon, only focused on winning their little bouts of banter.

you all stand in the kitchen in awkward silence, looking nervously at each other, unsure of what to say.

eventually sana speaks up, laughing edgily. "are y/n and i interrupting something orr...?"

"what?! no?!" they both speak up, protesting loudly.

you laugh, trying to ease the tension that seems to have come out of nowhere. "i could've said that about you and momo sana. that was some kiss." that was probably not the right thing to say to ease the tension.

"that's nothing. sana and i kiss all the time." momo brushes you off, shrugging, but sana looks hurt at the her words.

"nothing?"

"wait what do you mean all the time?"

momo blushes, looking between sana and nayeon. but sana's easily emotional feelings, amplified by her intoxication, have her eyes watering, sending momo straight into panic mode. "wait no- that's not what i meant satang-"

"then what did you mean?" sana frowns, you weren't sure if she was genuinely angry now or still playing around.

"i don't- satang i'm stupid we know this i just say stupid shit- things just come out of my mouth i didn't mean it like that-"

"then in what way did you mean it momoring?" her tone is clipped, throat scratchy.

"satang this isn't fair-"

"what isn't?"

"c'mon- satang please-"

all of a sudden, sana lurches forward, pressing her lips against momo's, trapping her against the kitchen counter. nayeon falls onto you without sana holding her up, you quickly grab her waist, supporting her, but both your eyes move back to sana and momo quickly.

they're kissing for real this time, not like when they were putting on a show for everyone else during the game. and you're both close enough you can hear the wet smacks of lips against lips, the little gasps and whimpers, every breath they take in between each kiss. momo's hands have come up to tangle in sana's hair, pulling her closer, their bodies meeting and moving against each other like they were made for each other.

you squirm slightly under nayeon, hands gripping her waist tighter at the sight, the dizzy feeling from earlier returning full force. you try and force yourself to focus on something else, it was probably a bit weird, to be so close, staring as your two closest friends made out, but you couldn't bring yourself to look away, your gaze lidded at the rushed pace, tongues clashing and being sucked into mouths.

you can tell nayeon is feeling very similarly, her hot breath hitting your lips at a faster pace than normal, laboured with excitement.

there's a crashing sound from upstairs where they were playing the game, followed by loud whooping and cheering. it pops the bubble that's formed between the four of you. sana breaks away from momo, panting, hands having come in to hold onto the other girl's hips, pushing her into the bench further having squeezed their bodies together as close as possible.

"w-was that- nothing?" her voice comes out hoarse and in a whisper, still catching her breath.

momo can't speak, her eyes still tightly shut, shaking her head in response.

"then what was it?"

momo groans, knocking her forehead against sana's gently, "don't ask me that sana." her voice is also laced with shaky breaths.

"why not?"

"it's confusing. you know i can't handle thinking about that much."

"am i confusing?"

she shakes her head again, but then points to you and nayeon, drawing a circle between the four of you, "this is confusing."

that gives sana pause, thinking over the possible implications of momo's words, taking the chance to catch her breath. then she looks up to the both of you, her eyes dragging up from the way you're still clutching nayeon's waist tightly, before meeting yours. the eye contact sends shivers down your spine, even when her eyes leave yours to stare into nayeon's, you can still feel all your senses on alert, breath held, tensions at an all time high.

sana's head tilts again, considering the both of you. then, she seems to come to a decision, and she's just as quick as she always is.

before you realise it, her lips are on yours, hand cupping your cheek, the other wrapped around nayeon to keep her there.

it's nothing like that first kiss you shared weeks ago. that was a simple peck, there and gone. this time, sana's moving her lips against yours, fingers caressing your cheek, down to your neck, lips soft and wet, panting directly into your mouth.

momo forces her eyes open, staring at you and sana kiss with hooded eyes. hands coming back down to grip the bench behind her, knuckles almost turning white from how hard she was holding onto it.

sana breaks away from you, but without taking a breath, turns her head, and starts kissing nayeon.

nayeon is only slightly surprised, almost all her weight leaning on you, gripping the back of your top tightly, reciprocating sana's kiss with as much vigor as sana gives.

when they finally break apart, you're all still breathing heavily, looking between each other, tension surmounting, thousands of words unsaid.

it's nayeon that speaks up first this time. she whistles lowly, letting out a small chuckle, "so... that wasn't... nothing."

"no." momo agrees. their eyes meet.

sana rolls her eyes, getting impatient, "so do you two wanna fuck or do you wanna fight?"

neither of them protest this time, they don't even laugh it off, you can all feel the very real pressure in the air.

"dunno. i think i need a..." momo licks her lips, "another taste to know." then she leans forward, capturing nayeon's lips with her own, straight up moaning at the contact. your thighs clench together at the sound. all of this was getting too much for your dumb little drunk brain. you had been spectating more than you had been involved, and it'd be a lie if you said you weren't turned on by it all.

nayeon and momo's kiss is different from sana's kisses. they're both aggressive, fighting for dominance, their natural banter translated onto their lips, grunts and gasps, trying to one-up each other.

eventually, they break away, but momo transitions straight over to you.

"need to compare." she mumbles lowly before attaching her lips to yours. she's much more gentle with you, teasing your mouth open before dipping her tongue inside, you whine against her, hips moving of their own accord when they grind up into nayeon who's still leaning on you for support.

you hear nayeon swear under her breath, regaining some of her drunk-addled consciousness to grip your hips roughly to stop you from doing that again. but that's the end of her control, she leans in, close enough so momo and you can both hear her, just inches away from your mouths moving against each other.

"my turn."

momo obliges, breaking away from you, only for nayeon to latch on. you can still hear momo's rough breathing next to your ear while your lips start moving against nayeon's, once again, with a completely different kissing style to momo and sana. she's slow and languid, pressed against your lips until you're just about to be out of breath, before breaking away and coming back in. she finishes with a little kitten lick on your upper lip, you whine, pushing your hips against her hands as she growls, pushing you back into the counter.

sana's spent the entire time watching all of you, having enough time to even pour herself another much needed drink. she swirls around the contents of her cup, downing it and speaking up again. "home?"

"home." you all unanimously agree.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you wake up hazily with a pounding headache, vision blurred, mouth dry.

you squeeze your eyes shut again, the dim brightness of the room too much for you. you reach blindly for your glasses that should be next to your pillow on the top bunk of the bunk bed you share with sana. instead, your palm comes colliding with something that most definitely was not your glasses.

your eyes shoot open, squinting and trying to focus, as the person you've hit groans.

"10 more minutes."

"...momo?"

momo groans again, burying her face into the pillow you're sharing, hair messily coming to cover her eyes and furrowed eyebrows.

suddenly, memories of last night come flying back to you. you look down alarmingly, lifting the blanket slightly to find yourself very naked, with an equally naked momo curled around you, arm thrown lazily over your side, legs intertwined.

you also realise that this was not your bed. you were on the bottom bunk of the bunk bed opposite the one you shared with sana, this was nayeon's bed. now even more confused, you slowly turn your body, trying your best to not disturb momo who mumbles something while you shuffle around the bed, before pulling you closer into her.

the sudden feeling of her chest now pressed against your bare back surprises you, even though you knew you were both naked. you try your best to not think about it, squinting to look around the room for where nayeon could be if you were in her bed.

you didn't have to look far though, cuddled up on sana's bed right opposite you, is sana and nayeon. and you'd bet they were in the same state of undress you and momo were.

your heart rate picks up as you recall the events of last night. you hadn't exactly done a lot of talking. as soon as you got home, you were all over each other, somehow, you had made the limited space, and the fact that not all four of you could fit on one little bunk bed work for all of you. your thighs tingle with the memory, a blush adorning your face.

eventually, it's sana that wakes up first, turning in her bed and blinking at you slowly.

you let her come to her senses, your eyes drifting down to where the blanket has fallen in her movement, breath catching at the sight of her pretty naked chest moving up and down slowly with each breath.

sana doesn't mind the attention, she never has, she yawns, stretching unabashedly, revealing more of herself, sitting up and letting the blanket fall to her waist. "morning." she grumbles out, her voice scratchy and deep with fatigue.

you gulp, unable to tear your eyes away from her, "morning."

nayeon whines as sana moves, slowly waking up as well, her arm curled around sana's thighs, trying to keep her still.

sana reaches around and pulls an oversized shirt on, patting her hair down. you're not sure if you're thankful or mournful she's covered up.

"what time is it?" nayeon's voice speaks up, laced with the same hoarse tiredness you're sure you all have right now.

sana picks up her phone on the bedside table next to her bed, you're not sure where yours is. "6."

"too early. come back to bed."

sana giggles then, putting her phone back down and running a hand through nayeon's hair. "don't you have a schedule to get to later?"

"yeah later."

"... we should talk anyway." she's strangely serious, normally the most energetic of you all, even in the mornings. it gets nayeon to look up, hair messy, squinting, placing her chin on sana's thigh.

sana smiles at the sight, you find nayeon's glasses next to her bed, reaching to hand it over.

sana murmurs her thanks, stretching out to grab it from you and gently placing it over the eldest's eyes. she looks adorable.

"how long have you been awake?" nayeon directs the question to you, finally able to see you were awake and looking at the two of them.

you smile, "not that long."

"is momo...?"

"still asleep."

"should we wake her?"

"she's not gonna like that."

"she needs to get up in a bit anyway. she has practice with jyp later remember?"

in agreement, you turn in your spot again, smiling at the sight of momo, mouth hanging open slightly, black hair framing her face. hesitantly, you nudge her shoulder. there's no response, so you nudge her again, a little harder. she groans, grabbing your hand and interlacing your fingers, "10 more minutes."

you giggle, "you said that 10 minutes ago."

she mumbles incoherently, drifting back into sleep.

you roll your eyes, nudging her again, except she doesn't respond. so you resort to different measures, your other hand that isn't being held captive by her, sneaks down between the two of you, and you start tickling her sides.

she squirms, blinking, waking up, whiny and giggly.

"s-stop- stop y/n- stop- i'm up i'm up!"

there's laughter from behind you as well, and momo sits up, pushing your hands away to stop you from your attack. not that she needed to, your eyes focused on something else as soon as the covers left her body. but of course, she bumps her head on the bunk, yelping, and cradling the top of her head, her hangover only worsening.

"okay okay guys- before we talk- i'm gonna need all of you to put on some clothes." you speak up, eyes still staring at momo's chest, almost drooling over her.

momo raises an eyebrow, before she shoves her chest into your face, rolling on top of you and squishing you.

"wha- momo- hey! no- mmf-"

you can hear everyone laughing as momo gets her revenge, pulling on the back of your neck while pushing out her chest, squeezing your face in between her breasts.

she finally breaks away once she's had enough, grinning and plucking a shirt down from her bunk on the top bed, pulling it loosely over her body.

"there. better?" she's kneeling on top of you, legs on both sides of your torso, shirt just long enough to reach past her top thighs. you gulp, eyes trained on the skin of her legs. momo rolls her eyes, pulling her shirt down a little more, coughing to get your attention.

your eyes snap back up to her with a blush.

she grins, leaning down easily and pecking you, rolling off of you again with one leg still thrown over your legs and cuddling into your side.

"morning losers."

"you're inconceivable momo."

"where'd you learn that word from? my ass?"

nayeon blushes, digging into sana's thighs. "throw me a shirt you little gremlin."

"get it yourself."

"you're on my bed!"

momo blinks, looking down at herself, finally coming to realise her surroundings. "oh."

sana laughs, pulls a shirt from under her bed and hands it to nayeon, "just borrow one of mine for now."

"sana i just got one for her!"

"give it to y/n."

"you just wanted to see her in your clothes."

"so?"

momo grumbles, handing the shirt she had grabbed for nayeon to you, helping you pull it on, hand skimming over the skin of your side and stomach.

“so…” you cough awkwardly, squirming under momo’s fingers that have stayed beneath your shirt, drawing random shapes into your skin.

“wait why do we need to talk?” she speaks up, leaning on her elbow, face on her palm looking across the room.

sana laughs, “is it simple for you now momoring?”

“is what simple?”

“i love your brain you idiot.”

“huh?” momo looks as confused as ever, too early to be thinking about anything.

sana takes a breath, gripping nayeon’s hand, “i like you. all of you.”

momo blinks, “we like you too.”

“i don’t want to kiss mina the way i kiss you momoring.”

“oh.” momo looks at sana, thinking, “but don’t you kiss everyone?”

sana laughs again, “is that what you think of me?”

she shrugs, “we kiss all the time.” she quickly corrects herself, not wanting to make the same mistake as last night, “and it doesn’t mean nothing. i’m sorry for saying that last night.”

the younger smiles, appreciates the effort, “you’re right. i kiss you all the time. no one else. i think you just get too dazed to notice anything else after we kiss.”

nayeon snorts, laughing loudly.

“what about dahyun last night?” you speak up, recalling the whispered words sana said to the younger trainee.

“we were playing spin the bottle. nayeonnie doesn’t like bambam even though she kissed him right?”

nayeon’s laughs turn into coughs very quickly, “absolutely the fuck not.”

“i was just making sure dahyunnie was okay with me kissing her, i told her it’d be really quick and i wouldn’t kiss her like i did momo. you don’t have to be jealous y/n.” she teases.

you whine, “i wasn’t!! i was just curious…”

“wait… is that why you left the game early last night?”

you feel your cheeks heat up, refusing to acknowledge the question.

“y/n!”

“what!”

“you should’ve told us! or me.”

“no way. i didn't even know what i was feeling. i just needed to get some air."

"will you tell us next time?"

"next time what?"

"next time you feel anything. even if you don't know what the feeling is."

you smile, pulling momo's hand that was creeping dangerously higher out from under your shirt, and interlocking your fingers, "yes. i will. i like you all too."

"blegh."

you and sana both look at nayeon with a frown.

"what?" she asks simply, crunching her nose up.

"nerd." sana pushes nayeon off her thigh, rolling her eyes.

"i'm not good with feelings!"

"get better with them then because i'm not dating an emotionless narcissist."

nayeon perks up, ignoring the insult, "we're dating?"

sana blushes, "i don't know. do you guys want to?"

"i do." you offer sana a reassuring smile, she's been leading the conversation this whole time and it took a lot of courage to do that. "momo, nayeon?"

"i don't think anything changes between us. except we all get to kiss and have sex whenever we want right?"

"momo!" you slap her hand lightly, she snickers.

"yeah. i'm pretty happy with that."

you all turn your gazes to nayeon.

she rolls her eyes, "as long as i get to top momo."

"just try it!"

"i will!"

you spend the rest of the morning, laughing, cuddling, doing things you'd always do together, but now with more freedom and less confusion.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

sometimes, you wish you had a different dream. a lot of the time really.

it hasn't been a good week. monthly trainee evaluations were coming up, and everyone could feel the pressure. there were rumours running around that jyp was preparing a survival show to debut the next girl group, and he was in the midst of picking trainees to participate, so everyone was on edge more than ever.

the one who had it the worst was momo.

you wince, curling in on yourself, knees to your chest, head resting on your knees, while you listen to your girlfriend dry heave in the bathroom.

nayeon's pacing around the room, obviously agitated, wishing she could do something to help. sana was in practice, you knew how hard she was working recently, she didn't need to worry about anything more right now.

"-stupid fucking trainers. they're all fucking blind she doesn't need to lose weight. they're gonna fucking kill her fuck-"

the bathroom door creaks open. both you and nayeon's heads snap towards it immediately.

nayeon rushes forward, holding momo up, caressing her cheek, brushing hair out of her face.

momo looks pale as a ghost. she's trembling, exhausted, you can barely stand to look at her without breaking down in tears. she knows. she knows how you all felt about her. so even when she's suffering the most, she still manages to crack a joke, "you care about me now im?"

"shut up momo. this isn't the time for that. you should lie down."

momo groans weakly, "can't. need to go to the gym."

nayeon explodes then, "what?! you are not going to the fucking gym right now momo. look at yourself! you're dying!"

"you still think i'm hot though right?" she grins. it has none of her usual sparkle, no mischief, just white teeth and lips.

"shut up or i'll kill you before you kill yourself."

the younger girl shrugs, you can see her bones with the movement.

"don't go to the gym. you already haven't eaten anything for the last five days. you haven't even drunk water for the last five days."

"yeah and i've still got 2 and a half kilos to lose."

"you don't- you shouldn't have to do that! you're skinny enough! you're going to die before you lose that weight!"

momo takes a shaky breath, you're surprised when a tear escapes her eye. even the fact that her body still has enough water to cry, and her not being the type of person to cry much in the first place, especially in front of other people, is shocking enough. she can't hold herself up any longer, collapsing onto the bed next to you. you open your arms immediately, lowering your legs, adjusting so she can lean all her weight on you. the feeling of her body against yours is terrifying. she's all bones. you can feel each rib, every pointy bone in her joints.

"i know. i'm so scared of dying." she whispers out eventually, still crying silently.

nayeon squeezes in as well, holding one of momo's hands, bringing it up to her lips to kiss it softly.

"i don't want to sleep. i'm terrified i won't wake up again. that i won't be able to see you guys again."

there are tears streaming down yours and nayeon's faces as well now.

"then eat. please darling. you need to eat." nayeon begs, wiping at her eyes furiously.

momo looks up at her weakly, smiling even now, "you know i can't. you'd both be doing the same thing if you were in my position right now."

you hold back choked sobs, burying your face into her neck. she can feel the tears staining it.

"it's okay. i'm gonna be okay. we're all going to be okay." her hand finds yours, squeezes both your hand and nayeon's.

"it's not fair. you're pretty much the same weight as me. why are they making you do this?"

she shrugs again, her sharp shoulders dig into your chest, "maybe they're testing me."

"for what?" nayeon says incredulously.

"dunno. if i have the willpower. if i'm ready to die for my dream. who knows."

"it's not willpower. it's fucking starvation. you're not even- you're all muscle. there's nothing to lose. the number on that scale is only higher because muscle is heavier than fat. and you wouldn't have all that muscle if you weren't the best dancer in this fucking company."

"you think i'm the best dancer?"

nayeon sighs frustratedly, "i know you are. darling... please. please just- some water- anything-"

"i can't. i'm sorry."

you've been talking in circles for days. the same thing, over and over again, begging her to eat, drink some water, rest. she's persistent though, hasn't broken once. when she first told you all the news, you were aghast, angry, but not surprised. you all thought you knew what it meant to lose 7 kilograms in a week, it was terrible, but it wouldn't be impossible. they wouldn't set you an impossible task. there has always been importance placed on your weight in this industry. they weighed you every morning before classes, tracked your progress, what you ate, how often you worked out, made sure you were kept consistently underweight, just how the public liked you. if they said momo needed to lose 7 kilograms to be attractive, to get a chance to debut, then she needed to lose 7 kilograms.

it wasn't until around the third day that you realised just what that meant though.

she collapsed in dance class. it wasn't an out of the ordinary experience, they put all of you on the edge of malnutrition, so there were always girls fainting left and right. but it was the first time for momo. and unlike the other girls who were instructed to eat better, momo was encouraged to keep doing what she was doing. because it was working, she was losing a kilogram everyday, more than that at the time because all her water weight was gone first.

so she came home that night proud that she had collapsed. they'd brainwashed her.

and so she kept on going. when all the trainees were off enjoying lunch, she had two fingers down her throat in the company bathrooms. when everyone retired to go home for the night and rest, she'd be running 10 miles an hour on the treadmill at the gym. naturally, her body started shutting down. she was losing too much weight too quickly, she wasn't getting the nutrients she needed to function as a human being, her body was in a state of panic, it was retaining as much weight as it could, it thought momo was in trouble, that it needed to protect her from all of these sudden changes, so it's natural she stopped losing weight at such a fast rate.

she didn't care if it was natural. all that mattered was that that number on the scale was 7 kilograms less than it was when she was first told to lose the weight.

on the outside, you could see how much it was affecting her, not just physically, but mentally as well. you were so confused what to do, you wanted to support her, and as a trainee who had the same dream as her, you understood why she was doing what she was doing, but you also didn't want her to die. you wanted your momo back, the one that smiled and laughed and played around with sana, secretly loving how affectionate sana was despite her outwardly 'cool girl' persona. you wanted the momo that teased and fought with nayeon, the only one that could bring nayeon back down to earth when she was getting too much in her head. you wanted the momo that kissed and pulled you into her whenever you shared a bed, that clung to you in the morning when you had to get up, whiny and pouty and sleepy. she was a shell of herself now. they had ripped the life out of one of your favourite people on the planet.

the door to your dorm clicks open softly.

you're all still cuddled up on the bed, squeezed against one another.

sana walks in, a tired smile on her face. it immediately disappears once she sees the tear streaks on all of your faces.

she rushes forward, cupping momo's cheeks, checking her pulse.

"i'm alive satang don't worry."

"did you eat?"

"you know i haven't."

sana's the most emotional of you all. just seeing her favourite people crying has her own tears welling up.

"oh satang not you too-"

"i can't help it. look at you momoring. why didn't you guys tell me?" she directs that to you and nayeon, frowning.

"you were at practice. we didn't want you to worry."

"momo is more important than practice."

"no satang. monthly evaluations are in two days. you're gonna make that lineup."

"i don't care if i make it if you die momo!"

"stop it. all this talk about- i'm not going to die guys. i'm fine, don't give up on me yet. i'm still here. if you all think i'm not going to make it then how am i supposed to think i'm going to make it?"

"that's not fair momo." you speak up, still cuddled into her neck. "this isn't- this isn't a daily worry. we live in the fucking twenty first century it's not normal to worry about whether or not you're going to live to see tomorrow."

"please momoring. here-" sana starts scrambling around in her bag, pulling out a thermos. "just one please-" she shakes out an ice cube, holds it out to momo in her palm.

momo stares at it, watches it melt, her mouth open, lips dry.

"please it's just one-"

"i-i... i can't-"

sana sobs, head falling into her elbow, crouched on the floor.

nayeon gently takes the ice cube from her, holds it in her palm, watching momo's gaze follow it.

"momo..."

"don't make me nayeon. please. i can't."

"i'm not. i won't." nayeon makes sure momo is still watching her, then she slowly takes the ice cube into her own mouth. she sucks on it, her cheeks hollowing out, melts it in her mouth slowly. when she's done, she opens her mouth, showing she's swallowed it all, then she asks, "do i look different?"

momo looks at her confused, "no?"

"if i went on that scale, how much do you think my weight will change?"

momo gets it, her face darkening again, "don't do this nayeon."

"just answer the question."

"...it probably wouldn't."

"right. look, here, y/n, have one." she reaches for sana's thermos, you hold out your hand, accepting the cold cube, then you pop it in your mouth, burying yourself back to your position in her neck, kissing the skin there gently with your cool lips.

she sighs on top of you.

nayeon's shaking another one out, popping it in her mouth, then she's giving one to sana who has her hand out, staring at momo with wide, hopeful eyes.

momo looks between the three of you, you all had so much love for her, you all just wanted the best for her. it was one ice cube. her body was screaming for it.

slowly, she holds her palm out.

you all stare at her with bated breath, almost in disbelief.

she smiles, "i've probably cried out enough for an ice cube right?"

sana lets out a broken laugh, nayeon's quick to shake out an ice cube into momo's palm.

momo stares down at it, brings it up to her mouth, takes a breath, then encloses her lips around it.

she sighs again, closing her eyes, reveling in the coolness of it, leaning back against you more.

you let her, leaning back fully until you're laid on the bed, spooning her. nayeon comes in behind you, squeezing herself against the wall, an arm coming up to rest on your midriff, her hand able to reach momo's side. sana clambers up as well, kissing momo's forehead and sniffling, looping an arm around her waist and snuggling in. after you had started dating you ended up pushing the two bunk beds in your room together so you could all share the bottom bunk, and so you could use the top bunks for storage space. it was still a little bit of a squeeze but the four of you didn't mind. you liked being as close as you all possibly could.

momo couldn't shake the thought that the ice cube melting down her throat would add on another kilogram or two, but she tried to focus on the feeling of her loved ones curled around her instead, falling into a restless sleep, praying she would be able to wake up and feel like this again.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

you grip your fork tightly, stabbing into your bland salad.

sana sits next to you, just as stiff, staring daggers across the cafeteria.

momo doesn't seem to mind though. she's happily munching away at her leaves. your heart softens a little at the sight, remembering how far she pushed herself last month, at least she was eating better now.

but then nayeon's laugh breaks through again, loud and bright. your jaw tightens at the sound.

"that's it." sana goes to stand but you tug on her hand, pulling her back down.

"don't."

"why not?" she spits, you've never seen her so livid. she was the happy charm of the company, people forget she could feel other emotions too.

"you'll cause a scene."

"good. then maybe he'll get his fucking baby hands off her."

"we can't. everyone will wonder why."

"why what?" she's still seething.

"why you have an issue with them. at worst they’ll think there’s something going on between you and nayeon. at best they’ll think you have a crush on him."

sana blanches, flicking her gaze over to you, “what?!”

“i don’t like it either. but we just have to trust her right?” you offer a smile, it’s a bit wonky and forced and sana sees straight through it, but it does get her to calm down a bit, taking a breath and slumping down in her seat.

“fine.”

“she loves you.”

“whatever.”

you smile genuinely at momo who looks at you in confusion, her mouth still full of lettuce. you shake your head, gesturing for her to keep eating and not to worry.

it’s not until later in the day when you have combined level dance practice that the issue comes up again. normally, he wouldn’t be near your class, sana and momo were naturally gifted dancers, so they were in higher level classes, and nayeon was an all-rounder, she was always in every top class to ensure she was around other people her level.

“they’d be cute wouldn’t they?” jihyo makes light conversation while you’re all stretching.

jeongyeon scoffs, “are you serious? he’s like… a baby.”

“he won’t be for that much longer.”

“gross dude!”

jihyo laughs.

“who are you guys talking about?” momo moves towards your group, mina in tow behind her.

“bambam and nayeon.”

“oh.” she drops down in a stretch, “what about them?”

jeongyeon snickers, teasing momo, “of course you didn’t know you airhead. bambam has a crush on her.”

“really?”

“yeah. did you see him almost wet himself when he got her during spin the bottle at jackson’s party?”

“it was so funny! and then when he went in to kiss her, that was so awkward! poor kid, i almost felt bad for him.”

“i don’t.” sana speaks up then, her teeth gritted, eyebrows furrowed, not even bothering to hide her gaze, staring at bambam and nayeon playing around in the mirror.

jihyo and jeongyeon exchange glances, confused.

“uhh… you okay sana?”

her eyes snap back up to meet jeongyeon’s, “yeah. fine, why?”

“you just seem a little… edgy.”

sana huffs, standing up again, “just tired.” she doesn’t say anything else, turning on her heel and leaving the training room.

momo catches your eye, tilts her head in question.

you shake your head, speaking up, “i’ll check on her.”

you jog outside, finding her near the water fountain.

“hey.”

“if you’re gonna lecture me again i don’t want to hear it.”

“no i wasn’t- i didn’t mean to lecture you at lunch. i just wanted to check on you.”

she sighs, sinking down into the cushion next to the fountain. you carefully sit next to her.

“i’m sorry. i just- i do trust her i just- i don’t trust him.”

“he’s just a kid sweetie.”

she scoffs, “yeah a hormonal pubescent teenage boy. they’re soo innocent, not like they don’t watch porn and jack off to every woman who even breathes near them.”

you’re about to reply when the door to the dance studio opens again, it’s nayeon.

she pokes her head out, looks up and down the hallway, and spots you, grinning. she jogs down to the both of you.

“hey! what are you guys doing here? class is about to start!”

sana doesn’t bother meeting her gaze, “oh so now you care about us?”

nayeon frowns, looks at you in confusion, you feel incredibly awkward, avoiding her eyes as well, “what’s going on?”

“nothing. go back to your boyfriend.”

“what?”

“you heard me.”

“i don’t know what you’re talking about sana. c’mon, let’s go to practice.”

“you don’t? is it that natural for you to drape yourself all over him?”

“what?”

sana finally looks up, eyes red and angry, “bambam. you know he likes you. why do you entertain him?”

“what? sana he’s just a kid-“

sana stands then, throwing her hands up in frustration, you keep your gaze locked on your shoes, “a kid! i’m sick of hearing that! so what if he’s a fucking kid? we’re fucking kids. you all think it’s so impossible that the im nayeon would ever like someone like him so it shouldn’t be anything to worry about right?! you know what sounds more impossible?! that im nayeon is in a polyamorous relationship with three other girls. three other kids!”

“sana! calm down don’t be so loud-“

“no don’t you tell me to fucking calm down. you see? we have to hide this. us. we can’t even talk about us in public. i was okay with that! because i still had you all. you were all worth it! but you could get with bambam right now and people wouldn’t even bat an eye. they’d celebrate it, congratulate him for pulling the girl, all while we can’t even hold hands in public without people looking at us weird!”

“but i- i don’t want to be with him! i want to be with all of you!”

“then don’t fucking laugh at his jokes, touch his biceps, compliment his fucking hair!”

“but- honey that’s all harmless-“

“you still don’t get it! you-"

the door opens once again, and this time it's momo's head that pops out. she frowns when she sees all of you, walking up, tilting her head in question.

sana huffs, "whatever. i'm not feeling like practice today. tell the instructors i'm sick please."

"wait sana-"

she turns on her heel and struts briskly away.

nayeon sighs in frustration, running a hand through her hair, "what is going on with her?" she mutters to herself.

you frown, the events of the day culminating, you wish nayeon could see where you were coming from, "she told you. i think it was pretty obvious." you didn't mean to sound so clipped, your tone just slipped out that way.

nayeon looks down at you, you were never one to talk back, you'd kept more of your emotions to yourself. "are you angry with me too then?"

"that's not it nayeon. look i don't want to fight. let's just go to practice."

you stand up, brushing past her, unable to look her in the eye. you can hear momo questioning nayeon behind you before you open the door to the practice room again, thinking over sana's words that left a heavy feeling in your stomach.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

after practice, you and momo go and grab dinner while nayeon has to go to another vocal lesson.

momo's still blissfully unaware, talking about how the dance practice was and how much fun she had in such a big class with everybody. you listen to her ramble with a smile, not wanting to burst her bubble.

it's unavoidable when you go home later that night and find nayeon alone in your dorm, freshly showered and typing away at her phone.

momo skips in first, kissing nayeon and grabbing some clothes to shower into, heading into the bathroom right after.

nayeon looks at you then, putting her phone down, "hey."

"hi." you shrug off your bag, taking off your shoes.

"where's sana?"

"i thought she'd be home by now."

she frowns, "i haven't seen her since..."

you bite your lip, growing slightly concerned, "should we call her?"

"i don't know if she would pick up for me..."

"right..." you take out your phone, scrolling to sana's contact and pressing dial. it rings for a little, and just before you're about to give up, she picks up, giggly and breathy.

"y/n!! i miss you! what's up!"

you squint, there was a lot of background noise, "sana where are you?"

"out! i'm having fun!"

"where?"

"i don't really know but i'll be home soon! i promise! i love you!" she blows a kiss through the phone and then she hangs up.

you stare down at her contact picture, it was of her and a hamster plushie momo had won for her when you had gone on a date to the carnival. you had all agreed it looked like her and she had hated it because she thought you were saying her chubby cheeks were the resemblance point.

"is she okay?" nayeon speaks up again, barefaced with her thick glasses on.

"i think so. she sounded... she said she'd be home soon."

"oh."

"yeah."

it's oddly quiet, awkward. you start shuffling out of your day clothes, picking out pyjamas for your turn to shower after momo.

"are we okay?" nayeon breaks the silence suddenly, eyes seemingly even bigger behind her glasses. she fiddles with her fingers nervously.

you sigh, moving around the small room to clean up a little, if only to give your hands something to do, so you had an excuse not to look at her. "i don't know. i think sana's less okay than me."

"but you're still... not okay?"

"i feel silly. momo doesn't even feel anything about it. i wish i was the same. i know you'd never cheat on us or whatever, i just- it's still hard y'know? watching you be like that with him. like- you wouldn't want to see me all over another guy right?"

"but he doesn't mean anything to me. he's just- he's like my little brother."

"i know that's why i feel silly. i know realistically you'd never leave us for him. but it still hurts sometimes- like- like you're dangling the fact that you can in front of our faces."

she's quiet for a bit. you risk it to sneak a glance at her. she has her eyebrows furrowed, thinking.

you sigh again, moving forward and standing next to the bed. you place your hand on her head, then start running your fingers through her hair.

"i'm sorry. i don't want to be- i'm not trying to be clingy or jealous or whatever i just can't help it. i- i- i love you."

she looks up at you, surprised. your hands move down to cup her cheeks, smoothing out the skin, there.

you lean down, pressing your forehead against hers, breathing softly, closing your eyes, appreciating her presence. then, you move the extra inch to press your lips together, just slowly, softly, only for a second or two.

when you break away, she doesn't let you go, holding onto your wrist and tugging you down gently, asking you to hug her. and you oblige. kneeling on the bed, letting her wrap her arms around you, and place another kiss on the crown of your head.

"i love you too. i'm sorry i didn't- i wasn't aware of how it looked on the outside. i never- because he doesn't mean anything to me like that, i didn't think anything of it. i didn't realise you guys may have taken it differently. thank you for telling me."

you peck the side of her hand that's right next to your face, holding yours. "it's because you're a T isn't it?" you joke.

she chuckles behind you, "yeah and all my girlfriends are Fs. emotional losers."

"repressed freak."

she rolls her eyes, brings you in closer, "i love you."

"you said that already."

"i wanted you to know again."

"looks like our F is rubbing off on you."

she whines, "are you not going to say it back?"

you smile, "i love you too."

when momo comes out of her shower, she curls into bed immediately with you all, tired from her day and wanting no more than to sleep with her girlfriends. she hopes you've all made up and the fighting can stop tomorrow.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

"did she come home last night?"

"it doesn't look like it."

"fuck she's not picking up her phone either."

"where could she be?"

"what are we going to tell the company?"

"she can't just have gone missing right?"

you're all stressing, nayeon's pacing around the room like she does when she's agitated, momo's trying to call sana's cell, and you're checking her socials and her friends to see if anyone knows where she is.

"what did she say when you called her again yesterday?"

"that she'd come home soon. there was a lot of background noise though, she said she didn't know where she was."

"you don't think she's in trouble right?"

"i don't know..."

"fuck! i never should've fought with her yesterday!"

"don't- no nayeon this isn't your fault at all don't blame yourself. we're going to find her." you step up, halting her pacing, grabbing her hands and squeezing.

she sighs, gritting her teeth, "fine. c'mon. let's go to class, we're late. maybe someone there has seen her.”

before she moves to leave, you cup her cheek, turning her back to you and kiss her in reassurance. she offers a smile when you break away, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes.

momo keeps trying sana's phone while you walk to the company building. by now, you were all relatively well known in the company, and the tension could be felt by newer trainees, they cleared the way as you walked past, not wanting to get caught up in anything.

you push open the door to the dance studio hurriedly, not in the mood for another scolding from the trainers.

but you freeze, spotting sana on the floor, stretching and getting ready.

"y/n? what's wrong?" momo tries peeking over your shoulder to see why you've stopped, and then she spots her as well.

"satang!"

sana looks up, there are obvious bags under her eyes, she's sluggish in her movements. momo pushes past you, dumping her bag down and rushing over.

"where were you?! we've been calling you all morning!"

sana squints, backing away from momo who was speaking too loud for her, "phone died."

"we were worried satang! why didn't you come home last night?" she says the last part in a whisper, not wanting to get sana in trouble with the watchful trainers.

you and nayeon have both entered now as well, nayeon stands behind you a little awkwardly, unsure of how to approach.

"i was out." sana says simply.

"but where?"

"doesn't matter. i'm here now right?"

"sana we were really worried." you speak up now, crouching down into a stretch.

she looks at you, her eyes are lifeless. "and now there's nothing to be worried about. i'm fine."

"what happened to you last night? you said you'd come home and then you didn't. where did you sleep? did you sleep? you look terrible."

she cringes, "gee thanks."

"you know i didn't mean it like that. what aren't you telling us?"

at that moment, bambam chooses to come over and greet you all.

"morning nayeon!"

nayeon is still focused on sana, frowning, but she greets him offhandedly anyway, "morning bam."

"what? no morning for us bambam?" sana speaks up with a teasing smile, it's anything but harmless.

"o-oh! sorry. good morning sana, momo, y/n." he bows to each of you.

"i get it. it's your crush on nayeonnie isn't it? she's so pretty right? and born to be an idol. i can see why you like her."

bambam sputters, completely unprepared, blushing bright red.

sana's smile is sinister.

"sana stop."

she looks at you innocently, blinking, "stop what? i'm not doing anything."

"sana!" behind you, mark suddenly appears, clapping bambam on the back. "last night was fun. you should invite your roomies next time! i'm sure bam would appreciate that wouldn't he?" mark elbows bambam with a snicker.

"oh i'm sure he would. i don't know though, i kinda liked it when it was just us y'know?" she sports a smirk, the one she uses when she wants sex.

mark blushes, muttering something and then dragging bambam away.

"what the fuck sana?" nayeon finally speaks up, glowering.

"what?" she blinks up.

"you were out with mark last night?"

"so what if i was?"

"we were fucking worried."

"and i told you i'm fine now. there was no reason to worry."

"we thought something bad could've happened."

"yeah well obviously nothing did right!? i don't get why you guys are so pressed. i just had a little fun, i needed it, and it was good for me."

"you mean he was good for you?"

"better for me than you were."

nayeon falters at that, hurt flashing across her face, "i'm sorry."

"what for?"

"i didn't listen to you yesterday."

sana shrugs, "it's fine. i get why you like it. i tried it. it's the attention right? it's nice to know someone else is in love with you."

"that's not- that's not what i was doing sana-"

"then what were you doing? you're with us right? so why are you flirting with other people? worried we won't last? backup options? attention?"

"sana- please- can we talk about this i don't-"

"we are talking about this."

"not here. alone."

"you ashamed of me?"

"no! sana what-"

"mark can hold my hand in public. he can kiss me in public. he can call me his."

nayeon clenches her fist, "does he?"

sana shrugs again, not bothering to answer, moving into another stretch. you can't believe her, what you're hearing, you've never seen her like this. never thought she could be like this. momo looks to be in shock too, sitting on her haunches, staring at sana with hurt written all over her face. sana ignores you all.

class starts.

you keep sana in the corner of your eye. she fools around with mark, teasing him, playfighting with him, and ignores the three of you completely. you try and understand where she's coming from, why she was purposely trying to hurt you. she just told you she loved you last night, this wasn't real. she was just doing this as her own personal form of revenge. she didn't mean any of this.

you had to keep telling yourself that.

as class ends, sana looks like she’s about to go out with mark again, but you quickly run out the door, tugging on her arm, “can we talk?”

her eyes soften when she realises it’s you, but she still looks unsure.

that is, until momo links her arm with yours, pleading with sana as well.

“alright.”

you quickly lead her into one of the empty recording studios, gesturing for nayeon to come follow before sana can change her mind. as soon as you’re all inside, you stand against the door, blocking any routes of escape.

sana scoffs when she sees nayeon enter the room as well, but with you in the way, there’s nowhere to run.

“what did you want to talk about?” her tone is cutting, she rubs in between her eyebrows, pushing out the tension there.

“you.”

“what about me?”

“how could you do that to us satang?”

sana sighs, glancing at momo, “you notice now momoring? how come you didn’t have an issue when it was nayeon?”

“w-what?”

“you knew bambam liked nayeon. why didn’t you have a problem when nayeon was hanging all over him?”

nayeon tries to protest but momo replies quickly, wide-eyed, “what do you mean? nayeon doesn’t like bambam though.”

“and i don’t like mark. so what’s the difference?”

“you went after him.” you interject.

“no i didn’t.”

“then how did you end up hanging out with him last night?”

“he saw me crying outside the company. he offered to listen and then to distract me afterwards. i had fun. he didn’t make me cry.”

“sana…” nayeon’s lower lip is wobbly.

“what?”

“…i’m sorry. for not listening to you. i should’ve given you a chance to explain yourself and understand where you were coming from.”

sana’s quiet for a bit, staring at nayeon, turning the words over in her head slowly. and then her own lip starts wobbling, throat constricting, tears welling up.

nayeon panics, “fuck- no i didn’t want to make you cry i didn’t- i’m sorry i made you cry the first time i didn’t- i’m sorry-“ she desperately wants to comfort her but she’s not sure if she can, still in an awkward sort of limbo.

sana closes it though, almost leaping into nayeon’s arms, burrowing her face into her neck and breathing out shakily, sniffling.

“…i’m sorry too. i knew what i was doing- i was being petty and stupid and jealous and i hurt all of you doing that.” she whispers into nayeon’s neck, but it’s quiet enough in the room that you can all hear her.

you breathe a sigh of relief, internal turmoil calmed for the moment. you walk forwards, wrapping your arms around the both of them, feeling momo do so as well on the other side.

“i don’t like him. i didn’t kiss or hold hands or do whatever else i said in there. i just- it really didn’t bother me before. that we had to keep this to ourselves. but then seeing nayeonnie with bambam acting so carefree and- and- everything, i just wished i could grab her and kiss her in front of him, so that everyone knew you were all mine, and that i’m all yours.”

“one day we’ll be able to sana. i promise. and i won’t- i’m not going to act like i’m not already spoken for anymore. i am all yours and i always will be.”

sana sniffles again, you’re close enough you can lean over nayeon’s shoulder and kiss her forehead.

“and i’m sorry for making you guys worry. my phone really did die though if that’s any solace.” she chuckles wetly.

“i have a portable!” momo quickly breaks away, running to her bag and pulling it out, handing it to sana with a proud smile.

sana returns it, thanking her and kissing her cheek, plugging in her phone.

“you were wrong about one thing you know.” nayeon speaks up again, the hint of a smile on her face.

sana stiffens, ready to argue again but not wanting to.

“korea is so homophobic that we can actually hold hands in public without people thinking we’re anything. we could probably get away with kissing on a few rare occasions too and people would still think we’re just really good friends. especially if we’re all kissing each other, they’ll just think we’re… all very friendly with each other and kiss as a sign of affection or something.”

sana laughs out loud, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand, “you’re right. i don’t necessarily have to hide how affectionate i am with you all.”

“and you’re very affectionate satang.”

sana rolls her eyes, hitting momo lightly. but then, her phone lights up, and she seems to read over something. she takes a few seconds, and then she’s blinking up, fresh tears in her eyes, launching forward into nayeon’s arms again.

nayeon grunts, catching her and squeezing back, “i take it you saw my message.”

“mmsorry- i lov- too.” her voice is muffled, but it’s obvious what she’s saying.

you don’t know what nayeon’s text said, and sana refuses to share with you afterwards, saying “nayeonnie’s words are for me only, tell her to do it again for you.” knowing nayeon hates expressing too much, which makes it all the more special to sana, but you’re just happy everything is okay between the four of you again.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

there was something going on and everyone knew it. the rumoured survival show for a new debut group was apparently set to start filming soon. select trainees were being pulled out of practice and given the news, although they were instructed not to say anything about it in order to not cause discouragement amongst other trainees and to minimise media leakage.

your girlfriends had all been called up and informed that they would be participating. now you were all waiting in anticipation for your own name to be called out.

after the monthly trainee showcase, JYP himself comes to make the announcement.

"i'm sure you've all heard the rumours going around about the new group we're planning to debut. it's going to be televised nationally in a reality-type fashion, so even if you don't make it to the final lineup, making it onto the show itself will be a big deal already, getting your name out there for potential future plans. the name of this show will be..." he pauses for effect, "sixteen!"

there's thundering applause, but you can barely hear it, anticipating, praying he would be announcing the lineup and that your name would be there.

"it's sixteen for the chosen sixteen exemplary trainees that the staff have recognised and recommended. they will be competing for seven spots in this new group. all sixteen trainees have now been notified of their involvement, but if you haven't received any news, don't worry! i always have all of you in my mind, like god, your time will come! so please cheer on and support your fellow trainees in their journeys!"

did you hear that right? everyone chosen had been notified already? so you weren't chosen? you weren't good enough? all that training... all those hours slaving away... all those tears, doubts, connections you've lost, all for what?

you look around, other people are cheering, some are crying, some are in disbelief like you.

your feet move before you can think, pushing to the front of the crowd, grabbing JYP.

"sir- why- why didn't i make it?" you're desperate, huffing, on the verge of breakdown.

he looks you up and down, a frown appearing on his usually smiley face, "what was your name again?"

your heart sinks. he didn't even know your name.

and then a look of realisation comes across him, "oh! you're that girl that's always with nayeon, momo, and sana! you should be happy for them! they're all fantastic trainees, they'll make wonderful idols."

you blink, dumbfounded, mouth agape.

"b-but- i- what was it? was i not a good enough singer? dancer? am i not pretty enough?" you're grasping for straws, anything to help you cling on to the possibility of your dream.

he tilts his head, crossing his arms, "ah- you... perhaps it's because you're always with those three. you just don't... stand out. nayeon has natural star power, her voice is one of the strongest in the company. momo is the best dancer we have, probably one of the best dancers in your generation. and sana has a personality people gravitate towards, she can keep group morale up and maintain public image. let me ask you.. what do you have? because aside from being friends with genuinely talented people, you just seem... average."

your hand falls, head drooping, the words hitting you hard.

"don't take this too personal though! perhaps with them out of the way, you can really find your own light to shine now! i believe in you!" he smiles again, then he's off with a flourish, being guided away by busy assistants.

you stare after him in shock, a flashback of sorts playing through your head, of the hardships you've been through to get to this point, of the tears and sweat you've dripped, it was too much. you needed out.

again, your feet move before you have control over them. mind moving at miles a minute, body on autopilot.

you're back in you're dorm room before you know it, and then your suitcase is being pulled off the top bunk, laid on the floor, and you're stumbling around throwing things in haphazardly. you don't even register when the door opens and three sets of footsteps tread in, too focused on thinking about how to get out, whether you could get to the airport in time, what you would say to your parents, your family, the people standing at the door in surprise, watching you clumsily shove things into your suitcase.

"...y/n? what are you doing?"

you barely look at them to reply, voice light and distracted, "packing."

"where are you going?"

"home."

"what?"

you head into the bathroom, starting to pick off the things you needed, you could leave some things, not everything was going to fit anyway and some things you could throw away.

"y/n wait- stop- just wait-"

you ignore them, clattering makeup items falling out of order into toiletry bags.

"y/n!" it's nayeon, her hands gripping your wrists firmly, not too firm to hurt, but enough to get you to stop. you finally look up at them, the break allows you to really feel your emotions, tears welling up immediately.

"oh sweetheart." nayeon tugs you into a hug, running a hand through your hair comfortingly. you feel sana and momo surround you, placing their arms around you as well. the dams break open then, and you're sobbing into their arms, all of your emotions finally catching up.

you stay there for a few minutes, just crying it out, the girls hushing and soothing you, letting you babble nonsense and cry into their shoulders.

when you finally calm down, you're exhausted, slumping down into nayeon. she supports you immediately, and tries to peek at you from your position in her neck, but you refuse to look at her, your eyes puffy and nose red.

"do you want to talk about it?"

you shake your head.

"do you... still want to leave?"

you take a breath, unsure. "i don't know." you whisper honestly, "what do i have to do here if i stay?"

"you have us." sana says quietly.

you chuckle wetly, "you don't get it. you guys all made it. i'm never going to. i don't- i'm happy for you all i am but- my dream-"

"shhh- it's okay. we... we do get it my love. we were all on this journey together weren't we? we've all had thoughts we wouldn't make it. even nayeon." momo tries to lighten the mood a little.

"but- you've all made it now. i don't even- why would you still want to be with me? i'm not good enough. you all got through. i'm the only one who didn't. doesn't that- don't you think i'm just pathetic? how could you still like me?"

"what?! what are you talking about y/n?! we don't like you for your talent we're not some talent recruiters. we like you because you're you, you're sweet and funny and caring. i know it's hard because we're in this industry so it feels like we're all competing, but you can't- it's not like that for us. don't ever doubt our love for you again."

you sob quietly, emotions still a wreck.

"please don't leave. this doesn't mean anything. there will be other opportunities. your dream is still possible. we might not be able to debut all together like we always wanted to but- but you still have a chance y/n. don't give up on it."

you sigh, too tired to argue, letting them bring you to bed, giving you one of the coveted middle spoon spots and cuddling into you until you fell into a restless sleep.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ⋅ᡣ𐭩 ་༘࿐

the next few weeks are absolutely hectic. for your girlfriends. you spent most of your time moping around, giving only about 50% in all your classes, motivation completely shot. it didn't help that the three of them started spending a lot more time together, as is expected when they have to prepare filming for the same thing. often you'd find yourself coming home after a long day of practice, and find them giggling and laughing about things you have no idea about, sharing inside jokes and talking about things that happened during their day that you'd be too tired or jealous to ask about.

they tried to include you of course, but you couldn't bring yourself to join in.

internally, you felt terrible. you knew you should be proud, happy, enthusiastic that all three of them were in the process of having their dreams come true. they had worked harder than all of you, they certainly deserved this opportunity, and they deserved you to be in their corner, supporting them and loving them like any other partner would do in this situation.

but you couldn't do it. jyp's words continue to ping around your head like an endless pinball machine. how you had always been in their shadow, how he never saw your worth because of them. a small, petty part of you blamed them. you hated that part of yourself, tried to squash it down as much as you could. but sometimes when you're laid in between them at night, their light breaths deep in sleep, those thoughts come back, and you can't help but be envious of their position, wondering why them and not you.

naturally, you started drifting from them, especially when filming actually started.

they were moved out to different dorms during the filming, split into major and minor dorms so that the film crew could get some reality content. they still texted you often though, asking how your day was every night, they still made every effort to make it work. it was you who really started moving away when they were no longer physically there to remind you they loved you.

you'd cry most nights. cuddling into sheets that smelled like them, watching episodes of sixteen, wishing you were there with them. you missed them.

and then momo gets eliminated.

it's brutal. you're confused when she shuffles into your dorm room, hood over her head, dark circles under her eyes, still red from crying.

you had no idea what happened, the episode hadn't aired yet.

but your heart breaks seeing your girlfriend. you immediately squeeze her in your arms, she bursts into tears again, sobbing, clinging to you, unable to make any words.

she tells you later when you're curled up in bed, what happened and how she got eliminated. when she drifts off to bed, you stare at her sleeping face, now devoid of tears, she looked peaceful. and those sick thoughts come back.

you felt grateful she was eliminated. she was brought down to your level again. she was just another trainee now. it was terrible, but you had her again, you weren't going to lose her. you should've felt angry, sad, disappointed her dreams were just ripped away from her after getting so close. but you felt relieved instead. what a terrible person you were.

soon enough, it's the finals.

momo's dyed her hair a light blonde colour and cut bangs. you went with her and helped her pick it out the day after she came home. she needed a fresh start, needed to forget the pain it felt to be back at square 1.

now you stood with her in the crowd with the other eliminated trainees. you nod at them politely, but you have your hand tightly gripped with momo's anxiously looking up at the stage waiting for your other two girlfriends to appear. you hadn't seen them in months and you'd missed them.

momo had talked your ear off about everything that happened while she was on the show. updated you on everything. it felt nice, to be included again, to feel needed, wanted.

and momo wasn't shy about how supportive she was of nayeon and sana. constantly bringing them up during the day, wondering how they were doing, if they'd eaten yet, if they were getting enough sleep, hoping they weren't thinking about her getting eliminated too much, praying they'll both make the final group.

you agreed with her each time, but she made you feel like a terrible girlfriend. she was what you were meant to be when she was still on the show. you try and make up for it in the last few weeks, making signs and pasting pictures of nayeon and sana on posters, making some for both you and momo to bring to the finals. she grins and kisses you on the head when she sees them, saying how sweet you were, how considerate you were. you smile guiltily, knowing that was far from the truth.

finally, the lineup starts to be announced.

you spot sana on the majors side already, nayeon still on the minors side. you have your fingers crossed, anxiously watching, momo's hand is white from how hard she's gripping yours, just as anxious.

nayeon's name is announced first.

momo bursts into tears, smiling, crying. she's so proud. you are too. she made it. you always knew she would. im nayeon was born to be a star.

and then, after the first seven are confirmed, sana's spot also secured, jyp makes the surprise announcement. it was going to be a nine member group. he announces tzuyu first, as the fan favourite.

and then, momo's name is read out.

momo is in shock at first, but trainees around you start clapping her on the back, congratulating her, and she starts sobbing again, covering her face as the camera pans to her. you quickly let go of her hand, not wanting to arouse any suspicions. she tries and looks at you but she's pushed up on stage before she knows it.

you can see nayeon and sana in the back, crying, in shock as well.

you can't even listen to momo's speech.

you feel like you're the only person in the entire venue again. it was quiet. you were alone. again.

your feet start to move on autopilot again. dissociating.

you manage to slip through the crowd, back turned, not realising the girls were searching the crowd, looking for you. wanting to share one of the most important parts of their lives with you. you were too selfish to let them.

you're at the dorms again, the suitcase is out, already half-packed from the last time you'd thought about doing this. this time though, they wouldn't be able to stop you. there'd be an afterparty, you were sure, they'll probably expect to see you there, they won't. then they'll come home, worried, and find all your things gone. the only remnant of your existence, a letter placed carefully on the bed.

dear nayeon, momo, sana,

firstly, congratulations. if anyone deserved those spots, it was you three. you've all worked so hard to get here, and i'm so proud of you all. your dreams are coming true. everything you've ever thought was out of reach, is about to become reality. you deserve all the fame, money, love, everything, and i know it's going to come your way, because i fell for you too.

i'm sorry. i'm not who you thought i was. i'm not a good person. and you deserve to be with good people. i'm leaving. for good this time. i'm sorry that i chose tonight to do this, when you three should be on top of the world, in a way, it's my own sort of revenge i guess. selfishly making you feel a little of what i've felt the last few months. it's why i can't be with you anymore. i'll only bring you down more. i loved you all. i didn't want to start hating you for being better than me, i wanted to keep the memories of our love pure and joyful. if i stayed, i'd grow to despise you for having what i've wanted for all my life. i didn't want that. i'm a terrible person, i could never ask for your forgiveness, only that you forget about me. forget me and continue living your lives under the spotlight, don't let me drag you back into the shadows. don't try and find me.

i'm sorry.

when they try and call you, you'll be on the flight home, your phone unable to receive any of their messages. you throw away your phone as soon as you arrive, buying a new one and starting your new life.

they barely have time to chase after you. you'd be grateful for that. they're thrown straight into schedules and planning for their debut.

eventually, you become a distant memory for them, as they do for you.

when you're older, you'll find a box you sealed away, filled with pictures of the four of you, young and in love. you'll sit there, thumbing through them, crying, wondering how you could possibly have let them go. you'll think back to your actions, appalled at the person you were, hating the industry for pitting you against them, and then realising it was your fault the entire time. you were young, stupid, greedy, you thought your dream mattered more to you than the girls did. now that you’re older, you realise you were so wrong. the girls were your dream.

you'll buy a ticket for their concert while they’re on tour, and you'll quietly cry to yourself again, seeing them in person, grown up, smiling, singing, doing what they loved in front of crowds of people who loved them as much as they loved you all those years ago. you'll think about making yourself known to them, but you'd hurt them enough. they seemed happy now, you had no place intruding on that anymore.

you were just another stranger now. you have been for years. and you had no one to blame but yourself.

[salvadorbonaparte]

Since my big Languages and Linguistics MEGA folder post is approaching 200k notes (wow) I am celebrating with some highlights from my collection:

Africa: over 90 languages so far. The Swahili and Amharic resources are pretty decent so far and I'm constantly on the lookout for more languages and more resources.

The Americas: over 100 languages of North America and over 80 languages of Central and South America and the Caribbean. Check out the different varieties for Quechua and my Navajo followers are invited to check out the selection of Navajo books, some of which are apparently rare to come by in print.

Ancient and Medieval Languages: "only" 18 languages so far but I'm pretty pleased with the selection of Latin and Old/Middle English books.

Asia: over 130 languages and I want to highlight the diversity of 16 Arabic dialects covered.

Australia: over 40 languages so far.

Constructed Languages: over a dozen languages, including Hamlet in the original Klingon.

Creoles: two dozen languages and some materials on creole linguistics.

Europe: over 60 languages. I want to highlight the generous donations I have received, including but not limited to Aragonese, Catalan, Occitan and 6 Sámi languages. I also want to highlight the Spanish literature section and a growing collection of World Englishes.

Eurasia: over 25 languages that were classified as Eurasian to avoid discussions whether they belong in Europe or Asia. If you can't find a language in either folder it might be there.

History, Culture, Science etc: Everything not language related but interesting, including a collection of "very short introductions", a growing collection of queer and gender studies books, a lot on horror and monsters, a varied history section (with a hidden compartment of the Aubreyad books ssshhhh), and small collections from everything like ethnobotany to travel guides.

Jewish Languages: 8 languages, a pretty extensive selection of Yiddish textbooks, grammars, dictionaries and literature, as well as several books on Jewish religion, culture and history.

Linguistics: 15 folders and a little bit of everything, including pop linguistics for people who want to get started. You can also find a lot of the books I used during my linguistics degree in several folders, especially the sociolinguistics one.

Literature: I have a collection of classic and modern classic literature, poetry and short stories, with a focus on the over 140 poetry collections from around the world so far.

Polynesia, Micronesia, Melanesia: over 40 languages and I want to highlight the collection for Māori, Cook Islands Māori and Moriori.

Programming Languages: Not often included in these lists but I got some for you (roughly 5)

Sign Languages: over 30 languages and books on sign language histories and Deaf cultures. I want to highlight especially the book on Martha's Vineyard Sign Language and the biography of Laura Redden Searing.

Translation Studies: Everything a translation student needs with a growing audiovisual translation collection

And the best news: the folders are still being updated regularly!