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bluehoodiewoozi · 1 year ago

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Neverending

Lee Jihoon x fem!Reader

Genre: fluff with little to no plot

Words: 14k

Warnings: crying with references to an argument. a single reference to porn. hatred of philosophy. simp woozi who suffers from anxious perfectionism and self-deprecating thoughts.

[College/University AU] With the help of his friends' advice, Jihoon goes on a quest to become the best boyfriend he can be.

Note: I wrote this, had a mental break-down, then finished this, and now I'm sharing it with you in the hopes that it'll save you from a mental break-down of your own or perhaps it'll comfort you in some way. Hang in there, y'all!

It was no secret that Jihoon had little to no experience with romance. His friends often joked that his experience was limited to exactly seven rom-coms and a steamy romance novel from his mother’s bookshelf that he once read in a state of absolute boredom when he was grounded.

And Jihoon was fine with that. He didn’t complain when he made it through middle school without as much as a peck from a girl (or anyone other than Soonyoung, really – he wasn’t picky). He didn’t as much as blink when it was high school graduation day and he was still as single as that one famous whale in the ocean. He merely shrugged when his friends pitied his forever-single state while he was doing his undergraduate degree.

It wasn’t until he started working on his master’s degree that he began to feel left out. Maybe a little over 20 years of being single was just his limit, or maybe it was the constant pitying stares of his friends, or perhaps it was his mother’s not-so-subtle hints of wanting grandkids while she could still run with them – either way, Jihoon finally realised that he was lonely even with over ten friends around him.

And maybe it was this realisation that made him view the people around him differently. All of a sudden, couples seemed to surround him wherever he went. The pair of girls he always saw chatting at the café he worked at? Suddenly he was a witness to the kisses they shared in the corner seat. The guy living across the hall from him in the dormitory? Giggling and kicking his feet after his girlfriend fixed his hair as they left for their 8 am class.

Heck, even Vernon was in a relationship, buying two to-go cups of chai tea from the café every Wednesday, a love-sick smile on his face, before heading to the park to share them with a woman the rest of their friend group could only theorise the identity of.

If Vernon out of all people could find someone, why couldn’t he?

Then, as if the universe had heard the silent cries of Jihoon’s heart, he met you.

Assigned to the same semester-long group project, he quickly realised that you were the only person other than him to actually do the work. It started with looks of exasperation shared across the library table the six of you gathered at, and then the two of you had no choice but to start talking.

Talking – right, that was the first real step. At first about schoolwork – about the research questions of your project, about other courses, about complaints about your professors. Then, barely a week into knowing him, you broke the thin ice.

He could still vividly remember the way you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket just as he was about to walk away after a meeting. You smiled at him – a real smile rather than the tired polite one he had grown so accustomed to – and asked, “So, what kind of movies do you like?”

As soon as he managed to utter the words “I guess… superhero movies?” out of his mouth, you were once again tugging at his sleeve, this time dragging him in the direction of a nearby cinema. You ended up only allowing him to pay for the popcorn (and he had to beg for even that much) because it seemed you were dead-set on treating him like a prince.

That was your first date: after classes, in the darkness of the cinema, with Spiderman swinging by on the giant screen. He barely had any time to pay attention to the plot, too busy relishing in your presence and the sound of your laughter at the corny jokes. And then, as MJ and Peter Parker shared a kiss on the screen, he felt something warm on his hand – your fingers curled around his own and he couldn’t help but give them a squeeze back, his ears as red as Spiderman’s suit.

The impromptu date was followed by another, then another, and another, until you finally had enough and pulled him to the side after class.

“Do you like me?” you asked him, a little frustrated with how slow things were going and with how awkward he still seemed.

His ears flushed red again. “Of… of course I do.” (He preferred to imagine his voice hadn’t cracked in the middle of the sentence.)

Your scowl remained. “Then be my boyfriend.”

When he nodded, you smiled and took his hand again – he told himself he’d never let yours go.

But unfortunately, his lack of romantic experience made it difficult to gracefully slip into the role of your boyfriend. He was almost jealous of the way the role of the girlfriend came so easily to you, taking his hand so easily every day, when he spent hours at night contemplating whether he should kiss your forehead or not when you’d part ways on campus the next day.

On one of those nights, he decided you deserved better. You deserved a better him.

So, he grabbed his phone and texted the one friend he trusted with his life.

[i need advice.]

[how can i be a better boyfriend?]

[YJH: that’s easy! carry her bag for her! girls love that!]

When Jihoon met you on your way to a 12 pm class, he hesitated to follow Jeonghan’s advice. Countless what-ifs floated in his head: what if you thought that it was rude, what if you wanted to carry your own things, what if you tried to carry his bag instead… Did boyfriends outside of fanfiction and romantic movies even carry their girlfriends’ things for them?

Doubts hurried out of his mind soon enough, making way for worry when he saw you adjust the tote bag on your shoulder with a grimace. He inwardly panicked at the sight of your discomfort. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, why?” you wondered as if completely oblivious.

“Is your bag heavy?” His brows furrowed. Before you could take another step, he slipped the bag off your shoulder and onto his own. Your grimace made sense all of a sudden. His frown deepened, but not because of your confused stare. “What do you have in here? An entire drum set?”

You laughed. “No, just my laptop and some snacks.”

Even as he bounced on his spot to test the weight, his frown remained. He glared at the bag. “Your laptop’s not that heavy.”

Your face scrunched up. “My laptop kind of broke yesterday, so I had to revive the old, heavy one.”

Jihoon’s frown disappeared. He stared up at you in surprise, and then, unable to stop himself, he offered, “Do you want me to take a look at it? Maybe I can fix it.”

“Nah,” you shrugged, “I’ll just take it to get it fixed tomorrow. My friend recommended this shop–”

“Don’t be silly,” he scolded you and continued the journey to class. “You know that the shop will take three weeks to even look at your laptop and then another three to order the necessary parts and then another five to actually fix it. You might graduate before they get it fixed.”

“Yeah?” you laughed, following after him, your hand naturally coming to rest around his own. “And you’re faster?”

“Faster, more reliable, cheaper,” he counted on his fingers before offering you a cheeky grin. When you didn’t seem too convinced, he sighed and added, “You can ask any of my friends and they’ll tell you I can do this. I’ve done this before. I fixed Junhui’s laptop just a few weeks ago; got a 5-star review.”

At that, you sighed. In the few weeks of being his girlfriend, you had learnt that he was as stubborn as he was kind. In fact, he was even more stubborn when he was being kind: you had been a first-hand witness to Jihoon physically pinning Kim Mingyu to the ground to put a bandage on a fresh cut on his cheek, all the while cursing the friend under his breath for not being more careful. You shuddered at what Jihoon might do if you continued to refuse his laptop-fixing offer.

You finally sighed again and nodded. “Should I bring it over to your place?”

“Yeah,” he agreed easily, his lips curling into a victorious smile, “I’m free this weekend so I can probably get it done before finals.”

You grinned at the thought. “If you manage to do that, I will literally marry you. You’re the best.”

He could only pray you wouldn’t mention the way his ears undoubtedly turned red again as he adjusted your bag on his shoulder and led you to your lecture room.

[YJH: help her do research for her essay]

Jihoon let out a soft huff as he placed your bag on a seat at the library before gently pulling you to sit in the seat next to it. He let himself fall into the chair across from yours.

“Thank you!” your chipper voice was almost enough to rid him of the muscle pain your pain caused.

He offered a smile and a blink so slow you began to wonder if he took you for a cat. “You’re welcome.”

Then, just like a cat himself, he just sat and watched you set up on the desk. His eyes sharply followed every movement you made, sometimes lingering here or there if something particular caught his eye (your oddly fluffy pink pen was one of those particular things). “So, what are you going to be working on?”

You groaned audibly. “Research for this mythology class I’m taking. We’re supposed to make a big wiki as a class effort. Each of us got a different topic to write about. But, like, it’s more of an actual small research paper: citations, references, quotes…” You pouted. “If you weren’t here, I’d be crying by now.”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all – the crying part, because he actually quite enjoyed mythology. Though he hesitated just a little before saying it, he offered, “If you need a hug, just tell me.”

“You’re so cute.” You reached over the table to give him an affectionate pat on his head, effectively both praising him and fixing his windswept mess of hair. “Have you gotten around to fixing my laptop yet?”

Relaxing in his chair, he began, “I’m waiting for a part, but it’s almost fixed otherwise.”

You blinked. “What part?”

“A battery.”

“I don’t think it was a battery issue, though,” you mumbled while avoiding his eyes, not wanting to insult his competence. After all, you were pretty sure the issue was with the graphics – why else would your laptop screen flicker like a rogue disco ball?

As if reading your mind, he chuckled and pulled out his phone to check the package tracking website. “I almost fixed the main issue already, but I noticed that the battery was acting weird, so I figured I might as well fix that too.”

When he looked up from his phone again, you were staring at him with stars in his eyes. His heart thumped a little louder at the sight. “... What?”

You shrugged and turned back to your work. “Nothing.”

He pursed his lips at that and put his phone away again. In his head, he went over all the assignments he had to finish for the following week. Deciding there weren’t any that took priority (a bold lie to himself), he cleared his throat. “So, what do you have to research?”

“Greek mythology.”

“But…” He tilted his head to the side in thought – maybe you wouldn’t want his help? There he went again, he realised: hesitating. He frowned and shook his head clear before smiling at you again. “What exactly?”

“Some mythological creatures. I thought that would be more fun than the usual famous characters.”

“Creatures like… harpies and sirens?”

“Yep.”

Realising you were already deep in the world of research, he decided to not bother you with any further questions. Instead, he slowly and as quietly as he could (but still louder than he would’ve liked) slid his chair back and headed further into the library.

“Mythological creatures,” he mumbled to himself as he wandered between the seemingly endless shelves. Before long, he found what he was looking for. He returned to your table barely ten minutes later, placing a heap of books on it before slumping back into his chair with a deep sigh.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him open the first book and flip through the pages like a man on a quest. You smiled at the sight before focusing back on your work. Even so, you heard the scribble of his pencil and the familiar sound of a sticky note getting ripped out of its block.

Just as you stopped paying attention to him, you felt a book being pushed towards you. When you looked away from your laptop, you found the book you had just seen him read, now laid open on your side of the table, turned to face you.

Light pink sticky notes between the closed pages and a few on the open ones: the book invited you to read. The notes carried Jihoon’s neat handwriting, retelling the contents of the page. Better yet: these were notes about mythological creatures described in the book:

‘Chimera. pg 6: Daughter of Typhon and Echidna. pg 18: lion's body and head, snake for a tail, breathes fire?’

When you glanced back at him, smiling brightly, he was already nose-deep in a different book, paying you no attention.

[Y.JH.: watch a porno together 😉]

Jihoon stared at his friend’s message for a total of five minutes. He then decided that he should stop taking advice from Jeonghan.

He turned to the group chat for help instead.

“You’re going to drive yourself insane before finals even start,” he warned you with a fond smile as you flipped through your worksheets, thoroughly checking each and every one to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.

You offered him a tired glare and turned back to your task. “I’m already halfway there, might as well commit.”

[X.MH.: take her on a walk. enjoy the weather.]

Minghao’s suggestion rang in his head as he watched you. After all, he himself often went on ridiculously long walks in the park when he ran into a metaphorical wall with his work and studies, as did many of his friends. Perhaps it would help you too: romance and relaxation in one – a win on two fronts.

“Do you—” He hesitated. Why did he always hesitate? Even he himself was starting to get annoyed by it. He shook his head to clear his mind and fix his hair before trying again, “Do you want to go on a walk?”

You froze. “A walk?”

He hummed. “To clear your mind. Some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not.”

You mulled it over in your head: assignments versus your adorable boyfriend?

“Fine,” you finally huffed, feigning annoyance, “but I’m going to pet every dog I see and you can’t stop me.”

He laughed at the idea, already imagining it in his head, and got up from the floor before extending a hand to help you up as well. “You’d have to try to stop me first. I’m known for attracting random dogs.”

You took his hand and stretched. “I wonder why.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and handed you your jacket before shrugging on his own. He tried not to think about how your jackets matched – almost like a couple’s item.

Soon, the two of you were walking side by side in the park, laughing at everything and nothing and Seokmin’s attempt to fit in a kids’ swing that you saw in the passing.

As always, your hand found Jihoon’s before he could find the courage to seek your affection. Fingers squeezing together, his skin blissfully on fire against yours – he wondered why he never dared to make the first move and reach for your hand. But if he wasn’t the one to initiate, he at least had an excuse to not let you go.

“How come I’m your first girlfriend?” you wondered, searching his face for answers.

He shrugged. “You just are.”

“You really never had anyone else before?” He shook his head. “Not even a fling?” Another shake of his head. “A hook-up?” He blushed and shook his head harder. You frowned in confusion. “How? You’re, like, perfect. Other girls must have swarmed around you like bees around honey.”

“Don’t be silly,” he denied in a hushed voice, avoiding your eyes so he could act like his ears weren’t redder than the late autumn leaves.

“I know I wanted you to be mine the moment I saw you,” you mumbled with a pout, offended on his behalf. “So, why were you single all this time then?”

Jihoon shrugged once again, his lips in a tight line of awkwardness. “I just wasn’t interested, I guess. Too busy studying.”

“Then,” you hummed in thought before turning to him again, this time eyes shining with mischief, “have you ever kissed anyone before?”

He paled. “I– Uh– Technically…”

“Technically?” you pressed eagerly.

He cleared his throat. “Technically I’ve been kissed by one person.”

“Technically?!” You were scandalised, baffled, puzzled, curious beyond belief. He could only laugh hopelessly as you stopped him and grabbed him by the shoulders to stare at him, your mouth agape. “Who was it? Was she pretty?”

“Pretty?” He grimaced. It was too late to lie now – might as well commit to his honesty streak. “In his own way, I suppose–”

“HIS?!” Your jaw dropped even more as he avoided your eyes.

“Let’s just pretend I didn’t say anything–”

“No, I need the truth,” you laughed, almost maniacal with both joy and curiosity. You gripped his shoulders, promising to not let him go until you got the answers. “Who was it? Jihoon, you have to tell me.”

He sighed deeply. His head tilted back so he could stare towards the sky, calling for an extraterrestrial life-form to abduct him. He had been doing so great so far… Why did he have to be damn honest with you?

After thirty seconds, he accepted that the aliens hadn’t found his calls appealing enough. He sighed and slumped before you, head lolling forward as he confessed, “Do you know Kwon Soonyoung?”

You burst into laughter, jumping away from him to bounce in joy (Jihoon wondered if maybe the impending sense of finals’ season doom was too much for you) as you repeated, “Kwon Soonyoung? The tiger guy?”

“Of course that’s what you know him for,” he mumbled under his breath, hand reaching up to rub at his eyes so he could avoid eye contact a little longer. “Just so you know, it was nothing serious: he just decided to kiss me on the playground in, like, 6th grade one day.” He sighed deeply at the memory, still unsure how he felt about it after all these years.

But you were too busy giggling to acknowledge his dismay. “On the lips?”

He grimaced. “On the lips.”

“Full on?”

“Full on,” he sighed.

Before he could scold you to not tell anyone else (not that it mattered anyway: Soonyoung had taken it upon himself to share the tale with every person he met anyway), you were in front of him again, still smiling brightly. His scowl melted into a gentle smile at the sight – he sucked at being mad at you.

“Like this?” You leaned forward, placed your hands on his cheeks, and pulled him in for a kiss of your own.

All of a sudden, Jihoon swore he was floating. He wrapped his arms around your waist to anchor himself as he leaned further into you, unwilling to part from your lips. Even as you attempted to pull away, he chased after your lips, unsatisfied until you melted back into the kiss.

When he finally ran out of air, you began giggling, a shy glow on your cheeks as you looked at his still-closed eyes. “So?”

“What?” he wondered, slow to open his eyes, and even when he finally did, his eyelids drooped like he was still waking up from the sweetest of dreams.

“Was the kiss historically accurate?” you joked, leaning closer to brush your nose against his.

He was unable to even laugh. Only a dopey smile appeared on his face as he whispered, “No, it was so much better.”

[H.JS.: surprise her with flowers]

[i dont know what kind of flowers she likes tho??]

[W.JH.: unless she’s allergic, i dont think it matters]

Despite still being unsure whether the group chat was helpful or just plain useless, Jihoon followed their advice like it was the law.

Flowers? He could find flowers. Easy. They’re sold almost everywhere. Surely, he could figure out something as simple and universal as flowers.

Wrong.

The moment he stepped into the flower store, he felt like a five-year-old left unattended in a new city. He hadn’t even realised there were so many options. He gulped.

“Can I help you?” an oddly familiar voice called out to him and he whipped his head around in search of the speaker. He found Wonwoo staring back at him, his eyes shining with mischief upon recognising his new customer.

Jihoon grimaced. “I– Nevermind.”

But when he tried to leave, Wonwoo grabbed him by the hood of his white sweatshirt and dragged him further into the store. “Are you going to buy your girlfriend flowers? Like Joshua suggested?”

“I– No– Why would I–” Jihoon’s resolve broke under Wonwoo’s knowing glare. He lowered his gaze to the floor and sheepishly nodded.

Wonwoo let out a small sound of victory before asking, “So, what kind of flowers do you want to get her?”

“That’s the thing,” Jihoon sighed deeply, “I have no clue what to get.”

His florist friend hummed in understanding. “Is she more of a daisy or a rose girl?”

Jihoon offered him a confused look. “How am I supposed to know? I’ve only dated her for a month.”

“Roses may be a bit much then,” Wonwoo concluded with a squint of his eyes before heading somewhere in the store, once again grabbing Jihoon by the hood and dragging him along.

Jihoon could only whine quietly in protest. “Can you stop doing that?”

“No.” The answer was plain, clear, and left no room for argument. “I think tulips are the way to go.”

Jihoon had no further complaints as Wonwoo began piling flowers into his arms. Once he was satisfied, he led Jihoon to the counter – by the hood, once again, as if he was a cat mom carrying her kitten – and began arranging them into a bouquet.

“Do you want me to tie a bow for them?” he asked but Jihoon gave him no answer. When he looked up again, his love-sick friend was staring at the newly-complete bouquet in awe. Wonwoo smiled and handed him the flowers. “There. Do you think she’ll like them?”

“I– How did you know… ?”

Wonwoo’s lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Was I right?”

Jihoon could only nod before fishing his wallet out. “I seriously owe you one. You’re good at this.”

On the way to your dorm, he couldn’t stop staring at the bouquet. The tulips were exactly the colours he associated with you, as if Wonwoo had read his mind and translated it into flowers. Now he could only adjust them a little and pray you’d like them as much as he did.

A deep breath. A soft knock on your door.

Your roommate opened the door, her eyes lighting up with excitement upon recognising him and noticing the flowers in his arms. She practically dragged him inside while calling out to you, “(Y/n), your Prince Charming arrived!”

Before he could say anything, she patted his shoulder and leaned over to whisper “She’ll love them” before all but bouncing out the front door, offering him one last cheeky wink before she left.

“Jihoon?” he then heard you call out from a distance. “Is that you?”

He called back a confirmation before following your voice to your room. Just as he often did, he found you seated on your bed, your (newly fixed) laptop in front of you, surrounded by endless pages of homework and research. He smiled at the familiar sight.

“Are you busy studying again?” he wondered, his voice impossibly soft just like his heart was for you. “Should I come back later?”

Without looking up, you shook your head. “No, no, please stay. I just have to finish this table and then–” Your gaze lifted to meet his by habit, at which point your jaw dropped. Soon, a smile forced itself onto your face. “Jihoon!”

He feigned ignorance, his lips quirking. “Why?”

“Did you–” You couldn’t even finish your sentence, unable to find the words as tears of joy gathered in the corners of your eyes. Pursing your lips to will yourself to not cry, you got up from the bed and walked over to hug him. You held him tight while he just laughed fondly.

“Why?” he asked again, his free hand reaching up to caress your cheek.

You pouted. “You got me flowers?”

When you stepped back, he lifted up the bouquet and asked, “What? This?” You nodded and he laughed again, so completely endeared by your reaction. “Do you like them that much?”

“I love them,” you said and took the flowers from his hands, already rushing to the kitchen to fill a vase with flowers. Despite not leaving your room, he could hear you mumbling, “Oh my god, you’re really going to make me cry at this rate.”

Upon returning with a vase full of water and beautiful flowers, you placed it on your desk by the window. The afternoon light hit them just right and it made you want to cry even more.

You turned to him again. “No one’s ever gotten me flowers like this before. They’re so pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you,” he spoke before his mental filter could catch it. He bit down on his tongue the moment he closed his mouth, unable to believe he let the words slip without even thinking about them.

To his relief, you didn’t seem to mind. If anything, the carelessly spoken compliment made you glow even more. You laughed in joy and pulled him to sit with you on the bed. He could barely find his balance on the soft mattress before your lips were on his.

He decided he’d gift you flowers more often if this was the thanks he earned.

On a sleepless night, Jihoon came to an embarrassing realisation: he had never once initiated a kiss with you. In fact, when it came to physical affection, he hadn’t initiated anything.

The realisation was greatly aided by Boo Seungkwan’s 2 am reply to another one of Jihoon’s cries for help.

[B.SK.: kiss her, you idiot!]

“Kiss her?” Jihoon re-read the message the next day before grimacing in anxiety. He couldn’t even hold your hand without blushing – how was he supposed to initiate a whole kiss? Knowing him, he’d probably accidentally end up kissing your nose or, even worse, ear. The thought made him want to cry so he curled up on a random beanbag on campus, hugging his backpack to his chest, and glared at the message Seungkwan had sent him.

“Who made my Jihoon upset?” your voice carried through the hallway. He looked up to find you walking towards him, a bright smile on your face. Catching his gaze, you smiled brighter before adding to your joke, “Should I go beat someone up? Who was it? Mingyu? Soonyoung?”

“Seungkwan,” he mumbled against the fabric of his bag as you approached him and pressed a kiss to his temple. He could practically feel his ears betraying him and squeezed his eyes shut to will the blush to leave.

Your hand found his hair, stroking it gently. “Seungkwan? The guy who hosts almost every campus event?” He nodded solemnly and you scoffed. “I can take Seungkwan. He should be afraid of me.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought, opening his eyes to glance up at you. He didn’t dare to move with the way you were still stroking his dark hair, looking at him so fondly. What if you were startled by his movement and never played with his hair again? No, he couldn’t risk it. He closed his eyes again, enjoying the feeling.

Without even realising it, he leaned into your embrace like a pet looking for warmth. Soon, his head rested against your chest, your fingers still in his hair while his own curled into the fabric of your blouse. He wished this moment lasted forever and then some more.

“So, what did Seungkwan do that you’re like this?” you wondered and he felt the rumble of your voice. He suddenly found he liked it even better this way.

With a small smile on his face, he whispered, “Nothing.”

“Nothing?” you wondered. “He must’ve done something.”

“He’s just annoying.” If it hadn’t been for your questions, Jihoon would’ve fallen asleep right there, pressed against you like a tired child. But instead, he came to an annoying realisation. “Do you not have a jacket today?”

“Nope,” he heard you reply.

He hissed at that, gently slapping your side as punishment for crimes against yourself. “It’s cold outside.”

“I run hot,” you made an excuse.

He scoffed. “You whined you were cold the last time you came to my dorm, even though it’s only, like, two degrees colder there than yours.”

You stayed silent at that. He basked in your warmth for a little longer before sitting back up straight and glaring at you. He then fidgeted with the sleeves of your blouse for a moment before scoffing and standing up to pull off his black hoodie. Unceremoniously, he shoved it to you, paying no mind to the puzzled look on your face.

“Put it on,” he finally told you when you made no move to read his mind. “I won’t baby you if you get sick.”

“I won’t get sick–” you began to protest only for him to roll his eyes, grab the hoodie, and pull it over your head himself.

His hands gently guided your own through the sleeves before reaching down to pull the rest of the hoodie down as much as he could. (He made a mental note to invest in a longer hoodie for next time.) As a final touch, he reached up to pull the hood over your head, tying the strings into a neat bow below your chin once he had pulled the fabric around your head – tight enough to make you look just a little bit goofy.

Surprised by his actions, you were frozen in place in front of him. With your cheeks squished by the fabric, you looked just so damn adorable. Jihoon didn’t even think before leaning closer and pressing his lips against your slightly pouted ones.

He pulled away, nodded and smiled – satisfied with his handiwork. The realisation of his actions wouldn’t hit him for another hour.

[W.JH.: i heard her class is having a big seminar this wednesday. maybe you should cheer for her?]

[how would i do that…?]

Jihoon never received a reply to his question. Odd, and incredibly annoying. But he guessed it was only fair: his friends couldn’t give him all the answers. Some things he’d have to figure out himself.

Just as he was contemplating on what to do, his phone buzzed. Hoping for a late reply from his friends, he immediately reached for his phone. To his surprise, it was a message from you instead:

[Y/N: if u never hear from me again, assume i had a heart attack in front of the classroom]

[Y/N: god, i hate seminars so much]

Jihoon paused. Is this what Junhui had meant? He took a deep breath and typed a reply.

[where are you? i’ll come to you.]

He was halfway out of the building by the time you answered.

[Y/N: linguistics building, seminar 321]

Despite never having been to the linguistics’ building before and having close to zero clue where he would even find this room, he ran to where you said you’d be. His lungs were burning from lack of air by the time he got to you and yet his heart ached even more than they did: all it took was one look at your shaky hands as you paced back and forth outside of the seminar room.

“Are you… Are you okay?” he asked through his laboured breaths once he reached you, his hand immediately reaching for yours to ease the shaking.

You sighed in relief at the sight of him. “Jihoon…”

“I’m here,” he whispered with an encouraging smile before letting you burrow into his embrace. On most days, he would have much rather dug a hole and crawled in there than let anyone show him this kind of affection in public. But he was willing to make an exception for you.

Then he spotted the familiar baffled face of Soonyoung from the corner of his eyes and cringed: he would never live this down.

“I’m so nervous about my presentation,” you whispered into his jacket and all of his attention was back on you as if by magic.

He scoffed out a laugh, unable to believe your words. “Are you kidding? You’ll be great.”

“How do you know?”

“I’ve seen you give presentations before,” he reminded you with a gentle pat on your head. “You did great the last time, I doubt this time will be different.”

You wanted to cry at the memory, completely unable to see it the way he did. “I stuttered the entire time and mixed up the slides.”

“Yeah, but it was still fine.”

“It was so embarrassing.”

“It was endearing,” he argued immediately. “Besides, you laughed it off and you still got the maximum grade. Sometimes mistakes happen, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be the end of the world.”

You leaned out of his embrace to chuckle hopelessly. “I can’t decide if you’re really good or really bad at giving motivational speeches.”

“But do you feel better?” You nodded and he grinned brightly. “Then that’s all you need. Now go on in and show them what they’re missing in— What class is this?”

“Environmental Anthropology,” you answered with a sigh and he grimaced: it sounded far from appealing and he didn’t even dare ask if it was an elective or a mandatory subject.

Deciding to just go with it, he forced on a smile (his eyebrows still high on his forehead as half of his brain tried to figure out what that course even dealt with) and gave you a pat on the shoulder, “Go get them, tiger.”

You laughed at his expression and nodded, feeling a little better already. You turned to head into class, but turned on your heel at the last moment, catching his eyes. He raised a single brow in question and you asked, “Can we go out to eat after this?”

He frowned, eyes saddening. “I wish I could. I have work in an hour. I’m sorry.”

“Oh.”

However, he could never stand the look of disappointment that grazed your face every once in a while. And when it made an appearance once again, he wanted nothing more than to comfort you. “But,” he started and you seemed to lighten up already, “you could come to the café and hang out with me there. My treat,” he promised before pointing an accusatory finger at you, “but only if you ace that presentation.”

“I… I can do that,” you nodded, more to convince yourself than him. “Yeah. I can definitely do that.”

Jihoon spent the next two hours panicking on your behalf.

Even as he took orders and made cup after cup after cup of coffee, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He couldn’t help but feel like he could’ve done more to boost your confidence. Hell, who wants to hear they were ‘endearing’ during a presentation they felt like they messed up on?

When the third hour of waiting began, he was half-sure you wouldn’t come to the café. Perhaps you had failed miserably or maybe you really did have a heart attack in front of the classroom. Jihoon was on the verge of spiralling.

“Okay, you’re going to burn your hand at this rate,” Seokmin scolded before ushering him away from the espresso machine. “Just man the register. I’ll deal with the coffee. God, what’s up with you today?”

Jihoon let out a soft whine of protest but followed the orders, waddling over to the register. It was a slow day and he was still messing up – what were you doing to him?

“So?” Seokmin asked again after delivering a customer’s flat white.

“What?” Jihoon was barely even paying attention to the fact that he was being spoken to. His eyes were constantly stuck on the door.

Any moment now. Any moment you’d walk in, a smile on your face, telling him you passed. Any moment.

Seokmin raised a brow. “What’s bothering you? Seriously, you’re not usually this aloof. Why are you staring at the door?”

“(Y/n)” was all Jihoon managed to mumble.

But it was enough for his friend. Seokmin laughed. “I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

“What if she isn’t?” Jihoon whispered, still stuck in a dazed mix of anxiety and hope. “What if I messed up?”

Before Seokmin could even begin to comfort him, Jihoon felt like he could breathe again. There you were, practically running towards the café in your rush to get to him. He didn’t even realise he was leaning further and further towards the door, leaning against the countertop under Seokmin’s amused eyes.

“Jihoon!” you called out once you made it to the café, dashing up the counter to pull his face to yours and press your lips against his. After pulling away again, you smiled brightly. “Guess what?”

He forgot all the vocabulary he had acquired over his life. Your name was the closest thing to a word in there. He was just glad to see you again.

You rolled your eyes at his silence but still laughed. “Jihoon, I told you to guess.”

He cleared his throat and prayed his ears weren’t too red before he found his voice. “You passed?”

“I passed,” you confirmed with an excited fist pump in the air, “and the professor said I had the best presentation in the whole course.”

“Whoa, go, girl!” Seokmin cheered, bumping his fist against yours in celebration.

Jihoon matched your bright smiles and told you, “I knew you could do it. Come on, pick what you want to eat. My treat.”

As you excitedly went to check out the cake options, Seokmin stared at him in awe. Jihoon shrugged. “What?”

“How come you never treat me?” his friend sounded almost offended.

“You never asked.”

Seokmin frowned and turned to you. “Did you ask him to treat you?”

“Nope.”

He turned to glare at Jihoon again. “Favouritism. Clear favouritism. I’ll remember this.”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Jihoon argued with a puzzled frown of his own.

[W.JH.: tie her shoelaces]

Walks in the park or even just around the campus became a routine for the two of you very quickly. More often than not, your shared study sessions in the library would lead to a shared knowing look, standing up in silence, and heading out the door for a break. Always hand-in-hand, like puzzle pieces.

The weather was windier than usual that day, blowing dead leaves and hats around the park grounds. Who knows how long it would be before snow would join the items flying in the wind – the temperature of the air certainly suggested it would happen soon.

Jihoon barely managed to catch your scarf before it fell victim to the wind.

“Maybe not the best day for a walk,” he concluded with a sheepish laugh while wrapping the scarf around your neck a little tighter than before, making sure it wouldn’t fly again.

You laughed along. “Yeah, maybe we should’ve gone to the café instead.”

He sighed deeply – as a joke – before narrowing his eyes at you. “Just say you’re dating me for café discounts. Admit it.”

“Well,” you hummed, “your staff discounts are definitely a bonus.”

He chuckled and nudged your side. “Do you want to go to the café then? Maybe some cocoa could warm you up.”

“But some fresh air might be good for you. Resets your brain and what-not,” you repeated his own words back to him with a mischievous smile.

“Is that–?” His jaw dropped. “How do you even remember that?”

“It was a very memorable quote by my favourite author,” you joked and pinched his cheek before grabbing his hand to lead him to the café.

You barely made it two steps before he was tugging you to a stop, his gaze lowered. You blinked. “Did something happen?”

He didn’t reply. A message from Junhui flashed in his mind. Was he allowed to follow his advice like that? And if so, what was the best way to go about it? Crouching down? Leading you to a bench and making you lift your foot? Fully kneeling in front of you like the simp he was?

Ears burning under your questioning stare, he finally leaned down onto one knee, his fingers reaching for your shoelaces.

Your heart skipped a beat as realisation hit.

With what you could only assume was practised grace (because who knows how many times he had repeated this exact gesture for his friends – Soonyoung alone must have accounted for at least twenty), he gently pulled your foot closer to himself and gently double-knotted the laces. He decided to re-do the other shoe as well if he was already on task.

Once both shoes were undoubtedly tied and unable to come undone without permission again, he hummed in approval and stood back up, brushing the dirt off his knee before his gaze lifted to meet yours. He offered a sheepish smile at the dazed look on your face.

“Why?” he laughed.

“You’re seriously–” you began but never finished, reaching for his hand instead.

[K.MG.: give her a nickname]

Jihoon wasn’t very fond of nicknames. He wasn’t like Jeonghan who could come up with a new dumb nickname for every person he met or like Soonyoung who could react to any nickname thrown his way. Jihoon was just Jihoon and his friends were just his friends – no nicknames needed.

So, when he read Mingyu’s message, he froze. A nickname for his girlfriend? It felt like such an enormous task.

Stuck in an endless loop of processing even weeks after, Jihoon still couldn’t come up with a nickname that felt like you. Nothing sounded quite as pretty or as melodious as your name. Nothing came even close in his mind. When he thought of you, it was always just (Y/n).

And it wasn’t like you had given him a nickname either. He would’ve noticed if you had – he noticed everything you did.

If anyone saw into his brain, they would’ve seen a suspicious number of facts and quirks of yours. They would’ve thought he was a spy trying to steal your identity. But he was nothing of the sort. The only thing he aimed to steal was your heart (and maybe a kiss, or two, or two hundred).

Frankly, Vernon was sick of the sound of Jihoon’s pen rolling back and forth, struggling between gravity and Jihoon’s strength, on the slanted desk of their shared room. If having to contemplate cheesy pet names with a distraught Jihoon was the answer, Vernon was willing to sacrifice a bit of his sanity for a different background audio.

“Maybe see if a pet name would work,” he suggested upon seeing his misery.

Jihoon blinked. “Pet name? Like Fluffy?”

“No, like–” Vernon’s brows furrowed. “Dude, are you okay? Should I call a doctor?”

Jihoon only groaned and slumped over his desk, fully resting his cheek against it now.

“I meant nicknames like babe and sweetheart and the sort,” his roommate explained, brows still set in a concerned frown. “Why would you call her Fluffy?”

“At this rate, I might as well.”

Vernon was scandalised. “Call her Fluffy?!”

Jihoon sat up straight to frown at Vernon. “No, see if I find a pet name I like for her. What is wrong with you?”

“You started it!”

He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. So, what do you have to offer?”

“Let’s start with the basics,” Vernon suggested, leaning back on his bed happily now that the pen was no longer obnoxiously rolling. “Babe?”

“Gross.”

“Baby?”

“Even worse.”

“Sweetheart.”

Jihoon hesitated. “I– Maybe? Let’s put that under maybe.”

“Great! That’s progress,” Vernon cheered with a smile before resuming his position. “Then, what about dear?”

“Sounds so old-fashioned. I don’t want to sound like an English grandma whenever I call for my girlfriend.”

Vernon froze before nodding in agreement. “Yeah, you definitely have a point there.”

They were both tired of the guessing game by the time fifteen minutes passed. They bid each other farewell and headed their separate ways. It was only noon.

The solution? Non-existent. Jihoon still didn’t know what to call you.

And to add to his problems, he soon realised he hadn’t heard from you all day. Your chat was no more full than the previous evening, his call history was even worse off. He hadn’t even seen you on campus.

Worry got the worst of him and now he was taking the first step instead of you. His worry won over his hesitation and he called you, lifting his phone to his ear all the while glancing around campus anxiously.

You didn’t pick up the first call. Nor the second. Before pressing on the screen to call a third time, he silently swore he’d run through all of your usual spots if you left him hanging like this. Heck, he might even call the police.

“Jihoon?” he then heard your voice through the phone and a stone fell off his heart.

He sighed in relief. “(Y/n), are you okay? I was worried.”

“Dorm,” you whispered meekly into the mic, elaborating no further no matter how much he prompted you.

His frown only grew with every passing moment of silence on your part. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Please,” you whispered once again and then he heard the most heart-breaking sound: a soft sob. You were crying.

He cursed under his breath. You were crying and he wasn’t there. “Hold on a little longer, I’ll be there.”

He wasted not a second more and sprinted to your dormitory. With his hands shaking from both worry and exhaustion, it took him two tries to get the door code right, but once the door clicked open, he dashed up the stairs and to your room.

The door of your room was unlocked and ajar when he arrived and he just about fell through it in an attempt to lean against it for a quick breath. He stumbled into your room and his heart dropped some more, so close to shattering.

“(Y/n), darling,” he whispered before practically throwing himself into the spot next to you, already pulling you into his embrace, “what happened?”

You didn’t say anything, quietly crying into his sweater instead. Jihoon almost wanted to cry with you. “Talk to me. What happened? What can I do to make it better?”

“I fought with my roommate,” you whispered eventually. “I might have to move out.”

“Move out?” he wondered. “Was it that bad?” You didn’t answer, only letting out another soft sob as you further burrowed into his arms. He sighed. “Oh, darling.”

You remained in his arms for a while, stuck between crying over a lost friendship and relishing in his comfort. “I thought she was my friend. God, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” he protested immediately, perhaps even a little too forcefully for your fragile emotional state. He sighed once again, deeper, before pressing a kiss to your temple. “Do you want me to help you find a new place to stay?”

“I could just ask to be assigned to a different dorm,” you mumbled. “It’s no big deal.”

“Didn’t you say you wanted to get your own apartment though?”

“I mean… It would be nice.”

“I can help you pay the deposit,” he offered. He wasn’t sure if he was always this kind or if seeing you so broken made him overcompensate more than usual – come to think of it: there was clearly a pattern forming.

Either way – he mentally ran over the numbers in his bank account –, he could afford to help.

You sighed. “You don’t have to, Jihoon, it’s fine–”

“Don’t argue with me,” he warned half-jokingly. “Do you want to get your own place or not?”

Still leaning into his chest, you looked up at him. “You’d– You’d do that?”

“Of course,” he shrugged as if he had only offered you a candy bar. “Besides, if you get your own place, I benefit too.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Vernon not letting you sleep in again?”

“I’ve never wanted to strangle someone so bad,” he whispered while squeezing his eyes shut. “And he’s so messy. I need a break every once in a while.”

“So, your only condition is that I let you sleep over?” you chuckled and kissed his cheek which promptly turned red. “Why not just move in with me then?”

He blushed harder. “I think it’s too early for that. Maybe in a few months.”

You pouted at that. “You’re so mean. I was so ready to celebrate moving in with my boyfriend. Tsk.”

“Give me a few months,” he whispered – promised. “I’ll be with you in just a few months, darling.”

[J. WW.: take her on a picnic in the park during your free period. i hear the cherry trees are blossoming.]

Sandwiches, cake from the café, a thermos full of your favourite tea, a blanket – was anything missing? Well, other than his courage, because he had been staring at the basket for at least half an hour now as if his feet were nailed to the kitchen floor.

Even Vernon, as patient as he was, had begun to contemplate how to unglue Jihoon so he could freely access the fridge again.

“Dude,” he finally sighed, “can you move? I’m hungry.”

“There’s food on the stove,” Jihoon mumbled off-handedly, still in a panicked daze. Vernon glanced towards the stove and found nothing on it.

Why was he so panicked anyway? It was one thing to hesitate before kissing you, but this? This was worse. He was paralysed by fear and he didn’t even understand why.

It’s not like this was your first date.

“Have you never taken a girl out on a date before?” Vernon wondered, brows furrowing as he attempted to make sure his roommate hadn’t been replaced by a faulty android or a hologram.

And just as the words left Vernon’s mouth, Jihoon seemed to wake up. His eyes widened. “I’ve never taken a girl out on a date before.”

Vernon blinked. “You’ve been dating her since, like, fall.”

“Yeah, but she initiated everything,” Jihoon whined, suddenly hyper aware of the way his knees felt like jelly and his hands trembled.

“Everything?”

“Everything.”

“First date?”

“She took me to the movies.”

“First kiss?”

“She went in first.”

“Who asked the other one out?”

“She asked me.” Jihoon let out another whine. “God, I’m so bad at this whole boyfriend thing. Isn’t there, like, a manual or something?”

“If there is, you’d probably be better off,” Vernon pointed out with a chuckle. “Dude, if she’s stuck with you this long, then she’s not going to break up with you over you taking her on a picnic.”

“But what if she’s actually busy or it rains or–”

“What’s with you and all those what-ifs? Just get out there, take her hand and have a picnic.”

“You make it sound so easy,” Jihoon whispered and hung his head in shame.

“Because it is that easy.”

It was not, in fact, that easy. Jihoon tripped almost three times just on the way to meet you at the park – that’s how nervous he was. And it’s not like he was afraid of you or your reaction.

He just wanted everything to be perfect. Because you were perfect. And if he couldn’t be perfect with or for you, what was even the point?

Still, even as his nerves threatened to make him throw up in a nearby garbage can, he braved through the anxiety and made his way over to you. He forced on a smile as he approached you, but it soon melted into a genuine one upon seeing your excited grin.

“Hi, darling,” he whispered before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “Did you have a good day?”

“It’s barely afternoon,” you joked. Jihoon grimaced: first strike. Two more and he’d pay someone to throw him off a bridge. (He noted that Seungcheol or Joshua seemed like a good choice for that.)

“So,” you rubbed your palms together after helping him set the blanket on the ground, “what are we eating?”

He breathed out shakily before opening the basket. “So… there’s sandwiches – I didn’t know which ones you’d like more so I made a bunch of everything, but if you don’t like any, I’ll run to the store and–”

“Jihoon,” you stopped him with a stern smile and a pat on his cheek – strike two –, “baby, stop acting like it’s the first time we’ve interacted. There’s no need to be shy with me. I love you regardless.”

“I’m sorry, I just–”

“Stop apologising.” Strike three – might as well decide on a bridge now.

“I just want everything to be perfect for you,” he admitted with a sad smile, “but I guess I get too in my own head about it and then–”

You leaned forward and kissed him before he could go any further. When you leaned back, his eyes were wide in disbelief.

“You– Why did you do that?”

“You were rambling too much.” You smiled at him again, sweeter this time, before kissing him once more. “Everything is perfect already. This picnic is perfect. The weather is perfect. This moment is perfect. You’re perfect. Don’t worry so much. Just breathe and enjoy.”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours once again: a gift because you always knew exactly what to say.

“So,” your smile never seemed to fade, “can you stop worrying about everything now?”

He breathed out a defeated sigh and nodded, earning a cheer from you.

As the two of you began eating, he made conversation, “So, how’s your apartment search going?”

You shrugged. “I’ve found two places. I’m going to see the second one tomorrow, but the first one is very nice. Like, way too nice for that price.”

“And that’s bad somehow?” He laughed.

“It’s way below market rate. It’s too good to be true,” you told him with a soft sigh, closing your eyes as he mindlessly reached to play with your fingers. “I wonder what the quirk is. Like, why is it so cheap? The landlord seemed like a sweet woman and all, but there’s bound to be something weird about that place, right?”

“Maybe it’s haunted,” he joked, making a ‘scary’ face as he stared at you, only to prompt a laugh.

“Will you come and save me if it is?”

He grimaced. “Hell no. Ghosts are scary business. You’d have to find a different boyfriend.”

“Fine, fine,” you laughed and patted his cheek, “leave all the saving to me instead, then. I’ll protect you.”

“My hero,” he swooned, a hand over his heart.

You stared at the ceiling of your new bedroom, practically vibrating with anxiety about the day to come as well as the added responsibilities of adulting outside of a dorm.

Jihoon, having agreed to stay a few nights for mental support (and a Marvel movie marathon), gave you a weird look.

“Sorry,” you apologised and willed your body to stay still, sure you had annoyed your boyfriend into leaving, “I guess I’m just more nervous about tomorrow than I thought.”

“I think you’re overthinking this,” he chuckled and leaned over to brush a stray hair off your forehead. “It’s just a seminar. You’ve been to those before.”

“Yeah, but this one’s in a foreign language,” you whined and rolled over to hide your face in his chest. “You know my French sucks.”

He scoffed but was thoroughly amused. “I’ve never even heard you speak French.”

“Exactly. Point proven. Now let me suffer in peace.”

Jihoon sighed and wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer and pressing his lips to your head. “Is there any way I can help you feel better?”

You shook your head ‘no’ and burrowed further into the comforting darkness his sweater provided. You had no interest in being comforted – what you needed was to go to sleep before 3 am and not wake up with nightmares. Unfortunately, Jihoon couldn’t do that for you, as amazing as he was.

He was just as stumped, but less in the mood to give up. In fact, he was rarely in the mood to give up.

Still feeling you shaking in his arms, he reached his free hand to get his phone and text the group chat once again, begging for help as he had done so many times before. The help came faster than ever before, as if his friends had a shared 7th sense for Jihoon’s girlfriend troubles.

[C.VN.: bro, arent u good at singing? have u sung to her?]

[but… what do i sing?]

[K.SY.: a song.]

[whaT SONG?]

[X.MH.: you’re literally a music major, i’m sure you can think of a song or two??]

[i’m a uni student, not a jukebox??]

With sleep still unwilling to claim you, you sighed deeply. There was no room to further burrow into your boyfriend’s comforting embrace. An idea hit: maybe a cup of nice peppermint tea could calm you down.

“Ji, can we go make–” you quietly began but were interrupted by a soft rumbling of his chest. And then you heard it: he was humming. You lifted your head to watch him, unable to tear your eyes from the way his lips oh-so-gracefully parted to sing to you, even as he was still searching for the lyrics on his phone.

Suddenly realising you had said something, he paused, eyes widening as he looked at you. “Sorry, did you say something?”

You shook your head no and continued staring at him.

Awkward under you gaze, his ears flushed red. He avoided your eyes and turned back to his phone, scrolling through it as a distraction: ads had never looked so interesting before.

“Keep singing,” you whispered to him, hoping he’d hear your plea and fulfil your wish.

He took a deep breath, his hand freezing on the tiny screen. And just as you had hoped, his lips parted again. This time, he really sang, lyrics and all. His voice carried through your room, echoing back from the yet-to-be-decorated walls and filling the space in a comforting manner.

As you listened to him, you realised he had never sung to you before. He had hidden this part of himself for so long. And yet you were already enamoured with it.

When he finished one song, his lips pursed back together and he hummed a mysterious melody that you could only suspect he had come up with on the spot to fill the silence. Then he began a second song, then a third.

By the fifth song, you were blissfully unaware of your daily troubles and the seminar waiting for you at 10 am. You were deep asleep in his arms, feeling the safest you ever had.

Upon realising you had finally succumbed to the call of dreamland, Jihoon chuckled and locked his phone. His newly free hand reached to stroke your cheek.

“Little Miss Can’t Fall Asleep falls asleep a lot easier than she claims,” he joked to noone in particular and craned his neck to press another kiss to your temple before settling back down and closing his own eyes.

[S.SC.: go shopping with her. i’m sure she needs some things for her new place. she might appreciate the company.]

“I still don’t understand how you don’t have a car,” you started up the topic for the third time this hour.

Jihoon had never considered you annoying before – not even to the mildest extent – but he was slowly starting to get annoyed. He sighed. “Getting a licence seems like such a hassle.”

“It’s freeing,” you argued, amused by your new-found ability to annoy him even the tiniest bit. “You don’t depend on public transportation or your friends anymore. It’s great.”

“I can get everywhere on foot just fine.” He rolled his eyes and lifted a hand to cover your mouth as you began to speak again. “Didn’t you say you needed new towels? I’m pretty sure we walked straight past those.”

Unable to form proper words under the weight of his hand, you just hummed and let him lead you back to the towel aisle. It was only once you were there that he removed his hand again, wiping it against his hoodie. “Why do you need new towels anyway? It’s not like the ones you’ve used so far are contaminated.”

“It’s the principle, Jihoon,” you told him while scanning through the options. “New place, new me – that type of deal.”

“Sounds like a trick of capitalism,” he joked and leaned his torso forward against the shopping cart you had already half-filled with baskets, blankets, cushions and pillows of all shapes and sizes.

You turned to glare at him. “Are you my boyfriend or my financial advisor?”

“Both, if you pay me well enough.”

“Whatever. What colour towels should I get?”

He shrugged. “I’m a big fan of the colour black.”

You sighed. “That’s so boring. How about blue?”

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought. “I could be persuaded.”

“I’m taking that as a yes,” you sang and picked up two of the larger fluffy blue towels – one lighter and the other darker in shade. You barely managed to fit them in the cart before your eyes lit up with a new quest in sight. “Oh, we need slippers too.”

He only hummed and swiftly (or as swiftly as one can move a shopping cart that clearly has never been maintained in the 10 years it's been in use) manoeuvred the cart to follow after you. Once he finally found you in the footwear aisle, he was confronted by two pairs of slippers – one black, the other baby pink – in his face. He tilted his head to offer you a confused look.

Without any malice behind it, you sighed and rolled your eyes. “Pick a colour.”

“Black.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I know you’re waiting for me to tell you ‘pink’ and I’m not giving you nor Mingyu that satisfaction,” he countered before nodding towards his colour of choice again. “Black.”

“Fine,” you sighed in defeat and placed the pink ones back, only to pick up a different size of the same colour and place it in the cart.

His eyebrows rose. “What are you–?”

“What size slippers do you wear?”

“Me?” He frowned. “Why would my opinion on any of this matter? It’s your apartment. Why are you making me choose the colour of the towels and the shower curtain and the–”

He fell silent, his mouth still ajar in wordless awe as the realisation hit. You tried your hardest to act cool under his disbelieving stare.

“I– I’m not moving in with you,” he whispered, his eyes softening as he reached for your arm as if to comfort you. “We talked about this. I still need some time.”

“I’m not asking you to move in yet,” you laughed sheepishly, avoiding his gaze. “I just thought it would be nice if you could visit without worrying about bringing your things. You’re my boyfriend. I just want you to be comfortable when you come over to stay the night or when you don’t feel like going back to your and Vernon’s place after a long day and–”

Your words faded to the background as he continued staring at you. He was so used to being the one full of hesitation, overthinking his actions, trying to act nonchalant when he finally committed. Seeing you do the same? His heart grew two sizes larger and suddenly he couldn’t contain himself.

Without thinking about it, he pulled you into a hug, effectively silencing your doubts and rambled justifications just like you had done for him so many times before.

“You should’ve just said so, silly,” he laughed and held you even tighter.

[C.VN.: u know, i heard study dates are popular with the girls]

[you’re just trying to get me out of the dorm, aren't you?]

[C.VN.: u cant prove anything]

Sitting across from him in the living room, you watched in silence as Jihoon tapped away at his keyboard. His fingers seemed to fly across the keys at the speed of light, typing out a word and then deleting it. He did so a thousand times before huffing out a sigh and leaning his head back to glare at the ceiling.

“Have you tried taking a break?” you asked him softly, wanting not to scare or irritate him.

His head lolled back to a normal position and he offered an unamused raise of his brows. “Have you seen me take any breaks?”

You grimaced. “Then maybe it’s time to take a break now.”

“Sorry, darling,” he sighed and shook his head, “I need this essay finished by midnight. I’ve been putting this off for too long as it is.”

You glanced at the clock. “Midnight’s still 10 hours away though. You have time to take a break.”

He rolled his eyes and glared at his laptop screen. A blank page with only the title ‘Western Philosophy 101 Final Essay’ mocked him. “A break from what? I haven’t even done anything.”

“You’ve been thinking hard.”

“Darling, I don’t think you understand how essay-writing works. There’s no use in thinking if no writing comes out of it.”

You reached over to take his hands off the keyboard. His fingers instinctively wrapped around yours, squeezing them just enough to comfort the both of you. “Writing will come out of it if you just relax and just take a break, I promise.”

Jihoon wanted to argue, he really did. But then he looked up from the screen and into your eyes, tempting him to just agree. And while he wasn’t one to give up easily, he was definitely someone who wanted fulfil every wish his loved-ones ever made.

And so, he gave up this time. Defeated, he slumped his shoulders and sighed. “Alright, what do you have in mind?”

“How long do you have?” you asked, feeling mischievous all of a sudden.

He glanced at his watch before shrugging. “An hour, maybe.”

That was all you needed to pull him towards yourself by the hands. He stumbled a little, just about falling into your lap with a whine of protest before settling exactly where he landed, too tired to care further. His eyes fell closed the moment he felt your warmth against himself.

Without even thinking about it, you reached down to play with his hair. The silky strands ran through your fingers with ease and Jihoon could only hum in appreciation at the gesture. While this wasn’t the cuddle position you had had in mind, you couldn’t say no to the rare chance to dote on your otherwise independent boyfriend.

“This is nice,” he sighed softly and nuzzled his face against your belly, happy to hide from his horrible philosophy final. He lazily opened one eye to look at you, admiring you with the same love as you did him. “We should do this more often.”

“I would love to,” you told him with a sweet laugh and he was glad that he was lying down because his knees felt a little weak all of a sudden. “See, I told you you needed a break.”

He hummed in agreement, closing his eye again. “I feel like I might fall asleep though. And then who will finish my essay? You?”

“How about I just wake you up in, like, 40 minutes instead?” you offered.

With a cheerful giggle, he hid his face further into the fabric of your shirt. His voice sounded muffled as he spoke, “You don’t like philosophy either?”

“Cried my way all the way through the midterms and swore to never take anything philosophy-related again.”

“That’s good. I should do that,” he slurred his words and before long, all you heard were his soft snores.

Jihoon liked to think he wasn’t particularly clingy. He didn’t need constant assurance from his friends that he was still loved and wanted – he knew they liked and wanted him around. He knew that you liked and wanted him around.

But when your near-hourly updates about the randomest things you had seen and done were replaced by radio silence, Jihoon grew more and more anxious. Though he knew it was silly to think so, he couldn’t help but worry he had annoyed you into leaving him.

Throughout the day, he kept glancing at his phone. Even just a single message – heck, even an emoji – would make his day infinitely better. When he wasn’t staring at his phone, begging for any notification with your name on it, he was looking at the people around him in the hopes of seeing your familiar face among them.

The day went by without as much as a sign from you.

He felt silly. He felt dumb. He felt like he was going to cry very real tears if you didn’t respond to his text before midnight.

He let out a loud sigh of relief when your nickname finally popped up on his screen. The tears gathered in his eyes dissipated slowly as he shakily unlocked the phone and tapped on your newest message.

[darling ♡: oh my god. i’m sorry for not answergi !! so sorry!!!]

Jihoon blinked away the remnants of his anxious tears and smiled at the sight of your words. You hadn’t left him just yet. He still had a girlfriend who cared for him.

[it’s okay. did something happen?]

[darling ♡: yeah hahah funny story actually…]

[darling ♡: i think i caught something and i’ve been trying to sleep it off haha]

And just like that, his anxiety was back. Jihoon straightened in his seat, one hand still typing while the other blindly searched for his jacket.

[youre sick?,??m???]

[darling ♡: a little bit…]

[i’m coming over-]

Before you could send a message of protest, he shrugged his jacket on and headed out the door. Even though he realistically knew that he wouldn’t be much help and would just end up sick himself, he couldn’t just let you suffer all alone.

As he practically galloped down the stairs from his 3rd floor dorm, he texted the group chat for help and assurance.

[L.SM.: she’s sick?! make her dinner! what’s her favourite soup??]

Jihoon paused mid-step. What was your favourite soup?

He arrived at your apartment just ten minutes later, a bag in hand. You greeted him at the door, bags under your eyes, skin dull and lips dry. Jihoon couldn’t help but pout at the sight.

“What happened to you?” he asked, reaching up to brush his thumb across the cracked skin of your lips. “Have you been drinking water at all?”

“The fridge is too far from the bed,” you told him with a defeated sigh before practically melting into his embrace. “I told you not to come.”

He scoffed out a laugh and began rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. “Well, I’m here anyway. And I’m making you food. How does tomato soup sound?”

“Like you don’t know how to make chicken soup,” you answered with a suspicious squint of your eyes.

He laughed at that, ears turning red at the way you had caught onto his scheme. “Alright, I think you should go back to resting.”

“You should go to sleep too,” you argued. “It’s past midnight already and you have classes tomorrow.”

“I can skip a day.” He said it with such ease and carelessness that you couldn’t help but wonder who this man was because your boyfriend hadn’t skipped any classes in the entire time you had been together.

Still, you were too tired to care. Soup sounded better than sleeping on an empty stomach for another 12 hours.

“Can I at least help you cook?” you practically begged, hanging onto his arm as he began preparing in the kitchen.

A little taken aback by your affection, he laughed nervously. “Aren’t you tired?”

“I think I’m starting to feel better actually,” you half-joked, watching with starry eyes as he expertly washed and then chopped the tomatoes. “Seeing you has recharged me with energy.”

“Yeah?” He hummed in thought before offering you a mischievous smile. “Then do you have enough energy to go and rest a little?”

Your face dropped. “Why can’t you just accept my love?”

“Because I’m pretty sure you’re feverish and standing up for long won’t do you any good, darling,” he whispered before pressing a swift kiss to your cheek and returning to his task. “So, go rest on the sofa. I can go get your laptop so you can watch something, if you want.”

“But what if I want to cuddle?”

“Cuddle a pillow.”

“You’re cruel.”

He rolled his eyes at your dramatic antics. Clearly the fever was affecting you worse than he had feared. “When I literally ran across the district to come here and make you soup at midnight?”

“Yes.”

He sighed. “Fine, you can stay,” he paused and gave a warning glare, even if it looked far less threatening with the smile playing on his lips, “for now.”

You let out a soft cheer and cuddled back into his side, resting your cheek on his shoulder as he made you soup. You marvelled at the graceful movements of his hands. You couldn’t help but wonder how many of his friends he had made food for. For now you were just glad to be one of them.

“I hope I recover fast,” you whispered. “Or maybe I should just stay sick forever.”

“Why?”

“I have a stupid presentation next week. I haven’t even started reading to prepare for it.” You buried your face into the fabric of his hoodie. He took a moment to press his cheek against your head in an act of assurance. You sighed and mumbled a final, “Stupid finals.”

He laughed at that. “I’ll get you some medicine tomorrow so you can recover fast.”

With a groan, you straightened up a little again to side-eye him. “Can’t you just leave me here to suffer? Or help me fake my death? What kind of a boyfriend are you?”

“The kind that wants his girlfriend to be healthy for our end-of-the-semester date night,” he answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

His confidence really made you wonder if you had forgotten about this clearly existing tradition between the two of you. But no, you were pretty sure he had just made this up. Or perhaps you were too loopy from paracetamol to remember.

Either way, you let yourself get carried away into a fantasy of sharing a date night with only your boyfriend and no university stress. You couldn’t help but smile at the thought.

The end of the semester came faster than Jihoon or any of his friends would have liked. It snuck up on them between the despair and sleepless nights of the exam session. And he could not have been happier about it.

Once he had submitted the final essay of the semester – the very last graded project he’d have to submit before a well-deserved break –, he slammed his laptop shut and looked at you, still hunched over your laptop on the bed, re-reading the last paragraphs of your own essay.

“Hold on,” you told him upon feeling his eyes on yourself, “I’m almost done.”

“No rush,” he replied with a sweet smile before letting out a soft giggle of relief and falling back onto your mattress, his arms spread out as if to soak in the freedom.

As if the sight of your boyfriend basking in the glow of no more exams had motivated you to finish sooner than you planned, you hurriedly rushed to upload your final assignment. A green check mark appeared on the screen to indicate that you could finally join your boyfriend.

With a loud cheer, you closed your own laptop and crawled over to where your boyfriend was lying. Immediately you burrowed into his side and sighed happily. “This semester sucked.”

“You can say that again,” he agreed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders like he had done so many times before. “But at least it’s over now.”

You hated to be the wet blanket but… “Unless one of us fails.”

He groaned and used the same arm to roll you away from him. “I hate you. Go away.”

You laughed at the way he scrunched up his face in distaste as if he had swallowed bitter medicine. “I’m just saying. We’re not safe yet.”

“We’re safe enough,” he declared and waved your negative thoughts away. “God, I hate you, now you’re making me anxious.”

“You don’t actually hate me,” you sang and rolled back over to him, settling right on top of him, your nose against his own. “In fact, you like me.”

He grimaced. “Unfortunately.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you gasped and sat up, resting your hand on his chest as you leaned upright to glared at him. “Unfortunately?!”

He laughed at your theatrics, giggling with his whole body, shaking so hard in the process that you lost your balance and fell back right on top of him. His arm came to rest around your shoulders again. Once he was out of giggles, he continued smiling and caressed your cheek. “You’re so freaking cute. It’s unfair.”

“Take back that ‘unfortunately’ and I might get even cuter,” you told him, a suspicious glare set on him.

His smile never faded as he leaned up just a little, resting his entire body weight on one arm just to press his lips to yours. “I take the word back.”

“Good,” you decided and joined in his laughter before kissing him again, “because I kind of love you, actually.”

He froze. His eyes widened just a fraction, his lips parted in a silent gasp of surprise.

He stayed like that for long enough to make you worry you had made your move too fast. He liked to take it slow – you knew that. He had been taking it slow all this time. And now you’ve confessed and he probably thought you were ridiculous and dumb and–

“Darling…” His lips curled into a smile, his eyes turning into joyful crescents, and then he leaned in again.

His hands came to rest on your cheeks, squishing them just a little as he pulled you to his lips. He kissed you again and again and again.

He kissed you until you were dumb. He didn’t stop kissing you until you were sure you couldn’t form a single word that wasn’t his name.

Then, eventually, with both of your lips swollen and eyes dazed, he leaned back and nuzzled his nose against your own. “I love you so, darling, I really do.”

It took you a moment to understand what he was saying. He had kissed you so dumb that you could’ve sworn he was speaking in another language. But finally, your brain caught up with the situation and a smile appeared on your face, bright and proud and full of adoration for your boyfriend.

“You should kiss me like that more often,” you told him, teasing, trying to see what he’d do.

He replied with a playful roll of his eyes and another kiss, a single one but much longer than the last twenty.

“I love you,” you whispered again against his lips.

His smile only seemed to brighten even more at that. “I love you too.”

But as he was about to go in for another kiss, a loud vibration sounded from somewhere in the sheets. The two of you glanced around as the vibrations continued, breaking you from the romantic daze.

“Is someone calling you?” he wondered.

“My phone’s been on silent since the dawn of time, babe,” you told him easily and helped him look for his phone. “It must be yours.”

Just when you said those words, the vibrations abruptly stopped. And then another vibration came, short and gentle this time.

You found his phone under the pillows, Soonyoung’s contact name appearing alongside the missed call symbol and a minimised text message on the screen.

“It’s your tiger friend,” you told Jihoon and turned to hand the phone to him when the phone vibrated again with a new message coming in.

It wasn’t your fault that the whole screen flashed to life with the message – what were you supposed to do? Not read it?

[K.SY.: oh, nonie said u’re with y/n?]

And then another message arrived before he could take the phone from your hands.

[K.SY.: have u told her u love her yet ??!?!!]

[K.SY.: the chat is rootin for u!!!! u’ve been good at following our advice this far. u’ve got this!!]

A mischievous smile appeared on your face as you read the message. Jihoon didn’t realise what made you react this way until he took his phone and read the message minimised on his lockscreen. He groaned as the realisation hit.

“Don’t start–”

“You told your friends that you loved me,” you beat him to it, reaching over to squish his cheeks and kiss his nose. “And you asked them for advice? You’re so goddamn cute.”

His ears got progressively more red with every word. He quickly swiped the messages off his screen and threw his phone as far away as he could without potentially breaking it. “It wasn’t like that–”

“I’m just teasing, baby,” you laughed and pulled him into a comforting hug. Poor man was mortified. “I do have to ask though: what kind of advice did you get from them?”

“Well,” he hesitated as you looked at him expectantly, “I wanted to be a good boyfriend, so… I asked them how to be a better boyfriend…”

You pressed your lips to his. “You’re a good boyfriend, Jihoon, I promise. You’re the best, actually.”

“I had to ask my friends for help just to get the courage to initiate a kiss,” he confessed, squeezing his eyes shut as the urge to cringe and hide away under the bed overcame him. “I’m a mediocre boyfriend, at most.”

“I strongly disagree,” you told him and pulled him in for another kiss, “but we’ll work on your confidence, my love.”

♡ THE END! ♡

#seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt scenarios #seventeen fluff #woozi x reader #woozi scenarios #woozi fluff #lee jihoon scenarios #woozi

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i4oba · 7 months ago

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nct 127 as… / fanfiction aus!? 🏡…

[take the quiz here to see which one you get!]

✰ TAEYONG — street racer!au

you hated that taeyong’s hobby has never changed: it was rather infuriating how he couldn’t have stopped with those stupid street races which he couldn’t even miss once; you had known lee taeyong ever since from elementary school, and you knew all too well how his biggest dream was to take part in formula 1, but a poor boy, living on the countryside can only dream of achieving such heights, he would never be able to reach that. you don’t even know how the two of you got to befriend each other, it might have been that chemistry project where you two were assigned to work together in that old fashioned “the breakfast club” way on saturdays, as you couldn’t properly behave. you two slowly became good friends, and then… something you weren’t able to describe, it was way too confusing, and growing up you two realised that the period of time when you were together, as a couple, was more than just toxic, pretty much unhealthy. you left him for good finally, leaving behind this mess of a relationship when you got accepted to the university of your dreams, after taking one year off of studies because of whatever reason you foolishly came up with. since taeyong’s name was pretty well known by then in the world of street racing, you knew fully well that he wouldn’t just quit for school which he despised anyways. after breaking up, you left everything unsolved between the two of you, leaving behind the memories as well, trying to make it easier for the both of you, after all. you weren’t mean. but that’s the first word in taeyong’s mind when he spotted you standing there at the track: it seemed as if your face became skinnier, your eyes were teary, hair somewhat shorter than what he was used to. you had changed, he decided, when you took a step closer to his car, which he couldn’t bring himself to change up. but he hadn’t changed in your eyes: he was still that little boy filled with enthusiasm, absolutely crazy for race cars, the taste of speed and you. especially you. “please, be careful” you whispered gently, as he drove away way too fast, as soon as the flag fell down. and then he disappeared in the night, loud and swift.

✰ TAEIL — teacher!au

when you applied for a job at the elementary school of the new town you’d moved to, you made a resolution in mind, learning from previous mistakes: you won’t be so forgiving with your students, you won’t let the parents tell you how to do your job and most importantly, you will NOT fall in love with someone at work ever again (it seemed fatal by then, since you had to leave your previous job because of that). you didn’t have that much of experience as a teacher, your diploma was pretty fresh, gathering dust on the drawer, but you would never let that make you feel less: you were enthusiastic, very thoughtful, as you brought cupcakes for your class, for example! i mean, on the previous night, while decorating the cupcakes with that pinkish icing, you wouldn’t have thought this would be the first step of the chain reaction – you fucked up a few times before when it was time for the first impressions, and let’s be real, that’s exactly what happened on your first day too: you clumsily dropped the whole tray of sweet treats in the entrance of the teacher’s lounge, half of the cupcakes actually ending up on one of your colleagues, who you had tons of gossips going around in the hallways following shortly. and you couldn’t even deny the obvious attraction you felt towards moon taeil, who you fell in love with on the first sight. he was a biology teacher which… well, made place for a few inappropriate biological jokes (well, yeah, sex-ed) coming from the sixth graders, or! the silly theories coming from the youngest of students, telling their parents that you are for sure pregnant (which would’ve made you furious if it wasn’t for their undeniable cuteness).

✰ JOHNNY — high school reunion!au

the first high school reunion of yours was arranged by the student who used to be the council president of your class, who even sent out handmade invitations to everyone, hoping that most of the class would go, not holding grudges against each other anymore, no matter how the bond between everyone of you was pretty much terrible. you were not that big of a persona amongst your peers, you were rather quiet, much like an outcast during your high school years, sometimes addressed with the ominous word “weird”, so you weren’t even planning on going, since you knew very well: no one would bother to notice you being there, or your absence either. it was in the last possible moment when your mother persuaded you finally, after a very big fight between the two of you, offering a ride as well, because (whether it’s a shame or not) you failed your traffic exam once again. focusing on this mainly, you were afraid you would come off as a total loser, as you always fail no matter what. but, after not much of thinking, you decided that you can simply lie, since you live very far away from this dusty little town anyways, no one could actually fact check what’s actually true from what you tell. even on the ride to your old school, you were thinking of false fun facts you could say when someone asks something, telling yourself that it’s not that big of a deal, not that big of a lie – as soon as you stepped into the school itself, though, the damn nostalgia reminded you how much of a loser you had always been. plus, the sight of johnny seo made the situation even worse. your throat felt dry, palm sweaty as your courage left your body slowly, evaporating suddenly, as a fully random girl from your class showed something on his phone to you, laughing loudly in your ear, adding something witty too; you were in love with johnny for a long time, and everyone who got to find this out sooner or later, decided to turn it against you as soon as they got the chance, like those mean, little girls in elementary. you never knew how johnny felt about you, since he never actually told you, or brought it up either, because he was simply understanding. well, in the dimly lit bathroom of the school, pressed against the cold tiles, you knew exactly what he might have felt, kissing you messily, like someone who had been starving. you two were cowards to tell the truth to each other, afraid of making steps forward.

✰ YUTA — rockstar!au

it was pretty much a cliché to hear the “i’m with the band” sentence over and over again, but when you started using it… no one could ever stop you. you were proud that your boyfriend reached his goals and his biggest dream, and every time you saw the ever growing audience at their concerts, a certain, really warm feeling appeared in your chest, slowly filling the whole of your body, which, let’s be real, got to your head a few times. the band had been a thing ever since you were high schoolers, really active ever since the first practice in that musty basement, not too intense back then, but really consistent, persistence paying off in the end, resulting in concerts, albums, and whatnot, including interviews – both of your worlds turned upside down, and nakamoto yuta, as the front man of the group became a star, bringing you with himself everywhere they had to go, like a lucky charm. he felt at ease whenever he could spot you in the crowd, maybe in the first row, dancing and singing along to their songs, or at times when you gave an intense, adrenaline driven kiss on his lips before their performances, rewarding him with something more after… somehow it all worked out, since you two were insanely, madly in love with each other. but how long is this going to be the norm? you’re afraid of guessing.

✰ DOYOUNG — royalty!au

it felt a little chaotic as you spent your time in the spacious library of the palace, dressed in your newly made red velvet dress and a crimson coloured mask on your face, far from the ball room, and even further from the musicians, the aristocrats and young men, ready to ask for your hand in marriage. you were only able to stay for one dance, not having the patience to talk to complete strangers, to dance with heirs you didn’t even know of, and to let them get the best of you, waiting for the right time to use you for their own good. no, you’re not suitable for such things, even if it sounded a little selfish at that moment. it bothered you anyway, that you had to look for The One you could marry – you didn’t want to decide during one night only, whether they could enjoy your company for the rest of their lives, or not. to decide who’s the richer man, you could envision yourself with. you sneaked out in a second, when no one actually paid attention to you anymore. you only found the library purely out of accident, but it was such a pleasant accident since you felt like you were home there. it was quiet, the room filled with the scent of old books, and you were left alone with your own feelings and wandering thoughts. or so you thought at first, until someone stormed inside the library, following you shortly (you wanted to guess how much time you spent there, completely lost in the world of books but you lost your sense of time soon after entering). you didn’t even pay attention to the new guest, you simply continued with the intriguing, dusty book in your hands. the newcomer, however, decided to take a seat right next to you, with his own novel he got from one of the closer shelves. he didn’t say a word, but you could feel the smirk playing on his face, angrily closing your book, looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. he didn’t have a mask on, which made you recoil a little, your breath hitching at the sight of such handsome young man, turning the pages of his poem anthology with a smile on his face. his gaze met yours when he looked up, winking at you mischievously. and that funny, unfamiliar feeling you felt at that moment, couldn’t have been described in any of those books laying around, although there was at least a thousand of them. only the boy next to you would be able to do so: kim doyoung, the prince of the kingdom, the heir of the throne.

✰ JAEHYUN — forbidden love!au

you hated hearing the word “forbidden”, although you had heard it several times growing up. you’re not a monarch, you bear no wealth and you basically have nothing else either, but the always so kind and warmhearted heir, jaehyun, couldn’t stop spending his precious time with you, since he enjoyed your company to the extent that you were ashamed of it. you had been selling flowers on the street ever since you were a little girl, mind filled with dreams and false hope. jaehyun always made you feel important, never getting in your way of achieving what you’d always been dreaming of. he was always following your steps, much like the shadow of you, not wanting to leave you any time soon. you could’ve thought it was because of the close friendship between the two of you, and you had always been a little oblivious of recognizing such hidden signs. you let him hug you, smile the brightest whenever he looks at you, and you let him waste your time which you were keen on sacrificing for him, not once hesitating whether what you’re doing is right or not. maybe it was a waste of time to spend your time at the flower field together, smelling the sweet scent of flowers, gazing at the sky endlessly. the stupid feelings were so blind and deaf, they couldn’t hear the obvious alarms of “forbidden” being shouted time to time – when he kissed you for the first time, you didn’t feel guilty. you deserved that. guilt only arrived when it was too late already.

✰ JUNGWOO — fake dating!au

you were actually serious about that contract and the paperwork, as an all too practical person you had always been, but jungwoo shook his head, declining your offer every time, saying how stupid it actually was… since you two are friends, right, and this is a one time only thing. it’s just one night, where you can surprise your family, to let them know that you’re not suffering from relationship problems or anything. you got bored of them always bringing it up, and jungwoo had enough of hearing you complaining about it, so he came up with this whole “fake dating” idea. you weren’t too optimistic, especially since your whole family knew about him, which could make you both seem a little suspicious. he calmed you down, though, telling you that you’re just paranoid, and you can say, after a good two or three months, that you two broke up through tears. little did jungwoo know, that you were afraid of a different thing… which involves the feeling of love you had been feeling towards him for years. you didn’t want to let him know about this silly crush you had on him, but you clearly knew that this night will change everything, as you two will have to act like a real couple for the whole night, and you weren’t sure whether you would be able to leave it all behind, once you get used to it. selfish or not, you were afraid that after a night where you two have to hold each other’s hand, kiss each other here and there (in the name of pure acting), you won’t be able to resist the confession. well, it’s such a rookie mistake to forget about the reason why jungwoo offered this whole thing, right?

✰ MARK — childhood friends to lovers!au

ever since you've basically known your name, mark has been the boy next door. there was the cheeky, red letters of "lee" painted on the mailbox, the windows were adorned with the same coloured curtains, and the same doormat has been sitting in front of their door for ages. you have loved mark ever since you two have met. there wasn't a day where you wouldn't think of him, and there hasn't been a day when you haven't loved him. it was like a vicious circle which you couldn't get out of, because those stupid feelings would destroy the oh so precious friendship of yours, and you cannot let that happen, right? i mean, that's what you've thought for far too long, since this friendship meant more to you, than the fragile feeling of love – you didn't want it to get to the point where you would rather spit on each other, than talk it out. maybe that's why you pushed him away from yourself? maybe you just did that because you weren't too sure of your own peace of mind? no matter what, you knew the decision itself was wrong, only to realize it way too late. damaging the friendship and crying yourself to sleep was all your fault, after all, being way too proud and scared, stupid even; when you came back to the town where you two grew up, the least thing you wanted was to meet mark lee, mainly because you wouldn't have been able to look him in the eyes after all these happened. but you had to, so soon you even got a little surprised. it's been a while since the last time you have been home, your bedroom seemed way too unfamiliar at that point, just like the vhs tape placed directly in the middle of your bed. one which you haven't seen yet. it didn't have a title, the white label completely empty as you picked it up. you were a little bit cautious when placing it in the system, waiting for it to play whatever is on it, not having such large imagination to expect anything. it was a home video montage, full of videos of you and mark: playing together, getting ready for the first day of school, going to the movies, the way you two got engaged in middle school as a joke, and the omnious day of prom... you got teary eyed, with one thing on your mind - you have to go and save whatever's left now. maybe you're not too late.

✰ HAECHAN — rivals to lovers!au

lee donghyuck's name rushed through the hallways of your music academy just as quietly as a whisper, and you never knew why was it all like that ever since you've stepped foot into the school. you couldn't even hide the way too obvious rolls of your eyes every time you heard it. lee donghyuck was one of the biggest prodigies at the academy, no one could even be considered as a rival for him, this is mainly why he was such a big living legend amongst the students - you couldn't even hide how annoyed this made you, especially because he made sure you knew this ever since you two were little. music played a huge part in both of your lives, and somehow, you two always seemed to be at each other's throat, the first place at being the best always changing between the two of you. you could never get rid of each other either; your dad, always being so positive, once said, on your way to the academy sometime between sophomore and junior year, that the only reason behind this is that you two are equally good at what you're doing. you were pretty much skeptic for the longest of time, and felt as if you were destined to be the forever second next to him. you've had enough of always bumping into walls, since hyuck was the one who could stand at the first place ever so proudly. in kindergarten, in middle school, and even in high school, every. god damn. time. and that infuriating smile was plastered all upon his face even when you two were asked to not perform alone on the annual charity gala of your academy - you two had to perform something phenomenal, putting the childish jarring aside, growing out of the silly phase of hating each other, which was all made up by you, and you only, pushing the poor boy away from you. the boy who had always been so obsessed with you, utterly and completely. he won this time again, isn't it right?

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twig-tea · 5 months ago

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Love Sea Ep 2 Thoughts

Love Sea is, as of ep2, my favourite show airing from Thailand right now.

In addition to being beautiful, and sexy, this show is funny. And I appreciate so much that sex is being treated as a fun thing people who choose to sometimes engage in together rather than as a proxy for/declaration of love (it can be that too, but we get that a lot, and that's not all sex is or can be).

Rak and Mut start off in ep1 by being clearly attracted to each other, maybe even curious about each other, and in some ways having fun getting one over on the other, but they don't really like each other yet. In episode 2, they have sex and then more sex and they are intrigued. They spend more time together over the episode, have a few real conversations, and we get to watch them start to actually like each other in real time. It's fantastic.

I also want to shout out the way this show is highlighting the importance of supporting local business when you travel, and safe sex (one day, I pray, someone will not open a condom with their mouth, unfortunately today was not that day), and being respectful of one another's out statuses (checking in on whether each of them was concerned about being seen with another man before doing any public canoodling was a fantastic touch, especially Rak understanding that there were higher stakes for Mut because this was his hometown). I also love how this show is handling its class dynamics so far, it is very intentional and I'm enjoying watching it play out.

This show has also laid some groundwork for future plot stuff that I am very excited about.

There was a moment in this episode where Rak talks about being an author and how some readers criticize his work for being unrealistic, when he writes fantasy so of course what's happening should be unrealistic. In addition to this moment feeling a little like MAME was staring directly into the camera, it also is interesting in the context of Rak's panic-attack-flashback when he remembers his mother telling him that he should not love anyone to avoid being abandoned like his mother; he then later says love is a figment of our imagination.

Well, guess who's a fantasy BL author? I'm assuming he's going to write this fantasy and will need to be brought around to believing that it can be true. Luckily Masamut is an experienced guide.

We've also got context that Rak's father said he'd stay if he were paid, which means Mut has set himself perfectly as someone Rak can trust to stick around, because/as long as he's being paid by Rak. The trick will be in getting him to believe that he won't be abandoned as soon as he stops paying.

Finally, Mut mentioning his father kicking him out when he was 15 had me very curious--what did they not see eye-to-eye on?

I'm admittedly still unsure what's happening with the GL side couple; the fact that Muk was excited to be kissed by Vi, things aren't quite what they seemed in ep1.

Very much looking forward to watching all of this unfold in this gorgeous show over the next several weeks!

#love sea the series #bl meta #typed so that I can stop thinking it

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steddieasitgoes · 1 year ago

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written for @eddiemonth Day 16 Prompt: Library & Curious a/n: This one might be my favorite one I've written yet! It's set at the start of season 2! read on ao3 | link to my ao3 Edde Month series

Eddie’s well aware there are a lot of stupid classes that Hawkins High requires its student body to take. Algebra (there’s no reason for the alphabet and numbers to mix, except in very rare cases, like D20 type cases), Physics (what more do they need to know beyond what goes up, must come down), French (as if anyone from Bumfuck, Indiana could afford to go to France — okay maybe some can, but Eddie’s certainly not one of them that’s for damn sure), goddamn Physical Education (only way he’s running is if someone is chasing him, thank you very much). But the stupidest class of all has to be Study Hall.

An entire class dedicated to doing work for other classes? What kind of idiot dreamed this one up? Instead of letting them out an hour early, some guy, probably in a suit because all bad ideas come from guys in suits, decided to hold them hostage to do more work. It’s ridiculous. Not to mention, it’s one of the few times, outside of lunch, that the grades get to mingle with each other. Sure, lots of studying goes on in between freshmen drooling over seniors and sophomores paying juniors for last year’s test answers.

The only time Eddie actually liked study hall was during his sophomore year when he had it first period and could do all the homework he neglected to do the night before. It’s the only time it actually made sense. And the only time, thus far in his high school career, that Eddie actually turned in more assignments than not.

But now, he’s a senior stuck with study hall as his last class of the day, and he wants to die. Okay, maybe not die die. But die in the sense that he’d rather risk bodily harm escaping the hellscape that is the Hawkins library during 6th-period study hall than sit here. His freedom is so close — nothing but a few windows and a brick wall separating him from the brisk late-October air. Eddie can’t risk it, though. He’s already reached his detention quote for the semester, and if he wants to keep using the drama room for Hellfire meetings, he has to sit in this damn library seat and at least pretend to get some work done.

Which, honestly, isn’t the worst thing in the world. At least it gives him time to work on his latest Hellfire campaign without the prying eyes of Jeff and Gareth or the unnecessary questions from Freak. Sure, he’s supposed to be working on an essay for English Lit, but he doesn’t think Ms. Washington is going to appreciate his take on Frankenstein, so he’ll worry about coming up with a dumbed-down idea another day.

Besides, even focusing on his new campaign is hard enough with the idle chatter going on that the librarian is either pretending not to hear or is too tired of shushing them for.

It’s the usual sort of study hall gossip. Who’s screwing who. What teacher is going to pull a pop quiz tomorrow and become the biggest asshole at Hawkins High. The occasional nervous whispers of the geeks actually studying.

It’s all mindless chatter that drifts into the background when the topic of Tina’s Halloween Bash comes up. That’s the real gossip of the night. Who got the keg, and what other alcohol is being provided? Who is going to be the best dressed? What couple is going to get caught screwing in Tina’s parent’s bed? Are there going to be any good fights or breakups?

Eddie rolls his eyes. Jesus H. Christ, can’t anybody be original around here?

Unfortunately for Eddie, there’s no escaping Tina’s Halloween Bash since he’s been summoned to provide some extra party favors, as the “cool” kids like to call them. Eddie, never one to back down from being a thorn in a “cool” kid’s side, always responds with the same spiel: “Drugs. What you want is drugs, right? Or should I go raid Melvald’s for you?”

Whatever. Money is money, and Eddie can take all the money he can get his grubby hands on if he wants to get out of this shit-hole town when he graduates in June.

Glancing at his watch, he tips his head back in a silent groan of annoyance. Only ten minutes have passed since he slunk into the uncomfortable library seat. Christ, why does time move so slow, sometimes? Eddie tries to focus on his Hellfire notes in front of him, and he’s successful for all of thirty seconds before something catches his attention in the corner of his eye.

Nancy Wheeler and the former Hawkins High King, Steve Harrington, are whispering to each other by the pencil sharpener. He rolls his eyes. Of course, no one else in the library is paying them any mind. And why would they? Harrington fell from grace last year, and Wheeler isn’t exactly the “look at me” type. Still, Eddie finds them morbidly interesting in a way he finds all the tragic heterosexual couples in this stupid small town interesting.

Before Eddie has a chance to fall deeper into his cynical outlook on this stupid Hawkins High couple, Wheeler starts tugging Harrington toward the private study room in the back of the library. It’s a move that shocks Eddie to his core. Don’t get him wrong, he’s heard all bout Harrington’s little trysts in that very room over the years (thank you gossip mill for the very cheap porn), but he never would have assumed Wheeler would be the one tugging him toward it.

It’s that detour from who she’s supposed to be that has Eddie peeling himself off his chair. At least, that’s what he tells himself as he saunters toward the stack of books in the back of the library closest to the private room. If he hears moaning or anything remotely sounding like they’re hooking up, he promises himself he’ll leave. He’s a freak in many ways, but a creep, he is not.

Glancing over his shoulder, Eddie can see the two of them in the small room. They’re close but not close enough to be doing anything beyond talking. From the look on her face, doing anything of that sort isn’t even on her mind.

Interesting.

Eddie creeps closer.

“Barbara. It’s like nobody cares. Except her parents. And now they’re selling their house.”

“Nance—“

Wheeler rants about something, but he misses most of it. Only catching the very end.

“It’s destroying them.”

No shit, Eddie thinks with another dramatic eye roll. Of course, losing their only daughter is destroying them. The Hollands are one of the few families around here that actually have a heart. At least they did before Barbara tore it from them by running away. Or so the story goes. Eddie’s always been a bit suspicious of Holland’s disappearance. He knows the runaway type, and a straight-A girl, with a well-off family who loves them like Holland had doesn’t fit the bill.

“I know. Okay? I get it,” Harrington says, glancing away from Wheeler to peer out the window. Eddie grabs the first book on the shelf and buries his face in it. It must fool Steve because he starts talking again. “But listen, there’s nothing we can do about it.”

“Yeah, we could tell them the truth.”

“This isn’t some game, Nance. If they found out that we told any…” He trails off again, and Eddie reaches for another book.

Eyes peering over the pages, Eddie watches as he shuts the blinds before presumably returning to Wheeler. With the blinds shut and their voices even lower, he can no longer hear what they’re talking about. Which is a damn shame because Eddie’s never been more curious about what the disgraced King was about to say than right now.

+ + +

“M’telling you guys. It was weird,” Eddie says through a mouthful of Doritos.

They’re hanging out in Gareth’s garage. Jeff sits in the old recliner while Gareth stays perched behind his drum kit. Freak is running late, as usual, though Eddie’s not too pressed about it today. Too distracted filling the boys in on what he overheard in the library.

“I don’t know man; it sounds like she was just concerned about her best friend,” Gareth says, lightly tapping his drumsticks on his snare.

“Yeah, those two were inseparable, remember.”

“All the more reason why it’s weird she’s been mopping around lately. Obviously, she knows where Holland is. Or what happened to her.”

“Not this again,” Jeff groans, sinking further into the recliner.

“Yes, this again,” Eddie retorts, throwing Jeff an intense glare. “This town is weird as shit. If the Byers kid can come back from the dead—“

“I thought they proved it wasn’t actually Byers they found in the quarry,” The Freak says, finally joining them in the garage.

“They did, but Eddie still thinks—“

“Shut up!” Eddie shouts, taking a moment to throw a Dorito at all of their heads. “Let me level with you for a second, okay? Yeah, sure, they said that kid wasn’t Byers, but they never said whose kid it was, which is weird. And then right after that, they “find” Holland’s car? It’s too coincidental, man. You know a story isn’t right when it’s too easy.”

“This isn’t one of our campaigns,” Gareth sighs. “Sometimes things really are just accidental coincidences.”

Eddie shakes his head, running his Dorito-stained fingers over his face. “Nah, man, m’not buying it this time. Harrington and Wheeler know what really happened to Holland. And I think they’re responsible for it.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, leaning forward so his elbows rest on his knees. “You think they made her disappear or something.”

“Maybe Harrington got Holland knocked up, and his family gave her money to leave.”

“See!” Eddie shouts, slapping his hands together as he jumps on the balls of his feet. “Freak gets it! That’s the kind of thing I’m talking about.”

“Okay, but if Harrington knocked Wheeler’s best friend up, why would she still be dating him?” Jeff asks.

“And why would they both be hiding her from her parents?” Gareth adds.

Okay, so maybe these are valid questions, but Eddie doesn’t appreciate the doubts they’re throwing at him. “I don’t appreciate you doubting me,” he says plainly. “You’ll see. M’gonna figure this out.”

“Right, just like you figured out that Ms. O’Donnell was actually failing you for a reason and not because she had some vendetta against Wayne for not dating her.”

“Hey. That was a good theory, okay. One I still think is true, by the way.” Turning his back on the boys, Eddie crosses the room and tosses the empty bag of Doritos into the trash bin before heading towards his badly parked van.

“I thought we were practicing!” Gareth shouts after him.

“Just let him go,” Jeff sighs. “He’s impossible to work with when he’s in conspiracy theory mode.”

Eddie flips Jeff off, climbing into the van. “I’ll see you boys tomorrow.”

+ + +

Eddie’s been at Tina’s party for an entire hour and a half, and there’s still no sign of Harrington or Wheeler. Not that he’s actively searching them out, of course. He’s just had some downtime in between upselling Hagan for the world’s shittiest pot he could get his hands on, and explaining to some cheerleader how Special K hits differently if you snort it. Plus, his supply ran out about ten minutes ago, so he’s just buying time before someone notices him lingering and kicks his ass to the curb.

He’s about to save himself and whatever jock gets thrown his way the trouble, when he spots Harrington and Wheeler arguing by the punch bowl. He’s too far away to hear what they’re saying, but he has a sneaking suspicion it has less to do with the conversation he heard in the library and more to do with Wheeler’s drunken state. Case in point: the red liquid she just spilled all over her blouse.

Chasing after her, Harrington cuts through the crowd and makes his way toward one of the bathrooms. Eddie waits a minute before following them down the crowded hallway. Thankfully, no one is in line for this bathroom — still too early in the night for the alcohol to have hit their bladders — so he’s first in the unofficial bathroom line. Leaning casually against the wall, Eddie angles his ear closer to the door so he can hear inside.

It takes a minute for his ears to tune out the music and nonsense chatter, but when they do, he can clearly hear Wheeler slurring her words.

“You’re pretending like everything’s okay. You know, like we didn’t… like we didn’t kill Barb.”

Eddie’s never experienced shock before, at least, he doesn’t think he has; the early days of his life are a little hazy around the edges, but that’s the only word he thinks fits what he’s experiencing right now. Part of him wants to shove his ear closer to the door to continue listing, while the other part of him wants to run for the hills, screaming in victory. And if he’s straight with himself, maybe screaming in fear a little, too. Harrington and Wheeler murderers? Who knew?

He knew, that’s who!

He knew there was something shady going on between those two.

Pressing his ear closer, he can hear Wheeler slurring more words, though he’s not exactly sure what she’s saying. Honestly, he doesn’t really care what she’s saying. He’s listening for Harrington’s response right now. What does the mighty King have to say about the bomb she’s just dropped?

“This is bullshit,” she slurs.

“Like we’re in love?” Steve asks.

Huh, clearly, Eddie missed a step or two in his shocked state. He’s not exactly sure how the conversation strayed from them killing Holland to their, clearly, toxic relationship, but the fact it did is all the proof Eddie needs. If they didn’t kill her, Harrington would have been vehemently denying her claim. And yet, he sounds like a kicked puppy dog right now because she doesn’t love him.

Join the club, Harrington.

The doorknob starts to jiggle, and Eddie bolts. It’s not that he’s afraid about coming face-to-face with the two who apparently killed Holland. It’s just that, well, he needs a minute to think about the information he’s just learned.

+ + +

With Gareth and Freak both busy supervising their siblings around Hawkins and Jeff on candy duty for his family’s house, Eddie has no one to share the good bad news with. RIP Holland and all that, but he’s sitting on some serious dirt right now.

The good part of Eddie’s brain knows he should head straight for the police station. Pull good ole’ Chief Hopper aside and gloat about how he did his job for him. But Eddie’s spent enough time at the stuffy station to know no one is going to believe him especially not against Harrington and Wheeler. He’d have better luck marching in there and turning himself in for her murder. Not that he’s going to do that.

He supposes he could tell Wayne about it, but he doesn’t need to be dragging his uncle into any more of his messes. And since Eddie has no proof beyond overhearing a drunken confession, a mess it’ll surely turn into.

So, he opts for the third option and heads out to Skull Rock to do some thinking.

Maybe Freak is right, and it was some sort of jealous rage brought on by a Holland-Harrington pregnancy. Or maybe Holland saw something she shouldn’t have; the possibilities are endless, and Eddie’s imagination is limitless.

Eventually, he circles back to what he’s supposed to do with this information. Should he turn them in? Maybe not Wheeler; she seems like she’s experienced enough guilt as it and the girl has a bright future or whatever it is the teachers are always talking about. Harrington, though? Harrington, he should turn in, right? I mean, he didn’t even seem phased when Wheeler brought up the murder. Eddie’s watched enough horror movies to know that’s psychopath behavior right there. Besides, it would be nice to see the King behind bars. But then again, he hasn’t been the King in a while. And Harrington’s never really done anything to Eddie beyond standing idle while Hagan threw slurs at him. But he’s not hanging out with Hagan anymore, so maybe he should cut him some slack.

Though they did murder someone.

Jesus H. Christ.

Maybe this is why they say curiosity killed the cat — Eddie’s head is throbbing. He’s about to take another hit from his joint when he hears leaves crunching in the distance.

Shit.

Someone’s coming.

Snubbing out his joint against the rock, Eddie tries his best to make it seem like he’s just here, escaping the busy Halloween night. Which, like, he definitely is, but he can’t be too safe. Especially not when there are two teenage murderers on the loose.

“She thinks m’bullshit? She’s bullshit! Bullshit.”

The voice is unmistakable.

Jesus H. Christ could tonight get any weirder.

Eddie’s only escape is to run deeper into the forest, and he’s not about to do that so he makes himself comfortable on top of Skull Rock like a fucking sitting duck. Searching the pockets of his vest, he yanks out a pack of cigarettes and his lighter. Neither of which he was looking for. Of course, he left his pocket knife in his van. Stupid. So stupid!

There’s a moment of silence before Harrington emerges from the clearing. The moon is bright above them, making Steve’s tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes glow in the otherwise dark forest.

Maybe he is feeling guilty after all.

“Ah, fuck,” Harrington groans, stumbling to the ground.

Eddie watches as he rolls around for a moment, struggling to find his footing. If Eddie were a mean person, he might let Harrington suffer. But something about his behavior reminds him of a wounded animal, and Eddie’s always had a soft spot for bruised and broken things.

“Shit, Harrington, you okay?” Eddie asks, jumping down.

Eddie’s boots crunch against the leaves, startling Harrington. He manages to pull himself into a seated position and brandishes a near empty beer bottle in Eddie’s direction. “Stay back!”

“Woah, man,” Eddie yelps, hands raised in surrender in front of him. “Don’t kill me.”

“Oh, s’you,” Steve says, slumping against the tree behind him. He tosses the beer bottle aside and runs both his hands over his face. “Jesus. Why does everyone think I would kill s-someone?”

“Uh,” Eddie stutters, glancing around. Now’s his chance to make a break for it. Put those hours of physical education to good use and sprint to the van before Harrington has a chance to make him his next victim. But there’s something in Steve’s sad eyes and dejected voice that makes Eddie stay. “‘Cause you have killed someone before?”

“Man, what the hell are you talking about?” Harrington snaps, fumbling to get out of his jacket. “I’ve n-never killed anyone.”

“So, you didn’t kill Barbara Holland, then?”

“No! Jesus, ‘course not. Barb was… Barb was nice. She was good. Like Nance. Better than Nance, maybe. I don’t know,” Harrington whines, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Barb she’s… yeah, man, she’s dead. But I didn’t have anything to do with that. N-not in the way you think I did, at least.”

Harrington’s not making a lot of sense, which only spurs Eddie’s curiosity on more. Closing the distance between them, Eddie hops to a squat in front of him. “But you did have something to do with what happened to her?”

“Shit, man,” Harrington groans, words slurring more more. “S’complicated, okay. I can’t talk about it with you or her parents or anyone. Or else they’ll come for me or Nance or our families and then we’ll all be toast like Barb. And that… that thing that came out of the Byers’ wall.”

Complicated? Jesus H. Christ, Eddie’s never heard anything more complicated than the jumble of words that just left Harrington’s mouth. He can feel his heart racing in his chest, the realization that they’re alone in the woods talking about something someone doesn’t want Harrington talking about.

“What?” Eddie says more to himself than to Steve. “Harrington, what thing in the Byers wall? You’re not making any sense!”

“The thing. You know, the… the,” Steve hiccups. “The thing we can’t talk ‘bout, else they’ll come for us next.”

Someone will come for him and his family if he reveals what happened to Barb? And the thing in the Byers wall? He wants to ask who would come. What would happen? Is he being blackmailed? There are so many questions dancing on the tip of his tongue, but none of them win the war.

“Harrington, man,” Eddie says, shaking his head. “Are you in trouble? Do you, like, need help or something?”

Finally, freeing himself from his jacket, Harrington lifts his head and looks up. There’s a moment where Eddie’s life flashes before his eyes, but then the sad replay of his life is interrupted by Harrington’s hand on his cheek. A dopey-looking grin on his face as he squints up at Eddie.

“You have pretty eyes, M-m-munson. Anyone ever tell you that?” Steve slurs before promptly passing out against the tree.

What the hell has Eddie gotten himself into?

#eddiemonth #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson ficlet #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #nancy wheeler #nancy wheeler fic #nancy wheeler ficlet #stancy #stancy ficlet #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things season 2 #implied steddie #steddie #dani writes

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shepherds-of-haven · 6 months ago

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hi i hope you're having a good day! this may be quite silly but i'm curious, what are some typical dances for the peoples of blest?

Hi there! This was actually sent in for the Patreon Q&A in April, but something horrible has happened to Patreon's site in the last several months, where after a certain amount of text, the text editor becomes horrifically laggy and crashes constantly, meaning I did all the work (i.e. watching so many medieval and ancient dancing videos and reading all about various cultures and their dances) to answer this question, but the website stubbornly would not let me type up my answer in the existing Q&A post... 🥹 So I kept losing all my progress on this one and ultimately ended up giving up, but I still wanted to answer it, so I hope it's okay that I answer here!

The short answer: the typical dances for the people of Blest obviously are going to vary widely between cultures as well as classes within those cultures. People from the southern isles dance quite differently from people in the Eastern Continent, who in turn dance differently from people in Jalis. I'm not going to cover too much of the kinds of dancing that we don't see much of in the game, though I will note that Ket and Hunter cultures tend to favor dancing more as a form of story-telling or individual expression (often seen in plays or festival rituals where specialized dancers are playing specific roles or parts), with elaborate costumes and dance techniques being employed in each culture (some traditional Ket dancers use fans and masks, Hunter dancers often dress in swirling costumes with rattling beads and employ hand-drums), rather than the communal dancing we might envision in, like, ballrooms or barnyard line-dancing. The Elves have a mix of both, with dance as "performance" as well as dance as "socializing" utilized in equal measure, and performative dancing is seen as a high art form that deeply utilizes perfectly synchronized music, color coordination, and movement to create mesmerizing group displays, almost like synchronized swimming or Cirque de Soleil type experiences. Mage culture, in general, doesn't put a lot of emphasis on dancing, as many Mages tend to trend introverted, solitary, or unathletic, so as a society it's not viewed as a really vital skill or even a part of their larger culture outside of the usual school/festival dancing, which isn't so much taught as it is just stumbled into.

Anyway, the two primary forms of dancing we seen in the game are what the nobles do and what the commonfolk do. I imagine dancing among aristocrats (formal balls, the Trade Minister's gala, parties at the Sun Court) to be pretty similar to what you'd see in Regency-Era dancing, with waltzes, quadrilles, and cotillons being the most common style.

However, it should be noted that the "English country dance" that was typical of the Regency era (where men and women form two lines, facing across from their partner, and are not permitted to dance alone as a couple, but side-by-side alongside others) is not something that is present in Blest. If you've seen any Austenian movies like P&P 2005, you know what I mean.

^ So not this!

It may factor into a dance a noble has to do once or twice in their lifetime, but it's pretty unusual, and a guest without a noble background (like Riel or the Shepherds at the Trade Minister's gala) wouldn't be expected to know it.

Among the commonfolk, dancing typically takes place during festivals and holidays, in the streets or on the village green or town square, not within a formal venue such as a ball. As such, there are really no formal moves or styles ascribed to this kind of dancing--it's primarily dictated by what kind of music is playing, and you basically just jam out to it however you want, in a group, couple, or as an individual--but the closest real-world equivalents I could liken it to would be the medieval carole or free-style polka. But there are no formalized rules other than basic proprietary/decency, and even then that can be pretty lax once the drink is flowing.

youtube

However, while I don't have any formal name for it, mostly I just imagine the dance scene from A Knight's Tale. :)

youtube

#Shepherds of Haven #dance #dancing #worldbuilding #dances #Patreon #Youtube

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ihni · 2 months ago

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A moment in the rain

My last fill for @harringrovesummerbingo, square C3, prompt: "Wedding party ruined by a thunderstorm"

5,3K, general audiences, no warnings.

Summary:

Billy and Steve are at a wedding, when there's a sudden downpour. While the other guests scramble to run inside, the boys both decide to escape the rain under the same gazebo.

(On AO3 here)

Fic under the cut:

With about a hundred guests, the whole backyard decked out in flowers and decorations, a band playing live music and enough food to feed twice the number of attendants, it was a surprisingly grandiose wedding for a couple roughly a year out of high school, even if their families happened to be upper middle-class. But if one scratched the surface a little, one could see that there had been attempts at reducing the costs, and perhaps not everything was as fancy as it looked at first glance. The tablecloths were old sheets, the glasses and plates didn’t match from one table to the next, and the flowers – except for the bride’s bouquet and the groom’s boutonniere – were mostly wildflowers and picked locally. Besides this, Steve recognized the wait staff as mostly teens from the neighborhood, and the guitarist in the band was Tommy’s older cousin from Canada. Steve also happened to know that all the food had been prepared in advance by relatives and friends of the bride and groom over the course of the last week or so – he’d actually been a part of it himself, spending an evening a couple of days ago scrubbing thirty pounds of potatoes for the potato salad.

From what Steve could see, the only thing they hadn’t had a hand in preparing themselves was the wedding cake, which hadn’t been rolled out yet but which he had gotten a glimpse of in the kitchen – it was a square two-tier cake the size of a small table that looked like it was more than big enough to feed everyone in attendance. Steve was currently on his second helping of potato salad – seeing as he had helped make it happen, also it was really good – but he made a mental note to leave space for dessert.

The reception was held outdoors, in a huge backyard where Steve had spent countless afternoons when he was younger. In the middle of the lawn and in the center of attention, the newlyweds held court. Tommy looked more proper than Steve had ever seen him in a grey three-piece suit and a powder blue bowtie, and Carol looked like a dessert herself in a dress that had to have had more fabric than all the tablecloths put together. Both of them were radiating happiness, and despite everything, Steve couldn’t help but be happy for them. The three of them may not have been as close as they once were, but they’d made up after graduation, and as all three of them remained in Hawkins instead of leaving town like so many others, they stayed in contact and eventually started tentatively hanging out again. Steve had even helped Tommy pick out the morning gift for Carol – a small gold circlet, a simple band that would go around her wrist. Steve knew Carol, and suspected that she would cry when she got it.

Just like Carol’s dad and Tommy’s mom had cried in the church, during the ceremony. In all fairness, it had been a beautiful ceremony, and even Steve had gotten a bit emotional and had to blink away tears.

Seeing as they were in Hawkins, and considering the fact that both Tommy and Carol had lived in Hawkins their whole lives – just like Steve – Steve knew or recognized just about everyone at the reception. It was kind of nice, actually – like a reunion only a year after graduating. And he found himself thinking that it was a wonder what a year out in the real world could do. People who Steve hadn’t been able to stand at the end of the school year suddenly seemed more grown-up – talking about college or their work, rather than partying – and he had a surprisingly pleasant and only slightly stilted conversation with Debbie, who he’d avoided for a whole school year after a disastrous second date which ended with him throwing up on her shoes.

The less said about that, the better – a sentiment Debbie seemed to share.

All in all, it was a beautiful wedding and Steve was having a good time. He’d brought Robin as his plus one – knowing full well that it wouldn’t exactly stop the rumors that they were dating – but he hadn’t seen her since Heather Holloway whisked her away an hour ago. He didn’t mind, though, as it gave him a chance to catch up with old friends and acquaintances.

There was one more thing that the newlyweds hadn’t skimped out on, and that was the booze. Considering how they both used to party, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that there was a wide assortment of alcoholic beverages to choose from – and even though Steve had stuck to the (cheap) champagne, he was feeling the effects of it, which in retrospect might be why he found everyone he talked to to be more pleasant company than he remembered. Other partygoers did not stick to champagne, though, and people were already getting louder and a tad more disorderly. Steve suspected that at least one fight would break out before the night was over – which was honestly a staple of a good wedding in Hawkins, Indiana. He doubted that the police would be called, though, as Tommy’s uncle worked for the Hawkins Police Department, and he was already one of the loudest people in the crowd.

Eventually, the cake was brought out to the delight of the assembled, and the crowd cleared an empty space on the grass. The band started playing a slower song, and Tommy reached out a hand for Carol, who took it and let herself be led to the improvised dance floor. She had kicked off her shoes so she was barefoot in the grass as they danced their first waltz together as a married couple. The two of them were beaming and only seemed to have eyes for each other. Once more, Steve had to swallow against a lump in his throat and blink away tears as he watched his old friends be so happy together. He hadn’t even known that Tommy knew how to waltz.

A while into the song, Tommy’s parents, followed by Carol’s parents, started dancing too, which signaled that the dancefloor was now free for all. As couples started swaying on the grass – perhaps swaying a little more than planned, due do the uneven surface and the amount of alcohol already consumed – Steve extricated himself from the crowd and walked off to the side of the big yard. From here, right at the tree line, he could see everything clearly. The house, the people; all familiar in a way that made his heart feel warm, like it had been wrapped up in cotton.

The song ended, and everyone applauded. The band started up a new song – a faster one – to the whoops and claps of the crowd, and the dance had just started anew when the sky was lit up by a flash of lightning. The backyard was bathed in a shockingly white light for a fraction of a second, followed by a loud boom which seemed to shake the earth and rattle the windows of the house. People screamed and ducked before realizing that it was only thunder, at which point nervous laughter spread through the crowd instead.

Then the rain started. Up until this point, Steve had barely noticed the way the sky had darkened – had assumed, in the back of his head, that it was because it was getting later – but now he looked up and saw that the reason why it was darker was that the sky was heavy with thick grey clouds. Another flash of lightning struck somewhere close by, and the rain intensified from one second to the next.

Chaos ensued. People dispersed from the yard like cockroaches; men and women both snagged whatever they could off the tables and ran for the house. Carol’s aunts grabbed whoever they could reach and directed them to carry the cake inside to save it while the band scrambled to protect their gear against the rain. Meanwhile, the air was full of the rumbling of thunder and the sound of people shrieking and laughing as they fled the open space of the backyard. And in the middle of it all, alone on the suddenly abandoned lawn, were Tommy and Carol – laughing and kissing in the downpour, still dancing to music no one else could hear and getting their fancy clothing all wet.

Steve couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them.

But then it suddenly registered how the rain wet his suit and seeped into the fabric and ruined his carefully arranged hair, and he made a run for it, too. People were still cramming into the house, though, so instead he headed for the old gazebo at the edge of the woods, where he and Tommy had played for hours and hours when they were kids. It was run down nowadays and could use a paint job, but the roof was intact and it would be enough to protect him against the rain.

Just when he ducked in under it, though, someone else came running from the other direction to take refuge under the same roof, and in the flash of another lightning, Steve found himself facing Billy Hargrove, who he up until now had only seen snippets of in the crowd. They both stopped at opposite edges of the gazebo, water dripping from their clothes and hair – although Billy seemed to have gotten off lighter, since he’d come from the cover of the trees.

“Harrington,” Billy said as the thunder rumbled, one side of his mouth tipping up in a leering smile as he shook his head to get the wet tendrils out of his face. “Long time no see.”

It had been a long time, was the thing. Steve hadn’t really seen him since graduation day when Billy had sped out of the parking lot immediately after the ceremony. According to Tommy, he hadn’t gone back to California though, like everyone had expected – no, he’d ended up in Indianapolis, of all places. Steve had been surprised to hear it, since he hadn’t gotten the impression that Billy liked Indiana. But perhaps his dislike had only applied to Hawkins.

“Hargrove,” Steve said cautiously with an acknowledging nod, and watched as Billy’s smile widened. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Nah,” the man said. “I live in Indy now.”

Steve nodded, but didn’t speak as he shook his sleeves to get rid of the excess water droplets, and they fell into silence. It wasn’t really an awkward kind of silence, despite their history, because the rain beating down on the roof was too loud for casual conversation anyway. Steve twirled the glass he was still holding between his fingers, and downed it. He put the empty glass down on the railing and looked out across the yard, considering if it was worth it to cross the yard in this weather.

Everything looked grey in the rain, and the house was barely visible due to the downpour. Tommy and Carol had disappeared, and all that was left on the lawn were the abandoned tables and scattered and overturned plastic chairs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Billy come up next to him, but keeping a respectful distance.

“Nice party,” Billy commented, his voice more audible now when he was closer.

Steve couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but before the rain had hit it had been a nice party, so, “Yes,” he said simply, “it is.”

Billy huffed out a breath. “It suits them. A wedding party as stormy as their relationship.”

It rankled, for some reason, to hear Billy talk about Tommy and Carol like that, even though Steve knew that what he’d said was true. Billy hadn’t known them for more than a couple of years – what did he know? “You think you know them so well?” he couldn’t help saying.

Billy peered at him and then turned to face him. “You think you do?”

Which, as much as he hated to admit it, was fair. Steve had been the one to pull away from Tommy and Carol back in school, while Billy had spent most of senior year at their side. And Steve knew that they were still in contact with Billy, that they’d been visiting him in Indy a couple of times, even. He just didn’t like to be called out on it. But he wasn’t about to argue. The last time he’d argued with Billy, he’d ended up on the floor of the Byers’ house with a concussion. So, “Maybe not,” he said between clenched teeth and a stiff smile. He turned to Billy to say a polite goodbye, planning on making a run for the house after all – that cake had looked good, and he wanted a piece – but the words died on his tongue as it registered that Billy was shirtless under his suit jacket. Not just wearing a shirt that was half-unbuttoned, like he’d expected – no, there was simply no shirt at all.

He stared for a moment too long, because Billy let out a laugh and said, “My eyes are up here, Harrington.”

Face burning, Steve’s eyes snapped up to Billy’s, expecting to see a mean smirk or calculating eyes. Instead, he was met with a smile and eyes glittering with mischief. It made him want to relax and tense up at the same time, not knowing what to expect. “Where’s your shirt?” he blurted out, in a too-obvious attempt at distraction. He had to have been wearing a shirt earlier – Steve doubted that the priest would have let him inside the church if he hadn’t been wearing one.

“Someone spilled wine on it,” Billy replied, still smiling.

“And, what?” Steve said. “Carol just let you walk around with no shirt on at her wedding?”

Billy took a step closer so Steve could hear the purr in his voice as he said in a low voice, “Carol was the one who spilled the wine. Accidentally, of course.” He raised one eyebrow. “She was also the one that pointed out I couldn’t very well walk around with a shirt with a wine stain on it. She basically begged me to take it off. And who am I to argue with the bride on her wedding day?”

Of course. Steve wasn’t even surprised, Carol had always had a wandering eye – and even Steve had to admit that Billy was nice to look at. “And Tommy was okay with that?”

“Tommy had no complaints,” Billy said, voice low and rumbling like the thunder overhead. “I caught him staring, too. Kinda like you, just now.”

The reminder brought a flush to Steve’s face, and he took a step back. Desperate to change the subject, he grasped for something, anything to ask.

“What were you doing in the woods?” was what he came up with.

Billy leaned back so he was half-sitting, half-leaning on the wooden railing, comfortable as you will while giving Steve his space. “Had to take a piss.”

“In the woods?” Steve asked, struggling to regain his composure after Billy had knocked him off-balance by getting so close and being so … shirtless and sultry. “Classy as always, Hargrove.”

“Have you seen the queue to the bathroom?” Billy cackled. “It was the woods, or piss my pants. And then I’d been without a shirt and pants, and then the horny little newlyweds would probably have ravaged me right there on the lawn.”

Pointedly not thinking about Billy out of his pants, Steve snorted. “You wish.”

Billy made a so-so motion and shrugged. “I mean, none of them would be my first pick, but it’d be rude to ruin their big day by refusing …”

Steve clenched his teeth. He knew he was being baited, knew he shouldn’t ask. He really shouldn’t ask.

“Who’d be your first pick, then?”

Fuck.

Billy’s eyes were sparkling with delight at Steve playing along with whatever game this was, and he flicked his eyes down Steve’s body, making sure to take his time as he dragged it up again. When he met Steve’s eyes, looking at him under his lashes, he bit his bottom lip and said, “Wouldn’t you like to know, pretty boy?”

Steve had to work to get enough spit in his mouth to swallow. Billy just stayed there, leaning back, watching. Waiting. His suit jacket was open, showing off his chest, still damp from the rain – or was it sweat? His eyes were hooded and his hair fell in messy curls over his shoulders, longer than they’d been when Steve last saw him. Steve wanted to grab a handful and pull, which was an insane urge that would probably get him killed if he gave in to it. Billy oozed danger; like a tiger in tall grass, waiting for its prey to get close enough to go for the kill. But it was a decidedly different kind of danger than he’d exuded back in high school. Back then, the end result would have been a beating. Now?

Steve was startled to realize that he kind of wanted to find out.

But playing along just to see where this would lead would be stupid, and dangerous, and Steve had had enough of being stupid and running into danger to last him for a lifetime. He much preferred to face the threat head on. Which was why he straightened up and stood with both feet steady on the ground as he asked, “Okay, what is this?”

It seemed to throw Billy off, but only for a moment. His smile faltered, but was quick to reappear. “What is what?”

“This,” Steve said, motioning between the two of them. “What are you trying to … What are you saying, exactly? What is this? Are you flirting with me?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Doubt made him impatient, and he was a second away from stomping his foot like toddler. Swallowing against sudden bile, he huffed, “Cut the crap, Hargrove. We both know you hated me in school, so what the fuck are you –“

“What? I never hated you,” Billy interrupted, looking honestly surprised.

Which just added to Steve’s ire. “What do you mean? Of course you did! You were a right asshole, you were on my case all the time, wouldn’t leave me alone at practice or in the hallways. You beat me up!”

That elicited a reaction. Billy pushed off the railing and mirrored Steve’s posture, feet planted and arms at his side. Not threatening yet, but ready for a brawl. “Okay, first of all, you lied to me about my sister’s whereabouts after she’d gone missing, when I finally found her in that weird house in the woods with you and a bunch of boys. That was super sketchy, and I won’t apologize for what I did, back then. You deserved that.” Steve took a breath – to say what, he didn’t know – but Billy continued before he could speak. “As for the rest of it …” He shrugged and turned his head so he was looking out over the lawn. Another flash lit up the world, and for that bright white second, he looked uncertain. When the rumble of thunder followed, it almost drowned out his voice. “I liked you.”

Sure he’d misheard, Steve blinked and shook his head slightly as if to clear it. “I’m sorry, what?”

Billy took a deep breath, and pulled on the mask of confidence like someone else would pull on a jacket; he straightened his shoulders and turned back to Steve with a cocky smile that was too wide to be real. “I used to crush real hard on you, man. Guess I didn’t handle it very well.”

He was pulling Steve’s leg – it had to be a joke.

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not, actually.”

“But you slept with like, half the girls at school!”

“So?”

Frustrating! Billy was so frustrating. Was he seriously standing here, telling him he used to have a crush on Steve, and that that was why he was such an asshole in school?

“I don’t believe you,” Steve all but spat.

Shrugging, again with just a little too much flair to be real, Billy took a breath and turned away, as if to leave. “Believe what you want, then. I’m out of here. Have a nice life.”

Steve’s hand shot out before he could think it through, grabbing Billy by the arm to stop him from leaving. Billy didn’t speak, just turned his head slowly to look down at Steve’s fingers around his bicep. Then, just as slowly, he looked up at Steve. There was something wary in the way he looked, but there was steel in his eyes and voice when he spoke; “Didn’t know you were so homophobic, Harrington.” Steve reeled at what he saw in Billy’s eyes; words that were supposed to be a joke, which hid a threat, which hid … vulnerability?

He pulled his hand off the other man’s arm as if he’d been burned. “I’m not. Homophobic, I mean.” Billy watched him cautiously, and Steve babbled on. “One of my best friend is a homo. I mean, she –“ Shut up, Steve! “I mean, I don’t have anything against –“

“Fags?”

The word cut through the air between them just as another flash of lighting lit up the sky. They stood in silence while waiting for the accompanying thunder to pass – it took longer this time, so maybe the storm was waning – and when the only sound was the noise of the rain around them, Steve opened his mouth to speak, but found that he couldn’t. The silence grew to discomfort, and something in Billy’s posture crumbled. He smiled, sardonically, and looked down at his own two feet. “Great talk, Harrington. See you around.”

Steve didn’t reach out this time, but he called out “Wait!”, and Billy froze. “I don’t have anything against … fags,” Steve said, rushing to get the words out and not caring if the words were right or wrong. “I really don’t. I have friends who are like that, and, and. It would be pretty hypocritical of me, actually, considering my first kiss was Tommy!” His eyes widened and he sucked in a breath – he hadn’t meant to admit to that – but it worked, as in that it drew a surprised laugh out of Billy.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.” In for a penny, and all that. Steve braved a smile and gave a one-shouldered shrug that probably failed at making him look indifferent. “We were like, nine or ten, and he was crushing hard on Carol even then, and we got it in our heads that no girl would want to kiss someone who didn’t know what he was doing. So … we practiced. With each other.”

Billy still looked guarded, but there was a small smile playing on his lips even as he said, “Kid’s stuff, Harrington. It doesn’t count.”

“Well,” Steve said and swallowed in preparation for taking the plunge. “We continued practicing until our second year in high school, so …”

That got a reaction. “No shit? You and Hagan?”

“Why are you surprised? You just said that Tommy ogled your bare chest when Carol got you shirtless. You have to have suspected.”

“Tommy being at least half gay doesn’t surprise me, I’m pretty sure he and Carol are plotting to try to get me into bed with them on their wedding night as we speak … But you! King Steve.” He looked honestly flabbergasted, but there was delight tinting the surprise. “You’re shitting me.”

It was a thrill to be able to throw Billy’s words from earlier back in his face. “I’m not, actually.”

“Huh,” Billy said. He didn’t look like he was planning on leaving any time soon. “How about that. The biggest womanizer in the history of Hawkins’ High … playing for the other team?”

“Now, now,” Steve said, holding a hand out. “I wouldn’t say that. I like girls. I just …” He thought about everything he and Robin had been talking about, and finally decided on, “I’m just an equal-opportunity guy, I guess.”

“Really?” Billy said, and looked almost impressed.

Steve felt warm under his gaze. “Yup.”

“So …” Billy said, and that mischievous glint was back in his eye. “Did you ever …” He made some lewd gesture, complete with raised eyebrows, “… with both of them? Tommy and Carol?”

Steve was pretty sure that the way he blushed at that question was answer enough. By the way Billy threw his head back and cackled, it was.

“Shut up! It was one time!”

“Oh this is too good! Wow! You are such a slut.”

“You’re the one to talk!” Steve said, but he couldn’t help smiling because this felt … this felt more like friendly ribbing than anything else.

Billy ignored him. “Oh my god. You should have brought that up in a speech during the dinner.”

Steve actually hadn’t done a speech. Instead he’d bought the happy couple a set of expensive kitchen appliances, and called it a day.

“Yeah, well. It’s not exactly something that one should speak of out loud in Hawkins.”

That had a sobering effect on Billy. His smile dimmed. “Don’t I know it.”

Their whole conversation had been a roller-coaster and Steve still didn’t feel all too stable in it, but Billy looked almost wistful – so much unlike the Billy he remembered from a year ago – that he couldn’t help but ask. “Is that why you …?” When Billy looked over, he made a face. “You know. Went out with all those girls?”

Billy exhaled and tilted his head to the side. “I mean, yeah. There’s no better place to hide than in a crowd.”

Silence descended on them again, but it wasn’t so awkward this time. And this time, Steve was the one to break it.

“So … are you also an equal-opportunity … player? Or …?”

“Oh,” Billy said, then shook his head. “No.” And for a second, Steve felt a thrill of fear run through him, suddenly convinced that Billy had been lying in order to get blackmail material on him. But then Billy continued, “No, I was never really into … girls.”

Steve raised his eyebrows, mind whirring. “Huh.”

“Yeah.”

It was weird. There must have been something about this particular place, and this particular moment. The two of them were standing in a run-down gazebo, rain beating down on everything around them and separating them from the outside world. It was like they were in their own little bubble, outside time and space. It felt as if everything revealed here was … safe. In that way, it didn’t feel real.

“Why are you telling me this?” Steve asked, softly. Because he suddenly had a lot of things that he would have to think about, but that question was on the forefront of his mind.

“Because …” Billy started, and hesitated. Like he wasn’t sure himself. “Because I don’t live in Hawkins anymore,” he decided. “No one here can hurt me.” His eyes flicked to Steve at that, as if to make sure that Steve didn’t mean any harm. When Steve didn’t move, he relaxed a fraction. “And because … I saw you today, and.” He cut himself off, looking down at his shoes. Scuffing one against the wood underneath his feet. “And I think I might have lied to you, just now.”

Furrowing his brow, Steve tensed up. “What?”

“I said I had a crush on you,” Billy said, and Steve had time to feel crushing disappointment in the split-part of a second before Billy added, “But I think that I still do, actually.”

And before he knew it or could react, Billy was in his space and his hands were in Steve’s hair on either side of his face, and that was Billy’s lips on his and –

– and time stood still. Like if lightning had stuck him where he stood, the world lit up with white light and electricity. Gone was the sound of the falling rain and the rumble of thunder, gone was the house and the woods and the lawn, gone were the whole world outside of this gazebo, outside of this moment. His heartbeat made its way through his body drumming like an army marching to war. Steve didn’t breathe, didn’t blink – just existed in this moment where there was only Billy, and Billy’s lips on his.

And then the world turned white for real and shook with a boom, and they jumped apart. Billy swore and ducked over the railing to check the sky.

“Shit,” he said. “That was a close one.”

Steve’s whole body was tingling, the hairs on his arms standing up. The air smelled crisp, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the lightning, or because of the kiss. Maybe both.

“We should …” he said, a bit shakily. “We should get inside. It’s not safe out here.”

Billy glanced at him, with a hint of apprehension that might as well have been a blaring neon sign pointing at his head. He was obviously nervous about Steve’s reaction to the kiss.

“You worrying about me, pretty boy?” he said, but his voice shook a little, as if he was struggling to hold on to the confident façade. And Steve marveled, because had he always been this transparent? He couldn’t believe he’d been fooled by Billy’s cocky attitude back in school.

“Well,” Steve said, and pointedly looked down at Billy’s bare chest. “It wouldn’t do to deprive Tommy and Carol of their eye candy on their wedding day, now would it?”

Relief, in the form of a smile. “Eye candy, huh?”

“Well,” Steve said, and gestured kind of helplessly to Billy. All of him.

The smile grew. “I’m staying at Motel 6 when I’m in town,” Billy said, apropos of nothing.

They both drifted forward, and were suddenly in each other’s space. The thunder rolled over the sky, but without a flash this time. The rain wasn’t coming down as hard anymore. The storm was abating.

“Uh-huh.”

“So I was thinking …” Steve watched, mesmerized, as Billy bit his lip; watched with bated breath as his Adam’s apple bobbed when he swallowed. “If you want to, you could stop by tonight … after the party …?”

“Yeah?”

“And we could …” He exhaled on a laugh. “Practice kissing some more.”

Steve leaned back, if only to attempt an insulted gasp. “You think I need the practice?”

Billy honest-to-God giggled. Fuck, Steve was screwed.

“I don’t know, Harrington. You don’t exactly seem to be a hit with the ladies these days.”

“Hey!” Accurate, but still. “I get around.”

“Uh-huh,” Billy said with a smirk. “You do know your date is a lesbian, right?”

That actually had Steve take a step back, mouth open. He didn’t think he’d let that particular cat out of the bag, Robin was going to kill him –

“Relax, I saw her smooching with Heather in the pantry after dinner,” Billy said, which – huh. Way to go, Robs. “And also, I clocked her on my first week in Hawkins. No straight girl draws boobs on her shoes.” He gave Steve a significant look. “Like knows like, I guess.”

Steve didn’t have time to answer, before another lightning lit up the sky – further away this time, though, and the rumbling of thunder took some time to reach their ears. When he turned to look at the house, he could clearly see the lit-up windows and the people milling about inside. When concentrating, he could hear music coming from inside, and he realized that he could only do that because the rain had slowed to a drizzle.

Their bubble was gone.

“We should probably …” He gestured towards the house.

“Yeah.”

Not knowing what to say, he only managed an awkward, “So …”

Billy rescued him with an all-too-aloof, “So, I’ll see you later?”

Steve could feel himself grinning. “Yeah. Room 10, right?”

Billy matched his grin. “Room 10.”

“It’s a date,” Steve said, heart fluttering, and grabbed his empty champagne glass. “Now let’s get out of this rain. I want some cake!”

#harringrove #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove summer bingo #HSB2024 #ihni writes #a moment in the rain #fun fact: i wrote 4‚3K of this at work today between calls #and the rest when I got home #finished all of this today!#i feel like i must have been possessed by the writing fairy or something #and I haven't really read through it all so it might suck - let me know if you find any glaring mistakes or inconsistencies!

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stargazer-sims · 3 months ago

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Meet Bin & Blu, a couple of fugitives who find themselves on the strangest planet they've ever seen... Earth.

Their home world is a planet called Tora. Their species is also called Tora, or Torae when referring to them collectively. (an individual Tora, or multiple Torae). Like its nearest neighbour, Sixam, the planet Tora is a matriarchal society. Also like Sixam, both biological males and females can bear children, and no social concept of gender exists. People form relationships with whomever they want, and individuals are differentiated by biological sex rather than by a socially-constructed gender system.

Tora has a class or caste system. Unlike Sixam, class is not based on colour or biological sex, but rather by economic and socio-political standing. Tora is not a peaceful world like Sixam, either. There is a lot of unrest, with people constantly trying to become wealthy, successful or famous and trying to climb the class ladder.

Blu is from the upper class, but lost status due to his political views and his association with people like Bin, who started in the middle class but fell to the lower class due to his criminal proclivities.

On their home world, Blu and Bin were were caught while attempting to flee after Blu helped Bin escape from prison. Blu was more likely than not headed for prison himself because of his socio-political advocacy, and the authorities decided that instead of incarcerating both of them on the home world, they'd get rid of them by dropping them off on some backwater planet and stranding them there. They were left with only a few items of clothing and supplies, and that was that.

They decided fairly quickly that they'd need "Earth names" in order to integrate better. Unfortunately, they realized just as quickly that no one on this planet looks even remotely like them, and new names would not help them integrate at all. They also discovered that having a good vocabulary in a language isn't enough when it comes to naming. Context is also important, and Dustbin and Blu-Ray, as it turns out, were not the best choices for names.

Currently, they're camping on a beach in Tomarang and trying to figure out their next move.

____________________

About Bin Real Name: Azri Kana'an Earth Name: Dustbin (or Bin for short) Occpuation: thief, elemental master

Azri (Bin) is one of the minority of people on his world who can harness elements. He's a genetic throwback from the days when magic was more prevalent than science and technology. Magic is largely lost to the Torae now, and those who do possess it are either elevated as quasi-spiritual figures or vilified, depending on who you ask. There is very little middle ground. Azri's life choices unfortunately led him to be viewed more as a danger to public order than to be seen as a leader or hero of any sort

He's notorious for his thefts of large amounts of currency and other easily-liquidated valuables. He gave most of the money to organizations dedicated to dismantling the class system on his world and making life more fair and equitable for everyone. He actually enjoys the adrenaline rush he gets from stealing, and in between heists, he likes to steal small items for fun.

He was given medication to sterlize him while he was in prison, and is convinced he can't get pregnant now, which is good in his opinion because he's very sexually adventurous.

About Blu Real Name: Valyn Auri'el Earth Name: Blu-Ray (or Blu for short) Occpuation: social worker, activist

Valyn (Blu) comes from a wealthy and prominent family. He was expected to join his family's business enterprise and amass his own fortune, but after recognizing the plight of the lower classes, he decided he wanted to dedicate his life to helping them instead of enriching himself. He trained to be a social worker, a job usually done by lower middle class individuals. He met Bin while working in his city's prison, and despite knowing it wasn't a good idea to start a relationship with a client, he did it anyway. Between them, they hatched a wild plot to break Bin out of jail.

His facial marking isn't natural; it's a tattoo that's fashionable among the upper classes, which parents often have applied to their children at a young age. Blu hates it because it easily identifies him as coming from the upper class, but Bin thinks it's beautiful, particularly at night when the moons-light hits it and makes it look glossy.

He loves the water, and like most members of his species, he can stay underwater for several minutes without needing to come up for air.

#ts4 #sims 4 #adventures with bin and blu #bin and blu #binandblu #stargazersims

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storiesofsvu · 2 years ago

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Love Comes Quietly Ch 1

Future Alex Blake x reader warnings: language, minor talk of fbi type situations, alcohol consumption.

Alex always felt like it was a breath of incredibly fresh air whenever she got to get out of DC for something that wasn’t FBI case related. Since the divorce she’d almost started to feel a little antsy, like there was something else she should or could be doing to take up her free time now that the house was empty. She and James were still in touch rather frequently, everything had been completely amicable after all, just two people realizing they were going down different paths in life, even if they still cared about each other, they knew their part of the journey together was over. He’d stayed in the house with her while they sorted everything out and got papers signed and figured out who things belonged to and who wanted what before he moved off to Boston to accept the teaching position at Harvard.

Which is exactly how she had found herself on the Harvard campus for a week and a half guest lecturing in a handful of different classes. Despite James being the one to make the original invitation it was Daniela who’d convinced her into staying for the full week. They’d worked together at Georgetown when Alex had first started teaching and were hoping to finally be able to play catch up in between work hours.

Alex had done one lecture already today, using the free time before lunch to poke around the campus a little bit. There were more than enough interesting places, including a handful of bookstores that were home to a lot more than text books and required readings. She wandered the aisles, skipping the non fiction, she had enough of those kicking around the house already. She slowed a bit through the fiction books, though her face grimaced at the mystery and crime novels, there was no need for those, she saw enough of that in her every day life. The last thing she needed was to come home from a case and have that be her bedtime reading. She slowed when she hit the romance section, it was cheesy, she was the first to admit it, but sometimes they just hit the spot, a pleasant over dramatic sappy distraction from real life. Her secret guilty pleasure, if you will.

Her fingers trailed along a couple of books, nose scrunching when nearly all the covers featured a broad chested half naked man. Something, rather a person, caught her eye a bit further down the aisle. It was as if the two of you were both trying to outwait the other before going for the books you actually were interested in. She surveyed you out of the corner of her eye, you were old enough she knew the chances of you being a student were unlikely, especially considering you didn’t have any kind of bag with you. Key ring dangling from your fingers, bulge of your phone in the back pocket of your jeans. You were dressed just on the brink of business casual, but not nice enough that she thought you were a professor.

She watched as your lips moved into a tiny grin, as if a fond memory was waving through your brain and you reached out to the shelf, picking out a book that she recognized the cover of, ‘Love Letters. 2000 Years of Romance’. You flicked through a couple of pages, eyes scanning the text with a little smile on your face before you flipped the entire books worth of pages and she just knew you were inhaling that new book smell. You turned the book over, reading the dedication on the back before slipping it back into its place on the shelf.

“Oh now that’s a good one, it’s not a put it back book.” The words left her lips before she even really realized she was saying them. You practically jumped, despite being more than well aware there was someone else in the aisle with you, looking up to her as you laughed softly.

“Oh! I know, I’ve read it, one of my faves. My copy’s just getting a little worse for wear.”

“A little wear and tear means a book’s well loved.” She smiled softly, “my copy usually lives on the bedside table.”

“Perfect bedtime reading.” You smiled and for a moment you thought she was going to turn back to the shelves but she looked you over briefly.

“You’re… not a student here are you?”

“What gave it away.” You laughed, “and no, just..” you checked your watch, “waiting for a friend to finish a lecture. Need an expert opinion on something.”

“Anything I could help with?” She asked and it was your turn to survey her, the blazer, shoulder bag no doubt with at least a laptop and lecture notes in it, the smudge of white board marker on her right hand.

“Dunno, what’d’you teach?”

“Well, technically just guest lecturing this week, but linguistics.”

“Ah…” Before you could comment that you were waiting on a friend who taught forensic science a man popped into the end of the aisle, a small grin on his face as he wandered down to her side.

“Now why am I not surprised to find you in the romance novel section?” He greeted with a tease and her cheeks tinged pink as she turned to him, “ready?”

“Yes.” She nodded in your direction and you gave her a little salute once his back was turned before you turned back to the shelf of books in front of you with a soft sigh, checking your watch once more. You didn’t have long before you had to be back at the office, you were hoping Daniela would hurry the hell up. Letting out a little groan you rolled your eyes, maybe if you met her at her classroom this wouldn’t take as long.

Considering it was Friday, Alex shouldn’t have been surprised when she was roped into after work drinks and snacks with Daniela and a few other friends. She was at least thankful that they’d ended up off campus, not wanting to be plagued with students or follow up questions from lectures during the week. City Bar Back Bay was the perfect place for them, a trendy lounge tucked away in the corner of a hotel on Exeter Street. There were cocktails, a few glasses of wine, a jug of sangria and plates of chips, cheese, soft pretzel bites and more spread across the table for everyone to share. Everyone’s spirits were lifted at the knowledge it was the end of the week, laughter and conversation flowing easily throughout the small group.

“So?” Daniela questioned, nudging at Alex’s arm, “how’re you liking Boston?”

“You ask that like I haven’t been here before.” She replied with a laugh.

“But now you’re teaching here… and at Harvard, nonetheless. That’s gotta be at least some kind of bonus points.”

“Daniela…” Alex eyed her with a chuckle, “I didn’t move here when my husband suggested it, I’m not going to uproot my life just because you hate having to do certain parts of your lesson plans.”

“Yeah.” Caitlin cut in from her other side, “I keep telling you to just hire a TA.”

“Maybe I just prefer having a friend come to town a couple of times a year.”

“You’re lazy.” Caitlin replied, stealing a chip off her plate, “where’s Murphy? She mention bailing or anything at lunch?”

“No, she said she’d definitely be here. She’s probably caught up at work.” Daniela turned back to Alex with a near whine, “c’mon… what about splitting the year? Half in DC, half here?” Alex laughed, affectionately rolling her eyes.

“Two weeks at a time is my absolute max. I love my job, and as much as I enjoy teaching, it doesn’t jump higher, I’ve spent way too long working to get where I am.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daniela waved her off with a playful groan, she was about to say something else when a voice rung in from behind her.

“I am so sorry I’m late!” You swept in quickly, hand on her shoulder as you leant around her from behind to kiss her cheek before dropping into the open chair at the head of the small table.

“Yeah, where the hell have you been?” Daniela asked.

“Ugh.” You rolled your eyes, “turns out when you kill someone there’s an extra forty five minutes of paperwork.”

“Should I be concerned?” Alex’s ears had picked up the words, turning back your direction with a tease in her voice and a laugh on her cheeks, pulling a loud laugh from Daniela.

“No, Murphy’s FBI.” She explained.

Alex’s eyes met yours from across the table and a tiny grin split your lips as both of your heads tilted in recognition from the bookstore that afternoon. You’d changed half your outfit from then, no doubt wanting to get out of work clothes, button up swapped for a cotton tank while the blazer was replaced with a plaid flannel, your hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail, soft curls swaying as you turned your head to glance back to Daniela.

“Y/N, meet Alex Blake.” She gestured between the two of you and you extended out a hand that Alex was quick to shake.

“Oh!” Your eyes widened, “Professor Blake. I’ve heard wonderful things.”

“All lies I’m sure.” Alex chuckled with a smirk.

“There’s an Agent in there somewhere too.” Daniela teased, pouring out a glass of sangria to slide over to you.

“Don’t forget Doctor.” Caitlin cut in, snagging another treat from Daniela’s plate.

“Three titles,” you mused, “now that’s impressive.”

“Gives me a nice rotation depending on who I’m talking to.” Alex joked with a shrug and you chuckled.

“So linguist in one column.” You ticked it off on your finger, “gonna take a stab in the dark and say PhD in the next.” She nodded, “but what department for the last?”

“Behaviour Analysis Unit.”

“No fucking way.” Your arm dropped to the table, a little harder than you’d intended.

“What?” Alex asked with a small laugh, taking a sip of her drink.

“I just put in papers for an application to fill the open spot on that team.” You laughed, “I’ve got an interview with an Agent… Prentiss? Next week.”

“Oh thank god.” She let out a huff of a sigh, “we’ve been too shorthanded for too long. I was barely able to get away for this week.”

“Okay, I’m grabbing another pitcher.” Daniela grabbed the empty jug of sangria from the table top, hopping off her chair and Alex was able to slide into it to continue the conversation with you.

“So you’d say there’s a decent chance then?” You raised a brow over the rim of your glass.

“As long as Prentiss thinks so.”

“Is she a hard ass?”

“No.” Alex laughed, chewing on her lip for a moment, “she’s…. driven, loyal, passionate, has high expectations but also incredibly understanding. If you look good on paper things will probably look good, but honestly to her it probably matters more what you manage in person.”

“How so?” Your head tilted, “obviously it takes a particular type of person to be a profiler, but you’re hinting at more than that.”

“Nicely done.” She nearly smirked in your direction, “our team is a family. I know most places when you hear that term it’s a red flag you should run for the hills, but that’s not true here. We spend more time together than with anyone else, our secrets and pasts come out when we’re getting into the minds of unsubs or trying to talk them down. There are things my team knows that some of my closest friends of family have never been told, and that makes us stronger, makes us work together even better.”

“Hmm.” You nodded, sucking back more of your drink, “good to know.”

“You said your interview’s next week?” She asked and you nodded again, “I get back on Tuesday, I’ll be sure to bring your name up to Emily.”

“That’d be amazing!” You beamed, eyes widening with excitement and Alex smiled softly back at you.

She wasn’t quite sure what it was, but even from the very brief moment in the bookstore earlier she already knew that she liked you. Something was simply drawing her to you, like the universe wanted you to know each other, that you were meant to cross paths. After all, you’d already done so twice in one day without even knowing the other existed when you woke up that morning. Now that you were actually getting to spend some time together the two of you clicked instantly, falling into conversation like you were old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. There was no awkwardness or weird small talk, just laughter and little jabs as if you knew exactly how to tease the other person without offending them. She knew deep within her that she had met someone that day that would be an integral part of her life, no matter how the interview ended up going.

Alex was about to elaborate to you when Daniela came back to the table with a tray in her hand and a wicked grin on her cheeks.

“It is time for shots!” She shrieked and Alex rolled her eyes.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Alex, c’mon.”

“Yeah!” Caitlin joined in, passing shots from the tray to the table, “I mean we do have a reason to celebrate after all!”

“Exactly!” Daniela high fived her, winking in her direction before raising a shot glass in Alex’s direction, “we didn’t get to celebrate your divorce when it happened, so now is as good a time as any.”

“Daniela!” Alex half scolded half laughed and the other woman simply shook her head, pointing to the shot until Alex huffed, picking up the glass and you followed suit. Glasses clinked together before liquor was sunk back, little winces echoing through the group.

“Okay!” Daniela shook it off, “that’s the liquid courage I needed.” Her eyes searched around the bar, “try to find myself a man.”

“On it.” Caitlin scooped up their drinks, handing Daniela hers before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

“You know you’re more than welcome to join them.” Alex prompted, her hand squeezing at your arm on the table top and you laughed.

“That would require me being interested in men in the first place.”

“I’m sure there’s a few nice girls out there too.”

“Meh.” You replied, sucking back at your drink, “not into it. Besides, they invite you out and then bail? Rude. I mean…” you glanced across at her, “unless you’d rather bail too, hit up the guy from your lunch date?”

Alex couldn’t help but bark out a laugh at that, her smile reaching her eyes as she looked back to you.

“That was my ex husband.” She laughed, “we’re still good friends, just, no longer in love.”

“I’m sorry.” You frowned slightly.

“Don’t be.” She shrugged with a smile, “it wasn’t anything hurtful or sad. We got married young, we’re both incredibly passionate about our careers and we spent a lot more time working than together. Things simply… fizzled out.”

“I’m glad you’re still friends.”

“Me too.” She smiled warmly back at you and the two of you slipped into an easy conversation.

Two rounds of drinks later and Caitlin had disappeared from the bar with her conquest while you and Alex were still trapped in an endless conversation that neither of you wanted to halt. Even when Daniela would swing by every so often to check in she could tell that the two of you were clearly fast friends and there was no worry about her leaving the two of you alone any longer. So she took full advantage after another tequila shot to bite the bullet and see if the man she’d been flirting with wanted to go someplace else.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, having not connected with someone like this in what felt like years and Alex would tell you she felt the same. She had just finished a story when your phone buzzed on the table top and your face fell when you glanced toward it.

“Got a case?” She asked, knowing the feeling all to well.

“Not now.” You sighed, sucking back the rest of your drink, “but my weekend is officially no longer a weekend. Gotta report to the office at nine tomorrow.”

“Ugh.” She grimaced.

“Yeah.” You huffed, sliding off the stool, thankful at least that Daniela had taken care of the tab already. “It was really nice to meet you Alex.”

“Right back at you.” She smiled softly.

“Night.” You smiled, giving her a little salute.

“Hey!” Her hand wrapped around your wrist when you were a mere foot away, tugging you back and you raised a brow in her direction, “can’t just leave without my info.”

“Oh?”

“I want to know how that interview goes.” She dug into her pocket, pulling out a business card to hand off to you, “I was serious about thinking you’d make a good fit to the team. I’ll send a text to Emily in the morning, put in a good word.”

“Thank you. Really.” With a smile, you pocketed the card, “I’ll let you know as soon as I hear anything.”

“I’m sure it’ll be good news.” She assured with a grin, watching the joy spread through you as you finally did turn from the table, waving goodnight to her once more before you vanished through the bar door.

____________

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