#ah yes the edit that never happened
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afniel · 7 months ago
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Maaaaaaaaaaaan, come on.
(the post has ended up in the tags btw. I am not changing this and I need you to understand that it is just me talking to myself semi-publicly)
#Nevi Writes#things said by a guy writing a thing he doesn't even intend to be writing and it's like 10k of words now. >:[#while that's true I do want to emphasize that nobody should get excited about it right now tho okay#because like it's just. idk. I feel very much like it could end up not worth pursuing anyway. it's just a little baby wip.#(when the fuck did my little baby wips get to be 1/4-1/2 the length of my previous 'finished' stories!! what the hell)#it just feels nice to make words tho. and it does have that kind of 'ah good to catch up with these guys again' vibe which is nice.#even if the break has once again been like. on the order of days to a week maybe. I'm so bad at this taking a break business suddenly. lel.#but I don't have anything much to say about it at this point#other than I'm debating inventing a reason that presidential elections would have been moved by a couple of years between now and 2212#what is it with me and having to be so damn precise with dates in this whole narrative. am I just mad that Capcom never tries?#(yes) (so mad)#(and 2212 would actually be an election year is the problem. I want time to have passed but I also want there to be a pres. election.)#(it's fine don't worry about it)#(this is how I decided that Blucifer got bload up and then replaced also. weird reliance on mashing up IRL things and fictional explosions)#(but it's fun isn't it? got that veneer of verisimilitude. I'm good at long words)#idk this is inevitable isn't it. but I'm going to keep playing like it's not. I think I need a little more space for this one mentally.#the first one just sort of fell out of my head fully assembled and the second one did that also but with different vibes#though it did actually take some cutting things and adjusting things to make it work which Failure to Compile did not#Failure to Compile was bizarrely effortless until the mad editing dash. Outcome Unpredictable was WORK#fun work at least! but in hindsight it was definitely more work to make it flow properly.#the real job for the 3th if it happens is gonna be wrapping up threads without dropping new ones in bc that's such a habit of mine now
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darnell-la · 3 months ago
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Wolverine forcing you to squirt for the first time?? Pretty please?
note: if you’d like an older Wolverine, you can request again. we wrote this one too fast and made it the younger Wolverine. it’s still hot!
follow our Instagram @ darnell.la so we can start posting random videos, photos, edits, and memes of the people we write about!
———
“Can’t tell me you’ve never squirted before and expect me to move on with life,” Logan said after placing you on the bathroom counter he had dragged you to during a drinking game.
The party was loud and you could still hear people playing Truth or Shot. After one of the girls asked if a man had made you squirt, and you answered that you hadn’t even done such a thing, Logan knew he had to do something about it.
He had made an excuse, asking if you could come fill up his cup with him. Of course, you came with him. He was a good friend, but you didn’t know he’d throw his cup away and drag you to the nearest bathroom.
“L-Logan -- Calm down,” Y/n gasped as his teeth sunk into her neck. “Ah uh,” he crowled, needing to give her what she deserved. “Can smell you, baby -- Can’t just leave you like this,” the man’s hands ripped at her panties after he pulled her dress up.
The young girl let out a low and shaky moan as his finger pushed inside of her. His eyes glued right on her face, watching her fall apart on his fingers in an instant.
“C’mon, baby, give it to me,” he growled, as he turned and twisted his finger in and out of her. “Too much,” she said whined as her hands fell on his shoulder. “Fuck, there’s no way,”
Logan couldn’t believe it, It seemed like she was a virgin. There’s no way one finger would make her get like this.
“Don’t lie to me, baby — Just tell me another man’s made you cum,” Logan wanted to know, but he knew the answer already. His eyes still locked onto hers, as her eyes drifted away every few seconds. She felt high, but she hadn’t smoked or drank tonight.
“N-No one has, Logan,” y/n took a while to admit, but thankfully for him, she got it out. The young girl's mind was going crazy. Logan hadn't ever shown a lick of affection towards her, yet now he was worried about whether a man had touched her?
She was confused, but he wasn’t. The thought of another man making her squirt first was unacceptable to him. He couldn’t let that happen.
Logan let his ego get the best of him, but so what? He was going to make her squirt tonight, tomorrow, the day after, and then the days after that. He was going to be the first and then last.
“I know you can take another,” the man said as he pulled out, instantly pushing two in next. “Logan!” The girl moaned at the burning feeling of her walls stretching. She was wet, but she still had to get used to the new and unfamiliar feeling.
“Fuck, yes, baby,” Logan couldn’t get over her. She looked so damn pretty. He wished he had done this months ago. He’ll gain those days back. He’ll spend every day licking at her cunt until she drowns him.
“P-P-Please,” y/n stuttered hard, trying to close her legs, but the man used his free hand to push them back open. He gripped her tightly. She wasn't going to stop him. He needed this.
“Keep your fuckin’ legs open, or I’ll fuck this cunt dumb,” the man threatened, wanting nothing to get in the way of feeling her drench his fingers. She has already coated them with slightly white and clear liquid. She never knew a man would like how much she leaked.
“Logan,” the girl gripped his shoulders tighter with a sob, feeling the knot in her stomach getting harder to control. She was embarrassed, but he wanted all over her whether she wanted to give it to him or not.
“Be a good girl — Make a mess, and I’ll clean that shit right up,” the man told no lie as his two fingers curled. Within seconds, y/n’s mouth parted as her head leaned back. Her eyes crossed as she felt her legs go stiff and her toes curled.
“Augh,” she let out a choked cry as she released on the man’s fingers. “Oh, that’s it, baby — That’s it!” The man finger fucked her cunt a bit harder to get every last drop out of her.
“P-Please,” the girl pushed at his wrists, needing a break, but he wouldn't stop. She gave up after a while and decided to pull the man into a tight hug as she struggled to breathe.
Y/n was still leaking down his hand. She couldn’t stop. He had made the girl go on for almost an hour until she passed out on his chest. breathing lightly from the exhaustion.
Logan couldn’t help but chuckle, knowing he had the girl dumb and cute, all for him. She was his. She marked him, and later when he sweet talks her into taking him as hers, he'll mark her.
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fceriestcrdst · 2 years ago
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we're not going to discuss how i've been thinking abt these two (ed & Lorraine) for the last few weeks. n o p e---we're gonna just--ignore--the fact----that i feel them going [poke poke poke poke] at me rn--
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fictionalmenxyn · 2 months ago
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•✧𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰✧•
Pairing: Drew x singer/actress!reader
(The parts that are Itallic are what you would see in the video rather than in person)
Warnings: language, slightly emotional reader (for good reason)
Face claim: Billie Eilish (what a cutie 😊)
•✧•✧•
Once again, your time has come. Your yearly interview.
This time, Drew was sat behind the camera. You sat in the directors chair. You smiled at the camera and spoke “Hi, I’m Y/n Y/l/n.. it’s currently October eighteenth, twenty-twenty-four” you smile.
Other versions of you repeat those words, only difference is the year… oh! And also your appearance, obviously.
Drew was sat on a chair opposite you and behind the camera. A big smile on his face. He loved these interviews of you.
First question ‘biggest thing that happened in your career?’ You smiled and scrunched your nose. You then lean forward in your chair and whispered the camera “I got two oscars.” You balled your fists in excitement and scrunched your face. “Two! Not one, but two… still feels like a dream”
You watch your year-younger self, “I got six Grammys! Ah!” You chuckle at your past self. You looked to the camera “two oscars and six Grammys… damn..” you and Drew laugh.
‘What’s the most important things to you right now?’ You smiled at the question. You tilt your head to look around the camera and to Drew. You answered “my love, my everything… Drew mother fucking Starkey…” he chuckled. You wave him over “c’mere, babe…” he got the green light from the director and walked over to you.
You opened your arms, he leaned down and hugged you as you sat in the chair. As he pulls away slightly, he kissed your forehead. You smiled “this is whats important to me… my Drew…” you both knew the fans were gonna make edits and comments about this. You were honestly excited to see the edits. You loved how cute your fans were when it came to you and Drew.
You and Drew watched your younger self “uh probably my boyfriend… he’s the best-” younger you looked to the camera “I love ya, Drew!” You both laughed.
Drew kissed your forehead once more, then went back behind the camera; sitting in his chair once again.
‘Craziest fan moment?’ You answered “it was at New York, my latest tour. I noticed a girl in the crowd. She looked like she had something in her hand. So when we did our usual ten minute break. I walked over to her, cause she didn’t leave her spot. She held a box, saying it was a gift for me and she couldn’t get vip tickets to meet backstage. So I opened it, and i literally broke down crying, happy tears of course. What was in the box, was a handmade painting of Drew and I. In a frame, it was our photo I said was my favourite of us. On the set of outer banks, still dressed in our characters clothes. On our characters dirt bikes, our heads against each others. She said it took her eighteen hours. It’s not a crazy moment, but definitely sentimental…”
You watched younger you, ‘dude, everyone kept throwing T-shirts with Drew’s face on stage!” You laughed. Still having them shirts. You never got rid of them. Never crossed you mind to get rid of them.
‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ You smiled and shook your head “no I don’t…” your grin grew bigger as you lifted your left hand up “I got a fiancé!!” Drew’s smile only grew bigger. God you were so cute in his mind. Always have, always will.
You look at last year’s clip “yes I do, Drew, my childhood bestie, and lover, love his soul… miss my baby, haven’t saw him in a few hours… gonna see him later though excited.” You laughed at your younger you.
‘Describe your style in three words’ you smiled and tilted your head “open to opportunity.”
Your 2023 self said “live laugh Drew�� you bursted out laughing and replied “I said that?!” You laughed.
‘Favourite movie?’ You smiled “ooo probably Beetlejuice… the original, although the new one is really good.. you know I love a good Tim Burton movie…”
You answered “Batman The Dark Knight, Cillian and Heath are soooo good in that movie, so was Christian Bale… but Cillian and Heath…” you playfully roll your eyes at younger you. You remarked “god I was practically drooling over that movie” you laugh.
‘What are you working on currently?’ You smiled “well, as you recently found out, I’m working on an album… which is half done… and I’m starring in the newest Outer Banks season, once again…”
2023 you spoke “a movie and Outer Banks… oh! And a single…”
‘One thing you’d like to do with your career this year?’ You smiled “as usual, to star in a Tim Burton movie…” you wink at the camera.
Younger you answered “obviously star in a Tim Burton movie, pretty sure I said that since like the third year, right??” You chuckle.
You look to the camera, “thanks for checking in on me, Vanity Fair… once again a great yearly catch up! I love you guys!” You waved Drew to come back over. Which he did. He leaned down to get into frame. You both smile, you spoke “we love you all! See you soon!”
•✧•✧•
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reikissu · 7 months ago
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❥・• kaedehara kazuha and wanderer dating hcs.
a/n: might be ooc, i’ll try my best to edit it and make it more accurate to their character huhu
ꔛ genre: fluff, romance
ꔛ reader: gender neutral
ꔛ warnings: corny stuff, cursing
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my, you're a lucky one to be the paramour of kaedehara kazuha.. because life is about to change.
he's swift as the wind, with just his way of words and voice.. he can make you turn flustered in a matter of minutes.
with just a call, you feel as if you're on cloud 9.
"dearest, may you come here?" "huh? uh sure...! (⌯❛௦❛⌯)" then he asks why your cheeks are red HAHA
his petnames for you are like a sweet flavor to his tongue, calling you out by using his petnames makes him feel warm.
he calls you dearest, dear and love. they vary in different days when he chooses one.
his love language is definitely gifts and physical touch, he loves writing poems and giving it to you, since you are his inspiration of the poems he gives to you.
and they turn out to be so romantic that you start giggling while reading it, after all.. it is all about you and he wrote it full-heartedly.
everytime it’s autumn, he would bring you to a cliff where the trees are in view, sitting next to you as you both behold the sight of the maple leaves flowing along with the wind.
he would take one leaf and put it behind your ear as an accessory, "you look beautiful, my love." he says as he gives a soft smile. 🤭
as i also mentioned, his other love language is physical touch. he likes to feel your soft skin against his, he'll kiss you, hug you, hold your hand.. anything that’s comfortable with you.
on certain occasions he would hold your hand, whenever you both are alone of course.. wouldn’t want anyone prying on your moments with kazuha, no?
he would share his experiences when he traveled with beidou or by himself, it would always have interesting events happening in them. so it’s very entertaining to listen to.
HE DEF KNOWS HOW TO SEW, because i hc that when tomo had rips on his clothes, kazuha would fix them. so kazuha would gift you handmade clothes, handkerchiefs, scarfs… you name it, and it will always be in your favorite color. “Ah, shit! My sleeve ripped!” “Mm? Oh, give me the top you’re currently wearing tomorrow, i will fix it.” “You know how to sew?” “Yes, my dear.” “Aw, thank you..” “You’re welcome :)”
sometimes when you both are in the mood to hangout on the ship, Captain Beidou always teases you both “Hey, hey.. no one told me the lovebirds would board the ship!” “Captain beidou…” you and the other crew mates just laugh it off.
you and Beidou would talk about Kazuha and tell stories, and she had one piece of advice for you. “Just come to me if Kazuha hurts you or did something wrong, i’ll teach that kid a lesson.” “Is that a threat, captain?” you laugh, kazuha mutters under his breath, leaning on the wall of the ship "Why would i ever do that to them.."
all jokes aside, having kazuha in your life is a blessing from the gods that you can never thank them enough for.
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at first, wanderer wasn’t the sweetest boyfriend. But after learning about relationships and love.. he started showing how much he loves you.
after he regained his memories, he was back to his old, sassy and arrogant self. But that didn’t stop him from being soft around you.
in public, he’s the biggest asshole you’ll ever meet istg, but when alone with you, he just suddenly melts into your touch.
he’d let you play with his hair, cuddle with him or more. you’re one of the people he trusts and loves, so he doesn’t mind it. he likes being pampered and pampering you.
he doesn’t have a petname for you, he just calls you by your name. but if he’s feeling nice enough, he’ll call you babe.
“Babe, can you-“ “Huh? What did you call me? 🤩” “..Babe. Are you deaf?” “OH MY GOSH 🥹” then he’d just stare at you like “what’s so shocking about that?” HAHAHAHAHA
his love language would mainly be physical touch, but in my opinion his love languages would be all, depending on his mood.
he would make fun of you sometimes, if you trip he’d definitely laugh his ass off but will help you stand up, if you accidentally say something that is SO stupid he’ll literally never shut up about it.
he would try food or things that you like, so he’d understand your preferences. But if you like sweets, he’d have a hard time with it. he’d spend an hour just trying to swallow it, he hates it.
“What’s wrong? Do you not like dango?” “….No. I like dango.” (He’s about to puke.)
wanderer wasn’t very good at showing his love through physical touch, but he would give you soft yet quick kisses, it’s like cotton grazing on your lips. after a while, he would be able to kiss you more confidently without any hesitation in private.
he is slightly showy in public, just subtle hand and waist holding as you two walk through sumeru, eat somewhere, or do any activities outside. like stargazing, watching a play etc.
whenever he would see you eyeing something you want, he would click his tongue and say “Tsk, buy it yourself.” then later night he’s holding a bag with the item/food you wanted earlier… “Hm? Isn’t that the food/thing i wanted?” “…Yeah.” “I thought you told me to buy it myself?” “Shut up, i changed my mind.” (he will get absolutely pissed off and flustered if you tease him about it 😭)
he would help you in any way he can, cooking, laundry, blahblahblah. just anything, so he could take the weight off your shoulders. you’re a hardworking person in his eyes, and he admires that, and he’s willing to be one with you.
he would surprisingly like cuddling, but not the one with those type of cuddling where it turns into some steamy stuff. i have a gut feeling he would love chill and tender moments with you, like talking about past experiences and laughing together, watching a movie together, etc. he loves seeing you smile and laugh, it makes him feel warm inside.
would kill for you, if anyone tries to harm you, they’ll be buried 6 feet under for that. even though he acts hard to get, he loves and cares for you a lot. he does not give a single shit if you’re bigger and taller than him, he knows he’s capable of protecting you.
overall, his life with you is the happiest one he has ever had. wanderer loves you with all his heart.
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© reikissu do not repost/steal any of my works and repost it on other platform/s. I do not own the characters i write for at all, reblogs are appreciated though ♡
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catscidr · 2 months ago
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˖ ࣪⊹ ౨ৎ 𝐤!𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤 𝟏: 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐤!𝐧𝐤 // — 𝐟𝐭. 𝐝𝐨𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫!𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐮/𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐳𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢.
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i. note — OFF TO A ROUGH START the kenny/geto fic ended up being a whopping 4,5k so i edited it down to be roughly 2k (the full ver is gonna be on ao3 though!) so if the writing seems funky That's Why + im still not completely used to writing smut yet. similar thing kinda happened w zhongli but i went fuck it we ball so im sry if the smut feels short bare with me. im stressed. ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) anyways pls enjoy and happy kinktober lads ii. includes — amab!kenjaku (geto's appearance), zhongli. afab!reader iii. cw — kinda mean dom!kenjaku, he's referred to as suguru for Reasons, dubcon bc power dynamics, manipulation, teasing, fingering, dirty talk, one singular cl!t slap, praise and degradation, he's a yapper. -> can very well be read as a mean!suguru/reader if u choose to ignore that one line about his forehead lol — soft dom!zhongli, hu tao cameo, praise, fingering, some whimpering, piv, implied multiple orgasms, a lil breathplay, he nuts dubiously fast, implied round 2 iv. wc — 4,3k -> ao3 link for the full kenjaku fic here!
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— 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐆./𝐊𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐮.
“So, according to your medical records, you’ve never had a pap smear. Is that correct?” 
Your blood runs cold. Shit, I didn’t think he would bring THAT up during a normal, unassuming routine checkup. I’m so fucked. 
“Ah, um... no, I haven’t,” you respond sheepishly, clenching your teeth so hard you wonder if he can tell just how hard you’re trying not to bolt out of the door. 
If he wasn’t a medical professional, Suguru would have made a fine actor; and so, as all normal doctors do, he belts you with numerous questions you loathe answering, one of them being the infamous; 
“Are you sexually active?” 
Swallowing down the urge to flee the scene, away from those stupid fluorescent lights and that irritating cleaning solution smell, you answer as normally as you possibly can. “I have been, but-” 
“Have you been made aware that all female bodies that have been sexually active should get a pap smear as soon as they turn 21?” he adds, jotting something down in his notes—your personal file, you assume. 
You gulp, internally thinking of excuses to worm into the conversation. “I have, yes. But Doctor Ieiri told m-” 
“I’m sorry, but I am not Doctor Ieiri. I want the best for my patients, even if some procedures can be uncomfortable. That’s just the way life is; but I’ll do my best to accommodate your needs.” Suguru gives you a patient smile and a nod, though he was firm and, honestly, quite stubborn. 
Relenting, you murmur a quiet ‘okay’, already justifying this, telling yourself that it could be worse. You could be getting a pap smear from an old man that still believe women shouldn’t be allowed ibuprofen when getting an IUD inserted. 
“Great! Then please take off your pants and underwear. I’ll step out to give you some privacy.” Suguru flashes you an award-winning smile as he leaves the vicinity, drawing back the light curtain that separated his actual office to the examination room. 
All blood drains from your being as you listen to the sound of his footsteps fading, and instead you’re met with heavy, oppressive silence. 
... 
You knew getting a pap smear would be uncomfortable, that much was a given, but you didn’t think it would be near as humiliating as this. Doctors witness people both inside AND out, day and night; so pray tell, why were you sweating bullets at the prospect of your doctor doing his job? Was it because he was infuriatingly attractive and the thought of someone like him performing your pap smear was enough to get your blood rushing south? 
(Obviously.) 
“You’re doing great,” he coos encouragingly. “Do you need a moment?” 
You blink away the tears that glossed your eyes, and nod sheepishly. He flashes you a smile and gently pulls out the speculum. You wince, but the sting wears off quickly. As a silent apology, he slides the hand that rested on your stomach down until it reaches your pelvis and applies slight pressure. 
“Deep breaths.” 
You inhale slowly, eyes fluttering shut. Right when you started to feel calmer, you jolt; his thumb brushes against your clit, a movement that seemed too calculated to be an accident. Your eyes snap open and as you look down, you’re met with his eyes piercing into yours as he continuously rubs you, almost casually. 
“W-Wha-” 
He shushes you by pressing his thumb down firmly, earning himself a nice, breathy whimper. 
“You need to relax. Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, lips curling upwards. 
Your eyes zero in on the way his thumb smears your slick all over your clit— and his hand. You’re so wet that you can hear your pleasure, squelching noises violating your ears with the repetitive movements of his thumb, and you feel the coil inside of you tighten in tandem with his fingers. Tighter and tighter, aggressively shoving you towards your rapidly incoming climax. 
And God the latex of his glove rubs against your skin so deliciously. Your hips roll up to meet his hand for more stimulation you don’t even think you can handle. You’re so lost in the pleasure he’s giving you that you don’t even notice how desperate you look until he laughs, the noise sounding so incredibly sweet in your ears despite your humiliating predicament. 
Straightening his back, Suguru breaks eye contact to peer down at your slick cunt. “You’re dripping so much it’s getting on the table. Did you even notice you were this aroused, or were you too focused on drilling holes into me to realize it?” He scoffs, decidedly amused at the sight of your pussy clenching around nothing while he continues to stimulate your needy clit. 
You want to deny his (correct) assumptions, to pull away and leave this damn building until further notice, but God was he skilled with his hands. His fingers were dangerous, lethal even. 
“I’m n-” 
Your breath hitches when he smacks your clit, his sharp brows furrowing as he sneers at you and your blissful expression betraying what you wished to say. It shouldn’t, but the sight turns you on in a way you’d never say without squirming in shame. “Don’t lie to me now. How long have you been wet for?” 
Shaking your head, you purse your lips in a tight line, ashamed to admit that you had been ever since he first started the examination. 
Scoffing, he stands up, towering over you from between your legs. He leans over you, cupping your face as he forces his thumb past your lips, making you taste yourself and the polymer fabric of the glove on his thumb. 
“You didn’t think I’d notice? You started fidgeting quite a lot once I started the checkup. Was it the proximity? Do you find me so attractive you forget how to act normally?” he gloats, pushing his thumb down onto your tongue. Looking up at him through dewy eyelashes, you swallow the saliva that pools in your mouth.
He grins, lowering his face closer to yours; some strands of his hair come undone from the bun, and you feel drawn to his gaze. You can’t look away—neither figuratively or literally. You stare into his eyes, drinking in the sight of his picturesque features, and that painful-looking but intriguing scar running across his forehead. 
(You’re not sure you would look away even if you had a choice, anyways.) 
“Do you have a fetish for doctors or something? How filthy,” he croons. “Or is it my gloves? Do you like feeling my hands prodding at your cunt? And here I was, trying to be useful.” When you whimper around the thumb in your mouth, he knows he’s guessed correctly. 
(He’s so pretty. Vague images of him—his hands—appear in your mind. You want him to pin your wrists together while he fingerfucks you, you want him to wrap a hand around your throat while he scissors you open, you want—) 
He uses his free hand to glide it between your legs and slides his fingers up and down your slit to collect your juices. It drips down his fingers, past the polymer of his glove down to the porcelain skin beneath it. “I bet there isn’t going to be any resistance when I slide my fingers in,” he pulls out his thumb from your mouth and smears your saliva on your lips, then cups your cheeks with said hand. “Want to find out?” 
You gasp when he pushes his ring and middle fingers inside simultaneously as your walls flutter so nicely around them—with the dexterity of, well, a doctor, he quickly finds that spongy spot inside of you and abuses it until you’re a writhing, squirmy mess. 
Moans slip freely from your tender lips, a cacophony of wet slaps and ‘ah! ah!’’s echo in the room while Suguru drinks in the sight of your body submitting up to him. 
“There you go, wasn’t this worth putting your trust in me?” he uses the opportunity to slip two fingers inside of your mouth with the hand that held your face, muffling your slutty moans. “Aren’t you glad you let me do your pap smear? Aren’t you glad I could tell how badly you wanted this?” 
A choked whimper rips through you when he begins to use his thumb to rub your clit at the same time as he bullies his fingers in your wet pussy. His lips stretch into a sinister grin as he watches you struggle to catch your breath; you were so overwhelmed your head spun, oxygen failing you. 
You latch your hands around his forearm and wrist as you try to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure; though your attempts are in vain. “P-Please! I can-can't take much... more...!” you manage to choke out. 
He laughs, his own breathing becoming shallower and shallower the more he pushes you near the edge of your orgasm. “I don’t care, I’ll make you take it if I have to. Come on, you can be good for me, can’t you?” 
You drool around the fingers he kept in your mouth as tears threaten to slide down your cheeks, overwhelmed with how much he kept rubbing you from the inside and out. Cracking your eyes open, you take a peek at the mess between your legs, and immediately clench around him when you catch but a glimpse of the mix of dried and wet slick on his blue glove. 
He notices and slows down the rhythm of his fingers thrusting inside you, letting you catch your breath for a moment. “So filthy,” he hums condescendingly. “Since you love my hands so much, you won’t mind cleaning them off, right?” 
Your poor, fucked-out brain doesn’t have the time to process what he meant before you whine at the loss of his thick fingers inside your cunt and then are immediately met with those same fingers thrust past your lips, making you gag around them. The tangy taste of your juices hits your tastebuds as you wrap your tongue around them, dutifully doing as he asked. 
His sharp eyes meet your own cloudy ones, seemingly satisfied. “Good girl,” he coos. “Who would have known that someone like you would get off to sucking off a glove.” You whine, holding onto his free hand to bring it between your legs, batting your eyelashes up at him needily.  
“Hm? Does my filthy little patient want to cum?” You shudder as he drags his fingers up and down your cunt, collecting your slick to flick your clit. You choke around the fingers in your mouth, whining, almost crying, and your eyelids flutter shut, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finally surrender yourself to him. 
“Of course she does.” He plunges three fingers inside your cunt, bullying them in and out over and over and over until you can’t even lick and suck on his fingers anymore. You’re too busy letting out loud moans as he abuses your sweet spot endlessly; long forgotten are the worries that plagued your mind earlier. All you could think of was Suguru, Suguru, Suguru. 
A shudder runs down his spine as he watches you writhe in pleasure, and for a moment he imagines just how much worse you would look if he had teased your tits or kissed you until you couldn’t breathe. If the tip of his cock kissed your g-spot instead of his fingers. 
(Maybe he should bribe the secretary and make her schedule your next doctor’s visit with him instead of Ieiri.) 
“That’s it, come on. Cum on my fingers.” Your lips wrap around the fingers in your mouth, teeth grazing them just barely as you try to contain your moans.  
Unable to contain yourself any longer, you clench around his gloved fingers as he continuously rubs up into your sweet spot. The coil in your abdomen snaps; slick gushes out of you, forming a thin sheen on his fingers. 
“F-Fuck—!” With trembling thighs, you gush and moan; Suguru pulls his hand away from your face, cooing sweet nothing into your ears that your brain can’t even process while thrusting his digits into you at a slower pace to drag out your orgasm. After almost wringing his fingers dry with how hard you came, you lay numb on the examination bed, chest heaving while you try to catch your breath and come to your senses. 
Your eyelids flutter open just in time to watch your doctor lick his gloved fingers clean, humming as he tastes your juices. “Sweet,” he hums, never breaking eye contact with you. “Here, since you loved them so much.” With swift movements, he tosses his gloves on your chest, grinning at your astonished expression. 
“Well, nothing’s wrong with you,” he says as he stands tall, rolling his shoulders to lessen the strain from being hunched over you for a solid ten minutes. When you respond with nothing but a quiet, blissed-out ‘huh’ he scoffs, decidedly amused. 
He clarifies, voice light and casual. “The pap smear. Nothing abnormal in there.” 
Feeling your face heat up, you’re unsure if you should curse out or thank Doctor Ieiri for taking a vacation at the same time you needed to schedule your annual checkup.
— 𝐙𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐢.
You don’t know what you’ve done in your past life for Celestia to reward you with the most caring, loving boyfriend in the world but you’re not complaining—not one bit. 
Even something as banal as waking up next to him is a blessing in it of itself; watching his hair drape over bare shoulders, locks shimmering like a river of gold beneath the sun’s rays peeking through your curtains—you could die happy if it meant dying at his side. 
You get to admire him when he goes through his—your morning routine. Brushing your teeth together, cooking and then eating breakfast together, basking in the lively sounds of the city beneath your patio as you engage in easy, comfortable conversation with none other than Rex Lapis while you eat. 
The one thing you’re certain you would never tire of—not that you’d get tired of anything when it came to him either way—is watching him get dressed. 
There’s something so comforting and entirely domestic when it comes to helping your lover slip out of his pajamas and into his day clothes. Kisses are a common form of currency between you two, exchanged gingerly when you hand him an article of clothing. He never fails to make you feel loved, and you bask in the affection like a cat sprawled out beneath a window on a sunny afternoon. 
Though, one sure-fire way to obliterate the cozy atmosphere within your flat is, you’ve recently discovered, to stare at Zhongli just a liiittle bit too hard when he gets dressed. 
Specifically, his arms and hands. 
Strong, scarred biceps that used to reshape the mountains of Liyue leading to elegant, lithe fingers. Sleeves that hide intricate, delicate black and grey markings on his arms that fade into a rich golden yellow, adorned with veins of the same color that make him look even more expensive than he already does. 
But when he adds the finishing touch and slips on those pretty gloves with his rings? 
It’s like you just defy all normal bodily functions and start ovulating even if you’re nowhere near that part of your cycle. 
“Dearest? You’ve been zoning out a lot lately, is everything alright?” 
...Though, of course, Zhongli hasn’t been up to date with your newly raging hormones because how are you supposed to tell him you can’t help popping a metaphorical boner every time he puts his gloves on.
“You’re fi—I mean, I’m fine! Yes. Everything’s okay!” 
He is the concept of temptation itself. You’re certain that if you had a dick, you would have passed out cold on the floor from your blood rushing down to your hard-on every time you merely lay eyes on his beautiful self.
And it’s gotten even worse these last couple of days; all because he cupped your cheek one morning before he left for the funeral parlor, and left a salacious kiss on your lips that left more than just your usual desire brewing in your abdomen. The material of his gloves left your skin feeling pleasantly tingly for a reason you couldn’t explain.
….Those stupid gloves.
“I can tell something’s bothering you.” Long legs stride over the bed as he closes the distance between you two. “What’s wrong?” 
He’s half-dressed, with his tie slung around his nape and both his vest and tailored coat lying flat on your shared bed, next to where you sat. You sheepishly avoid eye-contact; with how perceptive he is, you wouldn’t be surprised if he hit you with a nonchalant ‘hey babe are you turned on because of my hands and gloves?’ 
No.
Yes.
“It’s nothing,” you hum. “You should finish getting dressed, don’t you have a meeting in half an hour? Director Hu won’t be happy if you-” 
Zhongli places his thumb and forefinger on and beneath your chin, gently tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “That’s not what I asked, darling.” You suppress a gasp; but focusing on anything but the scrumptious man in front of you is a task more daunting than Sisyphus having to carry that stupid boulder up that stupid mountain. 
“Promise you won’t laugh.” Your voice comes out so meek you fear he might make you repeat yourself, but ever the gentleman, Zhongli merely hums, coaxing you to continue. “I won’t,” he says softly. 
You swallow, clearing out your throat before speaking. “It’s, uh,” you murmur. “Your gloves are... nice...”
Unable to hold his gaze, you look away. The warmth of the morning sun beating on your back isn’t entirely helping your situation, as beads of sweat form at your hairline from the sheer pressure he kept over you. Curse his Archon blood.
But Zhongli merely stares, lids relaxed as he tries to dissect you with his eyes. “They are, thank you,” he chuckles quietly, lips curling up into a soft smile. “Are you sure that’s everything, though? You know you can tell me anything, right my dear?” 
“Um,” you deflate, partly wishing for that to be the end of it. “...Are you sure you won’t laugh?” 
“I promise,” he confirms. 
Huffing, you internally think of how much mora you would have to take out of your savings to get a name change and disappear off the face of Teyvat if he ends up going back on his promise. 
“Your gloves,” you reiterate slowly. “I like them. A lot.” 
He blinks, expression entirely unchanging as he keeps staring. He tilts his head, wordlessly expressing complete and utter confusion.
“They’re, uh... I’m just.” You clench and unclench your hands at your sides, too aware of his calm breathing compared to your erratic heartbeat. “...Youmakemehorny.” 
With your fists clenching the sheets and your gaze firmly planted on the wall, you fail to notice the amused quirk of his lips and his shoulders bobbing up and down from holding in his laugh. “What was that?” 
You exhale sharply as your lips press into a tight line, but his patience greatly outweighs your own and you fold. “Your gloves turn me on! It’s hot! When you wear them!” 
True to his word, Zhongli doesn’t laugh—not a peep. You do think you hear a chuckle leave his lips though, but when you finally glance at him again, you’re met with a look that might have made you implode on the spot if this were your first time together. “Zhongli—” 
“Thank you for being open with me, my dear,” he cuts you off smoothly, leaning down to press a chaste kiss on your lips. Pulling away slowly, he looks at you with such intensity that you fear for your legs in the future. “Shall I reward you?” 
... 
“Ngh—Zhongli...!” 
You two had been at it for... what, twenty? Thirty minutes straight? You don’t remember what happened after you admitted what had been on your mind for almost a week; he wasted no time and immediately got to work. 
Talk about dedication. 
Chin covered in your slick, Zhongli laps up the juices spilling out of your puffy pussy, dragging out your last orgasm—the third of the session. He groans as the sweet taste hits his tastebuds, the Archon’s hips unconsciously rutting against the bed; the tent in his slacks was borderline painful, but being the gentleman he is, it was his duty to get you off before the main course.
“Ride it out darling,” he hums, pumping two gloved fingers in and out of you at a leisurely pace. The obscene noise of your juices echo in your mind, making you clench around his digits with carnal need for something more—something bigger. 
“I-I can’t, I want...” you trail off, weakly tugging at his disheveled hair. The hair tie he used slipped uselessly off of his locks, having fallen victim to your vicious pulling of his hair. “Please, baby,” you beg weakly, still choked up from your climax(es).
With one last, long lick, he pulls away from your cunt. The sight of his cum covered face makes you whine with desire, but as your eyes trail down, your mind immediately forgets about needing his tongue back on your clit. He shuffles up the bed and straddles your hips, bucking up against your wetness.
Slick covers his crotch, and you can’t help but stare at his bulging cock pressing against the fabric of his pants. “See something you like?” he taunts, bringing his fingers up to his mouth to lick them clean from your juices.
You stare at his lips, then back down to his very obvious hard-on, and back to his lips again.
His figure shadows yours as he cages you in with his forearms, golden eyes piercing into your own. “Zhongli...” you reach down to tug at his belt, looking up at your beloved with big, glossy eyes. “Please don’t make me beg.” 
A hand comes up to your face, stroking your cheek gently. He brings it down to tug on your bottom lip, smearing his saliva on your skin as a gentle smile spreads across his face. “Of course not, darling,” he hums. “I know what you need anyways, so there’s no need to tell me.”
He swiftly unbuckles his belt and unzips his pants, exposing the prominent wet patch on his briefs. “See what you do to me?” Zhongli purrs, watching your fingers impatiently pull down his underwear, shuddering when his heavy cock smacks against your cunt. “You’re not the only one here that gets riled up in such a way.” 
You whine, dragging your hand up and down his throbbing length, pushing it down at the same time as you slide up the bed just enough for his flushed tip to snag onto your entrance. 
“Z-Zhonglii...!” you huff again, impatiently grinding down onto him, desperately needing him to fill you already. A chuckle slips past his lips, and he pulls himself out of his short-lived trance that consisted of staring at his beautiful partner to cup your face. 
“I’m sorry darling,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your nose so gently it feels like a butterfly brushed your flushed skin. “You just looked too beautiful not to admire.” 
The compliment makes heat bloom onto your face, but as quickly as your expression melted into a love-stricken one, it morphs into pleasure as you gasp, feeling him push his fat cock into your needy hole.
“Fuck—so tight,” he mumbles, slowly bottoming out. “Are you alright, darling? Do you need a minute?” Zhongli huffs, brows pinched together as he exerts his self-control to not just ram himself into you immediately. You shake your head quickly, jaw slack, desperately trying to create more friction against your g-spot. 
“Please just—” you choke on your words, feeling him pull back and thrust into you again in one swift movement, the slap of skin against skin making your skin burn with both arousal and embarrassment. 
Zhongli’s right hand slides down to pull your shirt up over your chest, and almost immediately he gropes your breast, groaning at the feeling of the fat of your tit spilling out from between his fingers. 
“So good to me,” he praises, amber gaze burning into you, studying your expression to burn it within his mind. “I can feel you clenching around me.”
He swallows, trying so hard not to bust right then and there. “D’you want to cum, darling? Are you close?” 
Whimpering, you grab his left wrist and tug, looking up at him with a gasp. “Mhm,” you hum quietly, while biting your lip. Shlick sounds invade your eardrums, forcing soft little gasps to leave your lips in tandem with his thrusts. 
“My sweetheart.” The Archon slides his left hand down your face to your throat, pushing down just enough to make your head feel lighter. The cold metal of his rings makes a shiver run up your spine, and as you choke out a gasp, Zhongli brings his other hand down between your bodies to rub your clit. 
“Go on, cum for me darling.” He grunts, shutting his eyes to hold his impending orgasm back. “P-Please, need to feel that gorgeous pussy milking me before I do,” he breathes out, focusing on the pressure he kept on your throat. 
Your eyelids flutter; and as your eyes roll up to the back of your head, you buck your hips up to meet his thrusts, clenching dangerously around his shaft. He thrusts once, twice, and you feel the dam snap as you gush around him, your back arching clean off the bed. You claw at his arms, writhing against the bed as moans leave your throat in waves in rhythm with your orgasm.
Zhongli’s brows furrow and his thrusts slow as you cum, but right as he blinks the bleariness away and meets your glossy, fucked-out gaze, he feels his heart clench. 
“Haah, m-my love—” 
Unable to speak a warning into existence, he shoots his load into you, painting your walls white with thick, warm cum. Pretty moans leave him as his head droops down to the junction of your neck, and his hips stutter while instinctively pushing his cum deeper into you, overstimulating both you and himself. 
“Z-Zhongli, ‘s too much,” you whimper, pressing your palms onto his clothed chest—a poor attempt of pushing him away. “Too full...!” 
Reluctantly, he gives you some breathing room and sits on his haunches to catch his breath. Watching your cunt flutter around nothing, he hums, pressing his hand on your lower stomach to watch the cum pool down the sheets with a hungry gaze. “Mm, I beg to differ,” he coos, flashing you a smirk. “There’s plenty of space left still.”
Your limbs rest numbly as you lay there on your shared bed, completely breathless. Your gaze flickers to the hand he kept on top of your stomach, and your pussy instantly clenches at the sight. 
“Then... how about round two?” 
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v. taglist — @leiselotte, @sukunadckrider, @moraxnomora, @skylar896, @callinz, @animecinnamonroll99 , @pe4rl-diver, @kimisukimimi, @casuallynotthirsty, @coffee-ground-bones
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reobsessed · 1 year ago
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Guiding My Heart
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Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral. Content/Content Warning: Panic attacks, anxiety, fluff, hurt, comfort, kissing, 2200 words. Summary: You'd finally made it to Baldur's Gate, unfortunately the city overwhelmed you in ways you hadn't considered possible. Astarion finds you panic stricken, hiding beneath a bridge. He does his best to comfort you and guide you through the sunset streets back to camp. Author's Note: Hi guys thank you so much for the love on my last fic! Wanted to do a comfort anxiety fic, so please bear in mind panic attacks are depicted in here. Thank you again to Suri for the wonderful reads and edits!
The chance to regain your bearings never came, as you were flushed down the street by a torrent of people. You watched with garbled breaths as your companions navigated them easily, all while you were pushed back further.
Heart pumping, nerve tingling desperation took hold of you; the kind you’d only ever felt during the heat of battle. It was fight or flight, as you ducked into a bricked out dead end.
Were you dying? Your chest pounded and ached as though you were dying. Upon examining yourself, there was scarcely a wound to be seen. Checking yourself over for injuries only heightened your fear. What if it was poison? 
The numbing weakness in your legs grew, you clutched the wall for support. 
“Darling, darling? Whatever is the matter?” The sweet words of your lover filled the hollow of the underpass. 
You could only respond in the form of irregular gasps. Fingers, slender and cold, held steadfast to your waist. You gave up control and allowed them to lower you onto a nearby crate. He crouched down beside you and pried your balled up fist away from your heart, replacing your hand with his own. 
“Did something frighten you, my dear?” His forehead crinkled with concern, before being undercut by an attempt at humour. “I’ve only ever heard it beat that fast for me, but I suspect this time I’m not the cause.” He shot you a reassuring smile, belied by a tremble in his voice.
“Started panicking. Don’t know why,” you choked.
He looked at you sympathetically, before rising to his feet. “Won’t be a moment my dear, stay here.” And with that he ran off, back the way you came. You could hear murmurings outside. Those of your partner’s hurried reassurance and that of your companions, voices raised with concern and inquisition.
The voices began to die down, as did the palpitations in your heart. Astarion rounded the corner back towards you, but slowed his approach upon seeing your distress. He moved gracefully and feline, as if you were prey not to be disturbed.
You looked behind him worriedly, but were relieved when none of your other companions followed behind. They didn’t need to see you like this. You didn’t want them to see you like this. Ideally you didn’t want anybody here, but if it were to be anyone you were glad it was him.
“Now then.” He crouched down beside you, dabbing your forehead with a frilled cloth. Cooling relief washed over you as he held the palm of his hand against your temple.
“Feels good,” you sighed, leaning into his touch.
“Ah yes, I thought that might help. You’re terribly warm.”
His gentle touch and the soothing cadence of his voice were enough to calm you, but the unpleasant tingle of your limbs persisted, as did your erratic breathing.
“Sorry for all of this, Astarion.”
“For what?” he mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.
“I don’t know what’s happening to me. You only just got back, you finally get to see it in daylight and I’m ruining it.”
“Don’t be silly! We’re hardly leaving tomorrow. I’ll have plenty of time to wander the sunlit streets.” 
Despite his reassurance, your eyes began to well. Something about the rise in his tone unsettled you and like a toddler crying over their parent’s temper, you began to sob.
“Shit,” he muttered, looking around desperately; his face an entanglement of hurt and bewilderment. “I didn’t mean to upset you, my darling.” His hands clamped over yours, desperate to provide you with any sort of comfort. “Did I do something wrong?”
You tried to speak, but all that came out were incoherent whimpers. He looked at you with panic stricken eyes, hands still holding firmly onto yours.
This wasn’t fair, he didn't know how to deal with this sort of thing. You were supposed to support him, you-
“My love.” He looked at you sincerely, a slight smile gracing his lips; one of those rare, genuine smiles, few ever got to see. “Let’s stay here a little while longer.” He planted a tender kiss on the corner of your mouth and held you close.
Tears of a new source began to flow and there was no holding them back. His fingers curled around yours; you were drowning and they were your anchor. You tried to wipe away your tears, but he wouldn’t let you.
“Gods, darling, no. Think of all that dirt and those… fluids- from your enemies I mean, not yours.” He pulled another handkerchief from his pocket (did this man just have an endless supply?) and gently, he dabbed at your eyes and cheeks.
“Thank you,” you sniffled.
“There we are.” He looked you up and down, appreciating his work. “All cleaned up! Shame about your makeup, but nothing we can’t fix.”
Red soreness blazed across your cheeks and seared your eyes with swollen intensity. A quick glance into a nearby puddle revealed the inky smear that enveloped your eyes. Gods, what a sight you were and yet he looked at you with such affection.
You lamented his hands detaching from yours, until they returned to your thigh, stroking soothing circles up and down your leg. Lodged deep within the pulsating heart of the city, you'd finally found your pocket of serenity. Unfortunately your respite was short lived as adolescent bellows converged on your hiding spot.
Astarion’s ears twitched in their direction and his face warped from one of contentment to bitter irritation.
“Oi, oi hanging out under a bridge.”
“Like a couple of lovesick trolls.”
You rolled your eyes at their childish remarks. Astarion, however, lacked the patience needed when dealing with youths. He shot them a glare so piercing, it silenced them in an instant. He was a stray cat, territorial and fierce. A non-existent hiss threatened them from the shadows and like a pair of puppies, they whimpered and scurried out of view.
“Was that really necessary?” you laughed hoarsely. 
“What? You can’t honestly expect me to sit here listening to children babbling on.”
You stifled your laughter. “You’re such an old man. You used to be like that too, you know?”
“I’ll have you know, I was never the sort.”
“I sometimes wonder about that myself,” he laughed bitterly, changing the subject. “Are you feeling better now, love?”
“Hmm, I wonder what kind of child you were.”
You closed your eyes and nodded. “We need to get back to the others.” You rose to your feet and Astarion joined you, a supportive hand on your lower back.
“Very well then, I’ll lead the way.” His fingers locked with yours as he led you back into the sunlight. He lit up literally and figuratively, his skin beaming like a pearl in the warm light and his mouth curling into a soft smile. He was truly in his element. “Which route would you prefer? We have the scenic back alleys of Baldur’s Gate and the even more picturesque sewers down below.”
“We can go the normal way. I don’t think I’ll subject you to the sewers just yet.” You smirked knowingly. Your adventure would lead you down into the sewers eventually, why wouldn’t it?
With a guiding hand he led you away from the dark alleyways and into the teeming streets. You did your best to suppress your rising panic. You focused on the prevailing scraps of nature: trickling water, rustling leaves and the painless cry of birds up above. Astarion, on the other hand, had been suspiciously quiet. You noticed how his eyes lit up with delight, as he stared across the street.
“What’s over there?” you asked.
“Huh? Oh, you mean that.” He pulled you in closer; one hand wrapped around your waist, the other still clasped in yours. He pointed across the street. “I’ve always wanted to visit the florist’s over there. The flowers have the most delightful fragrances.”
“How come you’ve never- ah.” You trailed off sadly, already knowing the answer.
“They always close before sundown. It’s rather unfortunate Cazador never let me bring anything home other than victims. A bouquet of flowers could have done wonders for that tacky little entranceway.”
“Well, we could always go together.”
“As much as I’d love to tour the city with you, you’ve had a long day. Let’s get you back to camp first, hm?”
“Okay, we’ll come back some other time.” You said, making a mental note of the store’s exact location.
The sun began to retreat, lost to the shadows of the upper city. There was no quieting of the streets, as the fading light gave way to an influx of people; those departing their homes and businesses, ready for whatever nightly activities they had planned. Astarion held you near to him, skillfully threading you past any who came too close. 
While you had no intention of stopping, a prominent display of cakes and pastries caught your eye. You ground to a halt, dragging Astarion with you. Unnatural hues of reds, pinks, greens and blues peered at you from behind the glass, like rows of infernal eyes. Their construction was intricate and put the very store they were displayed in to shame.
“Quite darling aren’t they?” he said, standing beside you.
“They’re pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted something so beautiful.”
“Speak for yourself,” he replied fondly, looking through the glass; his reflection non-existent, as he looked between you and the cakes. “A sweet treat for my sweet treat.”
You quirked an eyebrow. “Yeah, we should really be getting back.”
The sun had almost fully set, your surroundings becoming a drab greyscale of abandonment. As you got further and further away the sounds of the city began to fade, muffled behind crumbling properties and streaming waters. It was peaceful, walking together in comfortable silence, firmly attached to one another.
“I could get used to this, you know? Strolling through derelict back alleys with you by my side,” Astarion mused. 
“I’d like that. Wouldn’t mind a change of scenery though, a bit more greenery perhaps.”
Astarion coughed nervously, turning to face you. “I was wondering if maybe you wanted to talk about what happened earlier?”
“I don’t- I don’t really know what there is to say,” you stammered in response.
“It’s alright, we’ll work through it together. We always do.” He flashed you a resolute smile.
“You don’t think it’s a little pathetic freaking out over nothing?” 
“The city can be quite overwhelming, I suppose. Not that I would know, I’ve lived here for hundreds of years.” Just like him to humble brag. “I’ve done my fair share of ‘freaking out’ on our little adventure, far be it for me to judge you.”
You wrapped your arms around him, hiding your face in the fabric of his armour. “Yeah, I guess I’m just not used to it. Sorry, again.”
“Oh stop it.” He returned the gesture and held you in his arms. You stood together silent in the moonlight, rocking against one another, all while steely waters lapped against the canal wall.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been anywhere so… populated. I feel trapped, like a rat almost.”
He gave you a once over. “Well you certainly don’t look rodent like. The taste is significantly better, I might add.”
“I wish I was a rat, then I could just run and hide in a nice wall.”
He hummed in contemplation. “I know it might be odd for me to be the one saying this, but perhaps running away isn’t the best option? We’ve faced all our problems head on so far, surely this is no different?”
You buried your face back into his chest, your agreement coming out as a muffled groan. “But what if it happens again? What if it happens while we’re doing something important?”
He rested his chin atop your head, arms still encircling your waist. “I’ll be with you, so you don’t need to worry.” He pulled back to look you in the eyes. “Just don’t stray too far from me, okay?” His tone was steady and confident, but there was a desperate and needy look in his eyes. A far worse person could take advantage of such adoration. You couldn’t let that happen, you’d never let anyone use him ever again.
You cupped his face in your hands, doing your best to look as sincere as possible within the eyes that reflected you. “I’m not going anywhere. Especially not while Cazador’s still alive.”
Satisfied with this answer, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was firm and tender, a silent act to seal the promise between you both.
“Right, we should get back before one of them burns the entire camp down,” you said looking off into the distance concernedly.
“Always a possibility when you’re not around.”
The hearty chatter and crackling fire were a welcoming sight, as you approached camp. None of the others had noticed the two of you yet and you were determined to have one last moment alone with your lover. Feeling at ease, you asked him one final question.
“Astarion?”
“Yes, my sweet?”
“Do you wanna go on a date with me?” You grinned sheepishly, lips brushing against his.
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hannie-dul-set · 1 year ago
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LOVE VOMIT [n.] — the term when you become too full with your feelings too quickly and too frequently that you end up spitting everything out before even getting the chance to digest. this happens to you more often than you’d like to admit— every quarter, actually, ever since starting college. but what can you do when the prospect of falling in love is just too good to say no to? what can you do when maybe the next desert might actually stay inside your system this time?
or, wherein you fall in love with a different guy every season but fail to notice the one that’s been looking at you the whole year.
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PAIRING. choi soobin x female! reader (ft. the rest of txt x reader). GENRE. college! au, orgmate! soobin, strangers to friends to lovers, slice of life, romance, humor, mild angst, comfort (no hurt), SLOWBURN, featuring some members of seventeen, enhypen, and le sserafim. WARNINGS. reader is shorter than soobin, swearing, drinking, kissing, unrequited feelings, annoying org jargon. WORD COUNT. 36k. TAGLIST. @stellz581​ @michipan​ @goldennika​​ @taekwondoes​​ @cerealdreamwriter​​
NOTE. this fic is a five-in-one but it’s obvious endgame is (hint: look at the header). thoroughly enjoyed projecting all my past crushes into my dear tubatu boys haha i hope no one i know personally reads this haha.
some of the scenes were lifted from my own personal experiences HUAHAH have fun guessing which ones are real (but embellished) and made up for the sake of the story 😎. anyhow, this is long. this is slow. but i do hope the payoff at the end is worth watching soobin’s year long suffering when he finally gets the girl 😭 hope to hear your thoughts on this. enjoy!
reposted because tumblr is an ass.
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THE TIME IS SPRING. A soft musk in the air, freshly bloomed flowers lining the sidewalks, and the start of a new semester. There’s something gentle about springtime, reminiscent of crisp blankets straight from the dryer with lavender seeping into its cotton folds, and sunlight leaking through pleated sheer curtains. The season is for cherry blossoms and picnic baskets, outings and first loves. You’ve always associated these things with spring, however none of these sensibilities are present tonight.
Instead of clear skies and bright sunlight, the view through the diner windows is lit up by artificial lights and signages in the middle of a March evening. There’s no lilac nor daisies in the air, but cheap beer and the savory smell of fried chicken. It’s noisy, it’s loud, and it’s far from the gentleness of spring, but you’ve never felt more alive at this time of the year.
‘Why did you join Shutter.TXT?’ reads the sheet of paper sitting on your table. You’re all smiles as you listen to the answers of those sitting around you, mindlessly nodding along after being three glasses in. Tonight is an orientation-slash-welcome party for the organization you impulsively joined upon entering the university.
Because photography is my passion...because I want to explore other fields…because, because, because.
The answers carousel around the table, and honest to god, you stopped listening at some point because it’s getting repetitive. You don’t understand the purpose of this activity. Why else would you join a club for photography, videography, and editing if not for photography, videography, and editing?
“Are you kids having fun?”
You perk up. The empty smiles you’ve been giving become brighter, eyes crinkling at the corners. Spring came belatedly tonight, and it came in the form of your extremely pretty senior appearing behind your seat, and you’re instantly all the more conscious about your posture when he leans down to check in on your table. He cranes his head to look at you with a smile. “Is it your turn?” he asks. The back of your neck is burning.
“Ah, yes,” you cough, clearing your throat to introduce your name. “I major in public administration. I know it’s pretty far from my discipline, but I decided to join Shutter.TXT because I didn’t want to be constrained in one field throughout college. I’m sure this organization will make my university experience a lot more exciting and interesting.”
Lies. You joined because of the very face that’s smiling at you this very moment.
“I look forward to working with you.”
He leaves a pat on your shoulder before moving on to the table next to yours. You feel like passing out.
The first time you saw Choi Beomgyu was during the organization festival after the freshmen orientation. You left the auditorium and made your way to the courtyard, taking a peek at the orgs and clubs your university was offering. The moment your eyes caught him advertising the newly founded organization right by the entrance, you didn’t need to consider the rest of the booths and signed up your name. You didn’t even know the name of the organization back then, only finding out after you received an email confirming your registration. Lucky enough for you, you have some editing experience, so you don’t have to risk making a fool out of yourself.
But it seems like you aren’t the only one with the same ulterior motives. Your eyes naturally followed your senior as he switched to the next table. “I’m only here because of you, seonbae,” you hear from one of them, and Beomgyu only laughs in response before moving on to the next group.
You mask your bitter expression by taking a chug from your glass. You need to work harder. Before even being a potential love interest to your evidently popular flower boy upperclassman, you need to become an indispensable member to Shutter in order to— at the very fucking least— have him remember your name. The elections for officers are next week and you’ll try your darndest to grab a position. Preferably, one that’ll make you work closely with Beomgyu.
“Um, hello.”
Your attention is snagged by the person sitting in front of you. Admittedly, you haven’t been paying any mind to the rest of the newly recruited members, eyes always gravitating toward Beomgyu and his tendency to jump from table to table, corner to corner, so you’ve haven’t noticed that the boy sitting in front of you is also pretty good looking. His face reminds you of a bunny— soft features all around with dark bangs falling just above his eyes. He’s wearing a pink cardigan with shoulders tightly squeezed against his torso as if he’s trying to shrink his gigantic frame but miserably failing.
In other words, another pretty boy. But your eyes are set on a different pretty boy, so your heart isn’t stirred completely.
“My name is Choi Soobin. I’m a second year computer science student. Photo, video, and graphics editing has been my hobby since high school,” he introduces with a tiny smile before following it up with an even tinier bow. “It’s nice to meet all of you!”
Then your tables are reshuffled and you don’t see him again for the rest of the night.
You leave the restaurant after a few more table shuffles to get some fresh air. You’re already starting to get tipsy, getting a hit straight in the liver of how college get togethers are going to be in future. The night is cold with only a cardigan to keep you warm. Maybe you should’ve chosen something thicker since it’s still early in the season, but this is the cutest outfit in your closet and you were dead set on making a good impression.
“It’s getting pretty stuffy inside, isn’t it?”
Apparently, you aren’t the only one who decided to sneak out into the alley beside the fried chicken place the org rented. You turn around, arms crossed together for more warmth, and see a girl approaching your hiding spot. “Sorry. I’m not intruding, am I?”
“Not at all,” you smile at her. “I don’t think we ever shared a table earlier, right?”
She shakes her head. “I’m Kim Yura. Freshman.”
“Hey, me too!” You proceed to introduce yourself, and the both of you hit off almost immediately. You exchanged majors, numbers, and mindless small talk including your shared misfortune of having zero friends in college so far.
“Holy crap, you don’t know how glad I am to have run into you like this. I joined Shutter on a whim and knew literally zero people in there and I was too nervous to socialize with so many people,” Yura confesses with a sigh, leaning against the same concrete wall as you. She turns her head to look at you. “Before I left, they were talking about going for round two at The Rooftop. Are you gonna join?”
“I think I’ll pass.” You wouldn’t have made an escape if you weren’t tired. Your social battery is depleting by the second, and Yura is the only person you know so far.
“I heard the seniors will be paying. Mingyu seonbae, Beomgyu seonbae, Jina seon—”
“On second thought, let’s go!” You grab Yura’s wrist and march back into the restaurant with a new burst of energy. There’s no harm in socializing more. You need to put yourself out there anyway if you want to be elected to a position. Strike while the iron is hot, as they say— while you’re still in the early stages of your first year in university and deadlines, paperworks, and assignments haven’t body slammed you into the dirt yet.
It’s the beginning of spring. the season for starting fresh and starting anew. You chose to begin your life in college by searching for a romance you’ve never had the chance to experience in highschool. And romance doesn’t happen if you just sit and wait around all day.
You’re going to chase it, and it begins with going to a cheap rooftop bar in the middle of Seoul and drinking a few too many drinks for you to handle.
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Okay. Maybe that wasn’t the smartest idea considering you woke up in your apartment with no recollection of how you got home, save for a message from Yura to text her once you’ve woken up, but at least you managed to collect some numbers and friend requests from a handful of other orgmates while your social skills were tampered by alcohol. Those numbers included Beomgyu’s. You dare call this a success.
Still, org life is secondary to academics no matter how much more fun it is over the latter. The only thing you receive from the Shutter group chat is a good luck message for the first week of classes and some idle conversations here and there. You’re on the way to your first class after telling Kim Mingyu, the organization’s founder, to eat shit and choke on his lunch.
“Morning.” You look up from your iPad to see Kang Taehyun take the seat next to your seat in the lecture hall. You’ve met him at the orientation, and honest to god he intimidated you then. He was the guy that kept asking questions to the moderator about anything and everything. He still intimidates you, but you’re determined to not be a friendless loser throughout the four years of your bachelor’s degree, so you greet him back.
“I asked some seniors if they can share their notes for our Intro class,” you mention. “I can send it to the group chat later once I organize them.”
“Really?” he says. “Are you close with any of our seniors? I would’ve done the same if I knew at least one of them.”
“No,” you grin. “Survival over shame. But I think I already have a pre-positioned target on my back even before the welcome party.”
Taehyun shakes his head with a laugh, and you oddly feel proud of yourself. “I’ll have your back, don’t worry.”
Some of your other classmates overhear the conversation. You grace your blessings upon them as well and a small group begins to form in the middle of the lecture hall right before your professor walks in to take attendance. You spend the class diligently taking notes because although you might be a little lovestruck and heart-eyes for a certain person from the building next to yours, you’re not revolving your entire life around him. Sort of. You’re going to pass by the club room later in case he’s there.
He’s not. It’s just Mingyu and your short-term beef with him for taking unflattering photos of your hammered ass last Friday. You don’t hide your disappointment when you see him. He calls you over to take a seat next to him in front of the computer.
“You’re good at graphic design, right?”
“I have experience.” You pull out a chair and take a look at the monitor. SHUTTER.TXT ELECTIONS. This Thursday at Mirage Building Room 104, 4:00 p.m. Be there or be square.
You shoot Mingyu a look of judgment. “What?”
“You should stick to camerawork, boss. Move your ass.”
He swivels away and you take over the mouse and keyboard, doing your best to fix the layout of the publication material. “Can first-years be elected?”
“Why?” he’s playing with the strings of his hoodie. Sometimes you forget that he’s your org’s founder. “You eyeing a position?”
Yes. Next to Choi Beomgyu. “Maybe?”
Mingyu grins. “I’ve got you. Don’t worry. I’m so happy to have such a dedicated member to exploit and work wageless. Thank you so much in advance for your service.”
You have nothing to thank Kim Mingyu for because although he did nominate you on the day of the elections which secured your spot, you were elected as Assistant Layout Director. Beomgyu is currently making a dumb thank you speech in front of the lecture hall for being the Videography Director and everyone is cheering. You’re moping in your seat until all of the newly elected officers are called to the front for a picture taking.
“Please stand in the order of your positions! Alright, perfect!”
Click!
The amount of times you’ve been blocked today is harrowing. You’re wearing a smile, holding out a thumbs up while posing for a picture, but you want to throw a tantrum. There’s a giant body standing in between you and Beomgyu. Your tears are internal and eternal.
“Three more!”
Suddenly, you feel a hand on your shoulder, and your feet are moving by themselves. Rather, someone is moving you. You look up to see the bunny boy you shared a table with last orientation, now on your right when you swear he was just on your left earlier, in between you and Beomgyu. Wait a minute, you realize. You’re so touched you could cry, but someone from the front yells your name.
“Stop looking at Soobin and look at the camera!”
It’s followed by the eruption of insinuating noises from the rest of your orgmates, and your face grows hot from embarrassment. You don’t acknowledge their teasing, save for a middle finger directed at Shutter’s Founder-slash-newly-elected-Chairperson, then you collect your composure, strike a cute peace sign for the camera, and try your best to make it not so obvious that you’re thrilled to at the very least be standing next to Beomgyu for the photos.
“Alright! Thank you, everyone!”
The lecture hall breaks into claps and conversation as you all scatter around after the picture taking. You scan the crowd for the mop of black hair that did you a favor earlier, belatedly remember that he’s the Layout Director and your direct superior. You spot him with Mingyu, looking mildly terrorized at the older male’s affection. When Mingyu sees you approaching them, you can see the heinous intent in his smile when he greets you. “Oh, you’re here.”
“Congrats, Chair,” you declare blankly, then brighten your smile when you look at Soobin. “Congrats to you too, director! I will do my best to assist you.”
He receives your outstretched hand with a shake and bows politely. Mingyu clicks his tongue at your exchange. “Ey, how can you make your preference so obvious?” He’s very obviously referring to you, extending the teasing from earlier, and you wear the most threatening look on your face that you can manage while still holding hands with your innocently smiling colleague. You’re dead if you keep that up, you try to signal with your eyes. Mingyu only gives you a wink and walks away with a pat on Soobin’s shoulder. If Beomgyu gets the wrong idea from their teasing and closes off all your chances with him, you’re going to kill Kim Mingyu first.
“I’m sorry. Mingyu hyung likes to mess around a lot.” You turn your attention back to Soobin, heart clenching. Poor boy doesn’t need to apologize on behalf of his demonic senior. You shake your head and tell him it’s fine,
“Officers, please stay for a quick meeting! The rest may leave. Thank you all for attending!”
You give Soobin a quick smile before running off to where the rest are gathering, bumping into Yura whom you gave a quick hug. She was also elected. Program management committee member. You both stand next to each other as you listen to Mingyu’s announcements. There will be an orientation for officers this weekend and then you’d have to start planning and organizing for Shutter’s first major event— an acquaintance party slash mini workshop of sorts. One of the officers asks “didn’t we already have a welcome party the other week?” Mingyu defends by saying there’s no harm in getting all the members to bond together as often as we could. You’re sure he’s just looking for an excuse to party, but you’re not complaining.
“See you all at the org office this Saturday. Get home safe!”
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“We’re going to COEX. Jake and Yunjin brought their car. You’re coming with us.”
Your shoulders slump, and your heavy bag drops to the floor. You give your friends an incredulous look. “I have a meeting. You guys said you were too lazy to eat out yesterday, but now you all have the energy when I have a fucking meeting.”
Taehyun tells you better luck next time before slamming the passenger’s seat right in front of your face. Sunghoon gives you a pat on the head before following inside. Kazuha promises to get you takeout and stop by your club office later. Though you’re thankful that you managed to find a group of friends from your year and major, moments like these make you want to eat sand.
“Be honest. You can totally skip the meeting but you’re flaking out on us because you want to see your crush.” Jay earns a kick on his ass before he retreats into Yunjin’s car. You wave them goodbye and dust off your bag, slinging it over your shoulder again and make your way to the office.
“You’re here!”
When you open the door, Beomgyu greets you with a smile. There’s a camera dangling on his neck and he’s carrying a tripod bag across his torso. You feel your mood instantly shooting up, like a flower bed is growing inside your ribcage with how ticklish you feel in your chest. Jay was right. You actually have nothing important to do today besides errands, probably. God, you’re down bad.
“Perfect timing! Can you come with me for a sec?” Your head automatically nods like you’re stupid, but you don’t mind the fact that you look stupid because Beomgyu beams, and you’re happy if he’s happy. He wants to take you somewhere and you’re buzzing in your shoes at the mere thought of it. Flaking on your friends is the best decision you’ve made today and Jay can suck on his left toenail.
“Soobin hyung! I need you, too. You can continue working later.”
You hear a whine from inside the room. Soobin shows up beside Beomgyu with a scrunched up look of annoyance, which immediately gets replaced with surprise when he spots you by the doorway. He gives you a flustered bow and greeting, promptly adjusting the black-rimmed glasses resting on his nose.
“Mingyu hyung says we need to present an introduction video for the executive board for the event next week. I’m doing it by position and you two are next on my list. Let’s find a good place to shoot for the both of you.”
Oh. You press your lips into a smile, nodding. “I think the gazebo near the Communications building would be great.”
“Perfect. Let’s go!”
You’re the dumbass for jumping into conclusions and thinking that Beomgyu would have a reason for the both of you to be alone together. You’re walking across the campus with your crush and the guy your Chairperson is teasing you with. Maybe you should have just gone along with your friends. You heard a fried ice cream store opened at COEX the other day. The cold desert on your tongue would’ve immediately cured your embarrassment and shame.
“I’ll get your solo shots first. Soobinie hyung, give me a cute pose.”
You watch the two boys bicker while they shoot the video clips. You remember that Beomgyu is majoring in EMC, so they must be close since they come from the same department. “Hyung, look this way.” Soobin seems to follow Beomgyu’s direction despite his grumbling.
It’s easy to get lost in thought while watching Beomgyu in his element. The camera isn’t focused on him, but you still feel like he's the focal point of the frame captured by your field of vision. There are flowering trees all around the surrounding areas of the gazebo, and the white petals falling from above dance around him.
He’s really so pretty. So pretty and dreamy but evidently unattainable.
“Be back in a sec. Good job, hyung! You can sit down now.”
Beomgyu runs off to greet some of his friends that have just passed by. You watch as he’s laughing along with them, an unreasonable feeling of disappointment forming in the pits of your stomach. He’s always got people around him— org members, friends, and people you don’t know. It’s impossible to squeeze yourself into the picture when the frame is already full.
“Do you want to work with him instead?”
“Huh?” You look up to see Soobin towering over your pathetic frame on the bench. He takes a seat beside you, but takes a moment before changing his mind and adding more distance between the both of you with an awkward cough.
“Beomgyu,” he adds. “You’re probably disappointed that you weren’t elected as his assistant instead, right?”
You look at him, horrified.
“Haha, what do you mean?”
Sure, you haven’t been the most discreet with your heart-eyes for the guy, but you don’t think you’re that transparent. You want to question him further— what makes you say that? Have I been really fucking obvious?— but then your palms become sweaty, and you remember he switched places with you the other day and that’s how you managed to stand next to your crush for the photo. He knows. He definitely knows you have a crush on his friend and there’s a chance that he might fucking expose you.
Before you can get on your knees, beg him to shut his mouth and spare your rejection, Beomgyu returns and tells you to head on up to the gazebo.
“I also called the rest of the guys so we can finish everything in one go,” he says while adjusting the camera on the tripod.
You’re nervous, Self conscious to have such a pretty man judge your level of photogenic-ness. Thankfully, Beomgyu is kind enough to give you directions sweetly along with expressions of encouragement. When you’re done with your solos, he tells Soobin to join you.
The discomfort on your expression is evident because Beomgyu drops the camera, revealing the dissatisfied pout on his face. “Can you two move a little closer?” You do, albeit robotically. Soobin is kind enough to stop nudging himself closer right before your shoulders could bump into one another. Beomgyu still isn’t satisfied. “Can you two…please act natural?”
How are you supposed to act natural when you’re about to shit your pants from discomfort? You look up at Soobin and he’s clearly as uncomfortable as you are. You can see the sweat droplets trickling down his neck, throat bobbing after a tense swallow. He’s hesitant to even lay a hand on you, lagging midair above your shoulder like a nervous raincloud. Your eyes gloss over his face. He drops his hand and gives you a hesitant smile. You’ve never noticed he has dimples until now.
“Please— please excuse me.”
Suddenly, you feel an added weight on your shoulders, and you stumble forward. Your face bumps into his chest. Your eyes widen in alarm. You can hear something loud thumping in your ears.
“Better! That’s great—”
Oh. It’s just your heartbeat.
“—perfect!”
Shit. Oh no. This doesn’t make sense. You have a crush on Beomgyu so it doesn’t make sense that your heart is beating like crazy for somebody else— not to mention someone who knows you like Beomgyu. It feels like the thumping just grows louder and louder and you’re feeling dizzy. You’re sure you would’ve fallen into the wooden flooring of the gazebo if Soobin isn’t keeping you steady right now. Then, from your peripheral, you can see some of your orgmates nearing the area, so you quickly move away without a second thought.
“Did we get enough shots?” you yell out for Beomgyu to hear.
“Yup! You both look great!”
Immediately, you patter off, hopping down the elevated surface and into the fresh soil. You exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding with a hard pat on your chest. Keep it together, you scold yourself. Amongst those who just arrived is Yura, who immediately brings joy to your face when you see her. You pick up your pace to go greet her, but you slowly come to a halt when you notice her attention is deeply engaged elsewhere.
When you trace her line of vision, you spot her looking at Beomgyu and Soobin. When Beomgyu walks away to greet the other, her eyes are still stuck on the same spot, a faint tinge of pink coloring her cheekbones, and she jogs into the direction where she’s been looking at.
Your chest loosens in relief. You swivel your feet, moving towards Beomgyu who jogs up to you upon notice. “Do you want to see?” he asks, and you nod in response.
Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed because embarrassment strikes you hard in the gut that you sink to the ground at the first three seconds of the first clip he shows you. “Oh my god,” you cover your face, squatting on the grass. “Stop. Okay. Nevermind, I don’t want to see anymore.”
“Why not? You look pretty in all of them.”
The inhale you take gets caught in your throat and you nearly choke on nothing. Your palms start to grow warm from the heat emanating off your face. Holy shit. “Don’t— don’t do that.”
You hear him laugh. “It’s true though.”
Peeking through your fingers, you see him in the same squatting position right before your eyes, and you groan to hide yourself again. Even though your system is about to explode with the amount of ticklish flowers sprouting, you can’t help but feel relieved. Yes. This is how it should be. What happened earlier was only the heat of the moment and your heart was just carried away by the scene. You also have a feeling that Yura has a crush on, or is at the very least interested in Soobin, so you can bury that possibility in the soil immediately. You’ll scatter some seeds over it and hope that the daisies can be enough to mask its shame.
Your name is called by Beomgyu, and you begrudgingly force yourself to get up. Beomgyu lends you a hand. “Myungho hyung is getting us drinks from the vending machine. What would you like?”
“Um. Sprite, please.”
“Hyung! Get us two Sprites. Thanks!”
Your fingertips are still buzzing from when he pulled you up by the hand. You stretch out your joints then ball them into a tight fist, throwing your head back with a sigh. Ice cream sounds really good right now. You text Jake if they’re still at the mall and if he can pick you up in ten minutes. He says he’s on the way.
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“Choi Beomgyu is out of my league, isn’t he?”
You receive a chorus of yeses from your beloved friends. It’s the day of the event and you squeezed in lunchtime at McDonald’s before heading to the venue to make it up to them. You’ve been busy the whole week with Shutter preparing for it and throughout those seven days, the times you’ve managed to talk or interact with Beomgyu at all is less than two digits.
“It’s not that you’re too ugly for him,” Sunghoon gives his unsolicited opinion, waving a single french fry in the air before throwing it into his mouth. “He just has a vibe, you know? That sort of untouchable vibe you feel from typically popular people. We’re IG mutuals and he gets a million anonymous confessions a day. You’re better off looking for someone else.”
“Jay is also good looking, aren’t you into him?” suggests Taehyun, and you offer him a grimace in response. Jay doesn’t hesitate to preview his own disgust. “Then again. That’d be incest.”
“If you want to get over him, it’s best to stop seeing him.”
“But she has to attend their event later,” says Kazuha in response to Yunjin’s advice. They all offer you a moment of silence in grief. You completely lose your appetite.
“I’m off. Mingyu told me to come early to help with any last minute preparations.”
“Where’s the thing?” Jake asks as you pick up your bag. “I can give you a ride home later, if you’d like.”
“Perriot Bowl. And it’s fine. I’m sure we’ll be finishing late so you don’t have to bother.”
“Call me if you change your mind.”
You give him a smile and excuse yourself out. It’s one bus ride to Perriot Bowl, and you don’t remember which one of the idiots thought that a bowling alley would be the best place to hold an acquaintance party. Your org is new, so it has zero funds, therefore you all had to pull money out of your pockets to rent the place and pay for other expenses.
At least everyone seems to be enjoying, you think as you sip on your plastic cup filled with coke, the venue’s shiny floors slowly being matted away by dozens and dozens of bodies. The large, overhead lights are shut off as per Myungho’s request, and the only things illuminating the bowling alley are the neon wall washers and LED strips lining the lanes in pink, purple, and blue. There’s vibrant music playing through the speakers. Your eyes land on Beomgyu helping Soobin set up the technicals.
“Ah, ah, ah. Testing, testing.”
The area hushes, and all eyes are on your chairperson standing in front of a projector screen. He breaks into a smile. “Ah, wait. Why am I suddenly nervous?”
You snort. He gets over it quickly and starts his opening spiel, welcoming the members and giving a rundown of today’s activities, starting with the introduction of officers in which you hid behind Yura in embarrassment when your face appeared through the projector screen— mainly because of Mingyu’s hollering. Somehow, you have unintentionally wiggled into your chairperson’s favor by bullying and swearing at him every time you cross paths. That shaves a lot of effort off your goal of being an integral org member.
“Feel free to drop by the snack table at the back, but before everyone can freely play some games on the lanes, let’s start with our prepared activities first!”
That’s your signal to move to the front, taking the red bandana laid down on the table near Mingyu and standing next to Soobin. You look up at him and muster a smile. “Just so you know, I’m pretty competitive.”
Soobin laughs. “I don’t like losing, either.”
Frankly, you’ve been weary about him for a while, but throughout the past week of preparing for today’s event, he hasn’t shown a hint of snitching on you, so you managed to be less tense around him. The both of you are also stuck together for the rest of your term, so it won’t help if you’re always going to be uncomfortable around him.
You give him a smile, and he returns the same expression. It also helps that Choi Soobin is very easy on the eyes.
“Please check the color of your name tags and form a line in front of the Directors that match your color. They’ll be your team leaders.”
Once the teams are divided, Mingyu reads out the game mechanics: bowling but with a mix of charades. Six lanes are open for the six teams. The rules are the same as regular bowling but there’s a time limit and in order for the players to actually play, they have to guess the words you’re acting out first. It’s a loud, screaming mess with people shouting over each other and those watching having the time of their lives watching you all make fools of yourselves. The problem with an org like this is that everyone has cameras. You ignore the shutter sounds as you disregard all shame trying to act out slipping on a banana peel on the way to a blind date and your team member runs past you to make her turn and score a strike— bagging your team’s win.
“First place goes to the reds!”
You’re screaming, cheering, jumping around with your teammates and you let out a noise when your back bumps into someone. You turn around to see Soobin clad in your team color who simmers down his bouncing when he meets eyes with you, settling for a breathless smile.
“Congrats,” he tells you. You grin at him, elbowing his arm.
“You’re pretty good at getting washed up on an island.”
His ears match the color of his jacket. “Aah, let’s forget that, let’s— look, look, Mingyu hyung is calling for us.”
He actually is, so you let it slide, allowing yourself to be bulldozed into the crowd by the shoulders by Soobin as Mingyu gives out the instructions for the next activity— an on the spot photo challenge with the theme youth.
“You guys have one hour starting…now! Don’t forget that our anonymous confession box is still open! You can find the link in our group chat and we’ll be reading the first batch of confessions before we present your entries. Have fun and good luck!”
When you reach Mingyu’s side, he slumps with a sigh after dropping the microphone. You give him a pat on the back. “Hang in there.”
“This is so tiring. How do people host for a living?!” he whines, stomping his feet. “Oh, the laptop and equipment is set up over there. You can start collecting photo entries as soon as they’re ready.”
You nod and move to your station. It gets exhausting quickly— inserting flash drives, connectors, and SD cards, selecting, downloading, uploading files and photos and it doesn’t seem like the line in front of your table is getting shorter, only longer by the moment. “Need any help?” You look up to see your lifesaver, Yura, and ask if she can take over for a moment.
“I’ll go get something to eat,” you tell her.
“I just need to transfer their files right?”
“Yup, yup.”
“Alright,” she says. “Girl, go get some rest. There’s only fifteen minutes left so you can leave the remaining entries to me.”
You happily hop off to the snack table. Your last meal was earlier with your friends and you haven’t eaten since then. Coupled with all the shit you’ve been doing since you got to the venue, your stomach is already dying and it’s only four in the afternoon. Myungho is in charge of watching over the snacks. He’s wearing a pitiful look as he passes you a can of sprite and opens the box of pizza before you.
“Are you planning on going after Mingyu’s position, or something?” he says. “You’re working too hard.”
You scrunch your nose, taking a bite from the slice. “Can’t it be because I’m just trying to impress someone?”
He raises a brow. “Who?”
“I didn’t peg you to be the nosy type, seonbae.”
“Well, whoever it is, I hope it’s working,” he shrugs. “Else you’re just working yourself to the bone without any payoff and end up disappointing yourself.”
Ouch? He didn’t need to give you a reality check like that because the entire event, you haven’t even talked to Beomgyu. Not once. You have made your attempts, but he’s always with someone every time you see him and you’ve not close enough to interrupt.
Myungho notices you frowning at your pizza. He clicks his tongue. “If you came here just to lament about your love life, please do the food a favor and leave. They’re getting soiled by your mood.”
“I’m going, I’m going. You’re so mean.”
The can crunches in your hand and you toss it to the bin on the way back to your station in case Yura is having some trouble. “The next one is from— oh, Lee Chan! I thought this was supposed to be anonymous?” It seems like they started reading the messages already. You can’t hear properly what Lee Chan said and to whom because of all the noise, and you can’t find yourself to care because on your way back to Yura, you spot Beomgyu in the direction you’re walking towards, and he’s alone.
He notices you and gives you a smile and wave. You pick up your pace to a jog.
“Eyy, what’s up?” he greets you. “Aren’t you tired yet? You’ve been working since you got here. I’ll ask Mingyu hyung to give some of your work to others if you want a break.”
“It’s alright. Yura covered for me at the submission table earlier, so I’m all done for today,” you assure him. “I’m just itching to knock down some pins already.”
He hums. “You must be pretty good.”
You grin. “I don’t want to brag but—”
Your conversation gets cut short by the feedback squeal of the microphone. You wince, the ear-splitting noise going on for a good three seconds before it gets cut off. You hear a cough through the speakers. Mingyu is onstage looking a little flustered. “Sorry, sorry, my bad. Anyway, let’s move on to the last message for now. This one’s for— holy shit—”
You hear people laughing, but you turn your attention back to Beomgyu, eagerly waiting to resume your talk.
“Ahem. To Shutter’s Assistant Layout Director.”
Your eyes widen. As if that is’t enough, Mingyu continues reading, and your cheeks grow warmer and warmer by each word he utters into the microphone, amplified by the dozens of speakers strewn around the venue.
“I think I have a crush on you.”
There’s silence, and you can sense too many eyes staring at you. It’s too early for summer but you feel the sun on your face, blazing and unforgiving. Oh my god. You want to hurl yourself into the atmosphere. Oh my god, if this is a joke, you’re going to murder a man.
“Before anyone misunderstands, this confession is from codename Shinbi. Our Assistant Layout Director may be pretty and hardworking, but my heart belongs to someone else, I hope that’s clear to everyone. Anyway—”
“Looks like you have a secret admirer on the loose.” Beomgyu nudges you. “Have any idea who it might be?”
You see, your delusional ass is hoping that it’s him, but the rational part of your brain is telling you to be realistic and stop being a stupid. “Haha, no,” you reply. It could be just someone from the many members of your org that you’ve never talked to. If they really liked you, they would step out and quit hiding behind that dumb codename.
Still, the warmth in your cheeks hasn’t disappeared yet. If shit goes to complete shit with Beomgyu, maybe this Shinbi guy can save your failing college romance. You’re not dumb enough to invest in something so evidently and palpably hopeless. You knew from the get-go– from the moment you saw him at the courtyard in the first week of school— that he isn’t someone you can attain.
Beomgyu is called out by one of his friends again, and he gives you an apologetic smile before screaming back at them and running off.
“Sorry! Text me if you need anything!”
You wave him goodbye and your arm limply falls to your side. Right. Maybe it is time to give up. There are far more important things to your life than some pretty boy from your org, anyway. It’s only a matter of time before classes come in full swing, and you won’t even have the time to think about him anymore.
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“Can I tell you something?”
Yura looks up from the torn piece of paper in her hand, containing the list of orders the slave drivers from your org asked you to buy from the cafe in front of campus. It’s a place everyone from your university frequents, so it’s understandably full most of the day. Your friend looks at you attentively. This isn’t the most appropriate place to empty out your feelings, but your orders are taking too long and the buzzer is getting cold in your hands.
“I had a crush on Choi Beomgyu.” Yura lets out a hard cough. “He was the reason why I joined the Shutter in the first place.”
She’s staring at you.
“But I’m over him now.”
Speechless, with widened eyes from surprise.
“If you have any cute friends, please introduce me to them.”
“Wait, wait— one at a time! Oh my god.” Yura exhales, trying to piece together the three bombs you dropped on the table. “You have a crush on Beomgyu seonbae?! Had a crush on him?! If he’s the reason you joined, you’re not resigning, right?!”
“No way,”.you shake your head. “He might’ve been the reason, but I’ve got you guys to make me stay.”
The buzzer vibrates in your hands, and the both of you get up to pick up your orders. “The work is fun. Mingyu is annoying sometimes, but he’s generally a supportive Chair. I’ve gotten closer with the other guys, too, so I don’t see a reason why I should quit,” you continue. Once you get out of the cafe, your phone also buzzes. Yura notices the face you’re making and asks what’s wrong. “Nevermind. Mingyu is just annoying. Let’s just hurry up. The child is throwing a tantrum and needs his caffeine.”
“Are you okay, though?” she asks as you’re walking down the sidewalk back to campus. “I mean. If there’s anything else troubling you in Shutter, you can always vent to me.”
You smile at her. “Thanks.”
The both of you continued walking in pleasant silence. Right when you reach Mirage Building, Yura suddenly stops with a gasp. “So that’s why you joined round two at The Rooftop that night!”
Your brows knit in confusion.
“Because Beomgyu was there!”
“Oh, fuck you.” You feel like swallowing yourself. “I did so many stupid things that night and Mingyu has all of it one his fucking phone.”
When you arrive at the office, Mingyu isn’t even there. It’s dark and near empty save for one person and the glow of the computer screen. Soobin turns to the doorway when you two enter and scrambles on his feet to help you carry all the drinks you bought. You turn on the lights and poor boy flinches, prompting you to turn them off again.
“Sorry,” you apologize.
“It’s alright. You can turn it back on.” You don’t. Instead your squinted eyes scan the room because maybe your god damned senior is hiding somewhere to fuck with you. Soobin notices this, even in the dark.“Mingyu hyung and Myungho hyung left to take care of something urgent for their class,” he explains. “Jina noona and the rest went to get us some snacks. They’ll be back in a bit. You two can just wait.”
A huff leaves your lips and your mouth twitches. “He texted me to hurry up but his ass isn’t even here. Hold on, where’s his drink— I’m leaving it outside. What an unbelievable idiot.”
The door slams in your stomping wake and you put Mingyu’s americano right next to the plastic bag of takeout boxes from yesterday right by the door. There is no point in doing this. You’re just annoyed. You’re still grumbling curses when you stomp back in, but promptly hush yourself with the scene you’re walking in on.
Well. Nothing significant is actually happening. You watch Yura as she’s leaning on the table, an earnest spark in her eyes as she and Soobin converse over a movie you’ve never watched. You press your lips together, holding back a grin and trying to make as little noise as possible when you settle down on the springy couch in the middle of the room. Admittedly, you confided in her about Beomgyu earlier with the hopes that she’d also give hints about what you suspect is her crush on Soobin.
But then, maybe you’re just romance obsessed and attempt to find meaning in everything. You won’t know unless she tells you, but you don’t want to pry.
“Oh no. Wait, I’m sorry I have to go,” you hear her say. She hurries over to the door and pauses in front of you on the way. “Professor Han wants to meet us immediately for a paper consultation. Gosh, he just does whatever wants.”
You wave her goodbye, and now it’s just you and Soobin in the Shutter office.
He’s standing by the wooden table shoved into the left corner of the decently sized office, organizing the drinks you and Yura ordered. It’s a good thing that it’s dark— this way you can’t see the trash and wrappers on the floor, likely left by the people who went out earlier, but it’s just as likely that they’re garbage from last week. The worn out sofa you’re sitting on is in the middle of the room, up against the storage room wall.
“What are you working on?” you ask, taking a peek at the open computer at the right side of the room. There’s photoshop on the window and you can see some photos from the acquaintance party last week.
“Oh. The pubmats for the winners from the photo contest last time,” he says while walking to you. You step back to let him settle back on his seat in front of the desk. He places his coffee next to the monitor, and the swivel chair rocks back and forth as he fidgets with the layout.
You cross your arms over the chair’s backrest, leaning forward as you peek above his hair to watch him work. He stops moving. The stray strands of hair on his head tickle your nose.
“How about the officers post thingy that Chair mentioned the other day?”
“It’s— it’s in progress, but hyung told me to finish this one first.”
Squinting, you narrow into the cursor. It’s shaking, and your eyes curiously gaze down on Soobin’s hand on the mouse— also shaking, ever the slightest. Maybe he had too much coffee. Sympathy wells in your stomach and you pull yourself back. You take over the seat next to him and turn on the computer.
“Send me the psd for the other one. I’ll work on it.”
Technically, you should be working on it. It’s your job. You’re literally his assistant, but you haven’t been helping him properly lately since you’ve been filling in the spots of the officers who have been inactive lately. You’re collecting fees, accompanying Mingyu for partnership meetings, and sometimes you’re even the one scheduling posts on your social media accounts. But you failed to do the duties assigned to your actual position.
You open the file, and study his initial design before jumping in. “Is it okay if I change the fonts?”
He hums. “Go ahead.”
All you can hear are mouse and keyboard clicks in the office with the occasional creaks from the old, worn out chairs the both of you are sitting on. The blue light is starting to strain your eyes, so you stretch your back and rest them for a moment while waiting for some elements to download.
“You spelled my name wrong.”
You pause mid stretch, turning to see Soobin looking at your monitor. The screen is displaying your work-in-progress for the pubmat, officers listed from top to bottom. Your eyes scroll down until you spot his name. Chou Soobin, Layout Director. You snort.
“So did you, but I didn’t say anything.” You pull up the history panel on screen, revealing how he skewed your name in a previous version of the file, crossing your arms and leaning back on your chair.  “But anyway, my sincerest apologies, Choi Soobin. C-h-o-i Soobin.”
He looks so wronged, it’s funny. It makes you want to mess with him more.
“That was a typo! And I fixed it. Yours looks like an intentional act of malice,” he defends with an offended tone, but the corners of his lips twitch upwards and it’s infectious. You feign a gasp.
“Is that how you think of me, Choi Soobin? I can sue you for defamation, you know. But since I’m kind and compassionate and understanding, I’ll let it slide.”
“Wow,” he gapes, looking around the empty room for backup. The room is empty. You stifle a laugh. “You’re unbelievable.”
Today is the day you realize that Choi Soobin is a pretty easy going guy and you’ve got nothing to blame but your paranoia for not getting along with him a lot earlier. If you recall correctly, you also had pretty good chemistry with your team during the bowling game last time. He seems like a good guy. and you’re feeling guilty for thinking that he might tell people about your crush on his friend. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to get it right next time, Choi Soobin. I’ll continue repeating your name until the spelling is ingrained in my brain stem, and— oh. Beomgyu texted.”
Speak the devil and he shall appear. Heck, you were only thinking about him for a good .01 seconds. You press your lips together as you come up with a reply. He’s asking if Mingyu and the rest are also at the org office.
“So,” you hear Soobin clear his throat. “How’s your progress?”
You tilt your head, still typing your reply. “With…?”
“With Beomgyu.”
Suddenly, the phone is on your lap and you make an embarrassing noise. You’re looking at Soobin with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. You knew he knew but you didn’t think he’d ask you outright like this. You cough and pick back up your phone, trying to play it cool. “Have I— have I really been obvious?”
“Maybe not?” he replied. “I don’t think anyone would have noticed unless they’re looking closely.”
You continue typing. “So you’ve been looking at me often.”
It’s his turn to be flustered. “N—no, haha. Anyway, Beomgyu is pretty popular, so the competition is brutal. But I can help you if you’d like.”
After pressing send, you straighten your legs on the chair. Your elbows press on your thighs as you lean forward and Soobin flinches back. Now that you’re looking at him closely, you don’t understand why he doesn’t have as much people lining up for him like Beomgyu. He’s actually so pretty it’s unreal. Maybe it’s because he’s less outgoing and prefers to keep to himself— even in Shutter, Soobin only talks to a handful of people on the regular, and you’re sure he only started talking to you because you literally have to work together.
Not that there’s anything wrong with being a private person. Bottomline, his face is a hidden gem and you’re lucky to be the few that can admire him up close.
“What’s the catch?” you raise a brow.
“The...catch?”
There’s a moment of tense silence until you break with a laugh, comfortably leaning back into the chair. Soobin looks confused. “I’m kidding,” you admit, swiveling the chair left and right. “I decided to give up on him.”
You know you don’t have to explain yourself, but you do anyway. Maybe it’s because there’s still a hint of doubt in Soobin’s eyes, or maybe it’s because you want to rationalize yourself. Either way, your mouth runs, and he just listens. “He’s a pretty face, he’s nice to me, and I would’ve been over the moon if there was actually something, but I don’t think I’ll ever get past being just an orgmate. Guys like him should just be admired from afar, you know? He’s like a pretty flower that you always notice in the garden, but if you pluck him from the bushes and bring him to your living room table, he’ll just wilt and die.”
You pause. “Okay. That sounds a little morbid, but you get what I mean. Anyhow, I’m done with him. I’ll get over him quickly. and I’ll find— oh, Jesus fuck!”
A burst of light suddenly breaks into the once dark room and you jump, glaring at the source of the disturbance. Mingyu’s head is peeking through the crack in the doorway. His eyes are so wide you think his eyebrows would fly off.
“Would you knock, please?” you tell him off.
“Oh— oh my, What’s this?” He’s holding up a cheeky, annoying hand to his lips. You want to throw him a shoe. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Welcome back, hyung.” Soobin greets him.
Mingyu is still wearing an exaggerated shocked expression. “Oh? Sorry, were you having a moment? Oopsies, my bad, I’ll just get my coffee and leave, please carry—”
“It’s outside,” you cut him off. He huffs.
“I know you want to be alone with Soobin, but you don’t have to kick me out.”
“Look down.”
He does, and then he gasps in horror when he sees his americano next to the trash. Mingyu looks up at you from the floor, cradling the drink to his chest. “You monster.”
You stick your tongue out at him. “Since Mingyu is already here, I’m heading out,” you announce while getting off the chair. Before Mingyu can try to stop you (he’s already shuffling back to his feet), you give Soobin a smile. “Choi Soobin, I’ll finish this at home later and I’ll send it to you so you can check.” You brush past your senior, and just as you’re about to leave, you hear your full name called out from behind.
When you turn around, you see Soobin with a cheeky smile, dimples popping. “Get home safe.”
It takes you a second to reply. “I always get home safe,” you say, and with that the door shuts behind you. As your back presses against the door’s surface, you can hear the muffled conversations of your two seniors inside, but it’s impossible to pick anything up. You give yourself a moment to take a deep breath— inhaling and exhaling to match the rhythm at the back of your head.
You quickly leave before anyone spots you, running off to the library to go over some of your classes. It’s getting loud again, you think. If this keeps up, you’re going to get yourself in trouble.
Shutter is quiet in the months leading up to your April Midterms. The group chats were still noisy from time to time— most often in the late nights when you’re trying to do your readings and study but your notifications keep buzzing, and your FOMO forces you to engage in whatever pointless conversation they’re having. There was one time, when you caught a sore throat and couldn’t speak for a day, and Beomgyu had sent some home remedies his mother always made for him. You almost caved in again. Almost. Especially when he kept checking up on you the following days after.
May flew by just as quickly. Though you only had two required major courses, it was still difficult to get into the swing of things, so you couldn’t join with a lot of Shutter’s weekend activities and instead buried yourself along with your friends in cafes, study hubs, and the library with Finals slowly creeping in.
You managed to dry yourself out of all your feelings for Beomgyu when you celebrated the end exam week at Jay’s condo. They have a video of you sobbing over him after your hammered ass saw his name when he sent a congratulations message to Shutter for surviving the semester.
That marked the end of your crush on him, and the end of spring. The weather is starting to grow warmer, and your cardigans and cotton-jackets find their places in the back end of the closet. You stop noticing the flowers peeking through your apartment window, and instead look forward to the chirping grasshoppers at the signal of the sunset.
A new season is coming. You hope it’s better than the last.
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IT’S SUMMER, THE FIRST WEEK OF JULY— but you’re on campus, and it’s hot, and you’ve been sitting on the bench by the courtyard for thirty minutes waiting for Kim Mingyu to show up. The canvas you’ve been hauling with you serves as your umbrella from the sun’s radiation. His message from last night said that the call time is at 8:00 a.m. It’s already a quarter until ten, and you haven’t seen him yet.
There are a few more people on campus besides you, passing through your frozen spot on the courtyard. Still, none of them are your Chairperson. Annoyed, your fingers jab your phone screen and you put the device to your ear. A few rings, then he picks up. “Hello?”
“Where are you?”
Before the semester ended, the Shutter officers had a meeting for the organization’s plans, and it was decided that you will be holding an exhibit over the break. You’re here today to give him the 26 x 19 canvas-printed piece you’d submitted for display and help set up the venue. It was a pain in the ass bringing it with you on the bus, and you’re not going to put it off until tomorrow.
You don’t hear anything on his end for a few moments. Then he swears. “Oh shit,” he hisses. “Sorry! I’m out with my classmates for breakfast. I completely forgot, crap.”
“Are you serious? I’ve been waiting since—”
“Just go to the Cultural Center!”
“I don’t know where that is?!” you blurt out, but take in a deep breath to calm yourself down. “Might I remind you, Chair, that this is only my second month in university. I tried looking for it earlier but my legs got tired and it’s too hot to walk around.” It’s also worth mentioning that you have trouble with directions in general, but that’s something Mingyu shouldn’t know because that’ll give him another bullet to tease you with.
“Fuck.” he says. “Okay. Wait. I’ll ask someone to come help you. Where you at?”
“At the courtyard,” you reply. “Who are you sending?”
He doesn’t tell you and instead cuts the conversation short. “Gotta go. I’ll join you guys later. I’m really sorry, please don’t hit me. Bye. I love you. MwahI” And then the call ends. You’re staring at your call history screen and processing what just happened.
Mingyu says he’s gonna send someone, maybe another officer, to pick up your lost ass and help you to the Cultural Center, so you should just sit here and wait. It would have been better if the bastard actually told you who’s coming so you’d know who you’re looking out for. You sit on the bench under the heat for another five minutes, arms getting tired from lifting the canvas over your head as a sun-shield.
Then something cool touches your cheek. You flinch in surprise and turn around to see Soobin holding a cold water bottle to your face. He greets you by your full name with a click of his tongue. “You could have waited somewhere else, dummy. Do you wanna get a heatstroke?”
Over the past weeks that you and Soobin have been working together, things have definitely become more comfortable. You might have passed out on face-to-face work with the org, but you’ve been doing your part as his assistant without fail— editing birthday pubmats for your members and officers, congratulatory posts, and other announcements layouts that were needed on demand.
“Choi Soobin,” you greet back. “Are you the one Mingyu sent to save me?”
“Let’s get out of here first,” he answers, eyes squinting when he looks up to the sky.
You take the water from him with a thank you, and the bottle cools your palms as you lag behind Soobin on the way to a more shaded area of the campus. “The Center was still closed when I checked earlier. The guard said the staff are still in the process of cleaning it, so we can’t start setting up anyway,” he explains. “Is this your piece?”
His question mellows you out immediately, just when you were about to complain about Mingyu again. Soobin peers at the canvas you have pressed to your side, tentatively waiting for a signal from you. You give a hum of agreement, a little self-conscious because it’s an evidently beginner piece, incomparable to Mingyu’s or Beomgyu’s works, and photography isn’t exactly your niche, but you let him take the canvas from your arms anyway. He’s careful when he holds the frame in his hands, stretching out his arms to get a full look.
“It’s pretty.”
“It’s amateurish,” you cringe. “I didn’t think they’d actually pick it.”
On the canvas is a silhouette of Sunghoon, pitch black against an ocean sunset. It’s a cliche composition, taken on a whim with Jake’s camera that you borrowed for ten minutes when you got bored on your beach trip last weekend. The decision to submit it was also just as impulsive. You’re pretty sure Mingyu, Myungho, and Beomgyu just picked it because it’s you. Nothing better than some organizational nepotism. You’ll get them to admit that eventually.
“Well, it’s pretty good for someone who’s just starting,” Soobin assures. The both of you must have forgotten that you’re in the middle of a road on campus, an archway of trees above you. The sunlight speckles that manage to leak through the leaves above can be seen shining spots on his face. “I can help you practice when I have the time.”
“No way, do you also do photography?” You’ve only seen him do graphic design and some photo and video editing so far, so you’re legitimately pleasantly surprised. “That’s unfair.”
“No, I don’t,” he answers. “I work better in front of the camera.”
You give him a look. Soobin notices that you don’t quite understand him.
“If the model looks good, then the photo will look good too.”
You’re speechless. “Wow,” you gape. “You know, my first impression of you was that you’re a very kind, very shy, very gentle, very humble individual. But you’re actually quite shameless, Choi Soobin.”
Soobin only laughs, and you try to take your canvas back, but he insists on carrying it. You let him, not by choice, but because he lifted it up to his head and you can’t possibly fucking reach that unless you climb him. Giving up, you look around. “So, what now?” He raises a brow. “The Cultural Center is closed and Mingyu will take a while. What are we supposed to do?”
You didn’t expect him to actually try and think of something, so you’re surprised to hear his silence while he’s deep in thought, contemplating. You stifle out a chuckle. “Would you...like to check out a different exhibit in the meantime?”
“Hm?” you look at him. “What exhibit?”
He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I had Programming last semester and we had to develop an app as our final project. The faculty decided to display some outputs, and— a-anyway, it’s in the CICT Building. If it’s too far, we don’t have to go.”
“No, I wanna see.” You tug on his sleeve and make your way to their building, overly familiar with the directions from the times you’d loiter around the premises in the hopes of catching a glimpse of Beomgyu, only to get roped by Mingyu and the other Shutter members for a few rounds at different pop-up bars and cafes in the city. But it’s been a while since you’ve been here. It’s white like most of the college buildings on campus, but it’s impossible to tell from the outside how much more budget the administration gave to this building for the air conditioning.
Soobin leads you inside the lobby and from there, you can already see a mini LED screen with the animated text saying SOPHOMORE COMPSCI EXHIBIT. IT203 Programming. OB 101. July 1-23, 2023. No admission fee! along with printed arrows on the floor leading to the large double doors on the right wing of the building. There are white and red balloons forming an arch around the door— their department’s signature color. “You guys really went all out,” you nudge Soobin. He makes a noise of what you assume is embarrassment.
When you enter, you’re met with computer monitors, television screens, and even more LED screens in the large room, lining up in different rows with signs and other things you can’t quite name accompanying them. You’re so used to having only printouts, PDFs, and word documents in front of you for your major that you forgot other courses have a little more life in them.
“Ohhh? Soobin, you’re here.”
Then you notice that there are a lot more people in the exhibit, presumably Soobin’s classmates because they either walk up to him, greet him, or both. You’re stuck with a customer service smile as Soobin engages with them. That is until one of them— a girl you think you share an elective class with— looks at you with a bright smile. “Hi! Are you Soobin’s girlfriend?”
Your eyes bat three times. You’re flustered, but you maintain a tight smile to mask it. Soobin isn’t handling it as well as you because he audibly makes a choking noise and his face, neck, and ears are visibly matching the color of the decorations strewn all about.
“Soobinie, I didn’t know you had it in you.”
“Why didn’t you tell us? Wow, I’m hurt.”
“It’s always the quiet ones you have to look out for.”
“N-no, what are you—” he stammers. “She’s not— I mean, why would you—”
Oh no. His friends’ hollering and teasing isn’t helping his case at all until Soobin gets enough of it and tells them to shut up while shooing them away. “I’m sorry. You must’ve been uncomfortable,” he says once they’ve all scattered off, a noticeable change in his timbre. “Should we just go?”
“It’s fine,” you assure him. “I’m sure they always do that whenever you’re with a friend they’ve never met before. Anyway, let’s just look at your work! Where is it? Which one?”
You’re already sniffing out the displays one-by-one, but Soobin lags behind for a moment. You turn back, looking at him expectantly. “Choi Soobin.”
“It’s at the end of the next row.” His pace is slow as he leads you to his display, as though there’s glue on his heels, pulling him into the floor. Your nose bumps into his back when he stops all of a sudden. Soobin spins around to sputter apologies, crouching a little to examine your face. “Oh no—”
Your face is a little scrunched up and your cheeks are squished in between his palms. “Does it hurt anywhere? Shit, I’m so sorry.” You can’t even say anything because he’s mushing your face. Your hands crawl up to his arms, about to pry him off, but you hear a voice inserting himself into the scene, and so you pause in the same position.
“Kids have gotten bolder these days.”
You and Soobin turn your heads at the same time. You see someone leaning against the foundation pillar next to one of the displays. He has his arms crossed, and staring at the both of you with sharp, curious eyes. But it isn’t quite clear since strands of his hair are covering most of it. The corners of his lips curve upwards, almost playfully. His piercings catch your attention next— dangling silver amidst various hoops and studs.
In other words, he’s dangerously attractive.
“Hyung.”
Your eyes shift back to Soobin. His arms drop to his side and he straightens his posture. You watch as the newcomer approaches him, keeping a close eye on Soobin’s expression to gauge whether they’re close or otherwise. “Ah, go away.” Soobin rolls his shoulders when the other guy suddenly latches onto him like a koala, the same subtle grin painting his face.
“Wow, you aren’t even greeting me properly, you punk.”
Soobin gets a noogie, and you’re staring at the both of them with an absentminded smile until you’re finally noticed. There’s something in his gaze when he cranes his head ever the slightest to look at you, a slow roll of his irises, and you feel something burning.
“Hi Soobinie’s girlfriend,” he greets. Soobin fully shoves him off.
“She isn’t.”
“I overheard the commotion earlier, though?”
“My blockmates were just messing with me.” Your friend lets out a groan. “Go away.”
He doesn’t go away. Instead, he releases Soobin and he slowly walks up to you. Your throat gets tighter every time he takes a step closer, up until he’s standing directly in front of you. “Hi,” he introduced himself. “I’m Choi Yeonjun. That guy’s senior.”
Yeonjun points a thumb to ‘that guy,’ who isn’t looking very bright at the moment, making it more difficult for you to gauge whether they’re actually friends or not. But you put it on the backburner for now and give Yeonjun your name in response. He repeats it, testing how the syllables should roll off his tongue. Admittedly, your name sounds better when he says it.
“Are you really not dating Soobin?” he asks, and the question catches you off guard.
“N—no,” you quickly reply. “I’m very single right now.”
You want to punch yourself. The fuck kind of response was that?
It doesn’t help when you hear Yeonjun laugh a little, and you feel yourself physically shrink and burn up. You’re sure there’s air-conditioning in the room, but you’re fanning yourself with your hands. The air squeezing down the back of your throat feels like flammable gas. “Sounds a lot like an invitation,” you hear him say. You shoot up, blinking a few too many times.
“I’m sorry?”
Something is tugging on the corners of his lips, and brushes an index finger under his nose. “To watch your exhibit,” Yeonjun clarifies. “You’re friends with Soobin so you’re probably in Shutter, right? So, when’s your exhibit?”
“O–oh, I’m not sure. I’ll ask our Chair once we meet with him later.”
You release a breath you’ve been unconsciously holding. “Then…” he trails off, and you flinch when he suddenly dips closer. Holy shit, he’s too close. “Won’t you need my number so you can tell me the date once you’re sure?”
There’s a cough, and you can hear Soobin mumble something inaudible. Your head peers above Yeonjun’s shoulder and he turns around to check on Soobin, as well. You ask him to repeat himself. “It’s nothing. I can give you updates on the exhibit, hyung,” he says. “And the open dates will be posted on our page as well.”
“Ah, is that so?”
Your eyes narrow at their exchange. Soobin calls Yeonjun hyung and the latter knows he’s in Shutter, so you’ve settled with thinking that they’re friends. Yeonjun also seems to be pretty comfortable around your friend, but the evident tension in the air is making you second guess. You’d have to ask Soobin later.
Then, Yeonjun says something that throws your plans out the window.
“She can just give me a different date,” Yeonjun says. He spins on his heels and returns his attention to you, an eager smile on his face. “Right?”
Now, your love life might have been a consistent dumpster fire, but it doesn’t take a genius to take a hint that Choi Yeonjun is hitting on you right now.
Your brain is short-circuiting, causing you to sputter out an unsure, “Yes?”
“Okay.” It seems like that was good enough for Yeonjun because he graces you with a satisfied smile and holds his hand out. You stare at his open palm. He lifts a brow. “Phone?”
“Oh! Right—”
You dig into your pockets and fish out your phone, passing it to Yeonjun who brings the device close to his face, covering the amusement on his lips from your unhidden fluster. “Cute,” you hear him mumble, and it feels like you’re being swallowed by hot sand.
It’s hard not to get your hopes up from a first meeting like this, but Yeonjun is merciless. Your hopes flutter far above your head when he texts you later that evening while you’re out for dinner with Yura, asking when the aforementioned date will be.
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“Why is it so hard for all of us to get together?” Yunjin opens your first lunch together since the beginning of break by slamming a sprite can into the table. “It’s summer break for fuck’s sake!”
The hot pot restaurant you’re in has gotten noisier with your group’s presence. There’s chopsticks clattering on silver platters, soda cans spritzing open, and a mess of voices as justifications break out from all sides of the table.
“I went home to see my parents!” Jay defends himself.
“So did I!” adds Jake.
“Kazuha booked her flight at the end of the month because she’s smarter than you two,” Yunjin points her chopsticks at the latter before switching over to you, who’s innocently shoving a piece of boiled meat into your mouth. “And you—”
“It’s not my fault I have org shit to take care of!” you say with a full mouth. Taehyun passes you a glass of water.
“What about you?” Jay juts out his chin at Sunghoon, who’s also quietly eating from his bowl like you’ve been earlier. “What’s your excuse?”
The moment summer break began, Sunghoon suddenly disappeared without a trace. He showed up at Jay’s condo with a suitcase and shopping bags yesterday evening without an explanation. You have yet to hear from the man himself. He gets uncomfortable from the amount of eyes staring at him and slams down his spoon.
“Can’t a man get some personal time?!”
“Then go have lunch by yourself.” Taehyun pushes aside Sunghoon’s bowl while reaching out for some side dishes. “I’m sure he had a two week fling but it didn’t work out so now he’s crawling back.”
“Yah, what do you know?” Sunghoon shoots up. “You’ve never even dated before.”
“Hey, you shouldn’t slander Taehyun,” Yunjin butts in. You didn’t think Taehyun’s accusation was true until Sunghoon’s reaction. Poor guy really must have gotten dumped. “He got asked out by Aecha and a girl from broadcasting while you were off the radar.”
Sunghoon sits back down. “Seriously?”
“Wait, how come I don’t know this?” Jake only snorts at your question and reaches over the table to place a cube of radish into your open mouth. Your jaw chews automatically, waiting for an explanation.
Taehyun shrugged. Jay answers on his behalf. “Do the both of you even open our group chat? He turned them down. I wasn’t even in the country but I knew.”
“What the—” Sunghoon looks at the man in question. “Dude. Aecha is so pretty, why would you reject her?”
“Go date her yourself, then,” he says.
“Maybe I will.”
“I feel like I’ve overheard this conversation in high school,” you hear Kazuha from beside you and you breathe out a laugh in agreement.
“But I was also pretty shocked when I found out Taehyun turned her down,” Yunjin says. “I thought you two got along pretty well.”
Aecha is another girl from your major, and you’ve seen her and Taehyun together a few times— asking questions about your classes and such. It never hit you that she had a thing for your friend. Then again, you aren’t the smartest person in that area, either. While listening, you’re on the verge of spilling your guts out on the table about the very dangerously attractive senior you met the other day. Kazuha notices how you’d suddenly grow quiet from time to time. You open your mouth, but Taehyun catches everyone’s attention.
“I’m not interested in dating,” he says. “I’ll just get distracted. If I’m going to be this nation’s president in the future, there’s things I need to prioritize first.”
You want to laugh at him, but the shit he’s saying is actually possible, even if he’s saying it with a serious voice as a joke. You decided to take public administration as a pre-law, but Taehyun seems to have a higher ambition than all of you combined. Sunghoon warns him that he shouldn’t be too confident about staying single, “You’ll never know when you’ll fall in love and trip over your plans, buddy.” Taehyun just shrugs him off and continues eating his lunch.
You’ve already emptied your bowl and are once again deep in thought. It’s not only Kazuha that notices this time— Jake eyes you as he drinks from his glass of water. When he settles the glass down, he calls out your name. Your eyes snap forward and look at him. “Yeah?”
“What’s up?”
Man, you really have to fess up now, don’t you? It takes a while to get the words out of your system, and the amount of eyes staring at you is making the food crawl back up your system. This must be how Sunghoon was feeling earlier. “Well,” you start, trying out one word at a time. “I met a guy.”
Jay nearly spits out his water. You don’t give them an opportunity to grill you and continue.
“We’ve been texting for a few days.” It’s Yunjin’s turn to choke on her water. “Is it...too soon to go on a date with him this weekend?”
You’re guessing you gave out too much information at once, so it’s taking them a while to make a response. You sit there, innocently fiddling on some tissue paper. Jay is the first one to recover/ “Holy shit. I didn’t believe you when you said you were over Beomgyu, but I guess you’ve really did move on, huh.”
“Is he pretty? Is he from our uni? What’s his major?”
“You have a thing for tech boys, don’t you?”
“Shut up,” you smack Sunghoon. “But is it too soon? Or…?”
Kazuha drags her chair closer to yours. “Tell us about him first.”
You cock your head, a little hesitant to say anything about Yeonjun yet. You don't think you know him well enough, granted that you’ve only been texting for a few days. Still, you tell him what you can— his name, that he’s a friend of a friend, and that he’s one of the prettiest people you’ve ever seen.
“I think it’s too sudden,” says Jake.
“I think he’s just playing with you.” You smack Sunghoon a second time.
“Don’t listen to them!” Yunjin jumps in before the boys can do any more damage. “You should go date whoever you want and it doesn’t have to be serious. You’re at the very least interested in him, right?”
“Well— yeah.”
“And it seems like he’s interested in you, too! If it works out, then great! If it doesn’t, then we’ll just help you get over him. Give it a shot. You’ll never know unless you do.”
You ponder over Yunjin’s advice for the rest of the day until you find yourself staring at your phone screen instead of going to sleep. The night is leaking through your window, and you turn to your side, biting your thumb. The screen is showing your last conversation with Yeonjun, earlier this morning before you left to meet with your friends. Your bedside clock ticks impatiently. Then you start typing.
Saturday.
Hm?
I heard there’s a summer promo at Baskin Robbins.
You shove a pillow to your face and you end up kicking off your blankets. Taking a sharp breath, you sit up and attempt to lower the rising temperature, else you wouldn’t be sleeping tonight. Though when you see his reply, you fumble harder.
Can’t wait :)
Yunjin should’ve warned you that taking her advice had side effects.
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Saturday comes. You’re already sweating buckets on the elevator ride down your apartment.
It’s hot out, so I’ll pick you up, Yeonjun texted a few hours prior. He also asked what outfit you’ll be wearing. We should match, he says. You’re in an oversized striped dress shirt and about to pass out from nervousness.
One thing you haven’t told your friends is that fact that you’ve never been on a date before. Like, ever. Your high school years were plagued by books and tests and assignments and the moment your parents allowed you to move out for university, you decided you wanted to live your life to the fullest— at least during your first year.
However, your resolve doesn’t translate to having balls of steel. The elevator reaches the ground floor and you hesitate to leave. You pull out your phone and use it as a mirror to give yourself one last check, fearing that your makeup has already melted off. It took you thirty minutes just to get your eyeliner perfect and you’d cry if they’ve gotten ruined.
You only get one quick glance before the screen flashes on. An incoming call from Yeonjun. You press the phone to your ear and hurry out the elevator. “I’m on the way!” The floor is slippery when you skid across the lobby and emerge through the entrance, but you manage to catch your balance by holding onto the doorframe.
“I see you.”
You allow your arm to fall to your side because you spot him as well in front of your building, waiting outside a gray vehicle. He was serious when he said he’d match your clothes.
Yeonjun waves at you with a wide grin, but eyes covered by the dark shades perched on top of his nose. It doesn’t stop your cheeks from flaring up. You feel like you should be the one protecting your eyes and not him.
“The temperature today is brutal, isn’t it?” he says upon your arrival. “Ah, I can’t wait for some ice cream therapy.”
He should know that he’s much more dangerous than the scalding summer heat. The warmth from his palm is still lingering on your shoulder when he guides you inside his car, and you feel a lot more lightheaded inside the compact space of the vehicle than when you were outside. Your left leg is jerking in nervousness. Yeonjun turns on some music, and you start to loosen up a bit more.
“You know,” he says, eyes on the road in front of him. “You’re a lot more talkative in text than in person.”
You should’ve known you’ve been pathetically obvious. “Relax. I won’t eat you up.” Yeonjun assures.
“It’s just that,” your knuckles tighten on your lap. “I’ve never been on a date before.”
“Really? Guess I should do a good job today.”
When you snatch a glance at him, he peers at you with a smile and you want to explode. “So that you’ll let me take you out on a second one.”
It’s always like this whenever you’re with Yeonjun. You learn this after the second, third, fifth time you’re out with him. It’s like something is burning, always keeping you on your toes else you’ll combust along with the flames. He’ll say something that’ll set your cheeks on fire and won’t do anything to put it out.
Yet the burn is addicting, like when your fingers start to sting a little after playing with lit candles whenever there’s a power outage. But you still swipe your index finger barely above the flame to show off that you can tame it with your own hands.
The exhibit will be on the twenty-second of July. Yeonjun says he’ll be there.
“You’ve been in a great mood lately.”
You turn around after settling an easel at the end of the room to find Mingyu fixing the ones next to you. It’s a day before the exhibit— Hanyeorum, as the selected title— and some volunteers from Shutter are making last minute preparations at the Cultural Center. The easels you borrowed from storage finally arrived. All that’s left is to arrange them along with the photos, and plaster their labels underneath.
“Some would say you even look prettier,” he wiggles his brows, and you snort.
“What do you want, Chair?”
Mingyu pouts, moving over to another corner of the venue. “Your attitude still sucks, though.”
“As if yours is any better,” you shoot him a grin. He lets out a scoff and falls to the floor, sitting cross legged and looking up at you. He pats the ground in front of him. You’ve been working and walking around since two in the afternoon and it’s already getting dark, so you take his offer.
“Are you inviting anyone for the exhibit tomorrow?” he asks. You raise a brow at him, wiping your hands with the towel you’ve just stolen from his shoulder. The easels are dusty. Mingyu continues talking. “They say if you bring someone to check out Seo Myungho’s ‘Everlong,’ the both of you will fall in love.”
“That sounds fucking stupid.” You toss the towel back at him. “Wait a minute. Are you spreading these rumors to get more people to come?”
He grins. “Genius, right?”
“Hate to admit it, but that’s actually a good strategy,” you tell him, and his face stretches into a proud smile. “Need any help spreading fake news?”
“If we reach one-fifty visitors on the first day, I’m treating everyone who helped out. A new bar opened in the district.”
You shake on it. “Leave it to me.” How can you say no to free drinks? Even if you don’t reach the quota, Mingyu will probably spend money on you all, anyway.
“I’ll take over from here. Go take a break until the guys come back with the displays.”
You have no reason to protest. You snatch a can of soda from a plastic bag in the middle of the room and make your way outside. The night breeze is gentle on your skin, and you spot someone else taking a breather outside the building. He’s leaning against the railings, looking into the dim painted campus. “Choi Soobin,” you call out. He turns around, blank face tugging into a small smile and he greets you the same way as you called him. It’s been a while since you’ve hung out with him. Even the days where you were working for the exhibit, you and him have only exchanged a few words, mostly greetings.
“Are they done inside?” he asks. You take the spot next to him.
“Not yet,” you reply. The soda can is cold on your lips, and you look up at him. “Heard the rumor about Myungho’s piece?”
“The one Mingyu hyung is spreading to get people interested?” Your laugh comes off as a huff of air when he hits the nail on the head. Just how many people has Mingyu been recruiting? Soobin tells you how ridiculous it sounds. “I don’t think it’s gonna work as well as he thinks.”
“I think otherwise,” you tell him. “The fact that such a rumor exists in the first place is gonna draw their curiosity, whether they believe it or not. 2,000 won isn’t much. I’m sure people would throw away their money to see what in the hell this Everlong piece looks like.”
Soobin laughs. “You’ve got a point.” He stays quiet for a moment before asking, “Did you invite Yeonjun hyung?”
“He says he’ll come,” you reply. “What’s with the face?”
You’ve noticed his discomfort on the day you met Yeonjun, second guessing your assumption that they were friends (they are, Yeonjun assures. Soobin also clarified that when you questioned him on the same day). However, you still haven’t gotten an explanation from that dau. You hope Soobin will give you some clarity tonight. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” he starts, and you listen attentively. “But I’m just worried.”
“Is he a player, or something?” you raise a brow. “He does look like one, and I thought so too at first until I got to know him better. But if he is, you would’ve warned me.”
Soobin shakes his head. “No, well— he’s not like that, but—” He’s a little hesitant. You can tell from his expression. “Yeonjun hyung isn’t an...actively bad person. It’s just that…he sort of has commitment issues.”
This is news to you, but you keep your thoughts to yourself first. Soobin continues and you keep listening. “He doesn’t hesitate to make a move when he’s interested in someone, but after a couple of dates or when things start getting a little more serious, he gets cold feet and it ends up— you know.”
It’s not an easy story to tell. Soobin must have spent a while thinking if he should tell you these things about Yeonjun or not, considering the fact that he’s probably closer with him than you, who just popped up in his life a few months ago. Yet he still told you, and he’s looking at you with such an earnest concern in his eyes. “The two of you are my friends and the last thing I’d want is either of you getting hurt.” To say you’re touched is an understatement.
“For a while I thought you were being jealous.” You joke in an attempt to lighten up the mood, but it’s only made the air colder and you quickly try to cover it up. “But thanks for looking out for me, Choi Soobin.”
He presses his lips into a tight smile. Your shoulder slump, letting yourself sink into the railings.
“I don’t know. I still like him a lot,” you admit and Soobin hums in response. “Still. Whatever happens, I hope it doesn’t get in the way of your friendship with either of us.”
Soobin’s smile settles softer. “Of course,” he says, and it’s suddenly a lot easier for you to breathe. In spite of the arid summer weather, it’s cooler tonight. The wind blows in a gentle rhythm outside the Center, and you sip on your soda in the quiet of each other’s company. The science doesn’t last long— you start hearing a lot of noise coming from inside the building, prompting you to straighten.
“I think Beomgyu and the rest are back,” you tell Soobin, tugging on his sleeve. “Let’s go. God, I can’t wait for this shit to be over.”
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You should’ve taken Soobin’s words as a warning.
It’s the day of the exhibit’s opening and people are slowly trickling in. The tarpaulin in front of the building was designed by yours truly— Hanyeorum in a warm orange and deep purple palette. Mingyu says he can already smell the success of the exhibit, but you’re restless at the ticketing area, walking in circles with your eyes glued to your phone until someone calls out your name.
“Your friends are looking for you,” Yura’s head pops into the booth. “Chan is coming in a bit to take over.”
When Chan arrives, you hop off from your post and join the four people loitering by the entrance. Yunjin and Kazuha are out of the country for vacation, so you’re left with four bastards. They don’t notice you as they’re huddled around your piece near the doors, so you bump your head into Jake’s back.
Four heads turn around. Jake swallows you in a one-armed hug when they notice it’s you. “They finally set you free,” he says, destroying all the work you put in your hair in a matter of seconds.
“This org will fall apart without me,” you say, still tucked into your friend’s side and you cringe when your eyes land on your piece. Mingyu still hasn’t admitted that it’s only up for display because he’s biased. Your friends are praising you because they’re biased, too.
“This one is the best in the entire exhibit.” Except for Sunghoon. You’re sure he only likes it because he’s in the photo.
“Have you even checked the rest of the exhibit?” you raise a brow at him.
“No, and I don’t need to,” he says then releases a noise of awe accompanied by an approving nod, hand on his chin and all. “This is a masterpiece.”
“Where’s the cursed photo everyone’s talking about?” Jay asks, looking around the interior like some sort of art critic. He’s even wearing obnoxious ass shades.
“Right,” Taehyun adds. “The thing you told us about.”
“It’s not cursed. It makes you fall in love,” you click your tongue, finally escaping from Jake’s grasp. Jay scoffs at your correction.
“Sounds like a curse to me.”
Nevertheless, you take them to see Myungho’s display. You guys printed it on the biggest canvas you could get your hands on and made sure to position it at the end of the building so that the viewers could wander for a longer time. The downside for that reveals itself to you in the form of your friends getting distracted by other photographs and disappearing like scattered bugs in the Center.
The only one you’re left with is Taehyun, who’s genuinely curious to see your senior’s piece.
“Wow,” he gapes. “I didn’t think it’d actually be good, but this is amazing.”
What overtakes the wall is a massive blanket of the night sky, splotched with the occasional star. It’s on the rooftop of somewhere you don’t know, but the sky is so clear, so pretty, so hollow that it draws your attention. The canvas nearly stretches from the floor to the ceiling. It was Mingyu’s idea to print it this big. He wanted to make it feel like you’re in the photo yourself— with your significant other, friend, or anyone you want to share the midsummer night sky with.
“I thought Yeonjun was coming over.” You turn to look at Taehyun. He must be done admiring the piece.
“I thought so too.” you reply.
He’s quiet for a moment— a cautious silence before asking, “Have you texted him?”
“What do you think?”
You’re engulfed in your second hug for the day. Taehyun is never affectionate with any of you, so you know you’re already that pitiful when he decides to comfort you with an embrace, but you don’t complain.
“Maybe something came up so he can’t reply yet. Don’t be too sad over a man. Enjoy your opening day with the rest of your friends.”
If Soobin hadn’t told you anything yesterday evening, you might’ve been a little more hopeful and it would have bitten back twice as hard and painful. Still, your hopes aren’t completely obliterated. You wait for a text or a call or anything up until the first day of your exhibit finally wraps up and you’re in Mingyu’s car with shitty love songs playing on the speaker on the way to Dice, the newly opened bar he mentioned.
“Cheers!”
Shot glasses clunk with one another and you feel the burn crawling down your throat. “Slow down,” Myungho warns while refilling your glass. “I don’t want to clean up after you tonight.”
Your mouth forms into bitter pout. “Cut me some slack. I’m tired and sad and I’ll get shitfaced if I want to.” Your head dips back as you finish another shot. Myungho clicks his tongue with a disapproving head shake and transfers to a different table, where you spot Soobin stealing glances at you.
Shit, he must’ve heard you. You try shrinking yourself and squeeze next to Yura. God, you probably seem pathetic to him right now. It hasn’t even been two days since you talked about Yeonjun, but his warning already happened. You don’t think you can talk to him about it yet, so you gather yourself to a different table. You hear an angel’s chorus singing when you spot Mingyu near the bar front. He’s with some Shutter members that you aren’t really close with, but you bulldoze through it.
Mingyu spots you and waves over for you to come with a bright smile that signals he’s already a few bottles in. “Sit here!” your senior beckons, patting on the empty chair beside him.
“Who’s this?” the guy sitting across him asks. You recognize him from some of the events your org has had— Jeonghan, you think, but you’re not entirely sure since you’ve never talked to him. All you know is that he likes to tease the other members in the group chat a lot.
Still, you give him a polite smile and Mingyu introduces you to each other. You were right. He is Jeonghan.
“Ohhh! So, this is her,” Jeonghan exclaims, stirring your confusion. “The girl Soobinie likes!”
You blink at him. “Ex— excuse me?”
Mingyu quickly brushes his statement away with a laugh and starts thanking you for the exhibit’s success in between drinks. There were a total of 167 visitors today, morning to evening, so Shutter finally has some expendable funds.
You should’ve learned from the first night you were out drinking with Mingyu that you cannot keep up with his pace, but you never learn. He’s making you another drink, sober enough to not spill anything, but your head is already feeling dizzy.
“I’m gonna go get some fresh air.”
“Careful! Wait, hyung you should accompany her—”
“I’m fine!” you assure. “I can still walk by myself, thank you very much.”
You can. Barely, but you can manage. It’s better than being assigned to a senior you’re not even close with and you’d much rather be alone so you can wallow in your feelings. But you overestimated your motor skills while under the influence. You bump into a pillar and stumble right when you’ve almost reached the foyer.
“Whoa. Are you okay?”
The shock and shame of seeing Soobin’s face is almost enough to snap you back into sobriety. He managed to grab you by the shoulders before you could make a fool out of yourself in a public bar.
“Choi Soobin,” you greet him. “You were right. Totally, completely right.”
“Let’s get you back on your feet first, okay?” He steadies you back on your feet, and you grumble with a tight grip on his sleeve to keep yourself balanced. You finally make it to the foyer, leaning against the ledge as you intake the fresh breeze. It’s a mirror of your encounter with him last night. Even the conversations are direct reflections of each other.
“Yeonjun didn’t show up today,” you finally tell him. He settles next to you, and his elbow brushes against yours.
“Maybe something urgent came up?” he says after a moment of pondering. You fish out your phone and after a few scrolls and taps, you flash him the screen, revealing your last conversation with Yeonjun. Conversation is a stretch. The rows of messages you sent today are all marked as read. Soobin’s face glows from the bluelight. “Oh.”
You pocket your phone and stare back into the horizon. There are more occupied tables settled in the bar’s backyard, eliminating any opportunity for silence to rupture. “I’m sorry,” he says. You look up and give him a smile.
“It’s okay,” you tell him. “I’m okay. We were only talking for like, three weeks. I didn’t even like him that much.”
Yet in spite of the white noise, the moment when you stop speaking feels heavier than the dead of night. Soobin peers down at your face. You’re staring blankly at the air, and he’s almost convinced you’re actually fine until he catches the slight quiver of your lips and the damp glassiness of your eyes. He flinches back when you suddenly take a sharp breath.
“I thought he was the one! God damn it—”
He’s in a bit of panic at your outburst, unsure of what to do so he settles with awkwards pats on your shoulder as you continue your fit. “Why is it so hard to get in a relationship?” you exclaim. “I mean, it seems so easy for other people! I stopped eating at the cafeteria because I see couples left and right, while all i do is fall on love on my own and end up disappointed and heart broken.”
Your rant leaves you a little out of breath. The air circling around you starts to grow warmer, and Soobin’s face starts to grow a little hazy as you slowly blink, but the concern in his eyes cuts clear despite your insobriety. It makes you laugh a little.
“Choi Soobin,” you call his attention. “Do you like anyone?”
Silence settles in the dry, arid evening. You watch as hidden thoughts flit through his head until he finally gives an answer.
“I do,” he says.
And you remember Jeonghan’s words from earlier. It’s hard to take seriously, and you’re not sure if you even want to take it seriously. Still, it leaves an aftertaste in your mouth, and you swallow it with a sigh. “Good for them,” you hum, melting further into the iron ledge. “Must be nice to be at the receiving end of love. Ah, why do I fall for people so quickly? Am I just easy?”
You earn a comforting pat from Soobin, his hand settling on the top of your head and when you peer up at him, he’s looking away with an unsure expression, the same uncertainty you can feel in the tremors from his hand.
”We should get back inside. You’re not even wearing a jacket.”
“It’s pretty warm out.”
“Still. Summer colds are brutal,” you nudge him. “Let’s go back.”
Mingyu managed to get other members to help in managing the exhibit until the first week of August, so you have more time for yourself. While everyone else crashed with the waves and dug underneath the sand, you resigned to staying indoors and sleeping in while you still can. You’ve heard from some seniors that the next semester will be a lot more brutal.
It’s only the end of July, yet the air around you has shifted from a sweltering burn to a mellow warmth of burnt orange and chalky sienna. It’s still hotter on some days, and those days you’re out with whichever friend is available.
Summer ended early for you. You’re still figuring out how you feel about that.
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A WEEK BEFORE FALL SEMESTER, you and Yura decide to clean up your closets and buy more appropriate clothes for the season. You’ve already signed up for your classes once the MIS opened, and you and your friend were lucky enough to enroll in the same elective. You’re only good at graphic design, but you hope art appreciation will be kind to you.
“I don’t think I have any more space for this,” you state, expertly flitting through the clothes rack of cardigans and sweaters. There’s a red one that catches your eye, so you pull it out and hang it over your arm along with your other picks.
“That’s why I went home last weekend and left a bunch of my clothes there,” Yura replies. “What if you sell your old clothes online?”
“I’m thinking about it,” you say. “For the meantime, maybe I’ll just stuff my summer shit in a bag and hide it under the bed.”
“Sounds good,” she says. “Should we check out?”
You two leave the thrift store with two bags in each hand and decide to stop by a ramen place for lunch. While waiting for your orders to arrive, you settle into idle conversation. “You’re meeting up with Chair later, right?”
“Yup,” you reply. Your orders arrive, and you thank the waiter and split apart your chopsticks. “He wants to hear my ideas for the campus festival.”
“I feel like he relies on you a lot,” she says. “Maybe he wants you to be the next Shutter Chair.” You don’t think she’s wrong. It’s evident to everyone that you’re working more than what your position entails. Sometimes, you feel like a second Vice along with Myungho. Not that you’re overly against it— in fact, being needed makes you feel a lot better.
“Does he want to pass his headache to me?” you laugh. “I’m not even sure if I still want to stay in Shutter next year. I want to focus on my acads.”
You notice that she’s been a little less bubbly since earlier. You sip on a little bit of ramen soup and watch Yura as she eats, a thought seeping in your mind and you settle your chopsticks for a moment. “I got ghosted last month.” She coughs on a noodle. “On the day of the exhibit opening.”
Once she recovers from the joke, a glass of water from you to help, she looks at you with wide eyes. “Hello?!”
“Try some karaage.”
You place a piece of the fried dish into her mouth. While she’s chewing and swallowing, you can see her processing your words better. “Who?”
“A guy from comp sci,” you say, picking on the boiled egg in your ramen bowl. “I don’t think you know him.”
Your confession simmers in the air for a moment as you two continue your meals in silence. That is until Yura puts down her bowl after finishing her food and tells you, “I got rejected.”
Cautiously, the words stumble on your tongue. “By...Choi Soobin?”
“How did you know?!”
“I sort of noticed you have a crush on him,” you sheepishly say. “I haven’t told anyone, don’t worry.”
The both of you share a moment of silence to mourn the death of your love lives. It’s almost funny how you and her have an accumulated zero when it comes to your luck with men. “You know what,” you start, ready to leave the restaurant. “We should focus on self love next semester. Fuck everyone else.”
“Yeah!” Yura follows after you, picking up her shopping bags from the floor. “Fuck everyone else!”
Another wave of silence overtakes you as you leave the restaurant, and once you’re back out in the main space of the mall, there’s a relapse.
“I miss him.”
“I miss him, too.”
This is gonna take a while.
Yura gives you a hug before you part ways in front of campus. Mingyu already texted that he’s in the clubroom with your coffee as hostage. The ice is already melted when you get there, and the both of you spend more time scrolling on your phones on the bed Myungho bought the other week because a few too many people have fallen asleep in the office. You’re supposed to be making initial plans for the September festival, but your feet are on Mingyu’s lap and he’s trying his best to fit on the mattress.
“Hey, set me up with one of your friends.” You kick your feet to pull up your body, sitting up straight and Mingyu looks at you like you’ve just assaulted him. “I saw your insta story yesterday. The guy in the bucket hat and glasses is cute.”
“He’s married to his lab reports and is in love with his cat. You’ll only get your heart broken,” he says, sending you a pointed look. “Don’t you have anyone you’re interested in from your major?”
You run the numbers in your head. There’s only a handful of people you find attractive from your major and most of them are your friends. Mingyu takes note of the unabashed disgust on your face.
“I’m guessing that’s a no. How about your anonymous confessor?”
Right. There’s that Shinbi guy from orientation. Whatever the confession said is already fuzzy to you, and no one’s even made a move since then so you didn’t dwell on it too much. Mingyu plops down the bed, looking up to you with his feet swinging behind him like a teenage girl. “Have they revealed themselves yet?”
“What? No. I think they’re over me,” you scrunch your nose. “It’s been months. It’s already expired. There’s no hope in that anymore.”
“Do you seriously have no idea who it is? Dude, I’ve been teasing you with him all this time!”
“Choi Soobin?” He gives you a look: Bingo. “What the hell makes you say it’s him? Did he tell you?”
“No.” You raise a fist. “But hear me out, okay? Wait—”
Very quickly, he scrambles off the bed and hauls in the whiteboard you have in the office. The wheels screech as he drags the giant board in front of the bed. The marker cap pulls out with a pop, and he writes CHOI SOOBIN on the white surface, all caps, and then SHINBI at the bottom.
“Look,” he taps the marker on the board. “All the letters in Shinbi can be found in his name.”
Your head tilts, observing the bullshit he’s written. He seems about right. “And?”
“That’s it,” he nods, looking proud. “What?”
You throw a pillow to his face.
“Hey, what if I’m right? What if it really is Soobin?” he pushes defensively, roughly erasing the blasphemic writings he made on the board. “How would you feel?”
It’s been months, and whoever Shinbi is, they’ve probably lost their feelings already so you see no point in dwelling on it. But if Mingyu’s speculations are correct, then that complicates things. You recall Jeonghan’s words from the other day, and the fact that Yura literally got rejected by him and she’s still far from over him. The very idea stresses you out.
“I don’t think it’s him.” You hope it’s not him. “But if it is, then he’s really doing a favor for my ego.”
Mingyu has already positioned the whiteboard back on the opposite side of the room. He’s back with a skeptical eyebrow raise. “I mean, if a good looking guy has a crush on you, won’t you feel like you’re the hottest person on earth?” Not taking things seriously fends away the stress.
“So, you’re just using him to feed your narcissism?!” he gasps. “Don’t do my son dirty like that!”
“Calm your giant tits, Gyu. It’s more likely to be Heeseung than Soobin.”
God, you don’t even want to begin thinking if it turns out to be him. Mingyu raises his arms protectively against his chest and you sigh. “Let’s shut up about this and plan for the festival.”
“Your boy thirsty ass is the one who brought this up in the first place.” You hit him with another pillow the moment he settles back on the bed. “Ow! This is why you don’t have a boyfriend. Your temper is shit.”
For the rest of the afternoon, all you two do is type down all the ideas that float in your head in a shared Google document until you realize that half of them aren’t feasible with your bare minimum budget, so the document gets cut in half until you settle with some basic shit— a photobooth and a table to sell some prints of your members’ works.
Before you conclude for the day, Mingyu mentions an upcoming university event sometime within the month. “We need two volunteers from Shutter to join the LDT. Seungcheol hyung said it’s required.” But you put it on the back burner for now. Mingyu gives you a ride home and you decide to schedule a meeting sometime in the middle of the month. For now, you have some classes to prepare for.
“Thanks, Chair. Drive safe.”
It’s great that things are starting to get busy again. That way, you can keep your mind occupied with the incoming season.
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“Are you actually joining?”
It’s two weeks into the semester. Your friends are gathered under the orange leaves of burnt trees at the courtyard, spending your vacant period with laptops and other devices on the bench. “No one else volunteered,” you answer Taehyun’s question, mindlessly scrolling through a highlighted PDF document on your laptop. You have a recitation for South Korean Politics and Governance in an hour and a half. Might as well get some last minute reading while you can.
“We also have a presentation at the end of the month. I hope you don’t forget,” he says, and you roll your eyes.
“I have our work schedule planned out. You know you have zero shit to worry about when you’re with me.”
“Why did Prof. Seo pair you two up? It’s not fair,” Jake whines, pushing away his iPad in order to melt into the stone table. “Donate some brains to the rest of us.”
You peer down at the back of his head. “Who are you working with again?”
“Him.”
He points a finger to the person on the table next to yours. Sunghoon is hogging Kazuha’s laptop, but he turns back when Jake’s words sink into him. “What are you insinuating, Shim Jaeyun?”
“At least you’re not working with our major’s resident deadweight,” Yunjin joins Jake with his table meltdown, to which the latter agrees and takes back his remark.
“I’ll help you whenever I can, Yunjin,” you pat her head, but Taehyun isn’t too impressed by your volunteerism.
“No, you aren’t,” he says. “You already have Shutter and the LDT on your plate. You should sleep when you can. Yunjin, I’ll help you. Let this dumbass rest.”
You shoot him a glare for calling you a dumbass and he simply ignores you and continues with his reading material, but you are a little touched. He isn’t wrong. You still have the university festival next month and before that there’s the LDT next week— or the Leadership Development Training your university council is organizing. Every student organization, college council, and publication are required to send two to three representatives. Myungho was the only one available from Shutter’s officers, so you felt compelled to throw yourself in the waters. Mingyu assured it’s just gonna be a one-day seminar with team games in the afternoon like last year, so you aren’t too worried about it.
But Taehyun is worried. Your 2am texts to the group chat about how fucking tired you are probably isn’t of help.
“I’m going to the restroom,” you announce, and Yunjin shoots up to follow you with Kazuha automatically joining the both of you as well. Your friends are a bunch of idiots so they tell you they’re going to talk shit behind your backs before you leave.
You and Kazuha wait outside the door for Kazuha. She’s dreading your KPG recitation because she fell asleep while studying last night (read: three in the morning). “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Prof. Kim isn’t as terrifying as Sir Jung. I almost passed out the other week because he kept using my answers against me.”
“Don’t remind me,” she shudders. “I wasn’t even called but I was terrified just watching you guys.”
From the corner of your eye you see someone familiar in the hallway. Yunjun’s voice slips in and out of your ears as you meet eyes with Yeonjun as he passes by. You feel a familiar burn welling up in your system. When Yunjin notices, you have to stop her from jumping the guy when he turns to go up the stairs. “Let me hit him. Just once, please—”
“Calm down,” you grab her shoulders. “The guy’s probably just here to pass a paper.”
“I’m sorry. If i didn’t tell you to go for it, this wouldn’t have happened.”
You give her a smile. “C’mon. It’s not your fault. Besides, I’m more or less over him already. Three weeks isn’t enough to ruin my life.” It’s not that you’re pinning the blame on Yeonjun, either. You understand him, in a way, because commitment isn’t easy with a lot of people. You also fell too quick, too hard, too easily. Maybe it’s thanks to that that you’re also able to move on pretty quickly. You only hope that this doesn’t affect his and Choi Soobin’s friendship.
Once Kazuha joins you, the three of you head to the classroom. Taehyun and the rest of the guys brought your things with them already.
The week goes by quickly, and before you know it, it’s already the day before the LDT and you’ve been assigned to a team. Seeing the list in your email, you notice that you know only one person from your team— Chaewon from last semester’s Ethics class. You receive a message from her just a few moments later filled with crying emojis, just as relieved as you to know someone. Not long after, you’re both added to a group chat, and you don’t send any messages except for an introduction because you don’t want to be team leader. Chaewon has the same strategy. Your team color is orange and you dig into your closet for thirty minutes to find an orange top.
The whole event isn’t something you’re exactly excited for. It’s something you just want to get over with. It’s Saturday tomorrow and you have a presentation with Taehyun on Monday. So when you arrive on campus at six in the morning to get to know your team, you’re holding back a yawn and trying your best to pay attention.
After Chaewon introduces herself to the orange circle, your turn comes up like a blur. You aren’t really looking at your team members that much— ironic because the afternoon is dedicated to team building activities. That is until the next person introduces himself, and you’re suddenly hit harder than the seeds falling from the trees.
“Hi, my name is Huening Kai. I’m a first year VetMed student.”
He’s cute, you think. It’s ass o’clock in the morning but he’s already smiling so brightly as if the obnoxious orange hoodie he’s wearing isn’t already catching everyone’s attention. You know you’re staring at him, but the rest of your team is too, especially when he’s expressing his determination to win the team building games later.
Throwing together a bunch on people who are at most acquaintances is simply going to be harrowing awkwardness unless there’s an evident extrovert, and you’re lucky enough to have that person in the form of Boo Seungkwan, a junior from broadcasting who is also (very obviously) your team leader. Just as Mingyu said, the entire morning program is a seminar about budgeting and how liquidation works in your university, but you’re barely paying attention— partially because your very cute teammate from earlier is sitting in front of you and the back of his head that keeps on bouncing around is distracting.
“Oh no, I missed the slide,” you hear Chaewon from beside you before she scoots closer to take a look at your notepad. “Did you catch what it said?”
“Huh?” You’ve only written notes up to the third slide. You’re not sure how far into the presentation you’re already at. “Sorry, I’m a little sleepy today.”
She promises to send you her notes once the event is over, and you mutter a thank you even though you can honestly care less. You’re only here because you’re required to and the only positive benefit you’ve received thus far is the eye candy sitting in front of you. He turns around to pass you the packed lunches they’re giving out. “Careful. It’s a little hot,” he says.
“Thanks.” You smile at him, and he returns the expression tenfold. You were dreading the team building activities in the afternoon but if this guy is cheering you on, you think you can run just about five laps in the field.
“Please gather at the front of the building by one-thirty! For the meantime, you may eat your lunch and change clothes since things are going to get physical. Thank you!”
After eating, you carry your bag to the restroom to change. Lucky enough, you managed to borrow a more comfortable orange shirt from Jake. You exit the bathroom looking like a deflated mandarin, and as you’re walking half-dead, you bump into a large, red mass in the hallway. When you look up, you instantly brighten. God, it feels great to see someone you’re actually close with.
“Choi Soobin!” you exclaim. “You’re here! Why didn’t you tell me you’re also joining?”
He only replied with a sheepish laugh and you can’t help but feel disappointed that he didn’t tell you. Your teams are sitting far apart from each other (odd choice from the organizers because the two colors literally sit next to each other in the rainbow), so you’ve never seen him the whole morning.
“I already volunteered under my major so I couldn’t do the same for Shutter,” he explains. You purse your lips, not even making an attempt to hide your disappointment. Maybe he’s trying to make some distance since you’re friends with Yura and he doesn’t want you to get caught in between, but you’re not having any of that. His friend ghosted you and you’re still on good terms with him. You won’t let him take a step back when you’re already this close.
“Choi Soobin,” you say again sternly this time, and he jumps. At first, you started calling each other with your full government names as a joke, but your tongue has grown familiar with it. He’s looking a little nervous from your tone. You can’t help but break into a grin. “I owe you dinner. Take note of that.”
“For what?” he asks.
“For trying to warn me about Yeonjun. If you hadn’t told me anything that night, I might still be crying about him today. But thanks to you, I was able to prepare myself a little better,” you tell him. “Anyway, red looks good on you. Good luck to you and your team, but mine’s still winning.”
You let him off with a light punch to his arm and skip back inside in a better mood than earlier this morning. Soobin stops you before you’re too far away, calling out your full name in the hallway that you turn around embarrassed, ready to scold him because there are still other people around besides the both of you.
But you don’t scold him. He gives you a smile that makes his eyes disappear. “Good luck. Don’t get hurt,” he says, and you can hear the noise from somewhere inside your system threatening to build up again.
“You too.”
At first, you weren’t planning on pouring all your effort into the games. But then you remember that you don’t like losing, and Huening looks extra pocketable when he’s bouncing around after your team finishes a station.
It’s amazing race. Your team has to accomplish all five stations in record time to earn points. You’re at the third station, blindfolded in the field with the rest of your teammates shouting directions at you. You think your back is going to break after limbo-ing too hard to evade the apparent obstacle hanging right above the end line.
“Finish!”
No, you can’t see. But you can definitely hear the victorious shouts around you and feel the bodies hurling themselves at you. The blindfold slips down amidst the chaos, and you’re met with a sight that rivals the sun, painted in bright orange and flakes of gold. It hits you that Huening is beaming because of you. It hits you a second time that he’s jumping on and off the ground while shaking you by the shoulders in a fit of excitement. You struggle to keep balance, struggling harder to keep smiling because oh no— here we go again.
“Next station, guys! Let’s go!”
He shakes off the gold confetti from the last station and runs along with your group. You have to make a conscious effort to sprint because your legs are jelly from your most recent realization, so you’re the last one to arrive at the fourth station by the water fountain. You hoped that getting splashed in the face will bring you back to your senses, but Huening looks like he’s filming a youth drama in the water like that.
The last station ends in a blur, and before you know it you’re back on the field for the last game. “This game is called Caterpillar. Team leaders, please come to the table here at the MC’s station and get your handkerchiefs.”
It’s a simple enough game. All of you have to fall in line and hold onto the person in front of you like your lives depended on it. The member at the very front of the line, or the head, can snatch the handkerchiefs from other teams. The handkerchiefs must be tucked behind the last member, or the tail. Seungkwan already volunteered to be the head, but your team is still trying to decide who your tail should be. “They have to be agile and good at evading,” he says. “Anyone up for it?”
You have no intentions of volunteering, but Huening does it for you. You nearly choke when you hear him mention your name. “You did great during the blindfolded obstacle course,” he says. Chaewon vigorously nods in agreement.
“We can win this.”
“Are you sure?” you stammer, a little surprised. “If we lose, don’t blame me.” Seungkwan seems to have faith in you as well and you’re in mild panic. But once you’ve tucked in the orange handkerchief in your shorts, your competitiveness gets the best of you. Five more minutes before the death match starts. You’re behind the rest of your team and doing some stretches.
“Don’t overdo it!” You pause mid-stretch when Huening passes by with a pat on your shoulder. “Fighting!” Oh, you’re so winning this.
All ten teams are scattered on the field like a lopsided rainbow. It’s oddly tense. Your eyes land on the team clad in red right in front of yours, and you find Soobin at the head of their line. He looks nervous and it makes you laugh a little. He probably couldn’t say no to them and landed himself there.
“Lose your handkerchief— you’re out. Get separated— you’re out. Doesn’t matter if you fall or trip as long as you’re all intact.”
Oh shit, it’s starting. You position yourself firmly behind Chaewon, arms wrapped around her waist and you decide to clutch on her shirt for extra measure.
“Last team standing gets the most points. Three, two, one— go!”
It gets messy right off the bat and you already hear one of the teams getting eliminated. You’re panting, trying your best to evade the colors trying to fucking snatch the orange little tail; you have tucked in behind you. The interim scores were announced earlier and your group of tangerines were in the top three. No wonder everyone else is out to get you.
“Green, out!”
They fell over while trying to chase you and broke apart. Serves them right.
“White, out!”
Two more teams follow them after and everyone slows down for a moment. Your team is in a spiral defensive position with you at the center as everyone tries to catch their breaths. “Are you good?” Seungkwan asks. You feel like passing out but give him a thumbs up. There are only five teams left on the field. “Let’s go!” And just like that, you’re running again.
“Purple, out! Blue, out!”
Seungkwan manages to snatch another team’s handkerchief. It becomes a lot more tense with only three colors left on the field— red, orange, and yellow. You’re out of breath, panting at the tail end of your line as the three teams take another moment to rest. How many minutes has it been? With the burn your lungs are feeling, it feels like it’s been hours.
“Shit, shit, they’re making a move! Run!”
You almost trip over the ground, legs flailing under you as the team in yellow suddenly decides to chase you. “Don’t let go!” someone screams. You’re sure Chaewon’s shirt has been stretched out beyond use. When it feels like you’ve managed to put some distance between you and the yellows, your team slows down a bit. “Hang in there,” you hear Chaewon from in front of you. “Holy shit, I think I’m going to die.”
“I’ve never run this much my entire— huh?”
It takes a moment to hit you. At first, you thought your legs had simply melted away because you suddenly can’t feel the grassy ground you’ve been relentlessly racing on. But your legs are still there, hanging mid-air. You look down to see a pair of red sleeves wrapped around your waist. Someone just snatched you from your team. Choi-fucking-Soobin.
“Put me down!” You try to squirm out of his grasp, but this guy is stronger than he looks. Your heart is racing faster than when you were running. It’s short circuiting your brain.
“I will! Stop thrashing, I might drop—”
He doesn’t get to finish his sentence because someone smashes into the both of you, hurling your bodies into the ground. “Orange, red, out!” you hear amidst the yelling and pacing of hurried feet, while you’re still on the ground, barely catching your breath on top of Choi Soobin.
“You could’ve gone after the other team,” you say in between labored breaths. His arms are still firmly locked around your waist. You can feel his chest rising and falling from underneath you. You don’t have the strength to get up yet.
“I was,” he justifies, also breathless. “I’m not sure what happened either. Before I knew it I was running after you.”
Oh no. This isn’t good. With a grunt, you roll yourself off of him and fall into the patch of grass next to him. “Chaewon, help me up,” you stretch your arms out, and the girl comes running to save you.
“Good job. We still got some points for being in the last three.” Chaewon pulls you up and you barely have any strength in your legs anymore. Soobin is also skewed away by his teammates, celebrating their second place victory behind the yellow team.
Somehow, your team managed to land second overall, and you’re standing next to Huening for the photo opportunity after the organizing committee hands you your certificates.
Earlier, this morning, you expected the day to go by uneventfully, itching to go home upon entering the venue with no significant gains on your end, only losses. Instead, you leave campus with a giddy smile on your face as your group parts ways with a certain orange clad teammate telling you to get home safe. It’s unlikely that any of you will be thrown together again, coming from different majors and departments and all, so you settle with keeping it as a fleeting late August memory as autumn crawls in.
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“I have a new crush.”
Taehyun and Jay don’t look very impressed nor surprised by your revelation. Maybe spilling the beans while you’re waiting for Prof Seo at the faculty office for a paper consultation isn’t the best idea, but you couldn’t help it anymore. No, you and Huening haven’t talked since the event, but he did follow you on Instagram the evening of and everytime you see his stories, you go a little insane.
Before entering the office, you saw his story from last night. He had a puppy with him. They looked identical, especially with his hair all fluffy. How can you not crush on him?
“Who’s it this time?” Jay asks, feigning interest.
“I met him at the LDT. He’s— oh, fuck. That’s him.”
Cue Huening entering the office with two other people. You don’t know why he’s in your department when he’s a med student, but it’s none of your concern because the world managed to give you a one in a million opportunity to look at him. He’s talking to Professor Ahn, and you notice that there are a few other students in the office mirroring your expression. Maybe you’re just fated to fall for unattainable men— at least this time, you’re sure your infatuation won’t last long.
“No way,” Taehyun breathes out from beside you. “Huening Kai? I know him. We were classmates in highschool.”
That...isn’t something you expected. The smile on your face twitches. Jay voices out the question you want to ask. “Do you still keep in touch?”
“Sometimes,” he replies. “Our moms are friends.”
“Oh boy.” Jay lets out a laugh, aggressively nudging your arm. “How are you planning on getting your heart broken this time?”
“Shut up, hater,” you shake him off. “I don’t plan on acting on my feelings this time, so you don’t have to worry about me getting wasted at your condo and sobbing my throat out again.”
Huening is just a happy crush. A very happy crush and you know for a fact that it won’t go beyond that. You’ll cherish the butterflies he gives whenever he posts something new on social media or if you happen to stumble upon him on campus, up until you don’t see him for a week straight then you’ll most likely forget about him, just like how he’s forgotten about you already.
“You seem very happy today.”
After your consultation, you head straight to the Shutter office for a meeting. Mingyu has his arms crossed while peering down at you with a grin. “Want me to ruin that?”
Your Chairperson is a pain in the ass but he’s still your Chair, so you can’t sock him in the face with all the rest of your officers watching. After the LDT, you’re given another problem in the form of the upcoming university festival. Mingyu is presenting the ideas you came up with earlier in the month after polishing it with Myungho. The plan is still the same— photobooth and selling some prints, with the addition of a face painting corner as suggested by your Vice Chairperson. It doesn’t align with your org’s specialty, but you’re sure it’s gonna get a lot of people falling in line, especially when Beomgyu will be one of the people painting.
“We’ll also be needing a tarp for the photobooth background. Oh and a pubmat announcing that Shutter will have a booth.” Mingyu’s eyes fall on you and Soobin, who just happen to be sitting next to each other on the floor next to the bed. “I’ll leave it to you two.”
As if you have a choice. You and Soobin share a look. His mouth twitches into a half smile, almost a sneer, and he shakes his head like the overworked puppy he is. The meeting wraps up and you pry yourself off the floor with a groan before Yura calls your name. “Let’s go have dinner!”
“Oh, I’m staying here for a little longer,” you inform her. “I need to plan some designs with Choi Soobin.”
It’s awkward. Understandably so. You’re standing in between them as Yura tries to control her expression, and you start to feel bad. Soobin decides to look away, which is a great choice for him. “Al— alright, tell me if you need—”
“I’ll bring you two some takeout,” Mingyu whisks her away as he passes by. Most of the officers have already left the room, only a handful remaining, including Chan, who suddenly shoots in.
“I can stay behind if you two need more hel—”
“No! These two can handle it.”
Mingyu is already pushing them out the door. He shoots you a suggestive eyebrow wiggle when half of his body is already out the room. You want to slam the door in his face.
“Call us if there’s an emergency. Bye!”
With the creak of the door, you and Soobin are left in the office. Unlike the last time the both of you were left alone here, it’s bright. All the lights are on, their fluorescence illuminating all corners of the room, fending away the night that’s leaking into the sole glass window high up the wall behind you. Soobin calls out your name in full, like he always does. “Should we pick a palette first?” he asks, already tinkering with Photoshop on the computer.
You hum in reply, taking the spot next to him. It’s quiet while you’re working, save for the occasional questions and answers, “does this look better or this?” or if you should add more or less.  Soobin is working on the pubmat while you’re brainstorming some options for the tarp. The festival is in the third week of September— autumn in full swing, so you settled for some warm tones of oranges, reds, and browns.
“Break time, please,” you groan, already feeling the strain on your back after hunching in front of the computer for thirty minutes. Soobin gets up and crouches in front of the bed, pulling out a basket where you store your shared snacks.
“How are you?” he asks out of nowhere, throwing you a bag of pretzels.
“Well, that came out of nowhere,” you laugh, accepting his offer. Soobin sits back down next to you, his chair swinging left and right.
“Mingyu hying isn’t the only one that noticed that you’ve been in a better mood,” he says. “I’m glad you seem to be over Yeonjun hyung now.”
“You know, you always seem to be involved in my failed romantic ventures somehow.” Soobin is taken aback at your accusation, an unsure laugh escaping his throat. He doesn’t deny it because it’s true— he’s friends with both Beomgyu and Yeonjun. You won’t be surprised if he turns out to be friends with Huening Kai as well. “I have a new crush now, so you don’t have to worry.”
In all fairness, you don’t need to tell him that. But you did anyway. If there is a chance that Choi Soobin was really the one who confessed to you months ago, if Yoon Jeonghan wasn’t just messing you and he does, in fact, have a crush on you, then it’s better to nip the bud early. Things are going to get complicated, especially since Yura still likes him based on what happened earlier. You’re just saving yourselves the headache.
“Should I tell you?”
You can’t dissect his expression. He doesn’t look affected, nor does he look pleased— like he’s practiced it before. “It’s best if you don’t,” Soobin says. “Like you said, it’s like I’m always involved somehow. What if I’ve been the one jinxing you all this time?”
“Hey, don’t say that,” you frown. “It just so happened that they aren’t the ones for me.”
He only laughs, leaning further back into the chair which causes it to swivel more. “Do you think it’s gonna work out this time?
You snort. “No. He’s also out of my reach. And we’ve met like once and he doesn’t even remember me.”
Soobin lets your words simmer in the air for a while. Unlike earlier, there’s a weight in his eyes, staring right into yours. “You shouldn’t put yourself down like that,” he starts. “You’re pretty, smart, hardworking, and responsible. I think anyone would fall for you once they get to know you.”
The air shifts. You hear the deep, rhythmic thumping in your eardrums again, like your body is sending you a message— to run away? To hide someplace where he can’t hear the violent drumming of your ribcage? It’s not like you’re stupid and don’t know what this means, but it’s a lot less complicated and dangerous if you choose ignorance over acknowledgement. A knock on the door saves you. You can breathe again when you see Myungho peering in.
“Takeout delivery,” he blandly announces his arrival. He has two plastic bags in his hand, waiting for the both of you to take the weight off him. “The guards are starting to lock the rooms. You two should hurry and finish up. I’ll drive you guys home. You can eat in the car, if you want.”
It’s like a new life gets breathed into you when you stumble over your feet and quickly grab your food from Myungho with a squeaky thank you. You’re even more thankful when you get dropped off first, unable to swallow any of the food your orgmates bought for you in the suffocating atmosphere inside the car. “Thanks. Drive safe,” you say before slamming the door shut and running into your apartment building.
You’re not stupid. You’re making the smarter choice, you repeat to yourself as you climb up the stairs to your unit. Everything will fade in a few month’s time. You just need to endure it.
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“I was about to cry from exhaustion but when I heard Huening’s voice, I felt like I could live again.”
Taehyun’s eyes are nothing but judgemental. “Does he even remember you?” he hits a sore spot. You tell him to shut the fuck up.
It’s the day of the festival. The university ground’s are littered with crisp auburn rain from the trees lining the courtyard, warm lights hanging from the lamp posts in between the pop-up booths from different organizations and clubs. Evening is crawling in, but for now the sky is a pretty shade of orange. You’ve been working since it was blue, setting up your booth situated near the stage of the venue. You’re thanking whoever assigned Shutter to this spot— you can see Huening onstage clearly from where you are standing. He’s one of the emcees for the event and is currently introducing your uni’s president for his opening remarks.
“Your boss is calling you,” Taehyun brings you back to earth, pointing a thumb at Mingyu, who’s setting up the camera for the photobooth.
You suck in a deep breath, ready for some more work. “What is it this time?” you ask. Mingyu spins around to face you. His face is smiling too much for your comfort.
“I’m releasing you from your duties,” he says, proud. “Enjoy the festival. I already asked someone else to cover the cash register.”
Your eyes widen. He laughs and tells you he’s not lying, pushing you into the crowd. Wow. So he can actually be considerate sometimes. “Come back before the event ends, though. We all need a picture together!”
Thanks to your Chair’s blessing, you can actually spend some time with your friends today. You hear Huening introduce the hired band through the speakers and music erupts as you rejoin Taehyun with the good news. “The others are hogging the food at the business department’s booths,” he tells you. “I’m not really that hungry. Wanna play some games?”
So, you do. The next hour is spent with fortune telling and archery challenges, ball throwing and jewelry making. Jake picks you up at some point to jam in the middle of the crowd, jumping around with the makeshift rave party the band is providing. You notice a lot of your peers have drawings on their faces— hearts and sunflowers, waves and pumpkins, patterns in different colors, and you remember your org’s booth.
“Hey!” you call out to Jake. “We should get our faces painted!”
He nods vigorously, and you drag him over to your booth which has accumulated a rather large crowd around it. You poke your head through the rest of the people, trying to see if you can wiggle your friend and yourself in. It’s busy. Like really busy. There are like three different lines mixing and matching together with Beomgyu, Myungho, and Riki bending their backs to paint some flowers or whatever on the people sitting in front of them. You sort of feel guilty that Mingyu gave you free time.
Beomgyu catches your face in the crowd after he finishes a customer, and he greets you with a curious smile. “Face paint?” he asks. You nod, and he pats on the now empty chair in front of him.
“You go first, dummy.” You push Jake down the seat.
“Why am I suddenly nervous?”
You roll your eyes at him with a laugh, but Beomgyu doesn’t start vandalizing your friend’s face yet. “Are you also lining up?” he asks again, and you nod. “Soobin hyung!”
You didn’t even know he was here until you look at the direction Beomgyu is yelling at— a few steps away from the rest of the booths, unlit by the warm candied lights. There, you see Soobin with Yura. The former has his back facing you, so you can only see Yura’s face, and your heart sinks a little. It doesn’t look like she’s at a festival. Her expression matches the dim surroundings they secluded themselves in.
Soobin turns around upon being called for the third time, managing a quick bow to Yura before running back to the booth.
“Sorry— what is it?”
“You have a customer.”
Soobin is a little caught off guard when he sees. You’re not sure how you should greet your friend that most likely rejected your other friend for the second time, so you settle with a smile and try your best not to make it obvious that it’s forced. “I didn’t know you could face paint.”
He looks guilty. “I don’t. They grabbed me at the last minute because we needed more people.”
“Oh no,” you breathe out. “What are you going to do with my face?”
Your eyes flicker to the back of the booth once more and Yura is already gone. God, you feel like shit, but asking for someone else to work on your face or suddenly backing out will put Soobin in an embarrassing situation as well. So you sit down, trying darndest to feign ignorance and act normal. “I’d ask you what design you want, but Myungho hyung only taught me one thing,” he says nervously, preparing the paint palette on one hand and a paintbrush on the other. “I’ll pay for you if it turns out bad.”
“Relax,” you tell him and yourself. “You can do whatever you want.”
It takes him a few tries before he actually gets near your face, and you can see how his knuckles are shaking a little when he lifts up the white-coated brush to your cheekbone, just underneath your left eye. He’s so close. He’s so close. The paint is cold when it hits your skin, like a melting snowflake, and you squeeze your eyes shut. “Hold— hold still,” he tells you to stop moving, but you hold your breath instead when you hear him settle down the palette and use his other hand to turn your head a little, and you stop breathing altogether.
Shit. “I didn’t think it’d get this busy here.” It’s your pathetic attempt to distract yourself from the inferno erupting in your lungs. “You guys need help?”
“No, it’s fine.” Shit, you can feel his breath hit your cheeks, warm amidst the cool weather. “You’ve been working since earlier.”
He pulls back, nervousness gone and a more focused expression coating his face as he examines his work. Under his stare, you feel self conscious, and the heat swirling in your ribcage crawls its way to your neck like an invisible scarf, and your throat dries up. “Hmm, what color do you want?” he asks, pursing his lips at the limited palette.
“You— you can pick.” Your knuckles squeeze at your voice crack. God, this is actually too much.
“Okay,” he says. “Can you tilt your head a little?”
Soobin inches closer again. It’s hard not to look at him when he’s this close. He’s making it hard not to. You flinch when the cold brush kisses your cheekbones, sharply inhale when his warm fingers graze your jaw, until he retracts all the cold and warmth again for an interim check of whatever he’s painting on your skin.
“Oh? Oh, what’s this? Mingyu, your kids are flirting in public, I don’t think they should be allowed to do this.”
Jeonghan’s voice is like a sudden splash of hot water. “Seonbae, if Choi Soobin ends up painting a turd on my face because you’re being annoying, I’m going to bury you.”
Your senior only laughs at your misery, and you don’t think you can handle another second of this activity. “Is it done?” you ask Soobin, ready to bolt out of your chair.
“I—I think so.” He hands you a mirror. “Please go easy on your evaluation.”
His dumb comment makes you feel a little more at ease, laughing a little when you bring the mirror to your face. You were honestly expecting chicken scratch— a splotchy mess on your face of what he intended it to be— but you’re surprised and impressed to see a monarch butterfly making a home underneath your eye, dots of orange littered around it.
“Wow. It’s pretty. Myungho taught you well.” You pull down the mirror and look up at him, satisfied. “Thanks. Where do I pay?”
“It’s on the house.”
“Are you sabotaging our business?” you eye him. His smile is guilty, but you’re smiling at him too. “I’ll go throw money at Mingyu. You still have more customers, Choi Soobin. Your butterflies must be in demand!”
You make an escape rather than a farewell, fishing Jake along after you throw an unsure amount of money on the counter Mingyu is watching. You know your friend has something to say. He looks at you with suspicious eyes and an insinuating grin once you’ve gotten far enough from the Shutter booth. “You look like you’re getting weird ideas,” you get ahead before he can say anything. “Whatever it is, don’t say it. I want to enjoy the festival, thank you very much.”
“It looked like you were enjoying, though,” he swings an arm around your shoulder, hauling you over to the first stall that catches your attention. “Like you were enjoying it a lot.”
You trust Jake not to run his mouth to the rest of your friends, but you bribe him with chicken skewers just to be safe. When you two rejoin your group, the festival is already coming to a close. You were hoping to find Yura, but she hasn’t replied to any of her messages.
Things are already complicated as is. You don’t want to complicate things further.
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“What should we do when exams are over?”
It’s midterms week— the third week of October. You raise your arms in the air, locking your fingers together for a quick stretch as you walk with your friends from the Social Science building, fallen leaves crunching under your feet. You’ve just finished an exam for a major course, leaving you with a few minor and elective exams.
“Jay, it’s literally Tuesday,” says Yunjin. “It’s not even the middle of the week.”
“What about for winter break?” Sunghoon thinks out loud. “Is the Christmas party still happening?”
“We’ll talk with the rest of our batchmates after midterms,” Taehyun answers while flipping through his notebook. It’s a wonder to you how he hasn’t tripped yet. “Can’t you two focus on your exams first?”
You’re in front of the College of Medicine’s building. Jake says he needs to pick something up from his friend. “Wait for me! I’ll be quick. If you guys eat lunch with me I’ll throw a fit, seriously,” he warns. You shoo him away and your group loiters in front of the building.
It’s a little cold. You cross your arms together and ask Sunghoon if you can borrow his scarf. He sticks his tongue out, wrapping the fabric tighter around him. “You’re a piece of shit.”
“Hey, I’m cold too.”
Then you feel a thick jacket hit the side of your face then fall to your shoulder. You look at Taehyun, jacketless now. “Are you making a move on me?” you narrow your eyes at him, eliciting a gasp from Kazuha.
“Holy shit.”
“Are you stupid?” he flicks your forehead. “If you get sick, you can’t study. If you can’t study, you’ll fail your exams. If you fail, you’ll repeat a year. Want us to graduate before you?”
“He’s allergic to saying nice things,” Jay shrugs. “By the way, you look a lot less like shit lately. Did your org stop overworking you?”
You decide to ignore his insult. “We’re taking a quick break from events. All we have going on at the moment is in IGP to fund our year-end party and Sensitivity Training. Mingyu is also planning on holding some workshops by next year.” He also wants to make a short film, but Shutter is broke. You guys accumulated some money last festival, but it’s not enough to finance all the things he has planned.
At first, you didn’t think Mingyu took Shutter seriously since the past months, all you’ve been doing was partying, hanging out, drinking, and whatever. You’ve come to realize that that wasn’t the case. “We should all get to know each other before working on something bigger, you know?” he said, one time while you were sorting files in the club office. It’s only Shutter’s first year and he wanted to focus on developing a connection among the members first. You saw his plans for next year while you were organizing the files— he’s got everything down pat. You weren’t sure before if you still wanted to stay in Shutter in your sophomore year, but seeing your Chairperson’s passion cemented your decision to stay. Though you joined because of Beomgyu at first, it’s different now. You’d like to help Mingyu as much as you can before he graduates.
Jake is taking way too long, so Yunjin and Kazuha went off to buy some drinks for you guys. Your legs are getting tired, so you squat down with a groan. “You guys should join Shutter next year,” you tell them, looking up.
It becomes a topic of conversation. Jay and Sunghoon are considering it, but Taehyun is adamant on not joining, causing you to egg him on. While you’re doing your best to sales talk him into joining your org, you get distracted by a cat joining in your little group. “Hello!” you greet the orange tabby, and Sunghoon joins you on the floor. There are a lot of cats that roam around your campus. This guy usually wanders around with a friend.
“Oh no, what’s wrong?”
Your ears perk up. The voice doesn’t belong to any of your friends, and it’s followed by a meow that’s not from the orange cat Sunghoon is petting. You stand upright and spot Huening sitting on the staircase in front of the Medicine building, holding up a gray cat like a baby. “Are you hungry?” The cat meows in his face. “Your tummy tells me you’ve just had a nice meal, though.”
The cat jumps out of his grasp and struts over to your group. “Oh no. He’s too cute,” you grumble.
Taehyun eyes you. “Should I introduce you to him?”
“No!” you snap. “I already told you— this is just a happy crush. A happy crush. Nothing more. I just want to admire him from afar.”
“Like a stalker,” Jay butts in. You kick his shin.
“Suit yourself,” Taehyung shrugs. “Hey, Huening!”
Your eyes fly open, wide in panic. What the fuck are you trying to do?! You furrow your brows at him. He doesn’t respond, instead waving at Huening who is happily hopping down the stairs and running up to you. Jay is enjoying your turmoil. Sunghoon looks up from his cats to snort your evident distress.
“Do you still have exams today?” Taehyun asks him.
Huening nods. “Yup. Organic chem. We already had so many lab projects this semester, but Dr. Jung still wants to give an exam.”
He gets introduced to Jay and Sunghoon, and when your turn comes along, your two friends look extra punchable. “And I think you two have already met,” Taehyun says. Your eyes are telling him that he’s going to get a beating later. His face replies with ‘good luck with that.
“Oh!” Huening exclaims after a moment of thinking. He beams at you, dropping a fist on his open palm. “Team orange!”
You’d be lying if that didn’t make your heart skip a beat a little. If he didn’t remember, you might’ve actually cried from embarrassment. You see Jay and Sunghoon from the corner of your eye trying to suppress their giggles, but their unabashed eyebrow raises and whispers are enough to piss you off. Lucky for you, Huening needs to run back inside the building for his chem exam, so you’re spared from any awkward small talk and the scrutinizing stares of your friends. Huening leaves with an apology, and Jake finally returns, asking what happened and why are you on the ground with your hands buried in your face.
Midterms finish quickly— the easiest set of tests you’ve had so far which makes you a little scared for finals. The post-midterms celebration Jay was looking forward to ended up being nothing more than a meal at his place, no alcohol involved, because his parents came to visit.
You met up with Yura on campus when your schedules matched, and she told you that she did get rejected for a second time during the festival. Your conversation got cut short when Mingyu spots the both of you and invites you to a night out this weekend with some Shutter members. You’ll see if you can go, you tell him. It’s probably best if you avoid Soobin for now until Yura starts feeling better.
“We’ve booked two cottages already, but we couldn’t get an overnight room. If I knew the resort was this popular, I would’ve contacted them weeks earlier.”
Yunjin is in charge of the venue for your batch’s Christmas party— which is just an excuse to swim and go drinking in broad daylight, honestly. It’s a well deserved celebration after surviving a year of readings, essays, and depression-inducing recitations, so most of the people in your year are going. Your department doesn’t exactly prioritize camaraderie, so you freshmen had to organize your own get together since your seniors have basically left you to fend for yourselves.
“Good job,” you squick your cheek against Yunjin’s shoulder, peeking at her laptop to see the venue. It’s two months away, but you’re already excited. Shutter is planning something for the end of the year, too. You hope your liver can handle all of these upcoming parties.
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“Twelve-twenty-seven. Life check.”
“Alive,” Yunjin groans. You can hear her back bones pop when she stretches over the couch.
“Zuha?” you ask, looking up from your laptop. You see her face planted on the coffee table across from you. “Kazuha.” She springs up, a sticky note sticking on her cheek.
“I’m awake.”
“Good morning,” you laugh. “Let’s clock out at one. Sunghoon says he’ll be here in the morning.”
“Tell him to bring breakfast,” Yunjin says. You’ve been at their place since after lunch, working on a paper for your theory class. Your professor thinks the weekend is enough to write thirty pages of research and prepare a presentation, so you decided to spend the weekend at your girlfriends' place so you don’t get distracted.
The night out with Shutter is also today— or, yesterday since it’s already thirty minutes past twelve. Mingyu has been sending photos to the group chat to make you feel jealous. Too bad you’re not here, says his last message with a sad face, but they’re all looking extremely happy and off their senses in the photo. Mingyu’s face is closest to the screen, Yura is there, barely awake on Myungho’s shoulder, and at the edge of the photo you can see Soobin, Beomgyu, and Heeseung.
You place your phone face down on the table and return to furiously typing on your keyboard. They’re having fun. Good for them, good for them, good for them. You’re also having fun. Writing a paper is fun. Very fun indeed.
A little while goes by, and the clock strikes one. You’re about to pass out on the spot until your phone vibrates again, expecting another message from Mingyu to fuel your envy even further, but instead of a photo, you receive a text. A text from Choi Soobin. You’re staring at your phone screen, frozen after reading the bubble on your lockscreen.
“Why do you look so flustered? What happened?”
I have a crush on you, it says— without explanation, without context. You’re still blinking at the one-line sentence, as if staring at it long enough will make the letters make sense in a way that you can wrap your head around them, but then another bubble replaces it.
Sorry, Heeseung took my phone. Followed by, Good luck on your paper! and your thoughts spiral further.
This is bad. This is really, really, really bad. How do you even reply to this? What were they doing that Choi Soobin’s phone managed to fall in Heeseung’s hands and why would he think of sending you that god damned message? Were they talking about you? When Yura’s literally right there with them?
You’re going to go insane. Your body’s reaction isn’t making it any better. It’s one in the morning and you’re supposed to be fatigued and tired but your face is burning and your heart is racing and your phone is slipping from the sweat on your hands. “Are you okay?” asks Kazuha. You quickly settle your phone back onto the table.
“I’m fine,” you say. “I’m tired. Wake me up at three.”
But three o’clock comes, and you’re still lying awake on your friend’s living room floor, staring at their ceiling with Soobin’s message still unreplied. When the sun rises, and you’ve finally had some time to think, you click on your conversation with him and send— haha, alright, and you immediately get back to work.
The thing is, you aren’t opposed to the possibility of Soobin actually having feelings for you. But your friend still likes him, and you’re all working in the same organization. You don’t want things to get weird, especially when Shutter actually matters to you.
So in the weeks leading up to your finals, you’re thankful to have enough academic burdens on your plate to decline every single hangout, night out, or coffee run from Mingyu so that whatever hinted emotions your co-director is harboring for might be diminished, even if it’s just a little.
But of course, you can’t avoid him completely. You only message him for work, pubmats, layouts, editing, and all, but sometimes, the conversation wanders— have you eaten’s, good luck’s, and full names exchanged in between font choices and composition decisions. It’s easier said than done to shut Choi Soobin out of your life. He’s made himself part of your weekly routine without realizing it, even if it’s just text messages and clubroom meetings.
Your last semester of your freshman year ends when you walk out of your last final, and the bite of December finally sinks into your skin in icy breaths. It’s the coldest it’s been the whole month, and you’re sure it’s only going to get colder from now.
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YOUR CHRISTMAS PARTY STARTS IN SHAMBLES. First of all, your period arrived in the morning, so swimming is out of the question unless you want to recreate a Jaws movie in Samcheok. Second, it takes three hours to arrive at Daryeong Beach resort, so instead of having an early brunch at the venue, it was already past lunch when everyone arrived. Third, you feel like shit. Everyone else is either eating, drinking, or swimming despite the cold weather, but you’re wrapped in a towel in the corner of your cottage because your uterus is throwing a fit and it makes you want to die.
“Are you okay?” you look up from your pathetic position to see Jay, damp from the sea. “Yikes. I’m taking that as a no.” You haven’t said anything. He just looked at your face and left to get some barbecue.
“Babe, you should still eat,” you hear Yunjin say. She has a paper plate in her hands and a paper cup in the other.
“I’m fine. I’m not that hungry yet,” you tell her. “I’ll grab a bite later. Go have fun with the rest of the guys.”
Though it’s the beginning of winter, the cold hasn’t settled. Only a light chill in the air indicates the season’s coming, and the white sand scaling the seashore substitutes the first snowfall. Now that you’re free from any academic troubles, there’s more room in your headscape for thinking— which isn’t always a good thing. Your eyes scan the scenery, the beach within your vision filled by the students from your major. Some are with you under the cottage, some are on the sand, some in the water. What better way to keep your mind off someone than by thinking about other people?
Your major has always been male dominated which almost makes you nauseous. You first set sight on the four men playing beach volleyball— Jiseok, Jooyeon, Seungmin, and Hyeongjun. You don’t think you’ve ever talked to them except when you were paired with Seungmin for a presentation.
Next, you glance under the coconut tree nearest to your cottage. A few girls are gathered, then you realize you’ve never really interacted with anyone outside of your circle and your friends from Shutter. Maybe if you hadn’t kept your world so narrow, then maybe you’d be able to meet someone to distract you.
This is hopeless. You give up with a low groan, thinking that maybe eating could take your mind off of things. You’re about to stand up, but are preemptively sat back down with someone’s appearance.
Taehyun is in front of you, half-leaning down and half-about to jerk back up when your foreheads nearly collide.
“Oh.”
You’ve known from the first day of classes that Taehyun is pretty, but you’ve never gotten the chance to look at him up close— this close. Why would you? You two are friends. That’s a stupid enough thought to bring you back to your senses, a squeak escaping your throat and you draw back. “Sorry,” he says. “Mind lifting your arm for a sec?”
“S—sure,” you sputter, scooting away to give him space. Taehyun pulls out his back from the pile and draws out a towel which he lazily rubs on his hair. He must’ve been in the water— that much is obvious with how his clothes are sticking to his skin and how he’s trying his best to dry his hair without spritzing any water on you.
“You don’t look too good,” he frowns. “Have you eaten yet?”
Oh god. “No, but I’m about to.”
“Stay there.” He lets the towel drape over his shoulders and heads over to the table. Taehyun half-fills the paper plate with the food you like before settling it on the surface to crack open the cooler. “Coke or Sprite?” he asks
You remember the time when Mingyu asked if there was anyone from your major that you could be interested in. You also remember the look of disgust you gave him upon considering your friends. Maybe you shouldn’t have been so appalled. Maybe you should’ve been a little bit more open to the idea— then maybe it wouldn’t be biting you in the ass at this very moment.
“Sprite,” you reply.
“Alright.”
Taehyun has always been caring. His mouth might tell otherwise, but his actions towards you and your friends have always been consistent. So when he returns in front of you with a plate of the food you’d usually eat, making a conscious decision to not put too much because he knows you’re not feeling well, your sensibilities shouldn’t falter. It really shouldn’t, but you find yourself swaying. Oh no.
You hear the click of his tongue. You haven’t taken the plate from him, so he’s set it back on the table and is now looking at you with his arms crossed, head tilted. “This won’t do,” he sighs. “We passed by a drug store earlier. What medicine do you take for your period cramps?”
Taehyun is already putting on a jacket and you panic, jumping out of your seat. “No, it’s okay! I’ll eat! I can eat!”
“Are you sure?” He’s unconvinced. You take the plate from the table and sit down with a huff, grabbing one of the skewers while you look at him dead in the eye. “Fine. Tell me if it gets bad. I’ll be with Yunjin and the rest.”
Your friend that your other friend is still hung up on versus your friend that’s completely emotionally unavailable— which one would be less disastrous? Which one would hurt less? Both seem awfully catastrophic, but your heart is stupid and doesn’t listen to your head when it gives a warning to stop falling. Stop. That’s enough, yet you find yourself in the same situation over and over again like you’re addicted to nonreciprocity or something.
Maybe it’s just period hormones, you try and rationalize. You finish the meal, albeit with difficulty, and lug yourself to the beach. Your legs are folded up to your chest, cheek pressed on your knees, and you’re scribbling random shapes into the sand to track every passing thought you’re going back and forth with inside your head.
“You look pathetic.”
When you turn around and look up, you see Jake looming over you like a rain cloud. Your expression sours. He quickly retracts himself. “Wait, I’m not saying it in an insulting way, but in a descriptive way, you know?”
“Just shut up.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He plops down beside you, probably out of pity because in his words— you look pathetic. You have no energy to argue, wanting to bury yourself underneath the sand you’re sitting on more than anything else, and you spare an envious glance at the beer can he has in hand. Jake notices. “No room for a drink?”
You shake your head. “Unfortunately, no. I think I’ll be leaving early today.”
“Oh, me too,” he says. “Can’t stay overnight since I have to babysit my nieces tomorrow morning. Sunghoon has been complaining about the weather too. You can just come with us.”
“Thanks. Seriously, I feel like dying,” you groan. “Ugh. I wanted to go swimming today, too.”
“Next time,” he gives you a smile and gets up. “I’m heading back. Just wanted to check on you.” He gives you a head pat before running back to the cottage, and you’re left alone once more. You’ve come to the realization that the temporary solution to your wavering feelings is talking to your friends (except Taehyun), so you suck up the occasional pain from your lower abdomen and approach the nearest person you can find, which is Yunjin, obliterating the karaoke machine your group rented.
You alternate between listening to them sing, screaming into the microphone, and wallowing in your own suffering until late afternoon when you resigned into your cottage corner once more, waiting for Jake or Sunghoon to show up so you can leave. You’re chatting with the Shutter group chat when Taehyun shows up in fresh clothes, hair damp, and asks you to scoot away a bit.
He’s already organizing his things. He arrived with Jake and Sunghoon earlier, so he’s probably leaving with them too.  “Leaving already?” you ask to confirm.
“Oh, yeah,” he answers, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “You’re not feeling well, so you should just come with me. You don’t know how to commute by yourself, anyway.”
You scoff at his remark, unable to refute. “I am. Hold on, let me find my stuff.”
The thought of sinking into your warm sheets with some hot chocolate manages to bring a little more color to your face as you rummage for your things. You tell Yunjin and Kazuha that you’re leaving ahead with the guys, and they stop their passionate karaoke-ing to send you off with a hug. “Take care. Text us when you guys get home.”
It��s a silent walk to the resort’s exit, and there’s still no sign of Jake who’s supposed to be driving you. “Where are the rest of the guys?” you ask him, entering the parking area outside the entrance.
“Hm?”
“Jake and Sunghoon,” you clarify hesitantly. Worry and nervousness starts to seep in. You’re starting to believe that you might have misunderstood something.
“I think they were kayaking when we left,” Taehyun replies. “Why?”
“I thought we were all leaving together?” you furrow your brows.
“No? I think they’ll leave after sundown.”
You screwed up big time. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, the situation slowly sinking in as you and Taehyun leave the resort’s premises and start walking down the side of the road to the bus stop. Oh no. You came here in Yunjin’s car and Taehyun doesn’t drive. That means you and Taehyun are going to be spending the three-hour commute back home together. Alone. Just when you started to suspect the traitorous feelings you have bubbling for your friend.
“Give me your bag. You look like you’d pass out any minute.”
You’re seriously so fucking screwed.
“Thanks.”
It’s okay, you tell yourself upon climbing up the bus, taking a seat near the back next to the window. Maybe it’s just a momentary weakness of your heart. Maybe it’s just a temporary vulnerability with all the things going on. Maybe you’ve just become pathetically desperate like Jake says (he did not). Taehyun leans over and you silently panic. He reaches over to the window next to you, flipping it open, then goes back to his seat like he didn’t just threaten to give you a cardiac arrest. “The air conditioning might make you nauseous,” he says. You’re nauseous enough as is.
The commute back home is quiet, but you aren’t able to rest easily throughout the whole three-hours due to your consciousness toward the friend sitting next to you. At least you managed to arrive back in Seoul in one piece.
It’s already dark out, street lights lit up in the city. Thinking that you can finally say goodbye to him, you tug your bag that’s firmly hung on his shoulder. “What are you doing?” he asks.
“We take different buses from here,” you say. “Thanks for carrying my stuff.”
Your bus makes a halt in front of you, and Taehyun goes up first. Wait. Holy shit. “If anything happens to you, Yunjin will have my head,” he simply says. “C’mon.”
Maybe you just catch feelings too easily, you conclude. You hope you can get rid of them just as quickly as you caught them.
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You spend the first week of winter break in bed, on the sofa, on any warm and comfortable surface available in your apartment. It’s both out of need and out of choice— need, because an entire year of being around people is enough to run someone dry, and choice, because there is a good number of people you’ve been wanting to avoid, now that you aren’t forced by proximity and circumstance to be around them.
The same routine is happening for the last Sunday of the year. You’re in bed as the afternoon sun provokes you to do otherwise, but you aren’t listening. Your blankets and pillows bury you in their warmth while you’re scrolling through your phone. Until Taehyun gives you a call, out of nowhere.
“Hello?” you answer after three rings.
“I’m having dinner with your crush later,” he says, not bothering to greet you. “Well. We’re eating with his family. I’ll send you the restaurant. Why don’t you stop by so you can see him for a bit.”
He’s a little too supportive of your tiny, expired crush on Huening. “I told you guys, I’m over him. I’m looking for another crush,” that isn’t the person you’re talking to right now. This whole situation would be funny if you aren’t part of it. Too bad you are, and it makes you want to stab yourself.
“But what if you fall for him again once you see him.”
What’s stupid is that you don’t think he’s wrong. You were hardwired with a heart that gets swayed way too quickly, flutters a little too effortlessly, and gets smashed into tiny bits and pieces a little too easily, but it’s not something that you can just stop. The past year is proof of that— a testament of its inevitability.
“Go away. I’m going to sleep,” you roll to your side with a groan, pulling up the covers over your head. “Enjoy your dinner. Please stop trying to set me up with your friend.”
You hoped your college romance would be a straight path from meeting someone, to falling in love, to being loved back. Not this messy labyrinth of dead ends, twisted intersections, and back to starts.
“Who’s calling this time?!” If it’s Taehyun again, you’re going to uncrush and unfriend him, you swear.
With a groan, you grab your phone from the bedside table once more, and you nearly drop your phone when you see the caller ID. You didn’t think you’d ever ask for this, but can’t all these pretty boys please leave you alone this time?
“Choi Soobin,” you huff into the microphone.“This better not be about work.”
You’re nervous. There’s that familiar staggering of your heart rate again. “I’m guessing you’re enjoying your vacation,” you hear him say with a laugh. Something about hearing his deep voice so close to your ear is driving you insane.
“I am,” you reply, falling back to bed. “You usually just text me. You’ve never called me before. This is suspicious.”
He hums. “I text you if it’s about work.”
“So...this isn’t about work?”
Soobin is quiet for a moment, and you can feel the silence embed itself into your skin. You feel a jolt when you hear his voice again. “Are you busy? I just remembered that you owe me dinner.”
Now, it’s you that grows quiet.
“Sorry. If you’re too busy, you don’t have to—”
“No, I’m free,” you quickly reply. “Let’s have dinner.”
This could be an opportunity. Maybe if you go out with Soobin today, you'll finally clear up how you actually feel— for whom you are actually feeling. There is a possibility that you’ll return home with a heart more confused than when you left, but your racing heart is already chasing you out of bed.
“Can we meet at COEX in an hour?”
“Sounds good. See you.”
Shit, you’re actually doing this. You end up arriving ten minutes too early, but Soobin is already there, by the fountain, looking at his phone. “Choi Soobin!” you call out, and he looks up with a surprised look on his face, but melts into a smile half a second later. He shoots up his hand, waving, and calls out your full name in the same manner.
“You’re here early.”
“Says the guy who’s here earlier than me,” you raise a brow.
“I had some errands,” he says. “Where should we eat?”
It’s the end of the year, so the mall is more populated than usual. Mostly couples. There’s a pair in knitwear sitting on the fountain literally a few steps away from you. It’s like god is giving you a sign, telling you to hurry the fuck up. “You choose. I’m the one treating you.”
The both of you start walking around, eyes scanning through the shops lined along the walkways. “I can eat anywhere. I’m not picky.”
“Choi Soobin, you know I’m bad with decisions,” you tell him. “You’re the one who dragged me out of my apartment in the first place.”
“You’re making it sound like I forced you to eat with me.”
You stop in your tracks. “Wow,” you gasp. “You’re putting words in my mouth, Choi Soobin. How dare you when I generously decided to open my wallet for you.”
His smile opens into a toothy grin. “What’s with the face?”
“Nothing,” he hums, settling his hands on your shoulders and lightly pushing you into a direction. “Let’s eat here. Mingyu hyung recommended this place before.”
It’s a Chinese restaurant with an interior that you might have seen on social media before (maybe Mingyu’s insta, to be honest). The both of you are sitting at one of the center tables, tubes of lights hanging from above as you peruse through their menu. When your orders arrive, you split apart your chopsticks, staring heartily at the served meal. “For the record,” you say before digging in.“I do want to eat with you.”
“Thanks for the information.”
“You know, you’re kind of annoying sometimes.”
Soobin lets out a huff of air, smiling with stuffed cheeks and the both of you proceed with your meals. You can only hear the sound of your dishes and the occasional glass clatters. It’s literally just dinner. “So,” you mumble out. “Why did you join Shutter?”
He elicits a snort-cough, and he brings a napkin to his lips. “What is this? An interview?”
“It got quiet and I didn’t know what to say!” you press. “Just answer.”
“You’d know if you listened to my introduction at the welcome party,” he crows.“You already liked Beomgyu at that time, right?”
The food stops in your throat, caught off guard because why would he bring that up? You cough, swallowing a large gulp of water and when you set the glass back on the table, you look at him straight in the eye. “First of all— even if I was paying attention, I wouldn’t even remember because that was months ago.”
“I remember yours,” he says, as a matter of fact. “You said you wanted a space apart from your major, and that it’d make your university life a lot more exciting.”
Well. You can’t verify that because you don’t remember what you said at that time. You were too occupied staring at Beomgyu. “Se—second!” you bristle. “How did you know that I already liked him then? I don’t think I’ve ever told you.”
“Your eyes were following him the entire night. It’s like there’s a magnet in there somewhere.”
You stop eating altogether, utensils clattering on the plate. Wouldn’t that mean his eyes were following you, too? He didn’t even think twice before saying that, and now he’s back to picking on the remaining food on his plate like it’s nothing, and your phone buzzes like a warning signal.
“What’s wrong?” Soobin asks as you frown at your phone screen.
“Maybe we shouldn’t have talked about Shutter,” you complain. “Mingyu messaged the group chat. He’s asking if anyone can run some errands for the event.”
At first, the plan was to have a year-end party and a sensitivity training (“sensi” for short) for the officers, but with the majority of your members returning home to their hometowns for the holidays, you decided to merge the two events in the second week of January instead. Mingyu is eyeing Gapyeong for the party and sensi, and the itinerary has already been prepared by Myungho.
Soobin hums in acknowledgement. “What does he need?”
It’s the 31st of December. Most shops will be closed tomorrow and the next day. There are still some materials that need to be bought, so your Chairperson is asking if there’s anyone who can pick up some stuff from the list. “Ugh,” you groan, finishing up your meal. “No one else is replying and I already read his message. You don’t mind if we stop by some stores, right?”
“Not at all,” he replied. “I borrowed my brother’s car, so I can take the stuff home with me.”
The both of you leave the restaurant and enter a stationery store to pick up some vellum boards, parchment papers, envelopes, and the like. You need to go back to the office within the week for some last minute work— so much for the new year, but aside from some light hearted complaints, you don’t really mind. “Can you check if there’s some sticker paper in the other aisle?” you ask Soobin. The both of you still need to finalize the certificate designs and the tarpaulin sign. You’ll remind him once he gets back.
After double checking your basket, you check out all the items and send Mingyu the receipt. “What else do we need?” asks Soobin. He takes the paper bags from the counter and you two exit the store.
“Uh. We need some wooden panels. They probably have those in hardware stores, right?”
Lucky for you, they do. You and Soobin wait behind a wall of fake plants as the employee leaves to cut the panels into the size Mingyu instructed and as you’re waiting, you let your gaze wander around the store until you look up and pause when your eyes land on your tall friend. You’ve never noticed before, but Choi Soobin actually looks pretty intimidating with a straight face. He’s staring off into space, brows in a slight knit, but when he looks down and notices that you’re looking at him, he lifts his eyebrows, curious, and a dimple peeks through when he presses his lips together. “What is it?”
You cough, looking away. “We haven’t talked about this yet. I remember you telling me you liked someone last summer.”
“Mm, right. I did,” he says.
Hesitant, you drawl out. “Do you still like the same person now?”
“Yeah.” He says it flatly, picking on the plastic leaf of a plant hanging above you. You cock your head. He’s way too nonchalant about this that you start to second guess.
“Is that why you couldn’t give Yura a chance?”
“It would be unfair for her when I have feelings for someone else.”
“I know. And Yura isn’t telling me to distance myself from you or anything. I know we haven’t hung out lately outside of Shutter, but trust me it’s not because of that,” you assure. “Did you tell her who you like?”
He looks at you. “I did.”
“Do you plan on telling me?” you blurt out before hesitation smashes into you. You avoid eye contact, trying to justify yourself, “It’s not fair that you’re a witness to all of my romantic pitfalls in the first half of the year, but I don’t even know the person you like.”
You know you’re blabbing. You know Soobin knows because he’s flashing you a cheeky smile. “Do you wanna know?”
“Of course. I’m curious.” You hope he doesn’t notice you’re trying to bait him. Half of you wants to hear your name fall from his lips, rolling off his tongue like it’s meant to be, and you’d be untangled from your confusing feelings, but the other half is scared because you wouldn’t know how to react. You’re still in the fucking hardware store, for god’s sake, waiting for the god damned wood panels to arrive.
“Why?”
Suddenly, he dips down his head, noses closer than ever, and you gulp. “Why do you wanna know?” No words leave your throat and you can’t hear anything other than the deep, reverberating thumps from inside your chest. Soobin backs away before anything else, a smile still present on his lips. “You’ll find out. I haven’t been doing my best to hide it, anyway.”
The employee returns with the panels. You pay for them and it’s late into the evening when you exit into the parking lot and load all the items you bought into his (brother’s) car’s compartment. “I’ll drop you off,” he says, closing down the trunk.
“Thanks,” you reply, and he smiles, shooing you into the passenger’s seat.
It sinks in belatedly, when you’re already a few songs into his driving playlist, that you haven’t given Soobin your address but he’s going in the right direction. He didn’t even ask. Confirming your suspicions, he pulls up right in front of your apartment building, and the doors unlock with a click. “How’d you know where I live?” you raise a brow.
“When Myungho hyung gave us a ride last time,” he answers. “He dropped you off first. Did you think I was stalking you?”
“No. I just wanted to tease you, but you’ve been turning the tables on me all day,” you roll your eyes, unbuckling yourself from the seat. “You used to be so nervous and quiet all the time. Choi Soobin, you’ve grown.”
You thank him for the ride and push open the door, squirming to get off but Soobin suddenly grabs your wrist, and you jerk your head back, surprised. It’s warm where his fingers are wrapped around, a firm grip that feels a lot more intimate than when he was all up in your space at the festival, than when you fell to the ground with his arms around your waist.
He appears to be just as surprised as you are, but the words quickly come pouring out. “I’m still nervous. It took me four tries to give your number a call earlier and I was so relieved when you actually picked up,” he confesses. “I was nervous during dinner, nervous all throughout the car ride, and I’m still nervous now.” You can feel that his hand is slightly damp, circling around yours. “I just wanted to let you know before you go.”
When Soobin lets go, you can feel the cold air nipping at your skin from where he’s been holding. You made the right choice in going out today. Things are a lot clearer now.
The feelings you have for Choi Soobin aren’t sudden— an onslaught of petals from blossoming trees, heat waves from the corshing midday sun, orange fireworks on the cobblestone ground, or the gusts of wind from a December evening that hit you without warning. It’s gradual, accumulated over the seasons in the form of spring showers that extend into the ber months, a summer cold you can’t get rid of, the fall sweater you have nestled inside your closet until flowers start blooming, and the warmth that comforts when the rest of the world freezes into oblivion.
They’ve been building up— slowly but surely until the glass is tipped over, spilling into your veins, and you can’t deny it anymore.
“Thanks for today,” you give him a smile. “Drive safe. Text me when you get home.”
“Will do. Happy new year.”
“Happy new year.”
You wait until he disappears into the street before getting inside the building. Choi Soobin has been your spring, summer, autumn, and winter. It took the last day of the year for you to realize that.
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It’s the day before your trip with Shutter to Gapyeong. You’ve already finished all your assigned tasks, so you’re able to hang out with your friends at Jay’s place today. For the meantime, you’re all treating his condo as if it’s your own.
“Let’s watch a movie,” Jake suggests. He’s laying flat on the sofa, his head next to yours while you sit on the carpet, destroying Sunghoon’s ass in a game of chess. When no one replies, everyone else busy doing their own things to even hear him, he gives up and falls to the floor next to you. “You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”
“Yup. Checkmate, Hoonie,” you reply, killing Sunghoon’s king and gloating your victory.
“You all ready to go?” he asks. “I can help you pack if you haven’t.”
“How bored are you, Jake?” you laugh at him. “Yunjin and Kazuha already promised to help me later, but I guess you can tag along.” He looks satisfied with the arrangement, and he wiggles off of the floor to dig through Jay’s kitchen.
Well. You’re almost ready for the trip tomorrow. But besides packing, there’s still one thing you need to settle within yourself before facing your friends and colleagues from Shutter again. “Guys,” you announce after cleaning up the chess set. “Can I tell you something?”
“Is it a new crush?” Kazuha asks, and you hear Taehyun snort. You can neither confirm nor deny her accusation. When did you become so predictable?
“Let’s say I like someone,” you start, and your friends start gathering in the living room, ready to listen to the new boy of the season. “And all signs are saying that he likes me too.” This elicits a gasp from Yunjin and a very obnoxious oooooh from Jake.
“Depends on the signs,” Jake snorts. “Have you been watching tarot readings on TikTok again?”
“Fuck you. I stopped doing that when Yeonjun ghosted me,” you shoot him a glare, and he raises his hands up defensively. “But anyway. It’s already like— really, seriously, obvious that he likes me and all that’s left is for him to say it himself—”
“Ask him out already.”
“But I have a friend who also likes him.” They grow quiet. “What should I do?”
Kazuha is the first person to speak up. “Does she know the guy is into you instead?”
“We’re assuming he’s into me. He rejected her saying he likes someone else,” you explain. “But I don’t think she’s over him yet.”
“Here I thought your love life is finally turning around,” Yunjin groans.
“I can’t fully entertain him without the underlying feeling of guilt because my friend was literally crying over him when they were out for drinks the other day!” you pause, then clarify your statement. “I wasn’t there when it happened. Mingyu told me. It would’ve been terrible if I was there.”
Taehyun sinks into the sofa handle, arms crossed in thought. “This is a little complicated.”
“Right?” you sigh, deflating into the cushions. “Maybe I should just give up. Maybe romance isn’t for me.”
“It’s literally not that complicated, you idiots.” Sunghoon speaks up for the first time, and you look at him. His expression is that of annoyance, mainly direction towards you, and he continues, “If you think he’s worth risking your friendship, then go for it. But if a boy is enough to ruin your friendship, then your friendship is bullshit. Go talk to her first and I’m sure she’ll understand. Maybe it’ll even get her to move on.”
“Holy shit,” Jay gapes. “Why are you making sense for once?”
He’s right. Sunghoon is making sense. Yet there’s still a lingering hesitation clawing at your throat and preventing you from agreeing. “But what if I’m just being delusional and he doesn’t actually like m—”
“Be honest.” Taehyun cuts you off before you could spiral. “Are you hesitant because you’re afraid of hurting your friend, or are you afraid now that the real thing is waiting in front of you?”
Quiet washes the apartment as your friends allow you to simmer in Taehyun’s words. Throughout the past year, you’ve always been the one pouring out love from all your senses, so much and so often that you’re afraid you’d run out, but you never do. It just keeps on pouring and pouring— a momentary stop— but it gushes out again like a perpetual fountain of red. Now that there are hints of the roles reversing, you’ve froze. You know that you’re using Yura too much as an excuse to justify yourself.
You’re always the one pouring— never the one receiving, and now you have no idea what to do.
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IT STARTED AS A LIGHT SHOWER, but in the middle of the bus ride to Gapyeong, the rain begins to pour, harder and harder to the point that you can hear it through the music in your earphones. You pull out the buds, looking at the window. “Damn, I guess we have to cancel the outdoor activities today,” you say, and Mingyu overhears from in front of you.
“Let’s hope it stops raining in the afternoon,” he sighs, worried. “We can’t have a barbecue party indoors.”
You’re sitting beside Yura. The girl is already fast asleep, understandable since you all met at five in the morning to do some last minute organizing at the office. It’s now ten in the morning, thirty minutes until you arrive at the place, and the rain is showing no signs of stopping. Mingyu senses the grayness in the air and picks up a megaphone, spits out a generic “let’s have some fun!” message, and proceeds to play some tunes.
It works, because through the rest of the ride to Gapyeong, you’re all screaming Taylor Swift lyrics loud enough to block off the hissing rain, so when the bus stops in front of the place you guys rented for two days and one night, you’re surprised it’s still pouring.
“Well, shit,” you say underneath your umbrella, Mingyu pathetically trying to shrink his frame to fit alongside you, and you reach an arm out from under its protection, feeling the cold droplets soaking your skin. “This is gonna last a while.”
“We should all have lunch first,” he says. “This is gonna be fine. We have a lot prepared.”
You nod. “You guys get inside first,” he says before running off into the second bus that arrived to give Myungho some instructions.
You peek into the bus, “Those with umbrellas, please share with those who don’t. It’s a short run to the accommodation. Please don’t forget to bring your valuables with you.” You watch by the doors as your orgmates leave in two’s and three’s uphill, and you can feel yourself starting to get damp due to the unstable direction of the rainfall.
The last person comes out, and he ducks underneath your umbrella. It’s Soobin. Your eye’s meet, and he’s wearing a sheepish grin. Before you know it, he’s got his hand wrapped on yours, tightly clutching the umbrella handle and suddenly, puddles are splashing underneath your feet as you run into the same direction. A squeak escapes your throat when you hear the rain pour harder, and Soobin pulls you closer with his free hand as the rain threatens to soak you.
“Are you two shooting a youth drama?”
You’re out of breath when you reach the porch of the large house, but you still manage to shoot Heeseung a dirty look for that comment. You glance at Soobin, who still has your umbrella. He’s ruffling his hair and shaking his head like a wet puppy. “I’ll go grab the boxes from the bus. Can I borrow this for a while?” You nod, and he smiles. “Come and help me,” he drags the unwilling Heeseung back into the pouring rain, and you turn back, nudging everyone to get inside the house once they’ve dried up.
“Oh, look who we have here,” you turn to see Jeonghan, walking back out with two mops from the house. “You look pretty happy for someone who just got rained on.”
Your eyes land on Yura, and guilt settles when you catch her expression before she goes back to smiling at Jeonghan and takes the other mop from him. You plan on having a conversation with her later, and you plan on settling everything today. “The day will come where I’ll eventually kick your ass, seonbae. Please reflect on your sins until then.” You bid him off with a bland smile, and you settle inside the warm floors of the room.
It’s two houses connected to each other, two floors each, large enough for twenty to thirty people in total. Mingyu says he’s unsure if there will be enough room upstairs for everyone to sleep in, but there are some that won’t be staying overnight, and you’re sure that the sleeping arrangements will be wherever everyone ends up passing out after getting alcohol-bombed throughout the night.
“Alright, everyone please gather around!”
Mingyu’s voice pierces through the dozens of conversations happening at once. It’s a miracle that the rain is finally letting up after you finish your lunch. “T-shirts are distributed by size so please line up in front of the assigned officers. You can change immediately after receiving yours.”
You’re only able to change into the Shutter shirt after handing out everything from your pile. You happen to bump into Beomgyu after changing, walking down the stairs. “Cute. The shirt looks good on you.” You’re taken aback, but you laugh out a smile.
“Thanks. Did you get yours yet?”
“No. Mingyu hyung is holding it hostage upstairs.”
“Good luck,” you tell him. “I’ll go set up the projector.”
You hop down the last set of steps and are immediately blocked by Soobin when you turn to the living room, bumping into him. “Oh,” you look up. “Were you here the whole time?”
“I was waiting for you,” he says, picking on a stray thread from your shirt collar, and he flicks it off to the side. “I couldn’t find the file for the presentation.”
“Ah, it’s with me. Hold on.”
You drag Soobin into the little tech-area you set up in the living space, passing through the lights the machine is projecting at the white cloth set up against a wall. As you’re tinkering on the laptop, looking for the PPT you made somewhere in the chaos of your files, Soobin is leaning down and watching you work, one arm outstretched on the back of your chair to balance himself. “I thought I didn’t like him anymore,” he says out of nowhere. You stop digging through your files and look up at him— oh, Beomgyu— then resume. His face tells you that it’s just to provoke you, but you entertain his provocations anyway.
“I don’t,” you reply. “But I do like being called cute.”
“Hmm,” he sounds out. “That’s right. Yeonjun hyung called you cute, too.”
You cough out a noise. “What are you getting at, Choi Soobin?”
He laughs at the dirty look you’re giving him. “I just wanted to say that I think you’re cute too.”
For someone who admitted that he gets nervous sweats around you, he sure is getting shameless and bold. You ignore the heat prickling at your cheeks, slamming your hands down the table after opening up the presentation, and leaving into the kitchen to get some of the lemon water Myungho made. If Mingyu were to see you right now, he’d be having a mother fucking field day. Thank god he’s busy keeping everything in check.
“Alright, it’s time to officially start Shutter.TXT’s new year’s party and sensitivity training! We’ll begin with an opening message from our very own Chairperson, Kim Mingyu, and after that, the anonymous message table will be opened once more. Chair, you have the floor.”
Beomgyu and Yura are hosting today (after the last event, you’re sure Mingyu decided that hosting isn’t for him). You’re back next to Soobin, helping him manage the technicals, and the afternoon passes by with the various party games you guys prepared— with prizes, of course because no one would join without an incentive. The screen is projecting a picture of Yoon Jeonghan as a baby and everyone yells out their names, hands raised to guess who the pudgy gremlin is. He didn’t submit the photo, of course. You had to dig into his mother’s Facebook account to find it.
“Correct! The answer is our Business Manager, Yoon Jeonghan!” You click to the next slide as Chan runs up front to get his prize. “Before we head to picking the raffle winners sponsored by our Chair, let’s take a break and pick out some messages from the confession box first!”
Your memory flashes back to one confession you got last time, and your eyes flash up at Soobin. “Did you send anything?” you ask him.
“Maybe I did,” he hums. “You?”
“I didn’t have the time,” you reply, a smile tugging on your lips. “So I might just end up doing it in person.”
Your attention is caught when you hear Beomgyu read one of the messages into the microphone, and you hear your full name echoing through the speakers. “Ohhh, this one’s for our Assistant Layout Director!” and he repeats for your full name once more. You look at Soobin, but choose not to say anything when he’s so intently waiting for Beomgyu to read out loud the message. “I’ve liked you since March of last year and my feelings have only grown as each month passes. What other signs should I give you?” He’s practically pouring his heart into your lap and you’ve been so stupid as to ignore it with every passing season.
“Alright, alright, everyone please settle down, I know that last one was thrilling but we have another confession for—”
The rest of the activities finished without a hitch, and Heeseung managed to win the ramen cooker Mingyu bought as the grand prize for the raffle. When the sun fell and stars started settling in the sky, the front yard finally dried up enough for everyone to set up for dinner.
“Hyung! Come take over the grill!”
Smoke fills the air as you bump glasses over the picnic table, and soft music hums from the portable speakers Beomgyu brought. The night is cool, still stuck in the middle of winter. You leave a pat on Chan’s shoulder before you leave the group, passing by the large blue cooler near the grill to scoop up two beer cans before sauntering over to the downslope path.
There isn’t a staircase, so you’re careful with your steps, slightly buzzed from the early shots you had earlier. Your eyes land on Yura, sitting on the grassy knoll while staring off into the treeline. “Hey,” you greet her, and she looks up behind. You raise the blue can, smiling. “Brought something to refresh our emcee’s throat. You did a great job today.”
She smiles.“Thanks. You too.”
You take a seat next to her on the ground and your cans open together with a hiss, clinking lid tops before taking a hefty swig in mutual silence. After a while, you speak up. “We’re both working too hard,” you say. “But we didn’t even get to win a single damned prize from the raffle.”
“I would’ve been happy with the box of tampons, honestly,” she laughs.
“Me too. Even the dead matchstick would be good enough.”
The tree leaves rustle when a breeze passes. You know what you came up to her for, but you don’t know how to bring it up. The metal is cold between your teeth as you ponder, biting on the beer can after you let the drink sizzle down your throat.
Much to your surprise, it’s Yura that brings it up. “I want to tell you that I’m completely over Soobin,” she says. “I should’ve moved on after the first rejection, but I think the second one was enough to give me a reality check.”
You stare at her. “Are— are you serious?”
“Just pretend and believe that I am. Don’t ask questions,” he proclaims, closing her eyes with an affirmative nod. You can see her veins popping on the back of her hand as she holds the can.“Yup. So don’t hold yourself back anymore and do whatever you want.” You eye her in worry. It doesn’t go past her radar. Yura settles the drink on the ground beside her and grabs your two hands.
She pulls them close to her, smiling. “We’re friends. I’ll always be happy for you.”
You don’t need her to say it outright. Maybe it’s better for her that way. Your hands wrap around her and you give her a squeeze. “Thanks.”
“Ah,” she starts cocking her head. “This should’ve happened sooner. Gosh, I need another drink. Let’s go raid the cooler.”
With that she pulls you up and drags you back to the rest of your peers. As soon as you’re within earshot, Mingyu calls out the both of you to eat more, boasting how nicely he grilled the beef this time. “We’ll be the judge of that!” Yura yells back, and you spend the rest of the night with a few weeks worth of weight on your chest finally lifted, making it easier for you to breathe in the clean air of the rural neighborhood.
Your initial predictions are right. At three in the morning, almost everyone is passed out scattered areas of the two houses, and you’re having a bit of difficulty trying to evade the obstacle of bodies when you enter the living room after cleaning up outside. I doubt we could go through with the program in the morning, you think when you pass by Beomgyu’s unconscious body hanging onto Heeseung as you make your way up the stairs to wash up. Waking everyone up would take at least two hours.
It’s a lot more civilized upstairs. Some of the girls gathered in one room and are sleeping soundly on the mats and blankets. You do your best to keep quiet as you prepare for the night, but even after bathing and giving yourself a change of clothes, the moonlight from the open window keeps you up with its brightness. You give up sleeping and head back downstairs. There, you see a familiar silhouette snuggled up on the couch and taking up all of its space. He’s squirming when you walk up to him, tugging the blanket that’s half on the ground, and you let out a soundless laugh.
You’re on the floor watching Soobin’s face scrunch up as he sleeps. His mouth is pouting, and one of his arms hangs off the sofa when he turns, facing you. You bring your knees closer to your chest. He’s pretty even when sleeping.
Right when you plan on leaving, you hear him mumble out your name— in full, like he always does. It’s barely coherent, a slur of syllables, but you can recognize your name in his voice. “You’re still awake...?” he asks, rubbing his barely open eyes. You settle yourself back down with a smile, hugging your knees.
“Mhm,” you reply. “I was thinking.”
He’s still half-asleep. You can tell when tries getting up but he only makes it a few inches up the sofa before his head surrenders to the armrest. You shouldn’t be making any noise. There’s at least five more people sleeping in the room, but a noise escapes in spite of your tightly pressed lips when his fallen arm reaches out for your hand, looping his index finger with your pinky. “What were you thinking about?”
Your hands fiddle around with his, tracing invisible shapes on each print and surface as his hazy eyes flutter back and forth in between wake and sleep. “I was thinking about how much I like you,” you say softly. “That’s why I couldn’t sleep.”
Silence befalls, and you’re sure he’s dozed off again. But when you turn to check on him, his eyes are fully open, wide awake. You’re still holding his hand, waiting for something to happen, and that something happens when you feel his gentle but firm grip on your wrist, pulling you up from the ground and your footsteps patter against the moonlight leaking into the wooden living room floor, until a sharp cold bites your feet when you enter the kitchen.
“Okay,” he exhales with a voice clearer than his earlier murmurs, still holding your hand. It’s dark. You can barely see anything, but there’s enough light from the window to make-up Soobin’s silhouette, and you’re still breathless from the sudden sprint. “I’ll give you five seconds to take back what you said, but if you—”
It’s soft, you think. So soft, when adrenaline takes over you and you jerk forward, lips clumsily bumping into each other in exhilaration. Soobin’s wide eyes are staring into yours, and neither are moving away. You’re not sure if it’s your own heart beat you’re hearing, his, or the both of yours thumping in an unfamiliar rhythm.
“Is someone there?”
You’re tugged away again, and before you know it you’re crouched under a table, and all the light you can see are the streams pouring underneath the small gap between the floor and the tablecloth.
“Did you hear something?”
“I thought there was someone here.”
Your eyes flash up from the ground and you’re once again met with Soobin’s clear gaze. It’s a small table, and Soobin is trying his hardest not to collapse onto you. His arms cage you in between, and you cover his head with your hands so he doesn’t bump against the table.
“Probably from outside.”
You can only guess your expression right now. It’s probably mirroring his— panting ever the slightest, trying his best not to smile too much, trying to soak in the moment that’s been months in the waiting.
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It’s the first time your apartment has been this loud.
You don’t know what you got yourself into. A merger between your friends from your major and your friends from Shutter was a disaster waiting to happen. And it is happening. Beomgyu and Taehyun shouldn’t have met, Myungho shouldn’t be drinking with Jay and the rest right now, and you can hear Mingyu talking shit about how he knew you and Soobin were meant to be from the very beginning to every person he sees.
“I’ve been shipping them since day one!” he proclaims proudly to Jake. “Your friend wouldn’t believe me when I—” and your boyfriend promptly tells him to shut up, Jeonghan teasing him along with Heesung.
“When I saw them at the festival, I knew something was up!”
“I made a mistake,” you say out loud. “Holy crap, this is noisy.”
Then you’re dragged by the girls for questioning when Yunjin and Kazuha spill to Yura your series of unfortunate romantic events last year until Soobin happened. “You guys are missing a detail,” you sigh. “It’s time to be honest. I also had a crush on Taehyun for a total of like, two days.”
“What?” exclaims Yunjin?
“What?” echoes the rest of your friends.
“Hold on, when did this happen?” Soobin is back to your side. You haven’t told him either. He only knows up until Huening.
“Christmas party. It was a temporary moment of weakness because I was sad and hormonal,” you explain. “Don’t look at me like that, Choi Soobin. It didn’t last long. Things became clear when we went out for dinner on new year’s eve.”
You hear a gag from Sunghoon and Yunjin freaks out. “You had dinner together?! How come I wasn’t aware of this?”
“Ew, I can’t believe you had a crush on one of us,” spouts Jay, but Jake quickly turns it against him.
“Like you’re one to talk. You had a crush on her throughout the first week of classes.”
“Now, why the fuck would you tell her that?”
They fight. You take the opportunity to escape the scene, dragging Soobin to the safe space of your room before you can get a headache from the mess outside. “I think I should’ve just introduced you to them one by one,” you sigh against the door. “I’m sorry. They must’ve been tiring.”
“It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he assures, already taking a spot on the floor beside your bed. “Of course, it’s still better when it’s just you and me.”
Slowly, you pull yourself off the door and plant yourself right in front of him, sitting cross legged. He waits for you to speak, eyes expectant. You give in. “Are you upset that I didn’t tell you about my two day crush on Taehyun?” You didn’t expect him to laugh at that.
“No. I’m actually glad you didn’t,” he starts. Soobin leans forward a little, picking up your hands from the floor and he starts twiddling with them as he lets his mind speak. “I was always hesitant to do or say anything because you always had your eyes set on someone else, but I just couldn’t do nothing. I liked you a lot, and I only fell deeper as we got closer. I thought I might explode if I didn’t let it out somehow. I only got the courage to call you that day because I thought you didn’t have feelings for anybody anymore,”
“But I did,” you correct. “I’m pretty sure I already liked you then.”
You pause for a moment. “Actually, I’m sure I liked you even before that.”
He breathes out a smile. “I’m glad.” Soobin lets go of you— only for a moment because he lets himself sink forward, arms locking you in place like the time you were trapped under the table during the Shutter outing. It’s late at night, too. Nothing but the moon illuminating the floorboards through your bedroom window, except this time, your eyes aren’t looking at each other. You follow his gaze, and you let out a little laugh. “Choi Soobin,” you call out, and his eyes snap back up. “You know, you can kiss me if you want to, right?”
It’s like he said. He gets nervous around you. You can see him swallow hesitantly, the air around you growing thicker, and he breathes out, “Are— are you sure?”
You dip your fingers into his hair, and he chases after when you trail them down to his cheek. His face is soft, softer than a gentle spring bloom. “You can do whatever you want."
Soobin presses his lips together. “Then...close your eyes”
Your eyes follow, and within a few seconds you can feel nothing but the teasing burn of his lips barely grazing above yours like it’s the summer sun, but then feel his grip on your shoulder, and the air gets colder when you suddenly feel a distance.
He’s red when you open your eyes, a pretty shade of warm, autumn sienna painting his cheeks and ears. “Sorry, I just—”
You don’t let him finish. You pull yourself into him and the plush of his lips are soft against yours— still as soft as you remember and you let yourself drown in his heat and warmth, and he does the same, tugging you onto his lap so he can pour all his year’s worth of love and ardor into you with every kiss, peck, whisper like it’s a winter present.
“You’re really doing whatever you want,” you laugh as soon as he presses a kiss on the skin peeking from your left shoulder.
“I’ve been holding back for months,” he whines into your neck, arms firmly wrapped around your waist with no intention of letting go. “Let’s stay here for a little longer. The guys outside can take care of themselves.”
Choi Soobin has been pouring his love into you all throughout spring and summer, fall and winter, even when you were too caught up in momentary shifts of the season to notice. Now, you won’t even let a drop fall astray, catching every last bit as you do the same for him. He’s a spring shower that extends into December, a summer cold you never want to get rid of, a fall sweater you’re wearing in the middle of May, and the cold nights that visit all throughout the year.
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love vomit. © hannie-dul-set, 2023.
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featherandferns · 5 months ago
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daylight - six
jj maybank x fem!reader | part 6 of the daylight series | read part 5 here
content warnings: sexual content (m receiving)
word count: 2.8k.
blurb: seemingly not put-off from your last encounter, JJ comes by your house and studies your photographs. There's one within the mix that makes something click in JJ's head.
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“Mimsy, it was humiliating,” you groan through the camera. 
She cringes. “I mean…yeah, that is pretty rough.”
“Ah!” you cry, tossing your head into your hands. 
“What was up? Were you not turned on?”
“Of course I was!” you argue, offended at the insulation that JJ wasn’t sex walking. “I just got all in my head, and the dark and Tyler and–”
“Woah, woah, woah,” Mimsy interrupts. You brave a glance at her on the facetime call. “You were thinking of Tyler whilst hot-mechanic-man was going down on you?”
“Well, we never got that far,” you mumble. 
Mimsy silences you with a look. “Why were you thinking of Tyler?”
You sigh and shake your head. Once more, your eyes dart down to the shoebox. “I don’t know,” you admit. “I just felt like I was back in that room with him all over again in December. The confusion and the–”
“Are you sure Tyler never assaulted you?” Mimsy checks. Despite her careless questioning, you know it comes from a place of concern. 
“Yes, I’m sure,” you say. “I mean, his emphasis on consent was honestly one of his finer features. One time I nodded and he went ‘no, no, you gotta use your words’.”
“Condescending prickhole,” Mimsy mutters bitterly. 
Eyebrows raised, mildly alarmed, you say, “well, yes, he was, but he was an consent advocate.”
“Gee, someone give him a gold medal. The bar really is on the fucking floor.”
You click your fingers. Mimsy could get lost in her anti-Tyler spiel easily. “Can we stay on task, please? What the hell is wrong with my body!?”
“Alright, one sec,” Mimsy says. You watch as she types away on her laptop, halfway in shot. “Okay, Google, what have you got?”
Waiting anxiously as Mimsy puruses the web, she makes a ‘eureka’ type sound. 
“Well if it makes you feel any better, apparently around seventeen percent of women aged eighteen to fifty experience vaginal dryness problems during sex. So you’re not a freak - yay!”
“Thank you for that,” you grumble. “What else does it say? Does it say why it happens?”
“Not being turned on enough is the leading cause. Insufficient foreplay type things,” Mimsy reads. 
You shake your head, fingers pressed to your lips in thought. “No, I was definitely turned it on. It was only when he was no longer kissing me and stuff…”
“Is that when the Tyler thoughts started?” Mimsy wonders. 
You nod. 
“Alright, well, other reasons are psychological. Stress, anxiety, that kind of thing. You think that might be it?”
“Maybe,” you muse. Before you can try to expand your thoughts, Mimsy’s phone chimes. She momentarily disappears as she reads the text, and you watch as she gets up in a rush. “You good?”
“Darren hit me up. He said he’ll be here in five.”
“Wait, Darren?” you gape. “Since when were you hooking up with Darren?”
“Like a week ago, at this beach get-together. He’s gotten cuter, y’know? Works out and stuff now,” she grins cheeky at the camera, licking her teeth.
It's times like these that you realise how much your lives are already changing without the other knowing. Most of the time it's easy to ignore, but every now and then the FOMO is relentless and jealousy tries to rear its ugly head. 
“Right, I gotta dash. I need to check I’m nice and clean shaven.”
“T.M.I. Mimsy. We need some boundaries."
“Yeah, you’re right,” Mimsy says before deadpanning: “have fun navigating your dry vagina.”
“Fair point,” you mumble. With that, Mimsy disappears from your screen.
You mindlessly meddle on Instagram, editing your latest post - a picture of the Pogues you took a few weeks ago - and scrolling through the feed. A text notification appears. It’s JJ.
Let me in. 
Frowning, you reply. 
Hello?? 
I’m outside lol. Let me in. 
Frown deepening, you ditch your phone and rush down the stairs. Sure enough, when you open the door, JJ’s there. He’s wearing a t-shirt and shorts, and those same damned combat boots. No cap, messy tendrils of hair sticking out any which way. 
“What are you doing here?”
“I was bored.”
“Oh,” you reply. JJ had never come into your house before. Always picked you up or dropped you off outside. “Well, come in, I guess.”
JJ gladly does so. Wanders through the doorway, hands in his pockets. 
“What you been up to today?” you wonder. 
“Went to Heyward’s with Pope to earn a couple bucks,” JJ says as he eyes up the decor. Most things are unpacked now, having been in Kildare for almost two months. Faux family photos line the mantle of the fire which doesn’t work. JJ peruses them. “You were a cute kid.”
“Thanks,” you say. “You want a drink or something?”
“Nah, I’m good,” he says, pulling out his flask. You roll your eyes as he takes a swig of what you assume is whiskey. “Where your parents at?”
“Trying to rekindle their romance on a weekend trip to my uncle’s place,” you say. “I was just gonna edit the last lot of photos I took at Kook Club.”
“They any good?” he asks. 
The two of you had worked the latest Gala dinner. It had been to “raise money” for the already pristine, state-of-the-art tennis courts. Whilst they were charging guests a thousand dollars per ticket, you and JJ left with less than a hundred bucks for ten hours worth of work. 
“They’re alright. Rafe and his posse are in the back of a bunch, sneaking drinks, so I need to edit that crap out,” you huff. You start up the stairs and JJ follows. Opening the door, you guide JJ into your bedroom. 
“Ta da,” you say. “My humble abode.”
“Cute bear,” JJ teases, pointedly looking at your well-cuddled stuffie.
You rush to grab him, hiding him under the pillow and nervously laughing when you turn back to him. 
His eyes gravitate to your pinboard of pictures. A collection of your favourites. Friends mostly, with about two of your parents. Lots of Vancouver. The Pogues. JJ. Things you took whilst people-watching. Most of the photos are pictures of the neighbourhood and town. Beaches and trees and people going about their days. Boats bobbing on water and fisherman dragging up crab-cages. Children biking down the street and old couples sat on their porches like something from a Suburbia advert in the fifties. There’s an intrigued slant to his brow as he takes in the world you see. 
Then, JJ plucks one from the masses and holds it with care, something seemingly unnatural for someone so energetic. You can’t help but study him as he studies your picture. It’s one you took almost two weeks ago, of a man that you saw smoking a cigarette outside of a dive bar. There was something about him that seemed so tired and worn, like he’d wasted his happiness on something unforgiving. JJ’s smile fades. There’s an urge to ask him if he's okay, though you’re not sure why. 
He returns it to the board and deliberates over some more. You try and think of something to say but come up with nothing. 
“These are really good,” JJ absent-mindedly tells you, eyes trained on the pictures. 
“Thanks.”
JJ smiles at the one you took of him. It’s a strange smile: like he’s surprised by his own candidness. Then he physically freezes. You follow his trained vision to a picture hidden under layers. Oh no. 
“Is that…”
JJ takes it from the board, careful not to disturb the others, and stares at it for a painful length of time. All you can do is fidget nervously, eyes wide, and watch him piece together the picture. Frowning, he holds it up to you as he turns. 
“When did you take this?”
“Um…”
It’s of him, laughing from afar, standing before a sunsetting sky, the sea in the distance. You try to grab it off him but his reflexes are too fast. JJ holds it above his head, out of your reach. 
“Just one time at the beach.”
“Nuh-uh,” JJ says, a grin starting to unfurl. “You’re lying. When’d you take this? I don’t remember you taking this.”
“Just a dumb candid I got at this kegger one time. It was ages ago,” you hurriedly say. 
And all the puzzle pieces click in JJ’s mind. The grin comes through in full effect and he points a finger in your face. Your stomach sinks through the floor. 
“It was you!”
“W-what?” you stammer.
“You were the peeping Tom at Chloe’s kegger! I knew I didn’t fucking imagine it!” JJ announces. 
No, no, bad, bad, bad. 
“Holy shit! I’ve been trying to figure out who it was and it was you the whole time!”
“Don’t be a dick, okay? I just like people-watching. Clearly!” you defend, gesturing to the pictures. 
“I’m not being a dick,” JJ says, enthusiasm dwindling. He lowers the photo and looks at it again. A smile returns, sweeter this time. “It’s a really good photo.”
“Course you’d say that,” you snort, taking it back. “You’re in love with yourself.”
“Damn straight,” he gloats. He watches you place the photo in your bedside drawer. “Putting that in your wank bank for later, then?”
“Careful,” you snarl, shooting him a glare. He cackles.
ADHD brain in full swing, JJ takes to investigating your cameras. “You ever take photos of yourself?”
“No.”
“Ever had people take them for you?”
“Look, some people photograph well,” you say, gesturing to JJ, “and some people don’t.”
JJ quirks a brow. “Are you saying you’re not photogenic?”
You make a face of ‘well, duh’ and JJ laughs incredulously.
“Oh, bullshit. You’re smoking! You’d take a great picture.”
“Well, history proves otherwise,” you laugh, flopping onto your bed. 
JJ looks back to the cameras. At his extended quiet, you gain the sense that he’s plotting something. Concocting. “What?”
“Just thinkin’,” he hums. He grabs your Polaroid camera, turning to you. “This charged?”
“It’s battery powered, JJ,” you say. “So, yes.”
“Got paper in it?”
“That little dial on the right will say.”
JJ checks and a grin reappears. “Lie down.”
“Excuse me?”
“Humour me,” JJ says, “lie down.”
Rolling your eyes, you comply, lying down like a corpse. “Happy?”
“No, fucking…” JJ poorly  imitates a sensual pose. You giggle. “Give it some effort.”
Sighing, as if it’s some great effort, you do as he asks. JJ grins and lifts the camera. With that, you crack up and raise a hand, trying to push the lens away. He snaps a photo before you can. 
“JJ!”
“Come on, come on! Pose it up, girl,” he urges. 
Aware that he won’t quit, you sit up and smile reluctantly with a lopsided head tilt. JJ takes another photo. 
“Okay, gimme something sexy.”
“Sexy?” you guffaw. 
“Yeah! Something for my wank bank.”
“Jesus Christ,” you mutter. You tug your shirt off before you can overthink it and lean back on your arms, dressed in pyjama shorts and bralette. JJ’s grin takes up half his face. “Happy?”
“That’s it baby, work it…”
At his compliments and praises, you entertain him further. Your confidence blossoms under the lens and you start to understand why people like being photographed. It makes you feel important. Beautiful, like you’re something worthy to be captured. You find yourself grabbing at your tit with one hand, staring doe-eyed into the lens. Another photo has you teasing at showing your nipple, pulling down the lip of your bra.
As JJ continues to snap away, you see his dick getting harder and harder under his shorts. When the camera runs out of film, JJ dumps it on your desk and he practically pounces on you. Consumes you with a heady kiss, a hand reaching up to your jaw, tilting your head to deepen it. You’re obsessed with the way JJ kisses. It’s so forward, unapologetic and proud. Tender and telling, dominating and delicate.
When his hands palm at your crotch over your clothes, your heart sinks. Using all the strength you have, you grab his shoulders and force him down onto his back, on your bed. An impressed, bewildered smile lights up his face. It’s quickly overshadowed with lust.
Now straddling his chest, JJ pulls you back down with both hands, bringing your lips to his. You both grin into the messy kiss. 
“Don’t think I forgot what you said during hot seat,” JJ mumbles out through the kiss. You don’t bother to answer. Start making work of his throat, empowered by the new position. “About your favourite position.”
Your only response is to rut back against his hard-on. JJ stammers out a groan which seems to quiet him. You push his shirt up just as he did yours the other night, and take to praising his toned chest. Lightly trace your tongue over his nipples. Who would have thought JJ was a switch? Not you. 
“Please, baby, fuck,” JJ stammers. 
“You want my mouth?” you tease, rubbing him through his shorts. 
“God, yes, yes,” he begs, eyes closed tight with pleasure. 
You drag it out. Leisurely free him from his shorts and boxers. Take long, slow kisses right up from his calves, guiding your trial with your nails. When you finally take his leaking tip in your mouth, JJ grabs at the sheets with a moan. You go down on him, varying between fast and slow, deep and shallow. Suckle at the tip just to hear the sounds he makes, sat up on his forearms to watch. 
“Takin’ me so well,” JJ groans. One of his hands fists into your hair. “Fuck…That’s it.”
You hum around his dick, grabbing at the flesh of his thigh for purchase as you work him closer and closer to the edge. He pulls you off him before he comes, spilling onto his chest with a shuddering groan. You sit back on your haunches, wiping at your mouth, as JJ sits up. You grab the box of tissues from beside your bed and offer them to him. He’s almost blushing as he takes them, cleaning himself up. 
“Christ, you Vancouver girls are built different, huh?” he says. 
You laugh, flustered. “Well, I can’t speak for all of us.”
“Don’t need you to,” JJ smirks, reaching out for you by your hip bone. “I got the perfect one right here.”
He easily pulls you into his lap with one arm. Dumbs your thoughts with a kiss, tongue swirling deliciously in your mouth. But when one of his hands ventures lower, you pull away with a small smile. He tries to chase your mouth with his but you place a hand to the apex of his neck, keeping him at bay. He frowns.
Tracing the pad of your thumb under one of his eyes, you quietly say, “maybe another night.”
JJ’s reaction mirrors that of a child being told they can’t have a candy bar. “Wait, seriously?”
“I’m tired,” you lie with a laugh. Pecking his lips, you smile. “Worn me out.”
“Barely fucking touched you,” JJ grumbles, disgruntled. You move off him and grab the mess of tissues, filtering them into your bedroom bin. You can feel JJ watching you as you gather the polaroid photos from the floor. “Is this about the other night?”
Your lack of reply is reply enough. 
“That was probably a fluke! I read somewhere that dehydration can cause it,” JJ tells you. You make your way back over with a small smile. JJ reaches out a hand and grabs you by your hip. He leans forward and places a kiss to your stomach through your t-shirt. Looks up at you, innocent through his lashes. “Just let me at you and I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
“As romantic as that is,” you sardonically say, looping your fingers through his hair and gently easing him away, “I just wanna go to sleep. You staying over?”
“Is that cool with you?” JJ checks. 
“Mhm,” you say. “I’m gonna go wash up, yeah?”
“Alright,” JJ replies, already tugging off his shirt. 
When you’re finished in the bathroom you find JJ under your sheets, scrolling on his phone. You settle in beside him. Your bed is just slightly bigger than a twin. It gives you a good excuse to cuddle up against him. Sighing, JJ clicks off his phone and lays back. 
“You wanna get the light?” he wonders, absentmindedly stroking your shoulder.
“No,” you mumble against his sturdy frame. “I sleep with it on.”
“Oh. Alright.”
JJ coils an arm around your midsection, bending to your form like ivy wills to a building. And how strange is it to think, that as you and JJ fall asleep tangled up with each other, that a box of your ex-boyfriend's things lies under the bed.
read part seven here!
taglist:
@princessuki21 | @psyches-reid | @heybank | @avengersgirllorianna | @rrosiitas | @yourmumstoy | @jjsfavgirl | @void21 | @fictionalcomforts | @gsp420 | @redhead1180 | @wearemadeofstardust0 | @mrs-jjmaybank | @ifilwtmfc | @heybank | @lilyw1235 | @belle101200
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asterias-record-shop · 1 year ago
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╭════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╮
— blinded
╰════• ೋ•✧๑♡๑✧•ೋ •═══╯
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**edited timeline, aged up to in early twenties
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𓆩[main masterlist]𓆪 𓆩[request/ask me something!]𓆪 𓆩[join the taglist!]𓆪
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Maybe it was your feelings from Ethan that blinded you from seeing how horrible he truly was. After just murdering someone, someone you must have cared for, you were only focused on getting off from the feeling of a hilt of a Buck 120 buried all the way down to the blade in your soaked cunt.
“God, you’re such a fucking whore,” Ethan spoke, blood splattered on his face as he stared down at your trembling thighs, rutting hips, and squelching pussy. “Look at you… getting off on having a fucking knife inside of you.”
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You wailed softly, sobbing as you reached up to cover your mouth, your stomach twisting as your mind blurred. This was bad, horrible. How could your boyfriend of almost two years do this? “Pl-Please, please Ethan… I’m almost there, please!”
He laughed cruelly, humming. “Watch… when I keep fucking murdering people, they’re going to find all your cum all over their body and we’ll be fucking tied to each other forever. Would you like that? Hm?”
His words make your stomach clench, pussy fluttering around the hilt of the blade making him laugh, watching your hips squirm. “Yes! Oh my god, yes! Ethan, I need to cum, I need to cum!”
He smirked, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your tear stained cheek. “You’re such a pathetic little slut. You’re so lucky I love you… that I want to fuck you and get you pregnant so no matter what happens to me, this world will never be able to escape my bloodline.”
A whine falls from your lips as you gripped onto the black cloak he wore, mindlessly nodding along with his words. You were so fucked out and obsessed with him, you didn’t care what he did, as long as he only did it to you and you only. “Yes! Yes, I want to get pregnant, please please please…” you babbled endlessly before a yell of your name makes you snap out of it.
Ethan smirked, tilting his head. “Who was that?”
Quickly shaking your head, you continued to roll your hips. “P-Probably Tara.. please, I need to cum-”
“Ah ah,” Ethan tutted, shaking his head. “I need to get out of here baby… maybe take her with me.”
You quickly shake your head, trying to divert him from your best friend. “W-Wait! Please, don’t hurt her! Please… please, I’ll do anything… I’ll get pregnant with your baby, please…”
He laughed, pulling the knife out of you making you whine, shaking your head. “You think that was a choice? I’m going to cum inside of you so much that you’re going to be leaking it for days,” he basically growled out, this new side of Ethan making your cunt clench around nothing as his knife grazed your skin. “Now… where should I mark you, hm? So they don’t know I fucked you like a whore with a blood stained knife.”
“Anywhere!” You sobbed, watching as his knife nicked at your arm before leaving a soft trail on your forearm. “E-Ethan!”
“Sh, baby,” he whispers, kissing at your cheek. “Gotta go. I won’t hurt Tara, just for you. I expect you to be prepped and ready for when I sneak into your room tonight and fuck you until all you can think about is having my child.”
His words made your stomach clench, cumming around nothing as he laughed cruelly, giving a firm slap to your cunt. “That’s a good girl… you better be ready when I get to your dorm room.”
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When you got home after making a police statement, you crashed onto your bed. You had already started working on stretching yourself out for Ethan to just come and use you like a whore, but you couldn’t help but feel bad. You had lied and said you had killed him, but what if he comes back? What would you do then?
“What are you thinking about, pretty girl?” Ethan’s voice makes you jump, standing at the edge of your bed, pumping his cock languidly as he stares at your stilled fingers in your cunt.
“I-I told them I killed you,” you whisper, shaking your head. “Th-That I stabbed you and that I think you’re dead somewhere.”
“Good girl,” he praised you, slowly crawling onto the bed and holding your wrist, pulling out your hand and pushing your fingers into his mouth. He groaned loudly at your taste, using his other hand to push into you and snap his hips forward. You screamed out as he lets your hand fall to his shoulder, kissing your cut forearm as he continued to roll his hips. “I’m sorry I had to hurt you baby… had to make sure they weren’t suspicious.”
“I-It’s okay,” you whisper back, shaking your head. “I can take it.”
He smiled, letting his tongue trail over the medical tape. “Can you? Hm?”
You whined, nodding as his hips started to move faster, groans falling from his lips as he desperately tried to speed up his thrusts. “I’ll take anything you give me.”
He groaned as he threw his head back- you really were a perfect little whore for him. Anything he said you’d obey, anything he did you’d take- it was just perfect.
“Fuck, you did such a good job that I’m about to cum,” he groaned, watching as you nodded mindlessly.
“Yes! Yes, I’ll take it!” You whimpered, throwing your head back. “I’ll take it, I’ll take everything-!”
A scream fell from your lips as he quickly took your legs over his shoulders, pushing you back enough so that he could fuck you at a new angle, ragged grunts falling from his lips. “Fuck… fuck, fuck!”
A groan fell from your mouth as you felt his cum spurt into you, warm and sticky as your stomach clenched and you came just at the feeling, whimpering softly as he continued to roll his hips. “You know I love you, right?”
You nodded mindlessly as he stroked your face, tilting his head. “Good… good, pretty girl, because I’m too fucking obsessed with you to lose you.”
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© asterias-record-shop
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daemon-in-my-head · 9 months ago
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Gortash is hot, but the thing that actually makes me horny about this train wreck of a man is that he's a human villain.
Brother didn't wake up and choose corruption (looking at you, pale elf), my guy was genuinely incredibly hurt, and that hurt, and the fact that nobody ever came to help him led him down a path of war crimes and even more torment. He didn't start out vile. Even he was just a kid once. Before he was made to be what he is now.
Most people aren't born evil. They're made. By other people. By their environment. By the shitshow that life can be. I like villains that are the guys that weren't saved in time, because it's real. I'm pretty sure to some degree, everyone can understand why Gortash, Ketheric, Orin or even Durge did what they did. You can sympathise with their motives and their pain, maybe even emphasise. They blur the line between utterly good and utterly evil. And I like that. Because life is not black or white despite what some may claim, neither is morality or what one does.
It doesn't excuse what they did. Vivisections and human experiments are never appropriate, but it makes them more interesting. Because what if Gortash had been saved in time like your beloved companions? What if any of your villains had been saved in time? Where would they be now? What if someone had recognised their hurt or harmful environs and saved them just in time?
Ultimately, they're all just hurting, one way or another. But like an injured, scared animal, they lash out rather than back up. And I mean, their original primary motivation isn't even evil. It's as human as can be. Everyone can understand wanting to be loved and wanting their loved ones around them. Wanting to be accepted for who they are. It's just that these people, despite their constant struggle, never got rewarded with what they so rightfully desired and what they would've deserved. But even so, the original desire, their original sin, was one everyone could understand.
Anyway, just thoughts.
Ah hm yes. My posting is giving even me whiplash at times.
Edit cuz reasons: Yes I mean Astarion. Yes he is evil. He was a corrupt magistrate and will straight up admit to embezzlement even before Cazador happened. Even in the sanitised released version, don't even get me started about his EA personality. Shit can happen to evil people too. And even evil people may change their ways. But that guy still chose to abuse the power he had even before he became entangled with Cazador. And I never once said smth about redeeming Gortash. I'm literally just explaining how his reasons are understandable.
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catboydogma · 4 months ago
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'til our hell is a good life
codywan week 2024 sol master list (solsterlist)
codywan week 2024 day 1 prompts, sol edition: no/different order 66, lightsaber/lightsaber training
notes: title from our hell by emily haines & the soft skeleton. i've been having a comically disastrous week/month (it's only the 4th? jesus christ) but god willing i will post for all 7 prompts (+ bonus anniversary prompt?). im not gonna lie i had to pop out the soju to finish this beast and i think that did set the tone for the rest of the week's writing. BETTER LATE THAN NEVER AMIRITE FELLAS
wc: 3,099
cross-posted to ao3
Obi-Wan supposed it might have all started because someone gave Cody a lightsaber. No, it had not been Obi-Wan, and even if it might have been, he knew to always cover his own ass. Qui-Gon had been an excellent teacher, for the most part, and there was one thing he had drilled into Obi-Wan above (almost) all else: never drop plausible deniability.
No, he’d no idea where the lightsaber had come from. No, Cody could keep it now. He wasn’t going to take the damn thing away from Cody when the good Commander had, evidently, come across it fair and square. Obi-Wan knew his Commander; it wasn’t like there was some fresh-faced thirteen year old Padawan wandering around somewhere sans ‘saber. If he had to take a stab at the quandary, he supposed it probably would have happened the time Cody’d dogpiled Grievous with the rest of his Command Corps. No, not that time. The time after that one, perhaps.
Regardless, there came a time when Cody’s tac belt had two lightsaber clips, not just one for when Obi-Wan strategically left his lightsaber in a secure place for safekeeping. The two of them never discussed the fact that Cody was likely Force sensitive. It didn’t seem something Cody was at all interested in; given the givens, Obi-Wan was predisposed to let him take the lead on the topic. Or not, as it happened.
But Obi-Wan couldn’t let that stop him in the face of something so egregious as this, even if Cody seemed determined to duck out of the conversation at every turn.
“I am not a Jedi, sir,” Cody told him for the fifth time that day. “I fail to see what tactical advantage there would be in meditating with a weapon.”
“It isn’t entirely a tactical advantage, per se,” Obi-Wan demurred. “But it can be. It’s difficult to articulate.” Especially when most resources for teaching lightsaber forms and meditations were meant for Initiates first starting out, or struggling Padawans; not outsiders to the Order, and certainly not ones that hadn’t grown up in the Temple. If they’d had the time—if not for this bloody war—Obi-Wan might have taken Cody to Jedha for insight. “Would you learn to fight with a particular blaster even when you haven’t familiarized yourself with its base components, or haven’t learnt how to disassemble and repair it?”
Cody frowned. It was a minute thing, barely a twitch of the corner of his mouth and a slight tilt of his head.
Aha. Obi-Wan pressed his advantage, absently touching Cody’s elbow to direct him around a group of techs as they walked through the halls of the Negotiator. “It’s the same for a lightsaber. The kyber—or heart of the lightsaber—is not just a power source; a strong connection between oneself and one’s kyber is paramount to maintaining a good working relationship with the lightsaber itself. And a good working relationship leads to better results in a fight; not just anyone can pick up any old lightsaber and start swinging it around and expect good results, you know. That’s why the black market money is mainly to be made in the raw kyber itself, not in the weapons.” Obi-Wan made eyebrows at Cody over this, who simply glared at him. Ah, well. A man had to find his fun somehow.
“You have me there, sir,” Cody sighed. He was graceful in his concession, at least. Unlike some others Obi-Wan could name upon learning that, yes, meditation with a new lightsaber was practically required…
“We can clear up an evening for it,” Obi-Wan said, magnanimous even in victory. As ever. “And perhaps I can show you what I mean, rather than trying to talk in circles around it.”
“But you do so love talking in circles around things, sir,” Cody said, dry as anything. Obi-Wan mimed shocked outrage at him, and they passed the next few hours in good humor.
“This can be done anywhere, really, but for your first time I thought to make it somewhat more formal,” Obi-Wan told Cody. He’d somewhere unearthed a spare meditation mat to set in between the cramped space between his ‘fresher and desk. Incense in a lump-shaped holder wafted smoke into the air; one of his last good joss sticks. But this was a special occasion. “Many Jedi like to do it in the salles, and many Consulars perfect it in the field.” There had been the especially memorable time during Obi-Wan’s own Padawanship in that nest of gilloms…
Cody inspected his new outfitting and seemed satisfied, though it was hard to tell. He sat on the mat with no complaints and suffered through Obi-Wan running a hand across his shoulders, then nudging Cody’s legs with his own into something more closely approximating a meditative pose.
“The floating is optional, then,” Cody remarked.
“Well, yes. It’s up to personal preference,” Obi-Wan told him, resolutely not letting his flush creep above the collar of his tunics. It was Obi-Wan’s personal preference, really, and usually something more commonly found in the creche than not. “You can hold your lightsaber, or set it in front of you, or in your lap. Many Jedi like to hold themselves in the Force with the lightsaber, hence why this is often accompanied by one’s lightsaber floating in front of oneself. For today, do whatever feels right to you.”
Cody nodded, then opted to hold his lightsaber loosely in his lap. After a moment of consideration, he mirrored Obi-Wan’s own pose: one hand folded atop the other in his lap, thumbs pressed to each other, lightsaber cradled in his palms and just under the arch of his thumbs.
Obi-Wan guided Cody through the preliminary steps of a light meditation, discarding many of the more Force-oriented aspects and focusing on the connecting to one’s lightsaber, on opening oneself up and letting the kyber reach out in turn. When he felt Cody slip deeper, into a state simultaneously more introspective and more concentrated on his lightsaber, Obi-Wan turned his own attention to his kyber.
The heart of a lightsaber could be a curious thing. This wasn’t all completely altruistic; Obi-Wan had left out the bit about also needing to meditate with his ‘saber, because then Cody might have given him one of those looks. But it was good to refamiliarize himself with his kyber, in a ritual both utterly familiar and yet somehow foreign. He just hadn’t done it in so long, or at least not as thoroughly as he might have liked. They had changed, the both of them. The war, Anakin’s Knighting, Obi-Wan’s own views of the galaxy at large and perspective of self… such was the nature of having a malleable brain and being subject to the rigors of time.
Some interminable time later, the soft beeping of a timer brought Obi-Wan up out of the depths of his meditation. He cracked his eyes open and took a moment to settle himself back down onto his mat, still feeling like a great river was still carving its way through his skull in vast, sweeping currents.
“Don’t give me that face,” was the first thing Cody said when he finally deigned to open his eyes.
Obi-Wan, caught mid-insufferable-smirk, quickly arranged his face into something with less smug. “I shall endeavor to do nothing of the sort. So?”
“I see what you mean,” Cody grudgingly allowed. He looked like he was still chewing something over, so Obi-Wan let him stew in silence while he packed up the remains of the incense and their mats. They shared a quiet dinner over formwork together, as well as a quick update sent to Mace when they dropped out of hyperspace to shift to another lane.
They continued to meditate together. Over time, not always with their lightsabers; Obi-Wan didn’t say anything about it, because a Commander Cody was—at times, very rarely—a creature easily spooked, and Obi-Wan had to be careful in his approach to certain things. But it was—good. To have someone else to share time and space together like this. He hadn’t realized how much he missed it until it became a regularity in their schedules; oh, he meditated plenty with Ahsoka, when the 501st and 212th was berthed together or they were sharing missions, and sporadically with Anakin in these same instances, but it… was somewhat another thing, to come to look forward to meditation with another.
Now it wasn’t just Obi-Wan—by himself, in his silent quarters—but it was Cody-and-Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan was also realizing how much he had missed teaching. It wasn’t the same flavor of interaction as between a Master and Padawan, but Obi-Wan enjoyed that Cody was an excellent listener and genuinely enjoyed hearing Obi-Wan ramble on about whatever topic of the day it was. Or topic of the hour, as it sometimes happened. Not only that, but he was the most delightfully clever conversationalist—something that Obi-Wan had always known, at heart, yes, but was coming to explore more and more, as of late.
And then there was the other side of Cody’s learning how to wield a lightsaber.
“You’ve been holding out on me, darling.” Obi-Wan reset and swiped his hair out of his eyes with his shoulder, sweaty fringe just flopping right back over his brow. Of course. He needed a trim was what he needed, but first… he had this to sort.
“I bet you say that to all the men who try that shoulder lock on you.” Cody snorted and readjusted his grip with a quick twirl of his lightsaber. Obi-Wan felt something molten and shivery slide through him, because he had taught Cody that. He manfully ignored the quiet whisper in the back of his head that Cody’s fighting style, after this, would have the hallmark of Obi-Wan’s hands all over him.
The good Commander took Obi-Wan’s split second of distraction as his cue. Bastard. He’d probably been doing it on purpose. Obi-Wan very carefully ignored the frisson of feeling that thought gave him, focused on defense, and then, when Cody had settled into a rhythm, pressing the attack.
“Only you, my Commander,” Obi-Wan said warmly. He ducked under Cody’s guard when his step faltered at that little exchange and the quick twist of the wrist Obi-Wan gave his ‘saber, but didn’t quite press his advantage. This match wasn’t about beating Cody into the ground, though Obi-Wan had no doubt that his Commander would give him a run for his money even if that were the case; no, this was about teaching Cody, and drilling the muscle memory into him.
Cody had taken to lightsaber fighting like a quacta to slime. They’d rotated through each form, but Cody had returned to the first they had drilled for a strong foundation, and Obi-Wan had to say that it quite suited him. This variant of Shii-Cho focused more on lethality than disarming, something which might have given pause to the Jedi Obi-Wan of five years ago had been—but Obi-Wan of now couldn’t argue with results, if those results were what kept Ghost Company alive and well and the Sith from overtaking them. His Commander fought with a combination of focus and brutality, utterly utilitarian but almost elegant in its most efficient economy of motion. Obi-Wan found himself almost comparing Cody’s style to that of a Nabooan ballet dancer’s, famed for their relentless discipline and endurance.
The bout ended when Cody broke through Obi-Wan’s guard with a clever bit of bladework and bashed the crown of his head into Obi-Wan’s face, narrowly missing breaking his teeth in.
Obi-Wan laughed through the blinding pain—literally, his vision was still sprinkled with bright lights and strange afterimages—and said, lying on the floor, “I was right.”
Cody narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan, lightsaber—now off—imperiously leveled at Obi-Wan’s chest.
“You have gotten better, now that you’ve been meditating with it.”
So, yes. It might have started when Cody found that lightsaber—and held onto it—and learnt to wield it properly. Obi-Wan had a suspicion—well, he had a number of suspicions. This primary suspicion, however, was how it ended.
It was supposed to be a routine inspection; rote, trivial, something necessary but not a thing anyone truly looked forward to. But a gaggle—or perhaps drove—of senators had decided to invite themselves along, some kind of publicity stunt, Obi-Wan didn’t know. Usually Adi handled these sorts of things, or else one of the other PR- or legal-inclined Masters. Thus, of course, Chancellor Palpatine had to say some words at the landing pad—some inane drivel about whatever the hell sentiment Palpatine was using to drive through his bill of the week. Obi-Wan tried not to grimace too obviously at the thinly-veiled warmongering the Chancellor was using to drum up support and inclined his head toward his Commander, about to comment on the daring sartorial choices of one bold politician, when Cody tilted his head towards Obi-Wan and nearly knocked him on the temple.
“I didn’t know the Chancellor used to be a Jedi,” Cody said.
Obi-Wan’s comment died halfway up his throat. He blinked at Palpatine, then at Cody. “Pardon?”
Cody shifted infinitesimally backwards on his heels, allowing Obi-Wan a better view of where Palpatine stood on the other side of Cody, with Anakin flanking the Chancellor’s left.
“He’s got a lightsaber in one of those concealed carry holsters at his back,” Cody told him, eyes still forward, settled in a textbook-perfect parade rest. “I was.” His eyes shifted to Obi-Wan and then back forward in a rare—and unsettling—display of trepidation. “Doing a bit of meditation. As it were. Haven’t had the chance to get the ‘saber out in too long with all these… press tours. So I felt it. First.”
Obi-Wan gaped, forgetting all about the attendant senators and cam droids and the battalion of clone troopers at his back. There were… well, very few reasons he could think of to explain why Senator Palpatine, of all people, had a lightsaber. In a concealed carry holster meant to hide it away even from the eyes of Jedi, of all things. Because—“He most certainly is not, and never has been, a member of the Order,” Obi-Wan said. In fact, he had never been a part of any Force sensitive sect. In fact, Obi-Wan had it on good authority and as a matter of public record that the Chancellor was as Force sensitive as a brick.
Allegedly.
Well. This would either be very, very funny, or disastrous for all of them. Obi-Wan held out a hand and yanked, not letting himself think of any other outcome. A cylinder of cool metal slapped into his hand, stinging his palm and sending an unpleasant shock down his arm. If not for his long history of battling Sith, Obi-Wan might have dropped it on the spot for how it reeked of the Dark, now out from Palpatine’s immediate sphere of control.
Mas Amedda’s blathering stuttered to a halt. Obi-Wan stared at the hilt in his hand, then at Cody’s expression slack with surprise. He thought he knew what the color of the blade would be even before his thumb hit the switch; it was almost like a dream, or a barely-remembered dreg of an old nightmare.
A venomous scarlet light sprang forth.
“Well,” Obi-Wan said after a moment. “I suppose now you can say that Sith lords are our specialty.”
Palpatine shrieked something hysterical and reached out, fingers curling into hooked claws and expression contorting from that of a kindly grandfather into a spitting tyrant. Obi-Wan braced himself for something—he didn’t even know what—and—
Brilliant green light split the morning. Cody caught Palpatine’s chain of Dark lightning on his blade and bared his teeth in a fierce challenge. The stark shock on Palpatine’s face was almost enough to make Obi-Wan laugh. Instead—he leapt forward with his own lightsaber raised in a cross with Palpatine’s—cutting off whatever poison Palpatine had been about to spit at his Commander.
In the end, it came down to the timely and swift intervention of the Coruscant Guard. Anakin had been too busy torn between shouting at Obi-Wan that there must be some mistake, and being goaded by Palpatine into drawing on Cody. Palpatine kept trying to say something to Cody, or else to the nearest officer—Gregor, taking potshots at the Chancellor or else keeping the other senators away from harm—but every time, Obi-Wan or Cody drove him back to the edge of the landing pad and parried another round of lightning or dodged Force shoves.
“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Fox said to Cody, after, as the scene was taped off and various senators’ statements were taken. He’d shot Palpatine just under the heart, giving Cody the chance to take Palpatine’s head off. Obi-Wan would have been shiningly proud, except he was currently trying to keep his ribs from puncturing his lungs and steering Anakin away from going into histrionics.
“Er, Cody,” Obi-Wan said, tugging on the sleeve of Cody’s blood- and char-spattered greys. There was something very pressing he had to do, right before Mace got here, and his ribs were as supported as they were going to get until a medic got to see to him.
Cody turned, resplendent in his sweaty flush and still breathing hard. Fighting with him in a duel like that had been exhilarating; just as on the battlefield, they worked together like a well-oiled machine, and if not for the circumstances of it all, Obi-Wan would have been enjoying himself immensely.
“I’m tendering my resignation as an officer, effective immediately,” Obi-Wan told him, watching the way the Coruscant sun limned Cody’s tight curls from behind and gilded the edge of his cheek. With that out of the way, he fisted a hand in the front of Cody’s stiff uniform and pulled him down to kiss him soundly on the mouth. Quite a few troopers whooped at the sight; that was likely Gregor who was wolf whistling in a truly obnoxious manner.
“You had to do this in the most dramatic way possible,” Cody said, but he sounded fond, despite it all. He pulled back, cast a critical look at the way Obi-Wan was holding his ribs, then ducked back down for another—more chaste—kiss. “As long as you’ll take me with you when you go, my General.”
From just beside Obi-Wan, Anakin let out a sound previously only heard from gravely ill massiffs and tipped right over his breaking point.
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nemo-in-wonderland · 4 months ago
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Jacob and Dottie - XMen Edition
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You're all that I can trust Facing the darkest days Everyone ran away But we're gonna stay here, we're gonna stay here
Ahhhhhh, ahhhhh I know you're scared tonight Ahhhhhh, ahhhhh I'll never leave your side
When it all falls, when it all falls down I'll be your fire when the lights go out When there's no one, no one else around We'll be two souls in a ghosttown
When the world gets cold I'll be your cover Let's just hold Onto each other When it all falls, when it all falls down We'll be two souls in a ghosttown
"GHOSTTOWN" - MADONNA
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SO.
A few days ago, I asked on IG how my mutuals would have liked to see me drawing Jacob and Dottie again (since, you know, it has been since March that I last drew them together in any capacity).
And dearest @memoriesofafallen suggested me to draw them as X-MEN.
Needless to say, my brain starting going like crazy, because if there is something that I absolutely adore in this world, it's X-Men.
They were the first comics I ever read (all thanks to my older cousin who was the one to actually introduce me to the fandom with the old game "Children of the Atom") and to be honest, the only Marvel comics I ever read (I much preferred DC when I was younger).
So, when dearest Tofu suggested me to draw them as X-Men, the brain started brainrotting right there and then.
BUT.
I was faced with a dilemma: drawing them as my favourite X-Men pairing OR as the characters that Jacob and Dottie resembled the most?
Because depending on that, I would have to draw them as very different characters (a huge cookie to the one that would guess how I would have drawn them if I went with the similarity road lolol)
And Tofu suggested me to go with my favourite ship.
SO NOW HERE YOU HAVE JACOB AND DOTTIE AS GAMBIT AND ROGUE BECAUSE FML.
Only, of course, I had to change Rogue!Dottie's hair, so I inverted the colours lololol
Baby me was smitten with Mr. LeBeau when I saw it on tv in '94, and absolutely love Rogue for how tough she was (why do you think I have a white streak in my hair lol)and you can BET YOUR HAT THAT I JUMPED TO THE OCCASION AND STARTED TO SHIP ROGUE AND GAMBIT (we will absolutely pretend that AoA never happened. Nah-ah. That is not canon for me. nope.)
Also, I decided to go a different way with colouring this time around, and instead of going with the soft rendering I usually go with, I decided to try my hand at recreating the style that is usually used in the comic, and good Gods, let me tell you, I had an ABSOLUTE blast and I am SO HAPPY WITH HOW THIS TURNED OUT.
SO HAPPY WITH THE COLOURING, SO HAPPY WITH THE POSE (also a little throwback to the very first artwork I did with them lolol
SO HAPPY WITH EVERYTHING.
I gave it a small "80s Retro" vibes because YES.
Honestly, for once I didn't dread colouring and rendering, and I had a HOOT.
I truly need to practice this colouring more often because I loved it! <3
Well, I hope you will like this!
--Nemo
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imaginethesepages · 4 months ago
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say my name.
What do you mean you don’t know when she’ll wake up?
Captain, please, the impact on her head when she fell from the attack did a damage to her skull, leading to her current state. There is nothing much we can do but wait.
Huh? What— what’s going on? What are they talking about, and is that… Captain Narumi?
Nothing? No. We have the best facilities and the best equipment. What do you mean there’s nothing we can do!?
Captain Narumi, stop! Let go of the doctor now!
Master Moron, you need to calm down.
Wait— what is going on? Nothing is making sense.
I’m sorry, captain. We did our best; it’s all up to her now.
Every day, I hear them come and go, the soft clicks of a door closing, the tiny creaking noise of a dragging chair, and the constant beeps copying the rhythm of my heart. Sometimes, I can sense the cold wind on my skin or calloused fingers brushing my cheeks and grazing my hand. But I’m not too sure.
Everything is reverberated with dullness, like how I can hear the voices but never make out the words. It’s all muted and unclear.
How long will you keep sleeping? You’re worrying everyone, you know.
I don’t know, I want to say. I’m trying — really, I am. But everything is so heavy, like my muscles are too lazy to function, and every fiber is on a strike, not wanting to do its obligations.
You need to wake up, you hear me. You promised to follow me into battle, to have my back as I have yours. I’m holding you to that promise.
I remember. I did promise him that. 
My finger twitches, and I hear a gasp. Already, moving a single finger feels like lifting an enormous boulder with my entire being only an inch off the ground. But the same calloused fingers grab my hand, warm and encouraging — cheering me to push forward and out of the abyss.
You need to wake up. Who else would pull me away from my games if not for you? Who else would control my impulsive buying? Who else would I listen to? 
Ah, he’s right. Who knows what may happen if I leave the captain alone? He’d probably make Hasegawa-san want to pull out his hair — and that’s saying something when he’s already bald.
I chuckle. It probably sounded like a concerning wheeze. But it doesn’t matter, for all I can think of as I forced my eyes open is, “I cannot let Captain Narumi down.”
And what a sight for sore eyes he truly is.
How bad were my injuries? Did you really try to hurt the doctors who took care of me?
Can I still fight? Will you still let me stand beside you?
Did we succeed with the mission? What else did I miss?
Have you set the First Division up in flames yet? I pray and hope not.
How long have you been waiting, captain? Did I make you wait long?
I’m sorry for worrying you. Though, I can’t promise I won’t do it again.
I want to say so much and ask so many. But all that comes out is…
“He-hey, Gen.”
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jeuel, did you just write a 500+ word drabble? well, yes. yes, i did. and let me tell you, it shocked me as well.
if you're new to my inconsistent and random drabble posting, i normally write for whatever fandom i feel like with whatever concept i can think of — mostly angst, not much on comedy. and usually, they only end up within 100 — 300 words, never 500!!
so this, for me, is a monster drabble 🤯
idk what happened, i just kept writing. and when i was editing it, i just couldn't keep it within my preferred word count range. when i took some paragraphs out, they didn't make sense without them. so, i just said, "screw it!! leave it like that."
anyway, enjoy xx
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rpgchoices · 13 days ago
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More on Davrin's character (his beliefs about gods and elves) (part 3)
I promise I will stop at part 4! I just want to collect all the possible info before I actually start writing fanfics. Part 4 will be specifically for his romance, tho I already wrote a small meta about it here.
This part contains SPOILERS mainly from Solas' murales/memories.
Part 1 (Davrin and his Dalish clan) here Part 2 (Codex, Davrin naming Assan and his journal) here
In this part I wanted to talk about:
Davrin and the gods (Solas' murales) plus some contraddictions with "Vows and Vengeance"
A bit more about Davrin's vallaslin (90% sure it is Andruil's)
Davrin's feelings abour protecting other elves
Some extra from the artbook (his age, when he left his clan, his armor)
Davrin and the gods/believing Solas' memories
Transcription of the video: (first scene) Bellara: And the mages who declared themselves my gods. Well, mine and Davrin's. And Rook's. Rook: They're not gods at all, much less my gods. Davrin: I'm with Rook.
(second scene) Emmrich: This is astounding! The ancient elves were spirits who voluntarily manifested a physical form! Davrin: I'd rather go back to talking about the blight. Taash: Hey, Lucanis. Could Spire turn into an elf? Lucanis: No. Bellara: Sorry, but. What? Rook: Okay, no. This whole spirit thing is stupid, and I vote we ignore it. Davrin: Seconded.
(banter) Bellara: Elf came from spirits! Emmrich: An incredible revelation of what happened thousands of years ago! Bellara: I asked Davrin what he thought, and he just shrugged! Emmrich: Ah, he would! Bellara: Rook! Do you feel any different? Rook: As an elf? Should I? Bellara: More spirit-y, maybe? I don't know.
While sometimes it is frustrating to see characters and companions not reacting to the big lore revelations, I find it works pretty well with Davrin. He is clearly uninterested in Dalish gods, even if in Vows and Vengeance he uses "May Andruil guide you on your path", and he is uninterested in openly (with others at least) talk about his feelings on the main revelations. Elves are spirits? He shrugs it away or decides to ignore it (much more interested in how this will affect elves than anything else), the gods? Not his, not interested in them.
He even calls Solas "Baldy" and is not particularly intimidated by him or by the two remaining Evanuris (or respectful of them). (And we also know he does not believe the Fade is real, tho much of that Emmrich banter seem more like he is teasing him).
Another small element of his relationship with the gods is another Vows and Vengeance comment. Someone mentions Fen'harel doing a ritual, and Davrin reacts quite alarmed, asking where the other person heard that name. Does he actually believe in Fen'harel? Or is it simply the idea that someone would use the name of the trickster god?
EDIT: UPDATE! There is a dialogue between Neve and Davrin where Davrin confirms he never truly believed in the gods, he always thought they were a myth.
Neve: Does it bother you they're elven gods? Davrin: It won't help our reputation, that's for sure. Davrin: But me, I never gave our gods much thought. They were just a myth. Neve: Not anymore.
I also wanted to say - yes, I know some discrepancies are probably writing related. To me the most "out of narrative" explanation is that the Vows and Vengeance writers did not fully consult about his character with the game writers, and the game writers rushed through these revelation and did not allow for many reactions.
About Davrin's vallaslin
In a previous interview the answer was not given (it was treated like it was supposed to be a big spoiler), but in the game, as far as I can tell, we do not see any identification for Davrin's vallaslin.
I talked before (here in part 1) about why I think it is Andruil's (or a mix of Andruil and Ghil) and now I am even more certain it might be Andruil. Not only Davrin is the one who tells of the tale of Andruil during the Solas' memories event, but in Vow and Vengeance he gives Nadia a blessing from Andruil:
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Nadia: My love. He waits for me Davrin: Then may Andruil guide you on your path.
This is of course a Davrin pre-Veilguard. In Vow and Vengeance he also is alarmed by hearing that the Dread Wolf is doing something. I am a bit confused by how much he actually believes in the gods, at this point!
Davrin and protecting elves
In general, Davrin seems the only character to mention elves discrimination, mainly through banter or some rare comment here and there. We also know he is the only elf who lived away from other Dalish elves (different from Bellara who seems still in contact with her clan and lives with a group that highly respects elves), and we know he described his impact with the outside world as "different" (from what he imagined, see part 1 here).
At the end of the game, you can also have a banter between him and Solas:
Video here.
Solas: You are Davrin of the Grey Wardens. And judging by your vallaslin, you are Dalish. Solas: I expect you have been urging the team not to trust the Dread Wolf, based on the stories you heard around the campfire in your youth. Davrin: What story should I tell? The one about the Dread Wolf creating the blight when he and Mythal slaughtered the Titans? Solas: Have you told the Dalish? Davrin: Why? So it can spread and make humans blame elves for even more things our ancient ancestors did? Davrin: Sharing that story would get a lot of people killed. Davrin: So the best thing I can do right now, as a Warden and a Dalish elf, is to stop the blight and clean your mess. Solas: Mala shivanas ar athim.
(the last seems to translate as "Your duty humbles me").
A similar sentiment is shared after the "elves were spirits" memory from Solas:
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The main core reaction we get about the Solas' revelations are not inwardly focused (his own reaction to them) but focused outwards: towards other elves. It seems not to be as important that Solas made the Titans tranquil as much as the danger of humans to blame elves. He is not as interested in elves derived from spirits, as much as he is interested in bigoted humans starting to see all elves as demons.
I think it is also interesting that he only mentions "humans", even if the reactions regarding the Titans would probably come from dwarves, it is clearly humans that in the DA world oppress and discriminate elves.
More Davrin info from the Artbook
I also just wanted to add this for completion sake!
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He's in his early 30s and left his dalish clan in his teens. Usually elves (from the codex compiled in the wiki page) get the vallaslin around 18 or younger, so it could overlap to being just before his departure if he got the vallaslin in his clan.
Also the artbook says he created his own armor from different pieces!
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I love seeing the stitches in his main blue-like collar jacket, and you can see some wear and tear on the rest of his clothes, especially the waist piece!!
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yurislotusgarden · 1 year ago
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Tying their hair up!
ʚїɞ Separately! Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Platonic! Kyouka Izumi x Reader
ʚїɞ Keep in mind English is not my first language, so you may find mistakes!
ʚїɞ I got this idea after seeing this post! It's not really related but I got the idea, so here it is. I will most likely make a part 2
ʚїɞ word count: 1206 (Dazai - 428, Chuuya - 446, Kyouka - 336)
ʚїɞ Tw's: None! Just pure fluff, pet names: 'bella, doll, reader's gender is not specified in any way (if it is please tell me so I can edit it)
ʚїɞ I WANNA THANK THE 22 PPL WHO FOLLOWED MY ACCOUNT <33 I did not expect ppl to like my works??? Like at all??? I actually posted my first works here thinking they're gonna end up with maybe 10-15 notes with luck, and there they are with much fucking more, so thank you if you interacted with any of my works<33
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Dazai Osamu
If you entered the armed detective agency office at the moment, you would see people working, someone missing out on a job but the possibly first thing would be able to notice is that the workers are stealing confused glances at Dazai because… since when does he tie his hair up?
“Hey Dazai, what’s with your hair?” Kunikida asked, wanting to know why the oh so lazy bandage wasting machine changed his hair. In the 2 years he’s been working with him, he never saw the brunette tie his hair up.
“Oh? A fabulous question, Kunikida!” The grin on Dazai’s face could really compare to Kenji’s sun smile. 
“I feel like I’m about to regret this question” A mutter from where Kunikida is standing was heard, but the older detective ignored it.
“You see Kunikida, my beloved Belladonna has done it! And I couldn't bring myself to ruin said happiness they got from seeing me with my hair like this, so I just came in like this!” The bandaged man had stars in his eyes upon recollecting what happened before he came to work.
Dazai looked like he was about to talk more about what happened earlier this morning… Yea Kunikida is regretting his questions, why did he have to ask?
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Dazai was sitting on the floor in front of the couch between your legs while you were sitting on the couch behind him, tying his hair up into a ponytail around the back of his head since you decided it would be better for him instead of a higher one. Surprisingly, when tied up, the ponytail was quite long - longer than you first thought it would be.
“You were meant to tie my hair up, not play with it ‘bella” A subtle comment, but enough to get you to stop just running your fingers through his hair, you would've been done by now if you didn’t do that, but hey, you're gonna take any chance to play with his fluffy hair.
“you can’t blame me, your hair is too soft to not play with it when I have a chance” You chuckled, finishing up the ponytail and tapping his shoulder to indicate that you're done and he can stand up or turn around, whichever he prefers.
And as it is with Dazai, he preferred to turn around and hug your waist, burying his face in your abdomen.
…Goddammit you want to play with his hair like you always do when he’s like this, but you can't or you will have to repair the ponytail. Sigh.
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Nakahara Chuuya
“Chuuya-san?” The ginger turned towards the voice, who turned out to be a woman with red-ish hair colored hair, Kōyō Ozaki.
“Yes, Ane-san?” The shorter of the two turned fully towards the taller woman.
“...May I ask what happened to your hair?... And where did your hat go?”  Kōyō asked, actually confused. After all, it’s not every day that you see the hot-headed executive with his hair up, much less without his hat. She’s sure she barely ever saw him take it off besides when in closed private spaces, and his hair being tied up into a high ponytail? She never saw it, but even tho she doesn't voice it out, she thinks the look really does fits the man.
“Ah, I decided to leave the hat at home for once, it would destroy the hair.”
“Why do you not want the ponytail gone?” Kōyō understands that technically it’s easier to do things when your hair is tied up, but she knows that longer hair never caused any problems to the short mafioso.
“[Name] is the one who made it, and they seemed really happy to see it on me”
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“Please Chuu?” You asked for maybe the hundredth time today, -surprised your boyfriend still has patience for you- about to give up on asking your partner if he would let you tie his hair up. You just wanted to see what he would look like! You can bet your life he would look better than those guys on magazines many droll over. They could never compare to your boyfriend anyway.
A sigh could be heard in the room, a head full of orange hair moving to look at you. Chuuya was getting ready to go to the Port Mafia Headquarters and was about to say no, but when he looked over… yea it was over for him before it started.
“Just don’t rip my hair out, doll”
“Hey! You know I’m gonna be careful!”
Next thing you two knew, he was sitting in front of the mirror while you were standing behind him, making the ponytail high on the back of his. ‘Why is his hair so soft wtf’ had appeared in your head but didn't voice it out.
You hooked your arms around his shoulders and neck, putting your chin on his head. “You look so pretty like this” When Chuuya looked at you in the mirror -as if he wasn't the whole time- the soft smile you had on simply killed him. He couldn't bring himself to destroy the little thing that made you happy so he ended up shocking your ass later on by not bringing his hat to work for once.
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Platonic! Izumi Kyouka
just to see how she looks
“You look so cute!”
“Really?” 
You and Kyouka were the only ones apart from the clerks and Yosano in the clinic doing who knows what in the agency building as the others had missions, so you decided to do random things as you have already ended all the paperwork assigned to you for the day.
“Your hair is perfect for any kind of hairstyle but I think you look adorable with a ponytail, it suits you” You smiled at her. It really did fit her the same as her usual hairstyle, you just wish you had some hair accessories at the moment. Her hair would look even better!
“I’m glad you think so [Name]” A soft voice came from the younger girl.
You two continued to make small talk while you fixed her hair, before turning towards the office door when it opened.
“What you two doing over here?” Yosano looked at the two of them with a small smile appearing when she noticed Kyouka’s hair change.
“Messing with Kyouka’s hair. There’s not much to do at the office at the moment but we shouldn't leave the office yet, it’s still quite early” You said quietly, starting to look through your desk to see if you have any accessories for hair. Colorful to be specific.
“Hmm, Can I add myself to the fun?”
“You want to do something with my hair?”
“I have hair clips and more in my infirmary desk”
You looked up at her with stars in yours with such speed that Yosano couldn't help but ask herself if your neck is okay.
“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go to your office, Kouka’s hair needs something more!”
The rest of the agency slowly started to come back one by one, to not only Kyouka’s hair being colorful from hairclips and more, but also to yours and Yosano’s hair being the same. There was some confusion about what they missed, Atsushi and Kenji just so happened to join in, to say the least.
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Notes, comments, reblogs and anything else is greatly appreciated <3
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