#bc I’ve only said the f slur a total of like

[honeynclove]

do u guys think I’m anons fav faggot

[beefboyandbabygirl]

Girl Code (18+)

pairing: student!jihoon x student!reader

genre: college au, angst, smut (MDNI), lotta crack, friends to...?

description: when you and your friends find out jihoon's been writing down everything you've off-handedly said about "girl code", you simply have to know why.

warnings: brief bondage/restraint, heavy insecurity on readers part, self-doubt, dirty talk, pet names, dom!uzi, sub!reader, desperation, oral (f. receiving), praise (f. receiving), muscly uzi, unprotected sex (dont do it guys....), pining, bad writing, red velvet are your friends, theyre super fun, mingyu is excluded badly, he just wants to b a part of it :(

quotes from my creative director (@joshibambi): "i am simply a hole for him", "pussy? wet. heart? pounding. me? yearning", "every1 talks ab sapphic yearning but what ab just. jihoon-yearning?",

wordcount: 12.0k

a/n: idk why but this is deffo not as good as my previous works. n e way also sorry to @onlyseokmins bc i promised her a seokmin fic WHICH IS STILL COMING i just felt like this was kinda genius and needed to happen first ok bye

It’s mid-spring, and the world is blossoming and flowering around you. Grass sprouts greener, plants drink in the heavy rainfall and flowers are blooming, slowly unfurling their pedaled heads to crane into the beautiful sky. At odds with nature, people walk the street to be drenched in the downpour, only to be dried off by the shyly peeking sun, and to have freckles surfacing on their skin and hair, getting frizzy from the humidity, when they’re biking along the streets. It’s serene, it’s natural. You’re reminded to love the place that birthed and fostered you. 

But that’s out there.

You’re sitting, bottom planted firmly on the sticky surface of Joshua Hong’s couch, looking distantly into artificially colored lights, flickering across the floor, where people are dancing on one another in skimpy outfits and makeup, and everything is very far from the moon and the flowers. 

“The second one is a lie!” Seulgi yells over the music, cup of god knows what in her hand, and slurring her words.

Sitting on the couch and stools surrounding the coffee table is you, Mingyu, Soonyoung, Seulgi, Irene, Yeri and Jihoon.

“No, I know she likes anal!” Screams Soonyoung giddily (forever oblivious to his surroundings), receiving a glare from your roommate, Yeri. You were currently playing two truths and one lie, and attempting to discern whether Yeri was lying about being on television, lying about having black belt in taekwondo or lying about having tried anal. “It’s about whether or not she’s tried it!” Irene rolls her eyes and huffs. “My point still stands,” Soonyoung grins and eyes Yeri, and you watch somewhat disgusted, reminding yourself to ask her about it later.

You’re sitting next to Mingyu, utterly small next to him, and the two of you are only watching the scene unfold, sharing snickering glances when something funny happens. “I’ve never done taekwondo!” Yeri screams at Soonyoung, and you and Mingyu fall back in your seats laughing and slapping each other, when Soonyoung’s face drops for a moment. 

“They’re so dumb!” Mingyu cries, and you nod buried in a decorative pillow. 

“Screw this noise, I’m finding Junhui,” Hoshi mumbles, a little deflated from his loss. Then he’s standing up, cargo-pants and all, and trudging away, pouting over his shoulder when he hears the laughing continue.

Jihoon - who’s been incredibly quiet and observant throughout the night, only sipping a single bottle of beer, slaps his thighs. You’re hoping in his ever searching eyes he hasn’t seen the way you’ve been staring at him all night. Are you drunk or is he so complex and sexy, and wearing a t-shirt that shows his huge arms and pants that show his thick thighs? You’re almost certain you can chalk this up to only ever seeing him in sweaters that totally swallow him - almost. “I’m going too,” he announces, standing up and not leaving much room for argument.

“Why? I’ll be the only guy,” Mingyu whines, pout pushing out his bottom lip. You scoff. You know he loves feeling like he’s one of the girls. “Paper,” Jihoon says, and adds more, when he realizes he’s being so curt it’s almost rude: “Tomorrow. I have a paper tomorrow.” 

The group seems to accept this, knowing the stresses of college are weighing on each of them heavily. But your eyes narrow. You’re not buying it. 

You watch him sling his jacket across his body, biting back more words. He’s quiet, sure, but never this quiet. With how he’d slumped back in his seat all night, almost bent into himself, there must be something bugging him. Jihoon’s eyes meet yours. It’s a half a second, but you feel like he knows you’re on to him, the way he hides his face under his long, black hair again and turns his back to you. All of a sudden he’s hurrying away, excusing himself half-heartedly. You narrow your eyes even further and purse your lips.

“Be right back,” you say. Seulgi pouts.

You’re trudging after him, fussing with your hair all of a sudden and adjusting your dress and - God, you care so much how he sees you. But you suppose you care more that he’s okay. That’s why you’re squeezing through the dancefloor, getting grinded on by several anonymous bodies, before pushing out to the entrance and finally breathing air that wasn't coming directly from someone else’s mouth. 

“Jihoon, wait-” 

You catch up to him by the doorway, where he’s stopped his journey, to slip Vernon a bill for a ziploc of mediocre weed.

“Jihoon!” 

Finally, he hears you and he turns to you, where you’re regaining your last leg from the mass of bodies. Vernon is apparently still sober enough (you wouldn’t have thought so) to understand time and place, so he gently pushes past the two of you into the crowd. 

You’re not ready for the look he gives you. Eyes so sharp and face darkened from his shaggy hair, curling into his face, and frowning and furrowing his brows as if he couldn’t understand why you’re here. 

It sends your out-reaching body slamming backwards. You’re shrinking away from him, eyes flitting downwards self-consciously. You consider your history with him for a moment, weighing it in a glass of vodka-cranberry. This is pathetic, you realize, and it feels terrible. You’re pathetic and desperate and clingy and why would you feel the need to ask him this.

And then one moment to the next you’re scolding yourself for thinking that way. For thinking it was wrong to reach out a helping hand.

Jihoon apparently has enough of you debating with the angel and the devil on your shoulder, because he speaks finally: “What is it?” 

There’s a pause.

“Are you okay?” 

Another pause. You watch Jihoon’s face soften in shock, mouth falling open for a split second, before he’s closing it again and looking away. The ziploc crunches in his fingers, when they tighten and he shoves it into his inner pocket. 

“I’m good,” he says.

“Okay.” 

And this time and even longer pause! You can barely take it, the way he looks at you, and it almost feels like he suspicious of you, like he’s trying to discern what you’re doing here in front of him.

“Have a good night,” you say. He nods slowly and begins to walk off, and you watch him and the way the moonlight fills the entrance, so you’re coated in for a moment. Then it disappears with a slam of the door. You let out a shaky sigh. 

Why did you do that? Why would you even think to do something like that? 

You decide against standing there for any longer, not allowing yourself to overanalyze it, and you turn around to go back to your friends. Yet again comes the song and dance of trying to navigate the most terrifying human cesspool, face scrunching up in disgust as you make your way back to the sofa, almost unscathed, except you think you accidentally got caught in an armpit. 

“Y/n! Come quick, so you can be a part of this momentous- momentous.. Moment!” You hear Mingyu calling and when he’s finally in view, you realize something very, very terrible is about to happen.

Mingyu’s holding a leather notebook between his fingers - Jihoon’s notebook. It’s the one he’s always writing in; the one he shuts closed whenever anyone gets too close, the one he keeps tucked under his arm at all times; the one he’s inexplicably writing in, even if he’s blasted on Vernon’s weed. And it’s private and he’s somehow forgotten it.

“We’re not opening it,” you say immediately, power-walking back to your spot in the couch. Mingyu snaps his head towards you, and he almost looks offended at that. “What do you mean we’re not opening it, of course we’re opening it!” 

“It could be private, Gyu!” You retort and Seulgi chimes from her spot on the couch: “I’m with Y/n.” 

“No, what? Fuck you guys! We’re seeing what’s in that notebook!-” Irene spits. “Thank you!” Mingyu says.

“Yeri, it’s up to you,” you say, eyeing your roommate sharply, as you sit down again. The entire group turns to her, fury behind their retinas, and she gulps, shrinking a little. 

“Me, I just…” she shrugs abashedly and trails off. There’s a moment where you think she’ll side with you and leave the poor boy alone. You have some semblance of faith in your friendship, and maybe, maybe she’ll back you-

“He’s a music major, it’s probably just angsty lyrics, now open!” 

“Yes!” Irene and Mingyu gloat, and despite wanting to respect his privacy, you scoot closer to Mingyu (he scoffs at you, but does not mention it further, as he is itching with curiosity). With a solemn, heaved sigh, as if about to unfurl the world’s grandest mysteries, Mingyu’s large hand flips the book open.

There’s no justified way to put word to the shock that follows this. The first page reads:

“Girl Code Rule #1

Guys should bring flowers on the first date. Either lilies, roses or tulips. Depends on vibe.”

There’s a confused silence - as much as silence as you can get from a bass-boosted room of drunk college students. 

“What?” Irene quacks in disappointment, leaning closer to read it again. “Why-.. Go to the next page.” And Mingyu does, turning over the page and the next couple of pages follow suit. 

“Girl Code Rule #2

Whoever offered the date pays for dinner. First date should always be dinner, ‘none of the bowling crap’.

Girl Code Rule #3

Guys are more attractive the more hygienic they are.

Girl Code Rule #4 

It’s an ick to wear skinny jeans. *Google what an ick is.”

They come one after another, each more confusing than the last, and it’s not until number 5, that the heavy, suffocating spread of realization begins blooming among you. Clarity - your minds open like leaves of a flower in spring.

“Girl Code Rule #5

The cinema on Attacca street is a nightmare and we hate them. Never go there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

“Us!” Yeri finishes, pointing her finger at the page but directing her eyes, wide and pupils small from shock, towards you. The group exchange gaping glances. It’s undeniable - the cinema thing is relating to an incident that had happened months prior. You refuse to go into detail, but it had gotten grim.

“These are all things we’ve said!” Seulgi snatches the book out of Mingyu’s hold, beginning to mindlessly scroll through the book with furrowed brows, etch growing deeper and deeper in outrage. 

“That’s- This is crazy. That’s so not cool!” You shriek and Yeri nods in agreement: “Girl code is for girls only!” 

There’s a general agreement on the outrageousness of this. That is, except for one big boy on the couch.

“I meaaaan,” Mingyu is looking a little sheepish sitting in the middle of you and Yeri and Seulgi and Irene. All eyes flit towards him, small and sharp. He’s talking slowly, lowly and carefully:  “You guys have to have said it out loud while he was there, so you weren’t exactly being discreet…” 

“Men don’t usually listen to women, we thought we were in the clear!” Irene hisses.

“No man has ever listened to me in my entire life,” Seulgi deadpans, looking at Mingyu from beyond the book. Mingyu throws his hands out, incidentally hitting Yeri in the face, and ignoring her pained groans when she falls back on the couch. “I listened. Just now. Check that off your list-” 

“Why is he writing this down..?” You mumble, seemingly the only one grasping the gravity of the situation (although maybe there is none? You can never tell when it’s with him) and it truly is such a mystery. Was he attempting to pry open the minds of women? You don’t exactly think he has trouble finding dates, so you’re left a little at a loss. 

“Let’s ask him-” Mingu says.

“He just left, dumbass,” Irene spits and you can tell she’s almost disgusted with herself for ever siding with him.

“Let’s ask him tomorrow, then, after class,” you say decidedly. 

“Ugh, don’t talk about tomorrow..” Yeri groans, and you can see the regret settling in because why do all the hot guys throw weeknight parties? “Y/n, can we go home?” she asks and you’re nodding immediately.

“Seul?” 

“Yep.” 

And in the span of just a couple of seconds, your entire friend group is packing up, Seulgi stuffing the book into her tote bag. Mingyu’s still sitting, much smaller when you’re standing over him, and when he has that almost starstruck look on his face. “I’m so glad I’m a part of this, guys.” 

“You’re not.” 

“You’re not.” 

“Yes, I am,” Mingyu counters, clearly thinking otherwise. He’s grinning stupidly. “Hey, wait, where are we confronting him tomorrow?” he calls out suddenly, but you’re already on your way out.

“GUYS! WHERE ARE WE MEETING?”  _____________________________

You, Yeri, Seulgi, and Irene sit side by side on the middle-back row in class, eyeing Jihoon from the peaks. It’s a quiet, morning class, and the teacher rambles on while the four of you glare down at him. Or at least they glare. You hope it’s not noticeable how there’s something softer in your eyes - something almost tender. He’s fidgeting a little. Maybe he feels the pairs of eyes on the back of his black-buried head or maybe he’s noticed the book is gone and he feels the consequences coming.

It was certainly a strange situation to tackle. Mingyu did have a point, if it was a private conversation, you certainly had not discussed it as such. And even then, was there a crime in what he was doing? You just couldn’t understand how Jihoon possibly felt the need to garner all this information on women. He’d never had trouble picking up girls. You would know.

You shake the terrible, terrible thought away, when Irene speaks up: “The coward is all nervous.” 

“Okay, let’s calm down. We can’t know he’s an evildoer, before we find out his true intentions.” Seulgi reasons, a hand soothing over Irene’s arm. Yeri nods softly. “God, I wish class was over.” 

And suddenly it was. Well, twenty more minutes of suffering through a class that was totally lost, picked up by the pollen-saturated wind. Then the professor is excusing himself and wiping the board. 

Never in your life had your group been so fast at packing up their things, pencils and computers shoved down bags, before you’re strutting (model-walking) over to Jihoon. “We need to talk to you,” Yeri says, once she’s in front of his desk, hand on the wood. Jihoon looks up from where he’s packing his bag, eyes peeking through the thick strands of hair. He nods. He knows. 

As you wait for students to exit the class (Minghao giving Jihoon a confused grimace, before he squeezes out), you study Jihoon. He’s still sitting, and you’re all towering over him. His pale skin is glowing in the light and he purses his lip and bounces his leg - God, his thick leg - in nervous await. 

Students are slipping out the door in droves and when the last, tired body escapes, Seulgi reaches into her bag and pulls out the leather-bound book. “We read it.” 

“I figured,” he mutters. He’s avoiding your eyes, flinching a little when Irene slams her hand onto the book. “So, why have you been writing down the girl code?” 

Jihoon sighs. His lips make a tight line, and you can see how he wonders what to say. The pause would’ve been more tense had you not had the girls with you. 

“The girl code is for girls only,” Yeri supplies. 

“Well, you weren’t exactly being discreet about it-”

“Just answer the question, Jihoon!” Seulgi snaps, crossing her arms over her chest. “This is, like, top-level strange.” 

“Alright!” Jihoon throws his hands up in the air. His eyes flit to you, totally quiet and scratching your nails on the wooden table. You look away. He sighs a little. “I… It’s..” 

You almost want to hug him when he buries his face in his hands, tugging at the ends of his hair. 

“You can’t tell anyone.” 

The four of you exchange glances.

“We won’t.” 

He pauses.

“It’s.. IhaveacrushonthisgirlandIdon’twanttomessitup.” 

There’s a beat, where the information glides cooly into your skulls and you begin to process. Jihoon - cold, cynical, loner Jihoon - has a crush on a girl and is trying to improve himself for her? 

Holy hell.

“Jihoon!” cries Seulgi and Irene chimes in, equally as adoring and diffused: “That’s so cute, you should’ve just said something!” 

There’s an uproar of coos and cries and oohs and ahhs and compliments being thrown at Jihoon and he just sits there, cheeks blazing bright red, although with a little, shy smile on his lips. 

And then there’s you. It’s so dumb. Why can’t you help the slight disappointment that lowers on you, like the fog does in the blooming season? Why can’t you smile wider, happier for Jihoon? Why do you feel this way? Does it really take all this commotion for you to realize how much you want him? You half-smile and look at your shoes. Just as how your feelings blossomed like a flower in spring, you hope they, too, are destined to wither away once more. 

“Congratulations,” you say to him, giving him a dignified nod. Jihoon looks at you for a moment, before he smiles tightly and thanks you.

“Jihoon!” Yeri says, and you know you’re about to hate her for what comes next: “We can totally help you with the crush!” 

Jihoon’s eyes widen. “Really? I mean- you guys don’t have to-” 

“No, no! You can come to our girls’ nights and we can tell you everything!” Irene cuts in, nodding in reassurance. Jihoon smiles to himself a little sheepishly.

“Who is it?” Seulgi asks, and you can tell her heart is triple its usual size.

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Come on!” Seulgi begs, but Jihoon is steadfast. He gives her cheeky smile and shakes his head again. “No way. It’s my secret.” 

“We can keep a secret!” Yeri begs, bending her knees in plea. You, unusually quiet, speak up again: “We can.” 

There’s a pause while Jihoon looks at you again. He narrows his eyes and it’s almost like he’s trying to decode you. Maybe he’s noticed you’re just as quiet as he was, at that party. You hate yourself when your heart picks up at the thought of him caring about you. 

Suddenly he’s snapping out of it and smiling and shaking his ruffled head of hair again. “No. If girl code was supposed to be a secret, then I don’t even wanna think about telling you.”

This time there’s no talkback, only somewhat embarrassed nods.

“We deserve that.”  _____________________________

You come back to your dorm room that afternoon, and lie down in bed. Thoughts of Jihoon plague your mind and you feel disease-ridden, attempting to push away the thought with the same useless reminder: You should do your paper, gotta do your paper now, it’s due very soon…

But no matter how many times you tell yourself, you can’t overcome the crushing feeling in your chest, like your entire rib cage is being compressed. 

You know when these emotions started. It was at the Halloween party, six months ago, and Jihoon had been wearing a cop-outfit and you, with a more humorous approach, a lobster costume (Mingyu was a chef). Somehow, he’d still found you sexy though, because he was laughing in the bathroom of Seungcheol’s frat house, ripping the costume off of you. 

“I can’t believe I’m gonna fuck a lobster,” he’d said in between kisses, laughing again as he caught sight of the costume, discarded on the floor. You giggled. “Me neither. There are plenty of fish in the sea, you know?” 

And he’d thrown his head back, still with that black hair, still in that sexy fucking uniform, and his nose all scrunched and adam’s apple bopping in time with his joyful laughter. “Stop making me laugh while I’m trying to get you wet!” 

“I’m already wet,” you’d shrugged, “you’re hot.” 

And before you knew it you were handcuffed and he was rutting into you against the sink. His cock was disappearing and reappearing from your pussy, hooked onto him like a vice. Groaning and listening to your withheld moans, he’d left the most sinful hickies along your shining neck, while mumbling desperate praises to you: “You’re so pretty, N/n, letting me have you like this, so fucking hot.” 

You supposed you’d buried those feelings, because you felt so pathetic for catching feelings from a one night stand.

And it is pathetic. And you are pathetic, and desperate, and alone, and God, is it even Jihoon, or is it the way it suddenly feels like no one wants you? 

“Stop that,” Yeri says suddenly, lying on her bed on the opposite side of your room. You tilt your tired eyes towards her. “What?” 

“I can hear you thinking. What’s up?” She said nonchalantly, dropping her phone, that she’d been mindlessly scrolling through. Cheeks bunched up on your pillow and mascara smudging under your eyes, you look at her and sigh.

“Just tired,” you hum. _____________________________

Jihoon has been adopted. For a whole week following that incident, suddenly, your friends are taking him with them everywhere, and your safe space is invaded by his hair, his laugh, and his subtle cologne. It’s him with you during movie nights, it’s him during girls’ nights, and it’s him while you’re getting ready for a bar-night, all sitting in Irene and Seulgi’s pink-tastic room, doing makeup on the floor and on the desks and on the bed. 

“I love your eye makeup,” Seulgi says to Yeri (it’s a pink number with glittery inner corners), under eyes totally covered in white powder, as she’s baking her makeup. Jihoon is sitting on the floor, hair tied up in two pigtails that Irene had given him. “Thank you, Seul.”

You’re doing your own makeup, working blush into your cheeks and trying not to look at him, the way he’s half-lying on the carpeted floor, looking absentmindedly into his phone. His thighs are huge, and he’s wearing gray sweatpants, and you think you’re going insane.

Irene (who’s done with her makeup before anyone else, always) looks up from her own phone. She narrows her eyes deviously. “Jihoon, what do you think of Yeri’s makeup?” 

Jihoon snaps his head up, pigtails bouncing. “Uh,” he looks a little lost, when he turns his head over to Yeri, who smiles sheepishly, not totally understanding what was happening. “It’s nice.” 

“Just nice?” Irene smirks, and Jihoon finally seems to catch on to the fact that this is some sort of test. Indeed it was, and you knew it from the moment Irene began to talk. Your eyes flit between them, sitting behind you in the mirror. “Can you elaborate on that?” Irene smirks.

“It’s…” Jihoon considers what to respond, almost nervous. “She looks better without makeup.”

“Son, no!”

“Never!”

“Absolutely not!” 

It’s a cacophony from the girls, even a pillow is thrown at his head, which he dodges in shock. “Never say that to a girl, Jihoon! It’s rude!” Irene lectures, a finger pointedly thrown in his direction. When he doesn’t seem to get it, Yeri explains: “Imagine spending time on something, only for someone to say they’d wish you hadn’t done it all.” 

Jihoon, who’s been bristling like a disturbed cat up until now, softens in understanding. “Oh. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, our child, you’re learning,” Irene says, face turning back to her phone, as she apparently has lost interest in the conversation. 

You watch quietly with a bemused smile, having paused your ministrations on your face, brush held in the air before you. Jihoon’s eyes flicker over to you, an unreadable expression on his face. You meet his eyes in the mirror, pitch black and blank. You look away quickly.

You can feel him, still looking at you, and you feel self-conscious at the way you crooken your back to better focus on your face. What’s he thinking? That you look ugly? That your back is ugly? Your makeup?

“Are you okay, Y/n?” 

You freeze. His voice is soft as ever, and you understand now, better than ever, why he’s a music major, because it’s so melodious and sweet in your ears. All eyes in the room snap to you and you eye them all in the mirror. “Yep.” 

Yeri sighs, exasperated. “She’s been depresso for, like, a week.” 

“I’ve been fine,” you correct, smudging out the pencil on your lid. “I’ve been fineeee,” Yeri mocks, making her voice nasally and high. You glare at her through the mirror, but all she does is stick her tongue out at you. 

“I’m just stressed out, okay? I've got a lot on my plate,” you mumble bitterly, and it’s true, because every time you’re trying to do assignments, papers, write notes and focus in class, you think of him, and how he doesn’t want you. And one wrong thing leads to another, and then you’re thinking about how no one wants you, and you haven’t had a boyfriend since you entered college. And then it’s something about how you look, or it’s something about how you are, as a person, and you just sit at your desk with this terrible feeling in you gut, trying not to cry, or hoping that your sniffles don’t overpower Replay by Shinee blasting in Yeri’s headphones, as she’s eating crackers in bed, just a few feet away from you. 

“Just talk to us if you need anything, okay?” Seulgi frowns and you smile at her, hoping it looks convincing. She nods at you, turning back to her handheld mirror. But alas one person stays staring at you. You avoid his eyes, trying not to look like you’re about to cry.

“I can arrange a spa day? We can get our toes done,” Irene asks, and she wiggles her toes in the air for emphasis. “Ooo, yes!” Yeri exclaims. 

Finally, Jihoon’s attention is ripped from you, wincing at the thought of another person handling his feet. “Can I skip out on that, maybe?” 

Irene scratches her chin, pretending to think about it. Then she says, bluntly and directly: “Nah.” 

_____________________________

“Let me come with you to the spa!” 

“No! Jihoon, walk faster,” like a mother, Seulgi is grabbing Jihoon’s wrist and dragging him further from the tall, huge man behind you. Mingyu is following you all like a dog, whining and crying, and pouting. “Please, guys! I don’t wanna go with Seungcheol and Jeonghan, they’re mean!” 

“Spa day is for girls only!” Yeri yells over her shoulder, as the five of you stumble away from Mingyu, crying out to you. “What about him?” Mingyu yells and points. 

“Don’t listen to him, sweetie,” Seulgi tells Jihoon and he nods very seriously. “He’s our adopted son! Now shoo!” 

Finally Mingyu gives up the chase, and you disappear behind the outerwall, beginning down a busy street towards Irene’s favorite spa. “I don’t get how you’re friends with that guy,” Irene says, elbowing you, and you both snicker. “He’s a pup,” you shrug.

The streets are filled with people, the sun is shining, and it’s spring, and everything should be great, because you’re with your friends. But he’s here too. Swallowed up by his hoodie, pitch black in a sea of colors, he’s still here and his very presence has you tense, and yearning for the touch of a masseuse. The streets that had grown so familiar, that you thought you had learnt and mastered, had become so foreign, and you’re trying to escape into yourself, trying to find a backdoor out of the constant blabbering, teaching Jihoon the importance of gossip and female communication and companionship. These are your friends. The sadness eventually musters into frustration.

Soon enough, you’re sighing so hard you think your soul escapes with it through your mouth. A spa-worker begins massaging your feet, and working her thumbs into your sore soles. Irene laughs at your reaction, two seats over. “Told you all you needed was a spa day!” she beams. Yeah, a spa day and maybe a new friend group that wouldn’t adopt the guy who you should certainly not be around!

And speaking of him, he’s sitting in the chair right next to yours, grimacing and flinching back from the disdained worker. 

“What are you gonna tell her?” Yeri quips, smiling at the end of the row. Jihoon takes a second to snap out of his constant flinching, looking over at her nervously. “Oh, uh…” 

The girls are all looking at him expectantly, but you’re squeezing your eyes shut and wishing your ears could shut too. 

“Probably, like.. ‘Hey, I like you, would you maybe wanna go out on a date sometime?” 

“Pssh!”

“Absolutely not!”

“As if!” 

Jihoon is a little flabbergasted.

“Here’s what you’re actually gonna say,” Seulgi leans over in her chair towards him, directing him with a finger in her armrest. You hear Jihoon scramble in his chair, and you know he’s taking out that stupid notebook again.

Seulgi lowers her voice to mimic his, when she talks again: “‘Hi, crush, how are you?’ Wait for her response… Then: ‘I’ve always thought you were very beautiful. Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date, would that be okay with you?’ And be suave about it.” 

“HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAH.”

Yeri and Irene burst into laughter, hitting the armrests of their chairs and covering their bright smiles with their hands. Even you snort in amusement. “What?!” Seulgi exclaims, outraged. “What’s so funny about that?” 

“Nothing, I just-...” Irene wafts herself, trying to ease away that tears of glee that spring in her eyes. “I can’t imagine any man, let alone our son, saying that to a woman.. Wow.” 

“It’s good! I would be flattered,” Seulgi defends herself viciously. Yeri snorts from her seat: “It’s not a drama, Seul!” 

“Well!” Seulgi scoffs, twisting her upper body to face Yeri now. “Maybe I would like my life to be a drama, thank you very much!” 

Their argument continues viciously, insults and laughter being thrown at each other left and right and you can almost begin to tune them own, letting the feeling of pads on your feet and a gentle, cool brush on the nail lure you to sleep.

Then there’s a hand on your forearm. You peek an eye open and see him - God, it just has to be him - leaning over his chair to gently grasp you. He looks at you through lashes, and he’s so sincere that it kills you when he says: “I can tell you’re not okay.” 

You’re a little taken aback, one second prior you were being lulled to sleep and now he’s talking to you, so low, so seriously, while the girls try to attack each other behind him. You wish your heart isn’t suddenly galloping, and you wish his warmth on your arm and radiating onto you isn’t so nauseating. “I-”

“Don't say you are, when you're not. You’re very obvious, you know?” he hums, smiling softly when he sees you flush from his intense gaze. You avert your eyes nervously. “Uhm. I just.. I don’t really want to talk about it, Hoon.” 

You flick your eyes back up to his to survey his reaction. His expression softens at the nickname, and he holds your gaze for a moment longer, before he nods in understanding, all the warmth of his closeness disappearing, when he sits back down in his seat.

“That’s okay,” he smiles at you in reassurance, and your heart leaps, and you can’t help but think that he doesn’t need anymore training to make his crush - whoever the lucky girl is - completely and totally happy for several lifetimes. 

He’s a beautiful, sun-beamed flower, where he sits, light flitting through the store-front windows. You’d be happy for several lifetimes. If only he wanted you. _____________________________

“What is going on?!” 

It’s Mingyu, and he’s somehow found you, as you’re trudging out of your latest class, suddenly hot on your trail and outraged about something or other. “What?” you mumble, heading to the cafe near the end of the hall.

“With Jihoon?! Why does he get to be your son when I don’t?!” Mingyu wafts his arms and pouts and you cringe, leaning away from his loud voice. “Ugh…” 

“I need to know why he was writing that girl code stuff, Y/n. Why is he suddenly allowed at girls’ nights, when I’ve been trying to get in for months?!” 

You take a turn into the cafe and sigh at how crowded it is, immediately placing yourself in line, Mingyu right behind you. “Calm down,” you say, just wanting a sandwich and maybe some peace and qui-

“I will not!” he snaps back, brows furrowed and a determined look on his face. You look up at him, pursing your lips in thought. Did Mingyu deserve to know? Maybe. He had been trying to get into girls’ nights forever, always going on about being ‘an honorary member’. 

“I’m not sure I can tell you- Hey, can I get a tuna sandwich, please?” You say, quickly turned to the clerk behind the counter. “I won’t tell anyone, pleaseee- Can you get me one of those too? Thanks.”

You’re handed your sandwiches, and you hold both of them, drifting over to a table by the window, both of Mingyu’s hands on your shoulders and his voice in your ear: “Please, please, please, pretty please with the sugar on top?”

You plop down in your seat, simply exasperated, and hand him his sandwich. He’s settling himself down when you answer: “Okay.”

“Yes!” Mingyu fists the air in victory, mumbling self-assured under his breath: “Begging always works.” You snort and take a big bite of your sandwich. 

“Stop eating and tell me!” he whines. “I’m hungry– Hey!” 

Mingyu snatches the sandwich right out of your hands and grins at you deviously, dancing with it. You hate him. You hate him, but it is a little endearing.

“Jihoon has a crush on some girl and he’s been writing down the girl code in an attempt to understand women,” you deadpan, and when Mingyu’s mouth and guard drops, you snatch your sandwich back and begin gulping down hungrily. 

“Are you shitting me?!” You shake your head.

“So, that's why he's allowed at girls’ night?” You nod your head. 

“So, that’s why you’ve been so down?” You almost choke on your food.

“What?” 

“Because you like him,” Mingyu says seriously and, with a totally stunned look on your face, you shark down the bits of sandwich in your mouth painfully. “How do you know that?!” you cry, head suddenly snapping in seventy different directions, relief washing over you, when none of your or Jihoon’s friends are around.

“Because you’ve been acting all weird around him since you fucked at Seungcheol’s Halloween party,” Mingyu shrugs. You wave your arms wildly.

“How do you know that?!” Whining, you throw yourself back in your seat, and bury your head in your hands. This couldn’t be happening. Your delicate secret, the one that could have - should have - simply faded away into summer, was now out and open, and you look out the window, and it’s spring.

“I know everything,” Mingu says ominously, giggling evilly.

“Mingyu, I will fucking kill you.”

“Fine! I needed to pee and you guys were super loud,” Mingyu pouts and takes a bite of his own sandwich. “No need to be so rude.” 

“I can’t believe you know,” you groan, head collapsing on the table. Mingyu, forever and always silly, finally softens and frowns. You’re scattered. 

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“No,” you say. Then, a moment later (in true Girl Code fashion) you’re lifting your head from the table and burying it in your hands: “I just. I don’t know, Mingyu. I feel so pathetic for liking him after a one night stand! And now he’s doing all this for another woman and he’s with us all the time…I haven’t had a boyfriend in college, Mingyu. I just feel so…” There’s a pause, when you’re trying to find the right word, and Mingyu stops breathing, looking at you and fearing the worst. Then comes the word, ripping itself from your lips:

“Unlovable.” 

Mingyu’s frown deepens. Big, puppy Mingyu who’s always silly and happy, just slumps in on himself. “You’re not unlovable,” he mumbles, sounding genuinely disbelieving. You scoff.

“Thanks, Mingyu, it’s just.. That’s how it feels,” you admit, running a hand through your hair and looking at your half-eaten sandwich on the table. Mingyu’s quiet for a moment. When he speaks up again, he’s determined, and you can discern almost immediately that there’s no escaping this plan. Or he’ll for God’s sake start begging again.

“I’m going to wingman you,” he’s nodding to himself, and you can see the plan falling into place in his head, “I’m gonna wingman you and set you up with my friend at the party on Saturday!” 

“Please, don’t,” you groan half-heartedly, but a piece of you brightens with hope, with summer, like maybe this was the thing you needed to get over your schoolgirl-crush on Jihoon.

“No,” Mingyu responds simply. “This is happening.”  _____________________________

Indeed, it is happening. 

The frat house is practically bumping with each beat of whatever pop song is playing over the speakers, and you lean into the rhythm that reverberates in the kitchen table beneath your fingers.

You somewhat wish that you hadn’t been as excited for this as you were, that you hadn’t spent hours picking out the perfect pink dress and doing your makeup, and that you aren’t hopelessly dependant on Mingyu (of all people) to find you a fuck. But you are. Putting on that dress and hoop earrings and doing your hair and declining Yeri’s invitation to the girls’ (and Jihoon’s) pre-party, you feel like you’re scrambling, like constantly falling through the air, flailing for something to ground yourself on. 

Now, scanning over the tinted lights and the dancing people and feeling the slight, warm buzz of vodka in your blood, you know you need this. And still, you combat that slight anxiety, the insecurity that you hadn’t felt in years - what if Mingyu couldn’t find a single guy that wanted you? 

Mingyu doesn’t seem worried though.

“Okay! We just gotta figure out who to set you up with. Take your pick,” he places a hand on your shoulder, squeezing and gauging your reaction. Your brows furrow as you shrug. Somehow, even when half the guys are objectively hot, you can’t say you find yourself drawn to any of them. You don’t linger on the feeling, fearful that maybe you’ll realize all the things they’re missing, the things they’re falling short of, are just Jihoon’s traits. “I don’t know, man. I just-..” 

Mingyu senses your struggle and elects to give you his excellent guidance. “Alright, well you could do Joshua?” He’s pointing somewhere in the crowd, and sure enough, you notice Joshua, majoring in communications or something like that. “He’s a star: total hottie, super smart, sweet and considerate, and-” 

“And he fucked Yeri,” you deadpan, head lolling over to look at Mingyu disapprovingly. Mingyu’s mouth falls open: “What?!”

“Yeah, like, two months ago!” you argue, wafting your hands. Mingyu’s mouth stays open, and he’s seemingly totally appalled by this. 

“What?! Okay- nevermind. How about him?” He points his long limbs again, and this time you notice- 

You narrow your eyes confusedly. Hopefully Mingyu was not trying to set you up with the biggest player in your year? “Jeonghan?!” 

“What? No, the guy beside him, dickwad,” he playfully smacks the side of your head as you refocus your eyes. Indeed, a blonde guy is standing next to Jeonghan, seemingly whining at him. “Who’s he?” 

“Lee Chan. Super sweet, great bod, a little dumb, but very doting-” 

“Is he a freshman?!” you cry, almost as if it were a crime. Mingyu huffs. “You’re not making this easy, you know?!” 

“I’m not dating or fucking a freshman,” you cross your arms and Mingyu senses the air of finality in your words. He sighs, slumping behind you for a moment, before he spots something across the room.

“Wonwoo! What about him?” he doesn’t even bother pointing at this point, simply tilts your head towards the man, who was currently talking to Seungcheol a little ways from the kitchen. You spot him. You suppose you’d always been a little curious about Wonwoo. From what you’d seen of him in passing, he was sweet and polite, absolutely gorgeous and extremely smart. You nod solemnly.

“I could- I could see that,” you say and Mingyu’s eyes light up. He bounces victoriously, punching the air. “He’s great, you’re- you’re gonna love him,” Mingyu delights and before you can even get another word in, Mingyu’s yelling across the room: “Hey, Wonwoo! Wonwoo, scootch over here!”  

Your eyes widen in shock. “Wha- we’re doing this now? Just, on the fly? No warning?” 

“It’s fine,” Mingyu waves you off, eyes trained on where Wonwoo is now walking towards you. 

“Do I look okay?” your voice is wavering nervously. You still can’t help how you feel, even in your dress and your makeup. Where had all your confidence gone? The confidence with which you’d literally fucked Jihoon in a lobster-costume? Even the thought of him stings. Mingyu’s confident facade falters for only a split second at the vulnerability in your tone. His gaze softens and he looks at you: “You look great, N/n. Calm down, Wonwoo’s super nice.” 

“Hey, Gyu,” Wonwoo’s voice is cool, as he approaches Mingyu. Standing in front of you and Mingyu, he briefly scans you, then acknowledges you with a nod and a sweet smile. “Wonwoo, hey, you know, I was just wondering if you’ve already done the history paper?” 

Wonwoo is unamused. “I’m not doing your paper again, Mingyu.” 

“Oh well, shucks, that’s simply too bad,” Mingyu (poorly) feigns annoyance and defeat, before he’s grabbing your shoulder. “Anyway, Wonwoo, have you met my very good friend, Y/n?” 

You fake a smile, hoping the absolute pain of the current interaction was not showing on your face. If you’d known Mingyu was this bad at wing-manning, you would’ve gladly put up with his begging instead. You want to crawl into a hole and die, because based on Wonwoo’s smug smile, he has a pretty good understanding of what’s happening.

“Whoops, look at the time!” Mingyu looks at his wrist. He is not wearing a watch. “Damn, I guess I gotta go and- and leave my two good friends alone with each other, such a shame, uh, anyway!” As he speaks he backs further and further from you, trying to ignore the glare in your eyes, before he’s bolting at his last word. 

There’s an awkward silence as soon as Mingyu’s gone. You feel like an unshelled turtle. You purse your lips and stare at your heel-clad feet. 

“So, Mingyu was trying to wingman you?” Wonwoo’s voice is deep and bemused. You look at him in horror, trying to think of a way to salvage the situation.

“Yeah,” your breathe, and he immediately begins laughing. “Sorry about that, he was- he was just trying to be helpful, although it’s hard to defend him right now.” 

“He’s wingmanned me before, too,” Wonwoo muses and, thank God, this was actually a good thing. You find a balance on the common ground. “Really?” you grin, looking up at him.

“Yep,” Wonwoo admits, “safe to say I did not get my dick wet.” 

You laugh hard, and it feels like a switch has flipped inside you, restarting your joy-generator, because you’re laughing and hitting Wonwoo’s arm, and he’s smiling because he’s just made a pretty girl laugh. 

“He’s so bad!” you say when you’re done laughing. “Everytime!” Wonwoo drawls, “Everytime he pulls that shit and he’s never wearing a watch!” 

You and Wonwoo laugh together, throwing (good-hearted) snarky comments about Mingyu around, and your cheeks are rosy and shining in the kitchen-light. Finally, party still bumpin’ and pumpin’ in the near distance, your laughter dies down and you’re both half-leaning against the counter. Wonwoo looks down at you with a smug smile. 

“What?” you ask, growing insecure again under his gaze. He hums.

“So you asked for me?” 

“Hm?” 

“When Mingyu was wingmanning you,” Wonwoo reminded you, tilting his head. “You asked for me?” 

“I-” you stutter, and your heart clenches nervously, because if things had been right, if things were different at least, you would have asked for Jihoon. It’s this gut-punching guilt. It feels wrong to use him, Wonwoo, to overcome Jihoon. “He was laying down my options.” 

“Options?” Wonwoo quips, brow raised questioningly, but he doesn’t interrogate further. Instead, he leans his head down, so he’s much, much closer to you, breathing hitting your face when he whispers: “But you wanted to fuck me. Isn’t that right?” 

You gulp. His presence is almost suffocating. Avoiding his eyes, you flicker them onto the dancefloor, where- 

Where Jihoon is storming out of the house. 

You squeeze your eyes shut - something Wonwoo thinks is out of embarrassment, from the question he’s just asked you - and try to refocus on Wonwoo. Try to ignore how the thoughts about Jihoon come bubbling in your head. It was probably something with his crush. You want to do nothing more than comfort him, hold him, steal away every bad thought he may ever have. 

You open your eyes, hoping that somehow seeing Wonwoo’s face would fill you with a need for him - him, and not Jihoon - but seeing him in the low lighting only serves as a reminder that Wonwoo is not him. 

“I’m- I’m so sorry, Wonwoo. I gotta go. I’m really, really sorry-” you say suddenly, and immediately you’re scurrying towards the door. Wonwoo frowns, eyes following you in your path. “Did I- Did I make you uncomfortable?” 

“No, you were hot!” you say absent-mindedly, before you’re disappearing into the entrance, and then further along, out the door.

Wonwoo stands alone at the counter, still somewhat leaned towards your ghost in front of him, and shakes his head in confusion. “What the fuck?”  _____________________________

“Jihoon?” 

You exit just in time to see him, stomping on the other side of the road, armless denim jacket wafting in the wind. It’s spring, just warm enough that you’re not freezing, but still cold enough that you curl your arms around yourself. Your hair blows gently. It smells distantly like flowers. 

He turns around at your voice. When he does, you know your suspicions were right. He looks so defeated. His gorgeous long hair, that usually only makes you clench your thighs together, is limp and drags him downwards. His arms hang similarly at his sides, fists clenched at the bottom, causing veins to ripple along the forearms. He stands just below a street light, spot-lighted, as if on a stage.

“Leave me alone!” he yells out to you across the road, voice breaking halfway. This does nothing to dampen his demeanor - this tough front, this anger he suddenly carries. You still in the grass beside the road, looking at him pleadingly. He can’t hold your gaze.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, Jihoon,” you begin, choosing your words carefully. “But I can just.. Support you. You don’t have to be alone right now.” 

This almost seems to piss him off more, clenching his jaw, sharply defined by the harsh shadows, and steering his head away from you, like a sunflower following the sun in the sky. It hurts your heart. The way he almost seems angry with you. And yet again you’re made to feel pathetic for following him out here. Like you’re on your knees and he’s standing there in front of you, spitting on you. Why does it hurt so much? You almost wish you’d stayed with Wonwoo - that you’d followed him to his room and let him fuck you and pretended you weren’t thinking about him the entire time.

“Shouldn’t you go back inside?” he’s prickling with hostility. “You seemed like you were having a good time.”

“Jihoon,” you say breathlessly. “None of us is having a good time if you’re not.” 

Whatever cog you unturned, whatever screw you unscrewed, Jihoon’s tightly wound posture unwinds, and he softens and withers before you, one hand clamping over his eyes. You take this as a sign to move towards him, heels clicking on the asphalt warning him of your advance. It’s deadly quiet, save for the heartbeat of the frat house behind you.

“I’m sorry,” he says, finally lowering his hand and looking at you. You smile sympathetically, relief flooding you, when he lets you gently place a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay.” 

The two of you begin to walk in silence, and you recognize it as the path that leads back to the dormitory. It’s calm, steps becoming rhythmic and breeze easing your muscles with its cool touch. You study his face as it’s lit and unlit by the systemic presence of street lights. You’re able to put your own feelings aside for him, to be a martyr, and to sacrifice yourself to comfort him. It feels like cutting your own throat to talk to him about another woman, a woman he loves, truly, but you know it must be done.

“So,” you muster finally. “What happened in there?” 

He scoffs bitterly, looking at the pavement underneath his shoes. You frown. “Nothing happened.” 

“Nothing?” you repeat, a little confused.

“I didn’t tell her.” 

“Oh.” 

You’re honestly not the best comforter, you realize, cringing and hoping you’re not making it worse by talking to him about it. You see the faint outline of the dormitory at the end of the street. 

“Why not?” you quip quietly. His mouth makes a tight line. He breathes out shakily, and you fear you’re riling him up again by asking further.

“She was talking to some other guy,” Jihoon says, eyes flitting to yours before immediately ducking back to the pavement. You furrow your brows. Could it be you? That thought nurtures the spring garden in your stomach, the one you’d been trying to kill. But the insecurity that had come with it, and with him, only manages to squander that light.

“I’m sorry that happened,” you say softly, hand finding his arm, but he pulls it away from you immediately. Ouch. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles without humor. 

Finally, you decide to just shut up, to stop pushing him when he’s so vulnerable, but this time it’s Jihoon who doesn’t stop speaking. “You know,” he begins and again he’s laughing, but you can tell it’s only a cheap plaster for the pain in his voice, “I’d memorized that- that confession thing Seulgi made. And I followed all the- the style advice and the-” his voice breaks and he hisses at how pathetic it sounds. “Everything. I did everything,” he summarizes finally and when you look you see orbs of tears forming at his waterline, like the dew drops that sparkle on leaves in spring. 

You don’t know what to say. It’s almost too hard to see him like this. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, but Jihoon shakes his head.

“Stop saying that,” his voice is harsher, groggier, thick and stained by the sobs in his throat. You pause your steps. You’re standing in the yard outside the dormitory now. Hundreds of windows become an audience to where you now stand before each other. 

“Why?” you ask. 

“Because-” he wipes the tears away aggressively, composing himself before he finally, finally looks at you. “Because you’re gonna make me think that you actually care.” His voice is suddenly laced with venom again. The hostility that you’d tamed returns and it’s so much stronger, more bitter. You’re taken aback.

“I-I do care? Why do you think I don’t care-” 

“Oh, please, Y/n. You didn’t want me at your girls’ nights or at spa day or fucking whatever. You didn’t- You don’t care about my book or my crush or my-” 

“I do care!” you interrupt, voice stern and much louder. “What, you think I follow you out of parties for fun? Because I don’t care about you? And yeah, maybe I didn’t want you at the girls’ nights, but what does that matter-” 

“It matters because!–” he stops himself in his tracks, hand coming out to halt you. “Fuck it, wait here,” he orders, and suddenly he is trudging into the darkness of the courtyard. You stand still, flabbergasted, and thoroughly confused. It’s so dark you can’t even see what he’s doing, only hear him in the dirt, silhouette blending into the shadows. Then, he’s walking back to you and you finally see him. 

There are flowers in his hands. 

It’s a makeshift bouquet, held tightly in between his veiny, pale hands, consisting of flowers that grow in the courtyard, red, yellow and lilac. It’s a slow-burning realization as he stands himself before you, looking into your eyes with a sincerity that is laced with pain. You know this part of the girl code. 

“Hi, Y/n, how are you?” he breathes, and his voice is shaking and he’s looking at you and practically begging you to play along - to indulge him, even if you would turn your back on him. You can hardly register anything but him and those flowers, because your surroundings, the moon, the stars, the shadows and the streets are overpowered by the blooming in your chest. A single flower unfurls the pedals of your heart until you are open before him. You meet his eyes.

“I’m good.” 

He nods. 

“I’ve always thought you were very beautiful,” it almost seems like it physically pains him to admit these breathless feelings. “Your very presence takes my breath away. I would like to take you on a date,” another pained, gulping pause. “Would that be okay with you?”

It’s as if time has stopped in this moment; how his chest rises and falls under his shirt, how his hair gently nuzzles his face, how his eyes blear out at you from underneath his bangs, how he glows in the moonlight, and how his hands shake around the stems of the flowers. 

“Was I..” his voice is hoarse, “Was I suave about it?” 

“Yes,” is all you can manage, because all those flowers that you had stomped into a half-death were coming alive again and this time it was more than welcome.

“Yes?” 

“Yes, you can take me on a date,” you break into a wide smile and, upon realizing you probably look like an idiot, you lower your gaze and your warm, shining cheeks to the pavement. He gasps, and it’s probably the cutest thing you’ve ever heard.

“But- you and Wonwoo-?” 

“Do you wanna know why I was even talking to Wonwoo?” you ask, and when you meet his eyes again, he’s also smiling. You can’t help but reach out a hand to wrap around one of his, still frozen in holding the flowers. He quickly maneuvers the bouquet to the other hand and intertwines your fingers. Your heart soars. “Mingyu found out that I was sad because you had a crush on someone - I didn’t think it was me, you know? So he promised to wingman me at this party.” 

“Son of a bitch,” Jihoon whispers, and you laugh, feeling so floaty and lovely. “Don’t call him that,” you say, but Jihoon only smiles cheekily, eyes matching the crescent moon in the sky above you.

“No, I meant me,” he says. He looks down at the flowers and frowns. “Is that why you were so quiet? On girls night?” 

You nod and he sighs. “I’m such an idiot.” 

“No, you’re not. You’re so sweet,” you say genuinely, and Jihoon nearly melts at how much you mean it. There’s something so wonderful about the way all the words, that he would never use to describe himself, float around your head and sparkle in your eyes in this moment, looking up at him.

Jihoon needs to kiss you.  He’s not sure he’s ever needed anything as badly. He rips his free hand from yours only to place it tenderly against your cheek, pulling your face and your warmth into him, bouquet held out at his side to allow you snugly in his chest. 

His lips are so soft and his nose nuzzles your own, plush hair tickling your forehead, and his huffed out breaths dance along your cheeks. Your lips mod perfectly, unlocking the shackles with which that earth-shattering yearning had held onto you. The world is anguish but will momentarily and suddenly be interrupted,  cleaved apart with a sudden gash, by a planet-killer: love. 

You truly don’t mean to make it heated, hell, you’d be content just kissing him forever, feeling how his tongue prods at your lips and meets your own, but his sculpted chest under your fingers draws out a pathetic moan. His eyebrows spring up and he pulls back to look at you. You blush under his gaze, fiddling with your dress.

“Holy fuck, that was so fucking hot,” he gasps, lips swollen from your insistent sucking on them, panting into the night air. You brighten at his compliment. “Inside. Now. To my room.” 

“You know, girl code says to not have sex before on the third date,” you say smugly, unprepared when his free hand pushes you back into his chest, and his lips drag over half of your face, finding home at your ear. His voice is a growl: “Fuck. Girl code.” 

He begins a somewhat dramatic march to the front door and you can’t help but run after him, taking his hand, and seeing how he smiles at that feeling. He looks so happy. Your heart skips a beat, because it’s you - you’re the one making him so happy. 

And he’s so hot, it’s all you can think about as he drags you along the corridors, how nice his arms look in the sleeves denim, how pretty his hair is, his fucking face, and the chest you just barely felt under your fingertips. You’re watching doors pass in a monotonous routine, jittery and unable to wait for the one that might be his, for him to take you through it, and for you to bloom, totally and perfectly under him.

“Fucking finally,” he breathes, voice gruff and much lower than you’re used to when he stops at his door, fishing for his keys in his pocket. It enters the lock and with a click, everything you fantasized about is opening to you. 

As soon as you’re inside, he’s kicking the door shut and pushing you against the wall, nails gripping into your dress, when he finally drops the makeshift bouquet on his nightstand. He cries out into your mouth at the way your chest bounces from the impact, immediately capturing your lips in his again. 

You can’t help the way you’re tugging at his hair, trying to ground yourself in the feeling of him, when he shoves a thigh between your legs. You moan into his mouth, rutting into him, while his wandering hands pull your skirt up you to pool around your waist. He pulls back to look at you, how your hips cant into his strong, big thigh, and how your pink, lacey panties cling to your wet pussy. 

“Off,” he mumbles, apparently having decided that the simple tugging of the fabric of your dress won’t be enough. You turn around in a daze, not even uttering a word, simply shoving the zipper at the back of it. 

Jihoon groans, he has to, seeing the way you stick out your ass to him, while your hand lay flat on the wall. You shake your hips teasingly at him, and his hands float to your ass, petting it and squeezing it in his fingers, and biting his lips because it looks so fucking good and plump, and there’s a wet spot in your panties. He grabs your hips and rubs his dick into you. You gasp at the feeling, nails scratching against the wall.

“You make me so hard, baby,” he says breathlessly, unable to help himself humping against you, pre-cum spilling from his tip. “Shit,” he grunts, and you’re squeezing your eyes closed at the outline of his dick pressing into your pussy. 

Finally Jihoon collects himself and his cold hands drag the zipper down. The top of your dress loosens and slides down your shoulders, where Jihoon aids you in slipping it off. His hands spin you around, finally taking a breath to marvel your bare chest in front of him. 

You blush, suddenly so bashful, when just before you were wiggling your ass at him. You curl your arms over your chest, but Jihoon’s own come to stop them. “No, no, no, no,” he tuts, almost sad, “why are you doing that?” 

You don’t answer immediately, but apparently it’s not a rhetorical question. His hands intertwine with yours to prevent you from covering yourself up. “Uh, I don’t know,” you stammer sheepishly, “I don’t wanna, like, kill the mood or any-” 

“You’re not killing the mood, pretty,” Jihoon whispers so, so achingly sincere and your heart hurts. 

“Sorry, it was just-” 

“Don’t say sorry,” he lectures, interrupting again. He tilts his head and he looks at you with a flaming intensity. “Try again.” 

You pause, flustered out of your mind.

“I-I’ve just been feeling a little insecure lately, I guess,” you say and you’re positive your face is beet-red, but if it is Jihoon says nothing, only pouts and releases one hand only to direct your eyes back to his with a hand on your chin. 

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he says and even when you seek it out, you can’t find even the slightest hint of lying in his voice. “I want to show you, but I can’t do that if you cover up. Understand?” 

You nod, lips breaking into a little smile, that his heart becomes hot like the spring-sunshine. “Okay,” you say and he smiles brightly, releasing your chin from between his fingers. 

He guides you onto the bed, but it’s no longer heated and rushed, it’s so soft and gentle, and he pulls off your underwear only after you whisper in agreement, and then he lowers himself into it, again, only allowing himself the pleasure when you whisper a strained yes and nod vigorously. 

He fully makes out with your pussy - his lips are wrapped around your clit, licking and sucking it, and fucking moaning into it, sending vibration straight to the coil in your stomach. You’re moaning so loud, broken cries bouncing off the walls, while your finger wrap into his hair and your legs thrash. His tongue flattens against your folds, then dips down to trail around your slit. 

“Jihoon!” you cry, hips bucking into his mouth. He groans again, releasing your pussy with a soft pop. “Fuck, baby, keep saying my name like that.” And then his face disappears in your pussy again.

And you do, everytime his nips and gums on your sensitive folds, tongue trailing back up to your nub to fully envelop it. He sucks, hard. And you think you might cum the second you look at him, because the image of his full head of hair buried in between your legs and lapping like a starved man is so pornographic, your head spins.

He might go insane from just the taste of you, he realizes, because even when you cry that you’re cumming, and your legs shake around his head and your pussy is soaked with your cum, he can’t bring himself to pull away, strong arms wrapping around stomach to still you as you begin to wiggle from the feeling of his tongue just continuing to lap at you.

“Jihoon! Fuck, t-too much,” you whimper and the sound shoots straight to his cock. He finally pulls away, eyes still trained on your pretty cunt, and the way it clenches around nothing. “Clenching so hard, sweetheart, only for there to be nothing, shouldn’t we fix that?” he hums, leaning down to trail his finger through your folds, gathering your wetness on its tip.

You whimper uncertainly, when he crawls back over your body, hair tickling your face when hovers just above you and he shushes your pathetic squeaks. He pushes the wet finger into your mouth and you suck obediently. “Shh, baby, just taste yourself on my finger, how can you be insecure with a pussy like that, hm?” 

You cry around his single digit, tongue sliding over it eagerly. He wants to fuck your face, the way your pretty, plump lips wrap around his finger, but he’ll save that for another time. “Shh, baby, I know. You’ll be stuffed full of cock soon, don’t worry,” he rasps soothingly, and slips his drenched finger from your mouth. 

Finally, he rips the denim jacket off, white tee following soon after, and you’re left, mouth gaping, at the how toned his stomach is, how big his pecs are and how fucking thick his arms are at his side. 

“You’re so fucking hoot, Hoonie,” you drawl, making grabby hands to urge him back to you. He smiles at those words, even gains a small dusting of pink on his cheeks, but he shakes his head. “Gotta get my pants off, baby.” 

“Hurry up,” you grin playfully, and he scoffs at you from where he stands, pants and boxers coming off in one fell swoop. “So needy,” he mumbles to himself, but you can tell by the overjoyed expression on his face, that he’s enjoying this just as much as you are. 

His cock is finally freed, and your eyes float to it, drinking in the sight of him. He’s so pretty and so red, and a single vein creeps up its curved surface towards the oozing head. You gulp, eyes sparkling. 

“Wan’ it in my mouth,” you mumble, where you’re now half sitting up and glowing from your first orgasm. Jihoon looks at you and laughs, as he climbs on top of you again. 

His face hovers over yours, finger carding through your hair tenderly. He looks in your eyes. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

He coos at you, eyes flickering to your lips for a moment, and you feel his cock twitch where it rests heavily on your stomach. “Not right now, pretty, I wanna fuck you.” 

“You don’t have to cum-” you reason, mouth practically watering at the thought of having him in your mouth. He stops you though, hand still brushing through your hair, so delicately, as if you were a lily, or a rose, or a tulip.

“I’m not gonna be able to hold back if you look at me like that with my fucking cock in your mouth,” he whispers, and it’s so intimate, despite being so vulgar. How warm you both are, naked and holding onto each other and his dick is oozing onto your stomach and your pussy is leaking onto his sheets. “Like that,” Jihoon emphasizes, when you look up at him adoringly. You smile. 

“Okay,” you say, a determined look on your face, “later then.” 

He laughs. “Eager baby. Relax, you’re gonna get a pussy full of cock now, your mouth can wait.” 

You wanna retort, say something snarky, anything, but you’re abruptly interrupted by the feeling of his cock pushing into you. You moan and your nails claw at his back, because it’s so big and so raw in your pussy, you feel that fucking vein dragging against your walls. “Shit, Hoonie. Fuck, fuck.” 

He’s groaning too, hands on your waist and face in your neck. “So fucking tight, so pretty.” 

You’re both panting when his cock is fully nestled inside you, sitting snug against your walls. You look up at him and he’s pretty, all flushed and lips swollen, and the sight makes you clench. He hisses, jerking abruptly, making the both of you moan. 

“Fuck, baby, can’t just clench on me like tha-” 

“Please, please, just fuck me now, can’t wait anymore!” you cry, clawing at him, nails raking over his flexed biceps, where he holds onto you. And he can’t help but fulfill your wish.

You honestly don’t know where he gets his stamina, because the second you’re done asking, he’s ramming into you so hard and so fast, your eyes roll back and your mouth falls open in a long whine. The whole bed is shaking from the impact, as his hips sheath and unsheath from your warm, welcoming pussy. 

“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he drawls, hands trailing up from your waist to your bouncing chest, thumbing over your nipples. “Bet Wonwoo wishes he got to see you like this, hm?” 

The way your pussy has his cock in a chokehold, the way you’re lying beneath, it has him fully dazed, and now he babbles all that comes to mind. “Yeah, but you’re mine, princess. No one else gets to see you like this, no one else can have you crying like this for their cock, right?” 

“N-No one else,” you whimper, sopping cunt clenching and unclenching around his dick. “That’s right,” he pants, humid breath on your cheek, “Say you’re mine, pretty girl, say you’re fucking mine.” 

“A-ah, ‘m yours, Hoonie,” you cry and he thinks he might cum just like that, at your blissed face, glowing beneath him, and your pussy sucking him in, and you obeying him thoughtlessly. 

“Good girl, good fucking girl,” he rewards you by dragging his hand down your stomach to rub your clit. Your whole body convulses into his, hands dragging over his big arms for support. “Come on, sweetheart, cum on my cock now.” 

And you do, the tension in your stomach tightening beyond what you can take, before it finally unfurls, and it blooms, and it’s spring, and your squirting all over Jihoon’s abs, because God, he’s so fucking hot and he fucks you silly with his dumb, big muscles and his dumb, cute face.

The sight of your squirting, thrashing and shaking underneath him is all he needs. Jihoon shoots you full of his cum, making you feel so full and wet, before he finally halts his rutting hips, stilling on top of you. 

You’re both panting. You’re sweating so much, your hair sticks to your forehead, and you’re gasping for air. Jihoon is still on top of you, holding himself up somehow, and licking at your neck appreciatively. 

There’s a pause, where you’re basking in each other's warmth, and there’s so much love between you it’s almost suffocating. Then you're narrowing your eyes at the head of hair in your neck, growing suspicious. 

“... Are you still hard?” 

He laughs into your neck, peering up at you with a sheepish smile.

“Are you still open to that dick-sucking thing?” _____________________________

“So,” Yeri trails off.

You’re sitting in front of her, Seulgi and Irene at the campus cafe after a thorough round of congratulating you and Jihoon’s new relationship. They’d been both surprised and somehow not-at-all-surprised. 

“He can’t come to girls night anymore,” Irene states the obvious, and immediately you, Seulgi and Yeri are nodding along. 

“Thank God, I wasn’t the only one thinking that.” 

“It just wouldn’t work,” you supply, agreeing. 

There’s a pause. Seulgi pouts. “I can’t believe we don’t have a son anymore. They grow up so fast,” she says and she sounds genuinely sad about it.

You sigh a little, debating whether or not to play this card. Then you say: “I know someone who would like to be our son.” 

“Oh, no..”

“Don’t say..” 

“Yep,” you shrug, and then you hear him. Lumbering clumsily down the hall, like a galloping horse. 

“I HEAR THERE’S A NEW POSITION OPEN DURING GIRLS NIGHTS!!!!! I MADE MUFFINS!!”

Mingu is running through the cafe, dodging stools and chairs like he’s on Ninja Warrior. 

Irene frowns. “I guess he’ll do as our new son.” 

“We can always kick him out if he gets too annoying,” Yeri shrugs, just in time for Mingyu to stand before your table with a fresh tray of muffins. 

“Yes!” he cries with glee, voice incredibly high because he just can’t believe it.

“Begging always works!”

[shotorozu]

𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤

𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔰𝔥𝔦 ᥊ 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔯

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: you find yourself in a bar that you and your ex used to go to regularly. the local bartender calls your ex- shinsou hitoshi; thinking you guys are still together. 

𝗮𝗱𝗱𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗹 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝘀: angst to fluff (happy ending), sfw, pro hero au (aged up), drinking (alcohol mentions and intake) ex to lovers, minor todomomo (not the center of this fic) reader is in the top 5, some swearing. 

𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗱: [Y/N = your name, L/N = last name, H/N = hero name, ] f! reader, quirk not mentioned. 

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀: i also did this trope on ao3 with todomomo, so i better not see people think i plagiarized them because.. that’s literally me lol. also! i was very conflicted, bc i also wanted to do this with shouto but since I already have 2-3 fics in the making, i went with hitoshi (but let me know if you wanna see shouto’s version.) 

word count to be added when im not sleep deprived

　　　　　　　　

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You swivel down another shot down your throat, not caring of the burn in your nose, nor do you care about the smell of the alcohol. 

You’re never like this, this is not the best representation of yourself, no. This is not who you are as a person, and the way your former classmates look at you with concern when you chug down another shot shows how unusual this is to them.

“Take it easy..” Momo pats your back, and you exhale heavily, putting down the glass. Everyone is certain that you’ll obtain some serious hangover, almost to the point that you’d have to take the morning off to treat your hangover. They’re aware that you’re not this careless, since you're in the top 5 after all. 

But they let you be momentarily, but why you may ask?

Because this is your way of coping a breakup with your boyfriend of 3 and a half years, Shinsou Hitoshi. They’re aware on how hurt you really are, and to be real- they were the ones that asked you to come out with them tonight to distract you. 

“They’ve been going at it for a while, it’s almost concerning.” Tsuyu comments, as she tends to a slightly tipsy Mina, holding her so she doesn’t fall face first into the floor. 

The least they could do is let you be, while you're not totally blacked out.

The local bartender- Maki, looks at you with concern when you order another shot, yet they still give it to you (with the slightest hesitation) since you’re such a good friend to her. (Your rank makes you very respectable, it’s almost intimidating! but your casual friend ship with the bar tender says other wise.) 

But on the contrary, you'd know when you’ve reached the limit, and you’d probably know when they’d start refusing your requests of another shot. 

One by one, their friends depart from the table, either they were too drunk to even handle it so they were brought home, or something came up- everyone could agree that they all had some sort of worry towards their dear friend’s very out of character coping mechanism. 

“I have to go soon,” Momo sighs, when she receives a text from Todoroki- though it’s very obvious that she’s still very concerned for you, considering that she’s the only friend left. “Please take care of Y/N, Maki-san.” 

Maki nods at your black haired friend, and the creation hero looks at you one last time before leaving the bar. 

Lifting your head, your words are slurred as you request for another shot, which seems like the umpteenth time that you requested for a shot. The concerned bartender still attends to your needs, yet- she’s contemplating of calling someone if you ask for another. 

Likewise, you finish that shot in a moment, and you slump down on the table. Eyelids fluttering slowly as your laughter is filled with intoxication, your cheeks are warm from being inebriated from the intake of alcohol. 

You don’t notice how your concerned bartender dials up a number, requesting for them to pick your drunken state. 

     »»————-　➴　————-««

“Did you know the word bed is shaped like one?” 

It’s now past midnight, and you’re mouthing off about something random, the train of thought is endless (but it’s more like a shower thought ramble.) Your fists are deep into your hair- holding your head up so it doesn't hit the table, meanwhile Maki paces back and forth- still tending to other requests from the very few customers left. 

“Now that you’ve mentioned it, yeah.” They answer absentmindedly, “Man, I haven't seen you in nearly 4 months! it’s been a while. You knows how to hold your alcohol so frankly, this is the first time I’ve seen this side of you!” 

“Oh really?” You slur, continuing on to spout out purposeless words.

The bartender’s response is a total blur, words turning into background noises, and a part of you is lucky to still be conscious and still functioning (yet it's barely) 

“..But you hold it well for--” 

You’re also very lucky that you’re a little too under the influence to even register the name.

You didn't know you’d take this breakup with him harshly. The most you were expecting was just.. crying while eating ice cream. 

But no, it was an utter shit hole. 

The door busts open, and the bartender’s expression seems to brighten up “Ah, there you are!” 

You grumble, the bar’s lights causing your eyes to sting- and your head hurts too. You might need some aspirin later.. you close your eyes shut. The bartender is chatting with the unknown person, and frankly- you just wished you didn’t intoxicate yourself this much.

“Y/N,” 

The baritone voice is almost sufficient in sobering you up. Turning to the familiar voice, you see the tall figure, sporting bedraggled purple hair. 

It’s Shinsou Hitoshi. A reason why you’re in such a mess, coping with a breakup in the first place. 

You almost fall off your chair in sudden revelation to the appearance of your ex lover. It was almost like.. your drunken state was making you see things- a possible hallucination maybe? it has to be that. Maybe it’s the side effect of the growing headache?? What was in that shot?

“Ugh, I must be crazy,” You wipe your cheek from slob, your head throbbing from the growing headache. The weary purple head raises an eyebrow, and the bartender is confused by the sudden tension. It's abnormal, alright.

The reason why you broke up was because of his lack of self care. 

Again, it’s not like he was being a shithead and cheating on you, or being a total prick of a boyfriend and neglecting you, and it’s definitely not the other way around either. 

It was probably the opposite. He'd neglect himself for days on end, not caring about himself, and not caring about his own being. It was.. not what you wanted at all. 

You figured just because the both of you are rising up heroes, and also adults- he would’ve gotten a grip of not neglecting himself. 

But even habits like that don’t get old. 

“Hitoshi- seriously, when was the last time you’ve took a breather?” growing slightly irritated by Shinsou’s continuous neglect of his own self care, and also the fact that he’s clinging onto you 24/7. 

“It doesn’t matter.” He shrugs, pinching your cheek. Heck, you should be glad he wants to be with you for the majority of the days. But you can’t tolerate him when he’s constantly complaining about being tired, although making little to no efforts in taking care of himself. Heck- his dark circles got even darker- how is that even possible?

“’Toshi, it really does. You can’t neglect self care.” Your brows furrow when he chooses to ignore your words. “You’re not listening to me.” 

“You should be glad that I want to spend time with you.” 

It stung. What the hell did he even mean by that..?? scoffing, and slightly offended, you reply “That’s not the main issue.” you cross your arms “We’ve talked about this before, remember?” You reason out, giving him the nice benefit of the doubt. You'd like to be civil here. 

He ignores you once more, and you can actually feel the irritation grow within you. “I don’t want to be the reason why you neglect yourself.” 

“I’m really not, okay?” He retorts back, “Why do you always have to bring up things that don't matter?” 

Aggitated, you snap back “Wh- we’re talking about you! Hitoshi, we’ve talked about this- and you said you’d work on it! do my words mean nothing to you?” Hitoshi’s gaze flickers up, only staring at you, as if it was his own way of judging you and your intent. 

And that’s how it erupted into a full fight, and into your eventual breakup. 

You didn’t know how expressing your genuine concern for him blended into him saying things he’d never mean in his entire life. He doesn’t stop you when you walk out, not saying a thing at all

There was no verbal breakup. It was just.. there. 

The unknowing bartender interrupts the nonverbal tension, “I thought you’d be a lot happier, y’know.” 

“We-”

“..’ll get going now, thanks again.” Before you know it, Hitoshi’s hooking your arm around his shoulders— as he walks to the door, leaving the very familiar bar.

It’s awkward, surely. You’re not sure why he was there, and you’re not so sure as to why he decided to come to your aid in the first place. If Maki called him, and he was requested to come to you in question, then he could’ve just..

“..sent someone else,” You mumble. You reek heavily of alcohol, and your skin is undeniably warm. Frankly, he doesn’t remember the last time you were like this— was it the first time you had a drink? it was years back at this point.

You’re pretty.

Beautiful,

That’s one thing that hasn’t change. Surely, what changed things was the fact that he said some.. horrible things— and refused to even listen to your concerns, which ultimately cause your breakup. His relationship status changed into some lonely and young hero, and his heart ached in different ways.

But you’re still very beautiful, to him.

Doesn’t matter if you’re all dolled up for a hero interview, or a mess on a off saturday. You’re still beautiful.

But now— he’s focused on your words, and he’s taken aback when you continue to speak, causing the both of you to stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

“You’ve coulda asked s-someone else to pick.. me up.” Your words are slurred, a normal side effect of being drunk. However, seeing your ex has surely sobered you up.

“That’s true,” Shinsou moves to continue walking, so you guys weren’t standing on the middle of the side walk on a cold early morning.

“What are you even doing at a bar at 1am?” He changes the subject, but you’re still caught on to your previous question. “You didn’t answer my question at all, meanie.” Her grip is firm, so there’s no way of budging it.

His laugh lacks humor, yet he feels obligated to answer her. Or else they’d be stuck on the sidewalk, due to her hero grip.

“It didn’t feel right,”

“Yeah sure.” You grumble, “Because you suddenly care.”

“I’ve always cared, Y/N.”

“Really?” You say, not really believing him anyway. “You seemed pretty sure with your words back then to care.” Despite being toxicated, your words have undertones of venom

“You may say that, but.. I’ve always cared.”

“Then why the hell did you say all of that back then, huh?” Overwhelmed by seeing your ex, who you still fucking loved by the way— tears grow at your eyes. “If you’re lying, stop it.” You say, literally not in the mood to be lied to right now.

You’re literally being carried by your ex, while intoxicated, while also having a throbbing headache.

“I’m not.” Hitoshi answers firmly. A certain edge grows in his throat, and he hates it.

“Yes you are,” Your voice is now wobbly, it’s really just a mix of your overwhelming emotion, as well as your drunken state. “You would’ve told me that weeks ago!”

You were always right, and he knows it. Ever since from the last moment you shared with him, your words were just.. nothing but the sheer truth. Yet, he’s only hurt you— because of his denial.

He knows you’re right, and he knows that he had his habits of neglecting his own care. Though that’s why he decided to change, that you were in fact- correct all this time.

And he was just an ass to even admit it.

“You’re right,” His fists crumple, grip tight as he fights his sudden urge to break. “You were always right. I’ve always cared, and you’ve always cared about me. Yet I was worried of changing, not being around you just so that I could take care of something that’s not really important-”

“But you are, Hitoshi,” You sob, nearly collapsing onto the ground— “You matter so much, yet you don’t even see it, and if I’m going to contribute to your destructive ways— then...”

“How could you? If you don’t care about my words, then do you care about yourself..?”

Shinsou sighs, bending down to meet your level— you’re gasping and sobbing into his chest, tears angrily running down your cheeks.

“I know, kitten, and I’m sorry.” Wiping your tears with his thumb, he speaks once more. “That’s why.. I’ve thought about what you’ve said, and I decided to take care of myself a bit more, I want you to know that.. I do care.”

You glance up at him, the city lights luminating his face— enough for you to see the adorning expression he’s sporting.

“..really?” You speak, in a nearly hush tone, again— you’re still very drunk, and overwhelmed with emotions. This could’ve been passed off as a fever dream, and you could’ve been normal with it.

“Yes, Y/N.” His mouth perks up into a small smile.

“Then.. would you allow me to start over with you again?”

Pushing against Hitoshi, you envelope him with your arms— it’s almost cliché and dramatic, the way you collapse into his arms like it’s the last day on earth.

But.. Shinsou’s glad he has you again. Finally a chance to prove that he’s changed.

ーーーーーーー

BONUS

You sit on the counter of your apartment, hands covering your face— as a way to shield your eyes from the prodding sunlight that peaks from the windows.

“This should help,” Hitoshi hands you a cool glass of water, “The way you hold your alcohol is terrible,” You chug down the glass of water, and you take a jab at him with your feet.

He hisses at the sudden attack, and only chuckles, “You’re mad because it’s true kitten,” He teases

“Shut up,” You draw him in with your leg, setting the glass down, “Just kiss me already,”

And so he does, pressing your lips against his— savoring the sweet warm moment he’s been practically starved of for nearly 4 months.

He pulls back, his expression showcasing that he’s tasting the aftermath.

“Ew, you taste like beer.”

You glare at him, and take another light jab, “Of course I do, Idiot.”

Despite saying all of that, he pulls you in once more.

　　　　　　　˚✧₊⁎❝᷀ົཽ ❝᷀ົཽ⁎⁺˳✧༚

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading (literally the first fic i’ve ever posted, so y’all BETTER like it or i’ll 💀)

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing

do not plagiarize my work :)) (literally don’t, it’s 3:26am on a tuesday.)

[angelthebedsheet]

“We’re inside.”

a miles morales x reader!!!

x male! reader

a/n: MY BABY!!! i love hims!!! he makes me so mf HAPPY dude istg! here’s this oneshot bc i cant get enough of him! quite literally have a mega little crush on him

contains boy x boy miles’ awkward ass, whole lotta gang gay shit, use of n-slur, reader’s lwk a smug lil bitch, kissing, cussin and a lil spanish? miles’ parents being mega miles x m/n fans

F L U F F

m/n means male name!

lets get into yall!

—————————————————————————

The two boys sat in Miles’ room in a comfortable silence. That is unless you count Sunflower softly playing in the background I guess. Miles had been trying to confess how he felt towards M/N but always bitched backed out last minute. He occasionally glanced from his sketchbook to the boy sitting in his office chair. He felt his hands get sweaty as he watched M/N subconsciously chewed on his straw as he scrolled on his phone.

He admired how his locks were pulled back into a ponytail, showing his jawline. Miles’ felt his coffee coloured cheeks heat up as M/N glanced up at him from his phone. He quickly looked back at his sketchbook, pretending he was looking at it the whole time. M/N snorted. “Yo, you good, pretty boy?” He asked. “What? Psssh, yeah. I’m good. Just vibin’ y’know? Thinkin’ bout what colour I should use next.” Miles said as he waved him off, hoping his pathetic attempt at saving himself even though he felt his heart race from the nickname. He felt a sweat bead form on his forehead as M/N cocked his eyebrow. He smirked. ‘Don’t do that. Why would he do that? Why is he smirking? God, that’s hot. Fuck. I’m a disaster.’ Miles thought as he grabbed a marker. “Thinkin’ while lookin’ at my face? Cap.” M/N said as he sipped on his smoothie. “N-No it’s not! I was just in a daze while thinking okay?! I totally wasn’t staring at you. That’s gay, man.” Miles stuttered, making M/N start laughing. “Dude you‘re literally bi with a preference for dudes 70% of the time, what the fuck?” He chuckled. Miles groaned and threw a marker at him. M/N tilted his head to the side, dodging the marker. Miles huffed and looked back down at his sketchbook.

“You’re a piece of shit.” He grumbled. “But you love this piece of shit, homie.” M/N teased, earning another groan from him before relaxing his face into a soft smile. He reached over to nudge Miles’ leg. “No but like you aight, niño bonito? You know you can always talk to me. I’m here for ya. Even with your spider shit goin’ on.” M/N said. Miles felt the flutter that occurred in his stomach at the spanish substitute. “Yeah... I’m. I’m good. Just Spider-Man jitters, y’know?” Miles mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck. M/N stared at him before humming. “No I don’t know. Not everyone wears a cool ass spandex suit and swings around the damn city with webs, saving people ‘nd shit.” He commented before picking up his phone again. Miles huffed out a chuckle. M/N bit his straw with a smile as he scrolled down his phone.

‘I’m gonna do it.’ Miles thought as he collected himself. He wiped his sweaty hands off on his jeans. “Hey, M/N?” He called out. M/N hummed as he looked up at him. “I’ve been wanting to say this but.... I loooo–”He trailed off as he started to think. ‘What if he doesn’t like me? What if he has a crush on another person? I can’t afford to ruin our friendship.’ He thought. “–iiike how the sky looks right now. Isn’t so pretty?” Miles asked, done with himself. M/N deadpanned at him. “We’re inside, my nigga. Fuck you mean you like how the sky looks? The curtain’s deadass closed too.” M/N said as he made an unimpressed expression. “Oh-uhm-I. Ah, j-just forget it.” Miles groaned. M/N rolled his eyes before smiling. “Was that another poor attempt at you trying to confess to me, Morales?” He asked. Miles’ eyes widened. “You-You noticed?!” He exclaimed as he sat up.

M/N nodded with a smile. “And you never said anything?! M/N!” He whined. “Hey, you’re a big boy. I didn’t think Spidey was so scared to confess to lil’ ol’ me.” He teased. Miles glared at him. “But, I like you too, Morales.” He said softly. Miles swang his legs off his bed and shot a web at his chair. He tugged on his web, pulling M/N in the chair to him. “Say it again.” He said.

“I like you, Miles.”

“Again.”

“I like you.”

“One more time for me?”

“Oh my god. Miles Morales, I like you too!” M/N groaned. Miles smiled widely as he wrapped his arms around his neck. “Can I?” He asked as he looked down at M/N’s plump lips. “Fuckin kiss m—mmhfp!” He was cut off by Miles smashing his lips onto his. He wrapped his arms around his waist. “You. Don’t. Know. How. Long. I’ve. Waited. To. Hear. That.” Miles said between pecks. M/N chuckled as Miles continued pressing kisses onto his lips. He stood up, pushing the chair back. He leaned forward, kissing him deeper. Miles smiled into the kiss and pulled him down. They fell back on the bed, never pulling away from their liplock. It felt like the world around them sizzled away only leaving them.

Unfortunately, they didn’t hear the knock on the door and it open. “Miles, M/N, do you boys want some sn— AHA! CAUGHT THEM! MI AMOR, I TOLD YOU! YOU OWE ME 20 BUCKS!” Rio exclaimed while holding a bowl of grapes, causing Miles to push M/N off. “M-Mrs. Morales!” M/N stuttered. “Mama no!” Miles exclaimed as he shot up. The two boys’ faces heated up as they looked at Rio. “It happened?! Damnit!” Jefferson exclaimed from down the hall. “You made a bet on us?” M/N questioned with a hot face. “Dios mio...” Miles mumbled under his breath. “Sorry honey, we had to. We were tired of the whining Mil—” Miles cut her off. “OOOKAYYYY MAMA! That’s enough for now, thank you for the fruit! Okay now bye!” Miles exclaimed as he set the bowl on his desk and pushed her out.

“Have fun but not too much fun!” She called out before he slammed the door embarrassed. “Oh my god, I can’t believe they did that. My mom just caught us making out oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god we were just making out, holy shit.” Miles exclaimed. “Fuck that killed the mood didn’t it?” He said as he looked at M/N. “Yeah.” He said, making Miles’ shoulders slump. “But bold of you to assume we can’t fix that. C’mere pretty boy, I’ve been deprived of this for too long. Not even Doc Ock could stop me from kissing the shit outta you.” He said as he made a ‘come hither’ sign. Miles giggled and ran over to him. M/N pulled him down and hovered over him. “That was ho—” M/N kissed him and pulled away. “Nuff talkin’ more kissin’. Got that, Morales?” M/N said. “Got it, bebé!” He exclaimed before energetically pulling him down by his collar to connect their lips once more.

[tigerseye46]

Headcanon: one time Tang and Pigsy got totally sloshed bc reasons and started bemoaning their own romantic woes at eachother. And in that drunken 'everythings a good idea' haze, both tried to 'help' the other.

Pigsy actually tried to text sandy some of the bullet points from the 'Why Tang is Boyfriend Material' list, but it came out borderline incoherent, Sandy just thinks Pigsy hit that 'i love my friends so much' state of intoxication. And is all "Tang IS a very good and smart person youre right!"

Meanwhile Tang AKA "known bastard" convinces his friend he's gotta REALLY up his flirt game so Wukong KNOWS hes into him! Here, hes got this poster copy of this or that Monkey King media thing, use this to practice. Tang wakes up the next morning thouroughly hungover but with some shaky phone footage of Pigsy drunkenly hitting on a poster. Haha blackmail.

WHEEZES The mental image I get from this is too great so I had to write it down!

TW: Alcohol

Tang took a swig of the bottle, his head slumped against the couch. “It’s like he doesn’t even see me,” Tang said, his words slurring together. “I’m right here! I get I’m not the great monk but I’m just as good.” He sighed and sipped his drink. “Why won’t he see me?”

“I’m sure he sees you fine, Tang. Y’know with his eyes,” Pigsy responded as he placed his palm on the floor and leaned back.

The scholar rolled his eyes. “Not what I meant, Pigsy. He’s probably just not interested… we’ve all known each for years if he was interested then he would have said something back then.” Tears prick his eyes. “It’s like you said with the Monkey King, Sandy has probably seen so many things that there’s no way he would look at me. It hurts every time he’s near me then Tripitaka gets brought up and ugh! It’s like I’m not there, only Tripitaka.” There was venom in his voice as he stated the name of the monk.

“At least Sandy goes near you! Wukong won’t even come close! Everytime I try to get to close to him, he flinches! I don’t know what I did! Did I do somethin’ wrong? Maybe it’s cause I yelled at him the first time we met. I ruined my chance… and he likes Zhu Bajie anyway, not some lowly pig demon.” He cracked open another bottle and gulped it down, the cold liquid pouring down his throat.

“You’re not some lowly pig demon, Pigsy! And the monkey king tries to protect you so that counts for something.”

“He probably thinks I’m too weak to fight any demons,” he grumbled. “That’s the only reason he does it.”

“At least he does something. All I’m asking is for Sandy to pay attention to me but nooooo, he’s too busy paying attention to his brother or something else. I’m not invisible! Ever since we learned he was Sha Wujing, it’s like I know nothing and everything about him. I’ve read the Journey a thousand times and I know what he was like but it’s like he has too many secrets, like I don’t know who he is. I just want to be part of that.”

“That’s the same with Wukong! I know a lot too but when it comes down to it, he’s so secretive! I want him to open up to me.”

“Same! Sandy could let me help him with stuff and I could get to know him better. He’s so changed from that rage-filled warrior he was a couple years back and no matter what, I still love him. If only he could like me instead of Tripitaka. How could he not like Sandy? Sandy is great!” He took a small sip. “The monk only tolerated him, I love him!” He stood up on the cushions, bottle in one hand. “I would be a great partner!” He took out the list from his back pocket, the corners slightly crinkled. “Every bit of this list shows why I should be his boyfriend.”

A lightbulb hovered over Pigsy’s head, his eyes widen. “I got a great idea!”

“What would that be?”

“Why don’t we help each other out? I help you with Sandy, you help me with Wukong!”

A bright appeared on the human’s face. “Okay! Sounds like a deal!”

“Give me that list and I’ll text Sandy.” He made a hand motion and the human leaned over to pass the list to him. “He’ll see why your boyfriend material.”

“Thank you, thank you, Pigsy! Okay so.” He tapped a finger against his chin then smirked. “If you want the Monkey King to know you like him, you have to up your flirting! I have this poster from that Monkey King movie from a year ago! I’ll get it!” He scrambled off the couch and rushed towards his room, definitely not tripping on the way, definitely not.

The pig barked out a laugh. This might actually work. He read over Tang’s list then texted Sandy. He squinted at his phone, drunkenly pushing buttons to craft the perfect message.

What was supposed to be:

“Hey, Sandy! Here’s a bunch of reasons why ya should date Tang and why he’s 100% boyfriend material. Number one, he’s pretty smart. He knows everythin’ about your journey. He’s also amazin’ when he’s not freeloadin’ off of me. He knows a lot of topics and stuff. He can make tea and he’s always there to cheer you up when ya need him. So here’s why Tang is awesome.”

Turned into:

“HEy, Sa7dyn Here’s a b@9as of reskns whY ya sddd ddds Tang and whY h4’s bLsfaDfhd ma/“:: N@0she 1, hy”s smort. KnPw’s j5urney. Also amazin’ w3$n he’U not fr33l”adin’ off of me. Ksfs lOT’s of Topics. C0n make TEA aLD alYS tH3r3 to cheer u ^ when ya Nkkd hIM. So H9r@‘s wHY Tang is a53some.”

Sandy must have been up since he responded with: “Pigsy? Are you okay?”

“Yea, ‘m fine.”

Sandy wasn’t the type to judge or question others for their choices so he deduced quickly that Pigsy was drunk and in the ‘I love my friends’ stage. He typed back, “So your message is about Tang?”

“YE2.”

“Oh well, I agree. Tang is extremely smart, it’s amazing how much he knows and he’s such a good person! You’re correct about the tea bit too, he makes the best tea!”

Pigsy was about to send something back when he heard “Alright! I got the poster! Woah!” A small thud sound was heard as he hit the ground. “Ow. I got it!” He stood up and brushed himself off. “Did Sandy respond?”

“Yea! He said he agreed with everythin’!”

They both giggled together, Tang beamed from ear to ear. “Wonderful! I’ll text him later! Now for you.” He skipped over to a wall and placed the poster against it, sticking it there with a small piece of tape.

“This is a fantastic idea, Tang!” The pig stood in front of the poster, Tang held up his phone, hitting record. The pig opened his mouth to speak and the human’s vision blurred.

The human’s head pounded, he slowly opened his eyes, taking in the light in the room. He sat up carefully and held his head, his phone was in his lap. He glanced around to see the pig laying on the floor in front of a Monkey King poster he had obtained last year. What the f-?

He checked his phone to find a new video on it with Pigsy’s arm against the wall near the poster. He turned up the volume and pressed play. The footage was shaky but tried to remain on the chef.

“Hey, Wukong,” Pigsy greeted with a wink. “You’re- you’re really cute. You’re like… really strong and handsome. Look at your muscles, really strong.”

Tang paused it when he heard a groan, he covered his mouth to muffle his laughter, only stopping when a stinging sensation ran through him. This was prime blackmail.

There was tapping on their door. He opened it to reveal Sandy with Mo on his shoulder. “Oh uh, hi, Sandy!”

“Hey, Tang! I figured I would check up on you two after Pigsy’s message.”

Message? “What message?”

“Oh, a drunken message saying something about you.”

He swallowed. “What did it say about me?”

“Just how cool you are! I think Pigsy wanted someone to see his rant about how cool his friends are.”

A sigh of relief. “Okay, good.” He stepped aside. “Come in.”

“Thanks! I brought tea!” His lips pursed as his eyes landed on a certain object. “Why is there a poster of my brother taped up?”

“Oh, ummmm… see, I received that last year and I finally decided to hang it up but I might move it,” he lied.

“Oh, okay! Want to help me make tea?”

He nodded with a grin. “Sure.” They walked into the kitchen together, the scholar’s heart thumped. He had no idea what Pigsy texted Sandy exactly but he remembered bits of that night, oh well, he could piece it together later.

[sloppy-butcher]

Alrighty then. So Michael and Danny with a s/o or just a survivor that’s caught their interest that’s clearly favored by the entity (most likely due to excellent performance but could be bc of personality). Example: they more often they get better sacrifices or personal effects as a comfort. But they share their stuff with the others because they like helping

heyy! thank you for the request!

with this one i decided to make the S/O a killer cause i feel that would create the most conflict :) hope that’s ok<3 editt; i realize after writing it that i forgot you included “shares with others” T_T im so sorry

ok so when you say ‘favored because of personality’ I’m going to assume it refers to the reader willingness to obey the Entity and kill without question

ghostface is below the cut. also he's pretty NSFW

HeadCanons for The Shape (Michael Myers) and The Ghostface (Danny ‘Jed Olsen’ Johnson) with an Entity-favored killer! S/O

The Shape (Michael Myers)

It’s customary when a new killer arrives in the Fog, for them to be favored by the Entity. Their unique way of torturing and killing bringing new flavors of fear for the master leaving the other killers on the sidelines. However, when the excitement dies and the dust settles, the attention shifts back to the usual favorites. What confused Michael about you the most was that there was a consistent liking on you that maintained itself and grew even after your initial arrival. There was always a big eye watching you from the sky, a large red sign on your back that the Entity never stopped searching for. There was no denying that even after making yourself home among the Fog that the Entity still liked you.

Michael has never been the favorite. If anything, he’s one of the more disliked killers. That doesn’t mean he’s bad a killing, oh no. Just, in relation to how the Entity wants Its kills to be presented, Michael a bit of an under-achiever. He doesn’t do want is expected of him, he just kills. And that puts him on the boss’s F-tier. So when you show up and immediately get on the Entity’s good side, Michael is skeptical. But not jealous. He’ll just wait and watch as the spotlight shifts away and you lose your shine.

When time passes and you remain as attentive as ever Michael begins to get suspicious. What exactly made you so special? Did you have an ability that was interesting? Or was there something else? Whatever it was, Michael didn’t have to ponder it for too long because one night when he returned to his realm after a long day's work, he found you standing in the middle of the street waiting for him. You explained that you were sent there by the master to help “guide” Michael to become a more efficient and better killer. You couldn’t see it but Michael was furious.

Michael resented you. Every night you would be there, buzzing around him like an annoying fly. He once tried to chase you away, raising his arm in an aggressive gesture only for you to scoff halfheartedly, “You call that a lunge?” Oh right, you were a killer as well. After intimidation didn’t work, he resorted to throwing endless a hissy fits (consisting of him crossing his arms and angrily stomping away from you). You’d have to chase him lecturing him as you did, explaining that if Michael wanted the approval of the Entity he needed to listen to you. Of course, he didn’t.

“You are such a brat you know that?” Michael cocked his head, a sign of his so-called brattiness. He let out a loud huff and turned his nose up. You gasp. “How DARE you!” He huffed again as if testing your authority. He could be such a child.

Eventually, when it became clear that the nail wasn’t being hammered into his thick skull, you gave up on the man. You stopped pestering him, stopped showing up, and threw in the metaphorical towel. With you gone his world feel to silence, only the flickering of red and blue lights moved in the space around him. He felt... empty? Like something was missing. Almost as if on autopilot he looked to his left and surprising saw nobody there. He had grown used to seeing your smaller form next to his. So pristine, always talking with authority and determination. You were skilled, precise, and managed, he actually found himself missing the way you annoyed him. He missed your noise.

Without really trying, Michael started performing even worse in trials. Sometimes he would kill them all within minutes not even offering them a chance to escape or fight back. And other times he wouldn’t even try, deliberately losing chases and allowing the survivors to escape scott-free. And it’s not as if the Entity could punish Michael like it did the others; Michael didn't fear pain nor did he have any emotional attachments of which could be manipulated. The Entity had no way of twisting his arm. As a last resort, you were sent back to try deal with him.

He watched you casually stroll up to him, your arms crossed over your chest like a scolding teacher. When you reached him you shook your head. “You did that on purpose.” Tapping a foot in annoyance you waited for a nonexistent explanation. He just looked at you, eyes taking in your form, eating it up like a starved dog. After you realized that the man wasn’t going to bother with any type of apology or declaration, you sighed and lowered your hands. “Y’know there’s an easier way to keep me around.” He shuddered at your voice but showed no signs of irritation, it was as if he liked hearing you speak in such a tone to him. “Just, promise me you’ll try not to get on Its bad side anymore. At least for me.” Michael considered your proposition for a moment then turned and started to walk away. When he noticed you weren’t following him, he hesitated. He actually waited for you. It wasn’t much but it was a start.

The Ghostface (Danny ‘Jed Olsen’ Johnson)

Danny would definitely be jealous of your attention. Expect long, hateful glares and snide comments. How is it that you had all the entity’s blessings whereas he, a willing participant received none of your praise? He never felt so cheated as he did every time you would return from a successful trial, dressed in the blessings of your victory. He’d hate you.

Of course, Danny would never really show it. Sure, he’d let you pick up on the side-ward scowls and sometimes hear the odd slur but he always hid his true feelings and thoughts. However, his hubris made him believe his acting skills were better than they were you were that man's kryptonite, his weakness. Eventually, things started to slip through the cracks and you could see how much you burned him inside.

It became something of a game between the two of you. You would come back from a trial and while passing him, boast about your kills. “All dead. Merciless.” You sarcastically flip a hand through imaginary hair, passing him a teasing eye over your shoulder before strutting off. You’d leave him fuming. Next time he would return, Danny would approach you twirling a bloody, still-dripping knife. He’d smirk under his mask knowing full well your attention was glued to him. “Dead. Everyone last one of them.” He stated in a matter-of-fact tone, chest puffed out with vicious pride. “Did you use Hex: NoED though?” He paused. How did you know that? At his sudden stupor, you knew you had struck a nerve. Grinning manically you regain your no.1 killer status. “The Entity says that all the struggling killers use that perk.” You emphasize the ‘struggling’ part by curling your fingers and showing off your best shit-eating smile. Danny’s fist shook with rage. “I’m allowed to use whatever Hex I want. If the Entity,” he spat the master’s label with disgust, “didn’t want it to be used, it should be removed.” You crossed your arms and gave the killer a ‘really?’ look. He growled and began to trudge away. As if poking the bear you offer him one last piece of advice, “You already have an insta-down ability, Danny. Use it!”

It would take a while for his pride to mend after that instance but after it did, Danny set to work. He tried beyond anything to beat you, competing for the Entity’s favor. Or, at least, that’s what it seemed like to an outsider. What the man was really desiring was to become the top dog. Become better than you and make you eat your words. He’ll show you ‘struggling’.  As much as he hated to admit it, he often found himself following your advice. He never camped hooked survivors, rarely tunneled, and became the master of his stealth. You were a positive influence on him and his work ethics, it was no longer just about killing it was more about HOW he killed.

He would never EVER admit how you effected him. But you would notice the improvement. The eye of the Entity now had two flickers of interest and it couldn't be more impressed. You certainly were an effective killer, not just in the field but also on your peers. And because of this fact, you always remained the favorite.

Danny witnessed this inherent bias and while his blood boiled, he decided it would be better to make peace rather than enemies. "So," Danny put a gloved hand on his hip having finally cornered you in a private moment. "How do you do it?" At your confused expression, he chuckled shaking his head dismissively. "The Boss. How do you keep its favor? I mean, if you haven't noticed," Danny said, fixing a glove. "I've been performing exceptionally well in my trials. Yet the attention is always fixed on you." A smile crept across your lips. Something was different about the man. He didn't portray a total and complete aura of dislike towards you. There was something else there. Admiration? Desire? Whatever it was, it felt nice to be showered by it. You shrugged your answer unsure of how exactly to respond. "Shit then," Danny said, shaking his head again and letting out an airy laugh. "You must give awesome blowjobs."

NSFW! The new game the two of you had adopted was a more friendly competition than the previous hate-filled pissing contest. The rules were simple, whoever returned from their trials with the most merciless titles got to top. Sorry, I don’t make the rules. And to be honest, while Danny does enjoy the added bonus of bragging rights, regardless of if he won or not he always had fun in whatever position. He secretly likes watching you take control over him. 

[mypimpademia]

could you do kaminari and mina with a genderneutral s/o that's a professional violinist that just kinda infodumps about parts of the violin? (ex. they go off about slurs and how difficult they are sometimes) i noticed you played violin too, and whenever my brother asks about something i just infodump about it - indian anon

Kaminari x violinist!reader, Mina x violinist!reader

TW: Maybe some swearing, like 1 dirty joke on denkis part bc hes gross

Note: I've only been playing for 2 years, so bare w me if I get somethings wrong, but I thinm I have enough knowledge to write this😭

Denkis is sm shorter than minasjdidj💀 I think I used up all my ideas on Mina😭

Also tried a new format with this one

MINA

I feel like she'd actually be pretty interested

Its mostly because she absolutely loves watching you play though

You look so in the moment, and she enjoys watching your fingers press strings against the fingerboard as your bow moves as need be

She'll often come into the room youre practicing in and just sit down and listen to you play

Mina will also grab your violin whenever you put it down for a moment to inspect it

Thats usually when she asks questions

"Hey babe, what are these knob thingys at the top of your violin?" Mina asked. "They're called pegs, they keep the strings tight and help them stay in tune." You told her. "They work like fine tuners, but the change is more drastic." You place a finger next to the fine tuners if your instrument, and Mina stares in awe.

Mina enjoys testing herself on how much she can remember too, and it fairly decent at it

"Hey Baby, this black part is called a fingerboard, right?" Mina blurted, making you stop counting the beats of your song. "Yeah, it is." You hummed, smiling. "Yes!" She cheered.

She'll probably learn a few things about actual notes too

Mostly because she'll be in the room while you practice

"F sharp... G... F sharp— oh shit, thats a slur... gosh, I cant stand those sometimes." You mumbled, making Mina walk up behind you. She placed her chin on your shoulder and wrapped her arms around you.

"Slur? Whats that? And F sharp? Is there an F dull too?" You spurred. You laughed and shook your head. "This is a slur—" You pointed to the slur on your sheet music. "It basically connects the notes, and means you have to play them in a single bow movement." You told her, she nodded.

"They're hard sometimes, you have to move your bow at a certain speed to fit how ever many notes you have into a single movement, and of course remember to play the notes and not separate them." Mina hummed and 'ohh' as she began to understand.

"And there's no F dull baby, its called F natural, and you just move your second finger next to your first, instead of spacing them." You played F sharp, then F natural as she watched your fingers to hear and see the difference.

Depending on how much you practice, she'll probably know enough to play your violin herself really soon

And assuming you're in a real orchestra as a professional violinist, Mina comes to as many performances as she can and tells you how great you did afterwards

"You guys sounded soooo good, especially on that first song, it was my favorite. Will you play it for me again sometime?"

DENKI

Totally honest, you could info dump about the same part of your violin 100 times and he'll never remember it

But he is really supportive, and enjoys healing you play

Usually asks about different parts of your violins body

"Baby, do these holes have a name?" Denki asked you, tracing the line of the holes. "They're called f-holes." You said bluntly, knowing how he'd react.

"HA, F-HOLES—"

"OUT."

He especially likes coming home and hearing you practice after a stressful day

He'll probably ask you to play until he's out of the shower so he can listen properly

Of course, youre not perfect, so you mess up when playing for him

"Hm? Why'd you stop?" Denki asked you. "Sorry, I forgot to put in the slur on those last notes." You apologized. "Whats a slur?" Denki questioned, looking at the sheet music. "Its basically when you connect two or more notes with one bow movement."

He probably tries to play a slur himself

And its a royal catastrophe

He can't even hold the bow right, and you have to teach him how for 10 min straight using a pencil as an example (that's how I learned to hold mine)

Despite your violin being in tune, it somehow sounded like the pegs slipped or something, even on open strings

So Denki definitely can't play, but he sure enjoys listening to you do it

And he wouldn't miss an opportunity to hear it for the world

So he comes to allll your concerts

Usually, his favorite songs are ones that are really fast and intense

Probably gets upset if you aren't in a position where he can see you

"You guys played really good up there! But I couldn't see you." 😔

[lowkeysebastianstan]

100% agree with you about the misogyny in seb's fandom. I don't think I've ever cared who he's dated. I had to take a step back from him tho bc of *his* actions. He's taken *3* international beach trips in 4 months in the middle of a pandemic. Two of which are being used as loopholes to get his gf in the u.s. which has me side eyeing that aspect, but even then they're not quarantining properly in a high risk country before coming here. That's *my* issue w him rn-Covid needs to be taken seriously

yeah, i’ve not either. nor have i with any of the male celebrities i’ve been fans of, their private life has never been mine or any other fan’s business imo. 

but of course, i’m still shellshocked from being a fan of benedict Cumberbatch and the treatment of his wife. which, even in fandom standards, is just mindblowing. and so when i see this behaviour by another man’s fans, i get on edge. and frankly, i don’t give a sh*t if she actually did smt r*cist 5 yrs ago, bc that’s also a huge problem, the way the left, which i assume most all sensible ppl to be on, behaves like ‘one strike and you’re out’, you’re not allowed to learn and grow, ever. 

although, you know, hemsworth donned a warbonnet a few yrs ago, and apologised, but then he’s a guy, so. james gunn wrote ph*ophilic tweets, but eh, let him come back. rdj did ACTUAL bl*ckface in a movie, but hey, he’s fine. oh, and y’know, henry cavill basically said it was dangerous to approach a woman after #metoo, and that ‘a woman should be chased’. but he’s everyone’s f*cking darling. jason momoa said he ‘was lucky to get to rape beautiful women’ at a con. benedict cumberbatch used the word ‘col*ured’ in an interview back in, i wanna say 2013, yeah, he was crucified then, even if the word doesn’t have the same connotations in the UK, but eh, i can’t say i’ve heard much abt it since. anthony mackie? he said ‘a woman’s role is to make a man a sandwich’. but he seems all the f*cking rage these days. (i’m doing these off the top of my head, so there’s a lot of paraphrasing, but you’ll get the drift.)

and of course, sebastian himself doesn’t exactly have a stellar record, but you know what? he learned and changed and he became someone i’ve admired a lot for some of the work he’s done that has focused and supported women. point is, even when they were confronted with all that, they weren’t shamed and called slurs, were they? and the partners of famous women aren’t either, they’re just envied? they’re not called golddiggers or sl*ts or... i struggle to think of male slurs, which is just so telling, but whatevs. 

(and no, don’t @ me, i totally think that all these men deserve more chances, not only for this but for many, many mistakes and unwoke things they have done and are gonna do at some point, because we all do. we slip up and do things we later realise was wrong, and we reflect and we regret and we evolve and we become better.)

but, no. not if you’re the girlfriend of an admired man. nono, then gods above and below, save you if you’re caught out bc you’re the f*cking devil. then you’re a wh*re and a b*mbo and a pr*stitute and a b*tch, it’s such fun! and if you wore a kimono at a party, something that’s encouraged by ppl in japan btw, then you’re a r*cist version of all those things. and honestly? whatever has been found on her since, i don’t give a flying f*ck. bc that was more than enough for the vitriol that ensued earlier this summer. no matter who he’s with, there will always be something. the way women treat other women, the way we’re conditioned to do it from birth, it’s just insane. it’s disgusting and hurtful and dangerous, why do we do it? i’m just. sick of it.

again, sebastian’s behaviour is dumb. it’s gross and privileged and stupid. i defended him somewhat after ibiza bc spain was trying to get back on it’s feet, i didn’t even catch that he was in, was it bermuda?, but now it’s getting harder. yeah, the filming and pics are stalkerish af, and i don’t condone that, not even a little, but also i do think it’s wrong to do what he/they’re doing. it’s disrespectful to everyone who’s still locked down for their life, and it’s potentially downright dangerous, depending on what measures that are in place. hell, i took a domestic trip a month ago, before cases had started spiking here, and i still feel guilty bc i know so many other’s can’t. and it’s especially galling to other americans considering the insane situation there, and yeah, kinda rich coming from someone ranting abt irresponsible beach goers in may. 

huh. apparently i wansn’t quite done after all. but then, when am i really ever.

[lonelyshrimp]

What happened with your roomies if you don’t mind me asking...?

 Yknow what I’m in a mood and they don’t know my tumblr (haha they think I’m a cisstraight girl lol) so let’s get into some shit. Imma put everything under a read more bc imma rant a bit and this is gonna get long.

TW: food, unsanitary (general things not being kept clean, typically bathroom and kitchen related), drug use, fighting, slurs

tl;dr if you dont feel like reading this beast:

They steal what food i dare leave out in the kitchen rather tan keep in my room

They slam doors excessively, fight, yell horrible things to each other, have friends over yelling at like 2 am (last night for example)

Leave the doors unlocked and open?? We cant even lock the front door anymore??? (Dw the doors to our rooms all have locks. If I’m in my room or out of the house, my door is locked)

Constantly throw around the r slur. Like. All the time. Including one person having called me it. Y i k e s

One person keeps smoking in the house even though i’ve asked numerous times (and even have a note on my door) asking people to please smoke outside, it gives me headaches. You are physically hurting me stop.

Don’t Clean Anything. The kitchen is a wreck. The toilets are constantly clogging, I Am In Hell.

For context: the house is a one story house divided into a main floor and finished basement. It’s a rooming house and the basement is largely seperate from upstairs. (They have a kitchen door that they keep closed and locked.) The stairs to the basement are split into two smaller flights, with a landing in between the floors. That’s where the side door is. The public spaces upstairs are the kitchen (connects to stairs), the hallway, and the two bathrooms (big main one, tiny water closet by the front door). The rest of the upstairs is split into five rooms. For comprehension sake, we’ll call my roommates: The Couple (M&F), A, T, and J.

Mmkay lets start with the least egregious and move our way up, shall we? Theft! Of anything and everything! No one can have anything out in the public areas if they actually care about it. It. Will. Get. Stolen. Now, I have a mini fridge and the second biggest room here, so I’m lucky in that 99% of my groceries, as well as all my other belongings, fit in my room. There’s just a wee problem: I don’t have a freezer. Not to fear, past naïve me thought, I’ll just clean out and use the locked freezer since I still have the keys for that fridge! (We have two fridges and food theft was a problem beforehand and so me and my friend who lived here cleaned out the second fridge to use as our own and kept it locked.) I decided to do this after I had bought myself some ice cream, wrote my name on the top, and put it in the main freezer. I go to have some ice cream later that week, I open the tub for the first time (as in I removed the seal holding the lid onto the tub) to find that someone eaten half the tub of ice cream while making it seem like it hadn’t been opened. I know it happened at home bc the spoon marks were clear as day and I have to walk 20 minutes back from the grocery store. That woulda melted by then (Also I would’ve noticed at the store that. The tub was hella lopsided??? And way too light???) So yea of course I’m ticked now, I spent 6 bucks on that bro like just ask or get ur own??? So I put it the other freezer, and for a while it’s fine. Next month I decide to treat myself to some frozen waffles and some chicken strips and come home to find that the hinges holding the locks onto the doors of the fridge were torn out of the fridge/freezer doors. Like. The screws were pried outta this metal door rendering the locks completely useless (to the point i wouldn’t even be able to put the hinges back on.) And the cherry on top?? My ice cream was gone!!! Hope u enjoyed it, asshole. So whatever. Fine. I put my food away and. a week later?? Im like “Man i could go for some waffles rn”. I bought 2 8 packs. One chocolate chip, one cinnamon (y’all i literally buy the cheapest ones Zehrs sells. 2,19$ a box y’all. not even eggos). Surprise surprise!! The entire box of choccy chip ones GONE. Mind u, i wrote my name on all of these boxes, as well as a very large “DO NOT EAT”. so i begrudgingly had a couple (note that, 2) cinnamon waffles and move on. A couple days later I go to have some more and. The waffles are completely gone. Out of a total of 16 waffles, ya boy got a solid 2. (It’s worth noting that there was a single waffle left, but at 0,27$ a waffle, I didn’t mind leaving the box on the table with a note basically reading “these are cheap af, buy ur own bitch”.) (I didn’t swear that much tho)

I’d add the bike to the list but i can’t confirm nor deny that one of my roommates stole my tires and seat off my bike (although M does work on bikes all the time so man idk.)

Next up: wow people here are l o u d. I’m talking slamming doors all the time, slamming things around, yelling, playing music wildly loud. It’s awful. Like. You can just. Close the door quietly? Stop slamming things around please? It’s awful because loud sudden noises make me panic and lemme tell ya, wakin up at eight am bc your a-hole roommate decided to slam the door eight times bc the front door is broken because someone took the border around the jamb off instead of fixing it so we can actually?? lock that door?? because it doesnt quite fit in the jamb and so the only wat to lock it was the chain lock and. someone took that too so thats fun :)))))). The side door isn’t that much better. We have a code lock and. No One Ever Locks It. Like. I’ll come outta room and?? It’s just open????? Close the door???????????

The worst, however, is the fucking fighting. The Couple love to argue all the time. and yell at each other and slam the doors or smashing shit and they yell pretty awful things to each other. Like. I’ve heard M call his gf some awful shit. It’s worse when they have people over too. The other day there were like. 14 cops in here bc of them at like 2 am. Cue me, 2 am, trying to watch a livestream and seeing like??? Six cop cars pull up????? Wh a t????? Not fun not good for my brain.

God and. What is with everyone and the r slur??? Like what?? there are so many words you can choose stop using that word. Like okay the other night someone?? took the dc adapter for the wireless modem and one of the dudes downstairs as well as the couple were looking to see if they had a compatible dc adapter and so i just decided to wait?? and i just spaced out a bit okay whatever i was lookin at the wall like i do and fuckin. the couple had a couple friends over and one of em was chillin between the kitchen and the hall and M yells out from his room “Hey don’t you feel weird with this creepy ass bitch standing next to you? Like what is she, m*ntally r*tarded?” like wow okay dude i’m literally not doing anything. Luckily his friends reaction was basically “?? She lives here?? She can stand there if she wants??” (wow referring to myself as she feels weird and wrong).

A big problem I have is I feel like theres a community in this house that I just don’t fit into? Part of it is I’m like. the only person here who doesn’t do drugs of any kind?? Like I have nothing against ppl who use drugs like whatever bro, but it feels super othering to me when i can’t relate to anyone here because of it. That and. Getting T in particular but really just anyone but A to respect me asking that if you’re going to smoke anything to do it outside because weed and to a lesser extent cigarette smoke trigger my sensory disorder and causes me pain and causes sensory overload and I still find myself asking people to smoke outside.Like I’ve never been unreasonable and said “no drugs in the house” or some bs. I’m just asking u to respect my disability thanks.And like?? I’ll get into this in a second but there were needles in the toilet?? Bro throw them out properly.

And now: Hell.

Can no one clean up after themselves?? Do your dishes. If theres food left on your plate, throw it out first, don’t dump it in the sink. Seriously the kitchen sink is fucked. The kitchen is gross. The microwave ugh ugh ugh no thanks. No one can clean everything. This is why all my cookware and dishes are in my room. That way I can make sure I 1) Still Own It and 2) Its clean and usable. I clean them as I go and just use my own shit.

Nothing compares to the bathrooms, though. It seems like every other day one of the toilets are clogged. Last week there were spoons in the sink?? Like at least 10 spoons. In the bathroom sink. The floor is dirty because no one owns a mop and?? there was one in the kitchen?? I haven’t seen it in like a month. And the worst of all. Okay, it’s really bad when every one up here is between like. 16 and 19 I think? And I had to put up a sign in the bathroom asking people to flush when you’re done??? And I still have to flush before I can use the washroom???? And it feels like every week or so. The toilet’s clogged. Oh! I forgot to mention that the water closet doesn’t even have a doorknob anymore. Someone took it. But wait, it gets worse. Seriously if extremely unsanitary things bother u, stop reading now.

Twice in the past month I’ve had to contact the landlord because the toilets were beyond clogged. The first time was bad but oh lord nothing compares to the second time (aka last week). The first time was your pretty standard toilet clogs and backs up and its very gross. I contacted the landlord and it was fixed the next day and it was fine. For. Two Days. Im serious. See. People here have a real issue it seems of “The person before me didn’t flush so neither will I”, leading to a toilet bowl full of like. a half a roll of toilet paper and waste. F u n. What that led to was the toilet clogging, people not doing anything about it, and continuing to use it. Eventually the toilet bowl was full, so trow a shopping bag over the lid to mark the toilet as “Out of order” and move on to the other one.Both toilets were completely unusable. I emailed the landlord and i don’t know if either they or one of the people living here contacted them, but the old landlord and old property manager were here the other day to clean them out and fix them?? and yea among all the standard waste you’d expect in a toilet, there were needles? Like buddy theres a trash can right there? I know u had the needle caps bc they were in there too. just... disgusting...

bro this is just what i can think of off the top of my head i know theres more but oh no this is so long now. just. this is a lot more detail than u wanted but i wanted to get this out of my brain??