#damn it I repeated an ending in the same line how awkward

[deepwithintheabyss]

writing patterns

rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

tagged by @waffleinator-inator @anawrites3 and @vellaphoria

as I don't have 10 posted fics I'll be sharing some wip lines as well

Stupid Things [Jason/Tim]

Gotham rarely saw such beautiful days as this one.

Catch 22 [Slade/Tim]

Slade grunted satisfied as his release hit him, and pushed his hips almost impossible deeper into the lithe body beneath him. He inhaled once, savoring the feel of hot cum sloshing around his cock, before he leaned back with a deep exhale, so he could smirk down triumphantly at the trussed up little bird. With a half-lidded eye, he drank in the sight beneath him.

Sometimes all it takes is Love and Time [Slade/Dick]

Dick had grown up with rigidous meal plans and a minimum amount of what he should eat. It just came with being someone who was very physical active. This hadn't changed when his parents died and he came under the care of Bruce Wayne, if anything his food intake was only micro-managed more. The man drew up many plans as to how much he should eat if he was to go out as Robin.

Trust bleeds Red [Dick/Tim]

“It’s okay to be scared Tim” he whispers, as he caresses one soft cheek, relishing in the touch of warm skin on his, the way his angry rosy flush contrasts so nicely with Dick’s pale hand. He skillfully ignores the glare being sent his way, as Tim tries to twist away from his cold touch and the eye-contact he’s forcing onto him. “But please don’t fight me on this, I only want what’s best for you”

And when the darkness comes, you shall call my name [Jason & Tim]

Hood grinned under the helmet, breaking into the tower had been a fun challenge, he had debated about if he wanted to test out his old codes but in the end decided against it. He still didn’t know how he wanted the reveal to go exactly so it was better to not give the old man too many hints and give up the game too early.

WIP Sequel to "Trust bleeds Red" [Dick/Tim]

They’re in one of the living rooms when Tim finally breaks.

WIP OJT Week Day 3 [Jason/Tim]

Jason’s body had been trying to kill him ever since he regained clarity in the pit.

WIP Rock Hard Tension [Dick/Tim]

Tim had always been too tense for anything and everything in his life, but he made it work. He did stretches and bending and being a vigilante even if his body screamed and protested him. He learned how to move with and not against his body to keep himself from harm.

running out of good wips to share here 😅

WIP Feral Alpha Tim wooing Omega Jason [Jason/Tim]

Struggling in Ivy's bonds Tim curses his luck. Of course he would get caught on the one night where he really could not deal with this. His brain and patience were equally fried from all the posturing he had to do and put up with in the last few hours. Galas were the worst and in Tims opinion they could all burn in hell, but being a public figure meant he had to attend them and play along, put on a nice face and smile as if he he enjoyed getting his nose assaulted by the posturing alphas and omegas that loved to crowd him for his status alone. And the few that didn't came for his appearance. Alphas crowding him about how he looked like the prettiest O they have ever seen. Talking about how they could give him everything he wanted if he just let them, how he would look so pretty dominated and bent down. How he would make a beautiful bitch.

WIP RedRobinYum [Tim/Any]

Red Robin groaned as Nightwing pushed him across the desk. “Careful,” he whispered, “I'm still quite sore from sparring.”

I know I already reached 10 but because some of these are wips that might or might not get rewritten I'm gonna share 2 more

WIP Waffle Prompt [Jason/Tim/Steph]

Tim groaned when he caught sight of Steph entering the library, she looked around for a second before spotting him and made her way over grinning like the maniac she was. He was sure that if they weren’t in a library she would have whooped as well, drawing the attention of half of the college just so she could embarrass him more.

WIP “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” [Dick/Tim]

“You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you” Dick breathed into Tim’s hair. Tim only grumbled and shifted closer in his sleep, pressing close to Dick. “Come on” he coaxed gently, shaking the sleeping figure softly. Tim grumbled some more, clearly trying to cling to sleep but failing. One eye opened up to glare at him, but the heat of the gaze was tampered by the haziness of sleep still clinging to him. Inwardly, Dick cooed at the fact that Tim felt safe enough around him not to spring to immediate attention at the slightest disturbance. 

Already I can tell I like to start with long lines

Wasn't sure if this meant just the first sentence or like the first complete line/paragraph, so I went with paragraph

and I'm tagging uuhhh

@bi-bats @ragnarokhound @littlemourningstarr @cadkitten @zeroducks-2 @disniq and myself because apparently tumblr wants me to do that @deepwithintheabyss ??

[kleewie]

i don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you (and i)

summary: dating tip? just don't. for celebrities, romantic relationships are absolutely forbidden. the slightest hint of one could ruin your career. but are you even listening to the lecture? doubt it, 'cause you're doing the complete opposite. (alternatively, a celebrity au featuring secret relationships.)

→ featuring: childe, & ayato (you can really tell who my faves are)

→ warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, slight cursing, established relationship, mentions of alcohol and drinking, tension, actual cursing, unreliable reader pov, gender-neutral reader (i apologize if i missed things, i haven't proofread it yet)

→ a/n: so, hi! long time no see? i was pretty stressed with college and well, i'm back! i began writing this last year and finally got the courage to finish it. but here it is and i hope you enjoy it :> please let me know if you like it <3 it really makes my day!

credits to @dumplingsjinson for the prompts!

beware, lengthy post ahead! more under the cut!

the debut.

“forbidden?” you repeat.

“absolutely forbidden!” your manager says. “a rookie with no fanbase? a scandal will ruin your reputation! you're absolutely forbidden from dating anyone.”

you sigh. he's being too overdramatic.

you will never be in a relationship, you're absolutely sure. how can you? with no time for yourself as it is, dating someone with the limited hours you already have sounds impractical.

besides, you're too busy training and practicing for auditions.

remembering it now, you want to laugh.

i told you so, your thoughts chastise.

god, you should've listened.

childe, the actor

“that's a wrap!” the director cheers.

your eyes glisten as you hold back tears. it's embarrassing, you think. so damn embarrassing.

you've been repeating the same kissing scene multiple times now. obviously, the director cheers for finally completing the take and not because you did a good job.

childe pats your back. “you did great,” he says, with a smile.

but you know the gesture so goddamn well. the same nonchalant cold grin he throws at everyone that he now directs at you? oh, he's angry alright.

for what reason? who knows. you're too busy wallowing in self-despair over how terrible your acting is.

the scene is supposedly simple. it involves the second lead, who happens to be you, confessing their love to the leading man, resulting to a spontaneous kiss.

yet, you're fumbling over the lines, acting so out of character, tripping over set, incorrectly initiating the kiss at awkward angles—the whole time-wasting squander.

“what's going on?” childe eventually asks, once he arrives at your shared apartment. his bag drops to the floor with a flop. “you're acting strange. the entire crew sees it, i see it, the director sees it—what if he decides to fire you? what will you do then?”

you swallow dryly. you left the set early hoping childe's hectic schedule prompted him to forget the whole issue. yet, here he is finally bringing up the conversation after what feels like a month's worth of tension.

as you sit on the sofa chair, your fingers massage the bridge of your nose. breathe in, breathe out. you repeat. don't cry. you try to calm yourself down as a sob tries to break through.

eight months, you've been a couple.

but, there are some things you're afraid to say.

each year, the biggest tabloid newspaper in the country releases an article on celebrity dating scandals. a month ago they released one single page article about a popular actor dating a newbie actress. it barely had any juicy details, just a simple paragraph of a somebody dating a nobody.

yet, it did not end well for them. and you're terrified; for when it could happen to you.

you imagine it. dozens of messages and multiple missed phone calls on your cell as your name becomes the next talk of the town. the headline reads: revealed! a nobody actress, the second-lead from the northland bank saga currently dates the nation's boyfriend, childe!

it terrifies you. you could lose your job. lose what you love doing the most. and you could get tossed aside like an old sweater under someone's bed, left to rot and decompose.

so, yes. you hesitated earlier at set because you don't want anyone to connect the dots. to look at the kiss between you two and notice something amiss. to speculate that there's more to your relationship than what meets the eye. to realize you look at him as more than a co-star. to see how much you're in love with him. to realize the both of you are dating.

“it's not easy.” you say, releasing a sigh.

two years you've been in the business. rookies barely get any roles as it is. being in a well-received rendition of an old romance drama is a once in a blue moon opportunity and you can't risk someone finding out about your relationship.

“camera shy? no—you've kissed heaps of actors for that school drama.”

you mumble, “two people aren't heaps of actors, tartaglia.”

“then what is the problem?”

childe saunters to where you sit. he leans towards you and presses his palm on the head of the sofa, trapping your body between his and the chair. childe's eyes meet yours and you instantly look away.

he knows you well enough to comprehend that look on your face. the way you hide your clammy hands behind you, the manner of your eyes staring only at your feet, how your body tucks itself into the corner of the seat.

“me?” childe whispers.

he places a hand under your jaw. his thumb softly pushes your chin upwards so your eyes meet his.

“why?” he pleads.

“you won't understand.”

“i will if you tell me,” he says, holding your gaze. seeing how you relentlessly persist on keeping your mouth shut, he shakes his head. “oh, please tell me.”

you hesitate. you tell him and then what?

you could say: hey, childe! i'm afraid of our relationship being discovered. i'll be hated by your fans. you'll be constantly drained by my crying and whining. your reputation would take a hit regardless of how popular you are and—and then he'll finally realize how exhausting and annoying it is being with you.

your self-deprecation loves to pull you deeper into its sapping embrace. you're nothing, it mouths. childe would dump you and find some other actor or actress to date. god. it would be so easy. with his popularity, good looks, and charming personality, he'd find a better and talented rising-star the moment he chucks you out the front door.

so, you shake your head firmly.

“tell me, please.” he whispers.

you cross your arms, and look away.

“are you sick?”

you shake your head.

“somebody hurting you on set?”

again, you shake your head.

childe pauses, “...do you have feelings for someone else?”

“no!”

“then what is the damn problem?”

“nothing!” you exasperate, furrowing your brows together.

childe takes your reluctance as distrust and it ignites his irritation. do you not trust him? is he that insignificant to you? what are you hiding? hell, did you fall for the main lead of the show, zhongli? or do you not love him anymore? god, he can feel himself suffocate in resentment.

is he so unimportant that you'd prefer to keep the problem to yourself? it makes his blood boil; how he'd do anything for you, but you'd rather keep it to yourself and suffer alone.

“tell me.” childe scowls as he watches your lips quiver.

you keep your mouth firmly shut.

“fine, hold your tongue.” he sneers, “i understand. i really do, baby. it's not about the cameras, the flashing lights, the audience.”

childe brushes his lips against yours, “you wouldn’t kiss me like that in public, though, would you?” he releases his hold on your chin and his sharp eyes meet yours. “it’s only behind closed doors when you care to act like we’re each other’s.”

with a hooded jacket in one hand and a face mask in another, childe swiftly leaves the apartment with a slam of a door.

leaving you alone with your wretched thoughts.

more under the cut!

despite walking out the flat hours ago, childe still reverberates jealousy and anger; pure envy at how normal you act around everyone else yet, around him you're too guarded; and angry at himself for saying those awful words to your face.

he smacks his forehead on the steering wheel. childe acknowledges how childish he's been acting. you aren't ready to talk, and he shouldn't be forcing you to speak out your difficulties.

surely, the stress is piling up on you. he knows the hours you've been working on set, memorizing lines, practicing moves—again, he thumps his head on the wheel.

stupid, he curses. control your damn temper next time.

he reaches for the box of blueberry cheesecake on the front passenger seat. subconsciously, he drove two hours (and back) to the bakery's main branch as its side branches were sold out of your favorite cake. and he knows how much you love the pastry.

however, his body slouches in the parked car outside the apartment. the long drive works miracles with his anger, but the courage to actually walk inside and apologize never comes.

the ding of a text draws his attention. ‘go inside and beg for forgiveness, brat.’ yoimiya, a fellow actress from the same company as him, says. the woman is always in the loop and well-informed.

a shiver goes down his spine. if you told yoimiya about the argument, he's absolutely sure you're furious. you'd only speak to her as a last-ditch effort; knowing her personality she'd pummel him to bits while you watch.

as a result, he stands inside the apartment, one hand knocking on your bedroom door. however, instead of tasting blood, he hears your stifled sobs. the abrupt sound convinces him to turn the knob and enter the room.

the illumination from the hallway brightens the bedroom, shining a bit of light on your face. you lay on the bed with your knees to your chest, with a blanket over your waist. your reddened cheeks and tear-stained eyes makes his stomach churn.

“please don't cry, baby.” childe cooes, kneeling by your bedside. he leans over you, his fingers gently grip your cheeks. “i'm so sorry.”

the sudden apology sprouts pools from your eyes. his thumbs brush the water off your face and softly says, “i shouldn't have said—please, don't cry. it's my fault for taking my anger out on you.”

“i'm afraid of losing you,” you whimper. “if they find out—oh god—they'll tear me apart. i'm nothing compared to you. i'd lose everything. i might even lose you—”

“never, i will never leave you. no matter what happens,” childe interjects.

you furrow your brows, sobbing. “i'm no one—too difficult,” you hiccup. “you'll throw me away. i'm too whiny and too draining. if they find out... you'll see all the comments about how ugly—”

“breathe, baby.” he settles himself on your bed and softly places you on his lap. “you're gorgeous. you're not draining, and frankly, you're cute when you whine.”

you bury your face into his neck and continue, “i'm serious, childe. you'll get exhausted. the articles will talk about you too!”

“articles, mhm. they're just articles.” he hums.

irritation begins to set in. was he this clueless? you release another sob, “they're not just articles. they'll nitpick every single thing you do! oh—look at this newbie getting together with childe. oh, they suck at acting! why is childe even—”

childe gently places his palm on your neck, coaxing you to meet his gaze. “are you talking about the tabloid from last month?”

you sigh, “what else am i talking about?” and instantly you sense his laughter resonate. “are you laughing?”

“you're adorable, baby.” he breathes, nuzzling his face on your neck.

“you're making fun of me! what the hell, childe?”

he releases a sigh, pausing his laughter. “the tabloids every month. they're paid. companies pay them to talk about their idols for publicity.”

your face contorts into confusion, “who would willingly—they talked about lumine all month because of the article! you know she's my favorite actress. why would they willingly put her on the spotlight like that?”

“publicity, baby.”

you shake your head, “it makes no sense.”

“oh, it does.” childe hums. “of course, they'd seek permission first. it boosted views for her drama, didn't it? lumine did say she got extra for the views and switched apartments.”

“yeah, wait—you knew this whole time and didn't bother to tell me?”

he chuckles, “that's what you get for keeping these things to yourself for a month.” he squeezes the bridge of your nose.

“you're terrible.”

“love you too, baby.” he teases, “and besides, if a tabloid threatened to do something—” his thumb gently traces the skin around your neck. “—i'll keep you safe.”

a soft smile graces your features. “...i'm just not ready for anyone to find out. yet, anyway.”

childe hums, “we'll do it on your terms, okay? whenever you're ready.”

“sure, i guess you can keep me for a while longer. until you throw me away and find the next rookie to—”

childe's soft laughter sparks a flutter in your stomach. he would never do such a thing. the moment he first laid his eyes on you on set, heard your beautiful laugh between takes, listened to your jokes while practicing lines, and god, seen your angelic smile? the things he would do to keep you as his.

“never.” a cheeky grin appears on his lips, “i'll take care of you.”

bonus: five years later

your phone rings. the vibration continues on and off, signaling multiple inbox messages. you swipe your phone to see texts from several of your close friends.

‘i know you told me you were okay with it, but i didn't think he'd try to do it so soon. i tried but he's too hardheaded.’ says yoimiya.

‘congratulations! when's the wedding? i'm kidding. don't kill childe.’ says thoma, an actor from your same company.

‘sorrows, sorrows, prayers.’ says venti, your current co-star.

you even receive a message from childe himself.

‘good morning, baby. i'm completely fault-free. simply honoring your wishes as a devoted fiancé should.’

attached to a message was a link to a video entitled: please don't kill me honey.

you click the link.

the video's blurry, as if taken by a cellphone. you recognize thoma as the person videoing the whole scene, as he turns the camera to face him before focusing it on a woman—seemingly a fan of childe. she wears merch from his most recent drama.

a fan goes on stage chosen by a random lottery draw. the said fan wins the chance to interview childe, who was the guest of the day for talk show, and ask one question.

the girl hastily walks on stage, holding a microphone given by staff.

“um. hello, childe!”

the audience screams as the huge video screen focuses on your lover's face. he waves a quick ‘hello’ and the crowd yells louder.

the girl hesitates, “are you dating anyone right now?”

childe twists the microphone in his hands. “hm? right now... i'm not dating anyone.”

the crows sighs in relief, utterly happy their favorite leading actor continues to be single.

but you see the outline of a smirk flashing on his face, and you instantly know there's a deeper meaning to that sentence. “but, it's difficult to say... since we're not really dating as of the moment.”

quietly, you hear the voice of yoimiya whispering, “don't do it.” the camera now focusing on her, trying to get herself on stage. thoma flips the camera around to face it on himself, waving a hello, apparently enjoying the drama. he then focuses the camera on the wide screen, featuring childe's face.

to add mayhem into the mix, childe continues, “i don't think being engaged to your partner falls under dating. we're way past that.”

the interview ends with the audience screaming their lungs out in disbelief, while childe's laugh resonates the whole auditorium.

ayato, company director

“oh, them?” ayato's steady gaze meet yours, pressing his lips in a tight-lipped smile. “they're a friend of mine.”

friend. it echoes in your mind, repeating incessantly. friend. friend. friend.

dread creeps into the pit of your stomach akin to a quick flick of a lighter. after all this time, your stomach lurches. is that all he thinks of you?

god, you need a drink.

the businessmen before you smile, prompting you to return the favor. subsequently, you humbly introduce yourself as just an ‘actor in the industry’. and they laugh. of course they do.

who wouldn't know you? a multi award-winning movie and television star with piles of nominations. so modest, they say. so kind, they praise. you grin, the smile not reaching your eyes, thanking them for their compliments.

but you're so accustomed to their fake smiles, ingenuine flattery, and sweet talk; you never truly know what's actually honest and real—eyes flickering to your azure-haired partner—no, who's honest and real.

you swallow the thought down.

as if aware of the invisible daggers thrown his way, ayato's gaze meets yours. his lips are pressed firmly together, eyes devoid of warmth.

not now, his expression conveys.

you narrow your own eyes, irritation burning through your corneas. as much as you want to start an argument in front of his investors, you agree to his silent insistence. after all it's his gala; one he's tirelessly prepared for over several months.

so you bite your tongue and smile: one honed by years of acting—fake yet strangely genuine.

it's not strong enough. you say, sipping wine with shaky hands. earlier, you left ayato to his fellow businessmen using the excuse of needing a bathroom break, a reason to which he obliged.

you stare at the elaborate party before you, wishing you could go home. the gala swiftly dissolved your social battery, aided by forced mingling and bitterness. a friend, your consciousness repeats. always a friend. so you sit on a chair by the wall, sipping drinks like water.

suddenly, the hairs of your neck stand on end. you sense his presence behind you, prompting a glance through your peripheral vision.

“careful, darling.” ayato's says, tone smooth yet laced with warning. “i'd rather not have you collapsing. your lovely face wouldn't compliment these filthy floors.”

you tense immediately, shoulders stiffening. “reverting back to pet names, i see?”

ayato's hand now rests on your shoulder, his thumb brushing your soft skin. “what seems to be the issue? i doubt it's due to the eight glasses of wine you've consumed in one sitting.”

you roll your tongue in your mouth, practicing the words. let's break up. you bite your tongue. let's see other people. besides, he wouldn't care would he? it's not as if he's been acknowledging you as someone he's been dating, has he? hiding your relationship from his business partners is one thing, but concealing it from closest friends? his family? that's an entirely different matter altogether.

a friend, he says to his business partners.

a star from the company, he answers to his closest friends.

a companion, he whispers to his family.

you're sick and tired of it. all of it.

raising the wineglass to your lips, you drown the drink in one go. you raise two fingers signaling the waiter for another drink.

ayato sighs and you think you feel his hand on your neck tighten, ever so slightly. “you've reached your limit with wine, dear.”

soon, the waiter arrives with three more glasses on his tray. ayato's disapproving glare compels the waiter to scurry across the ballroom floor, steering clear of you.

you click your tongue and begin, “who says so?”

“your fiancé,” he mutters, voice dripping with venom.

you immediately scoff. “sure. for your sake, i'll pretend you mentioned that earlier.”

before ayato could retort, the presence of another individual calls his attention; his younger sister, ayaka.

“brother, the sangonomiya heir's requesting your presence.”

he sighs, irritation etching his features. yet, you blink, catching a subtle shift in his expression—seemingly twisting from annoyance to something resembling relief at the mention of sangonomiya's name.

you swallow the bitter thought.

“watch them for me, could you? i'd rather not have them find a server willing to disobey my instructions and serve them a drink,” ayato whispers, his tone betraying a hint of tension that doesn't go unnoticed.

ayaka nods. her consent prompts the older brother to depart, heading towards the misty rose-pink heir who stands at the opposite side of the ballroom.

ayaka says the inevitable, “you should let him know it bothers you.”

“...i'm not sure what you're referring to.”

her gaze follows yours, observing the giggling and cheerful countenances of the kamisato and sangonomiya heirs. they seem to be enjoying their time together. as always, you remark.

“they're just close friends, you know.”

you click your tongue. “like how him and i are just friends?”

ayaka sighs, understanding your implication. “you know what i mean.”

sangonomiya's hand on your partner's shoulder elicits an exasperated sigh from you. “thoma told me they were to be married if i wasn't here.”

“the man always running his mouth—” she takes a calming breath before continuing, “—but brother's very fond of you. i'm his sister, i should know.”

“then how come after dating him for five years, he still calls me his friend.” you pause, a hand sliding into the right pocket of your outfit. you absentmindedly play with the engagement ring inside. “i'm his fiancé, aren't i?”

“he has his reasons. petty reasons.”

you bite your tongue. or he's embarrassed of you.

you met the kamisato company heir two years after your debut as an idol. as you shifted towards acting, you developed a close relationship with his sister, a seasoned actress from the same company. eventually, she became the bridge that strengthened the bond between the two of you.

you dedicated yourself nonstop, evolving from a rookie actor to a multiple-nominee and winning star; all in the pursuit of being able to openly show off your relationship with ayato without it tarnishing your reputation.

however, when you're prepared to finally reveal your relationship, he isn't.

and it leaves you wondering, is there someone else?

you mean, you're hesitant to doubt the love of your life. but considering he's kept your relationship a secret from everyone for years, it's obvious he's adept at keeping things hidden.

even from you.

and the thought sours your mood.

excusing yourself once more to use the restroom, using the premise of consuming ten glasses of wine, you bid adieu to your favorite kamisato (at the moment). you instead head towards a secluded balcony away from prying eyes.

you stare at the garden below. your eyes quickly blink back the tears threatening to fall. not now, you hiss. don't do this to me, not right now.

“i assumed you would have retreated to your room by this point.” his voice murmurs, unnervingly composed.

you turn around to see your partner holding a glass of wine. his features remain blank, inscrutable.

maybe it's because of all the wine you've been drinking. you can't seem to tell between what's real or not.

“what did you discuss with kokomi?”

“i wasn't aware you were both on a first name basis.”

“answer the question.”

he smiles, “business as always.”

you huff and wrap your hands around your arms. “of course. just business.”

ayato immediately picks up the anger in your tone. he lays his palm on your forearm, gently pulling you towards him. “look at me,” he pleads, with a subtle trace of irritation in his voice.

you turn to look at his face, eyes glaring.

“i felt your glares the entire night.” he begins.

you shrug, smiling innocently. “...what ever do you mean?”

“don't toy with me, darling.”

as he enunciates his answer, it's as if the final thread of your patience snaps. does he still continue to feign innocence and lie to your face?

last month he proposed and you were overjoyed. you then expected a shift in your relationship; the final unveiling of your engagement to the public. you gave him your permission, a definitive “i'm ready for everyone to know.”

yet thirty days later the engagement remains concealed leaving only a few of his friends (thoma) and a few family members (ayaka) knowing about your updated relationship.

if it was the ayato from two years ago, he would be delighted—ecstatic even—to reveal the truth. he might have used the gala today as an avenue to scream to the world, this person and i are in love.

but he didn't.

so the weight of your feelings began to drag you down; it almost feels suffocating in a way. as if a ribbon labeled, he's ashamed, tightly winds around your insides, intricately tying them all together into a sophisticated bow sowing distrust whispering; he's hiding something.

your suspicions, coupled with his frequent visits this month to the sangonomiya estate, fueled your frustration until it erupted. if only he ceased pretending innocent, perhaps you would able to smile through the whole facade.

if only he didn't ask.

“i'm not naive. if you developed feelings for kokomi then you shouldn't have proposed.” you snap. “was it out of pity? did you feel so damn guilty that you chose to go through with the engagement instead of being honest about your feelings?”

ayato furrows his brows, mouth tightening in anger. “what are you talking about? i discuss private affairs with kokomi. business affairs.”

you laugh; one infused with irritation and disbelief. “don't tell me then. keep your stupid secrets.”

“do you want me to jot down a damn list detailing every single thing i do in a day?” he growls. “i won't divulge company secrets just because you feel like throwing a tantrum.”

your hands drift to the tie around his neck, tugging the crooked tie straight. “no. go ahead and keep your secrets.” you pause and roll the words with your tongue, “you're clearly very good at keeping secrets. you’ve kept me—us—as a secret for so long, so of course you’d be good at keeping fucking secrets.”

anger flares across his face. “you desired our relationship to remain a secret, and i respected your wishes.” he sneers, “i wanted to let the damn world know how much i'm in love with you yet, it was the opposite of what you desired.”

ayato releases his grip on you and strides back into the ballroom, but he halts right at the door to the balcony. “so don't dictate when i should reveal the truth simply because you've grown sick and tired of keeping me as your dirty, little secret.”

he finally departs; and you stay, tears pooling, with a profound ache in your heart.

ayato waltzes around the room in a nonchalant dance; yes, good to see you. he lies. how's business? he couldn't care less. enjoy the party! no, he wants everyone in the damn room to feel his wrath.

although he yearns to set the entire ballroom ablaze, ending the party prematurely would be ill-manned of him. so, ayato continues being a gracious and honorable host.

but he feels hollow. he envisions himself freezing the entire room in an icy gust, everyone turning into statues. he wants to sprint back into your arms and plead for you to listen.

he doesn't understand what came over him. why he lost his temper like that. typically, he'd manage your outbursts with composure and understanding. what happened? he doesn't know.

he attributes his outburst to the mounting pressure. the chronic lack of sleep and continuous exhaustion coming from his title as heir. perhaps it's the truth gnawing his skin; despite his powerful position atop the company, it can easily be ripped away with the flick of a wrist.

instead of spending time with his fiancé—he doesn't know if he still deserves to call you that, you probably threw away his ring the second he left the balcony—yet here he is, engaged in conversations with business associates he cares little about.

“brother?” ayaka calls. she finds him leaning against a railing of stairs. “i closed off the gardens.”

ayato swallows. he last saw you sneaking towards the grounds. “they're still on the grass?”

“yes.”

“they'll catch a cold.”

“they will.”

he glances at his sister. “they think i'm unfaithful.”

“i know,” she says matter-of-factly. “have you offered them any evidence to convince them otherwise?”

ayato stays silent.

“i know you care about them, brother.” ayaka sighs, “however, surprising them with a specially crafted ring and being petty when your entire relationship is at stake may not be the wisest move.”

he sighs.

“most especially if they suspect that your frequent visits to the sangonomiya manor are fueled by romantic feelings for its heiress, and not for their own wedding ring.”

after a while, ayato spots you lying on the grass in a starfish formation, having finally swallowed his pride. his eyes glaze over your features: red eyes, cheeks marked with tear stains, and an exhausted expression.

“can we talk?” he begins.

you spare a quick glance before turning your attention back to the night sky. “there's not much to talk about.”

“i'm not cheating,” he asserts.

“i know.”

“do you know, or have you resigned yourself to not knowing?”

“hm,” you hum. “a part of me entertains the thought of you cheating. yet an even smaller part absolutely knows that if you were truly cheating, you'd be more discreet. who, in their right mind, would inform thoma that you visited her manor?”

he chuckles, a laughter-less sound escapes him. “i understand i've been secretive. you have every right to assume i'm up to something indecent. but i have my reasons.” ayato confesses, kneeling beside your body. he places his hand inside his suit pocket, pulling up a black small box.

you instantly sit up. “you're horrible,” you cough, eyes widening as he opens the box to show a ring. “this entire time you were—god.”

“i placed a special order,” he mumbles. “i visited each day to ensure it was flawless, right down to the smallest details.”

“i'm so sorry.”

“don't be, love.” he breathes, “you had your reasons, and i was insistent on keeping it a surprise.”

relief floods your features. “good,” you whisper before tears well in your eyes.

the sound of your sobs breaks his heart. he immediately wraps his arms around you, brushing his lips on your cheeks.

“i'm sorry, darling,” he murmurs, kissing the skin above your brow. “i'm sorry for worrying you.”

“goddamn sadistic,” you sob. “you knew i was freaking out, but you just watched!”

he grins, “i have to admit, you look cute when you're jealous.”

a groan escapes you. “don't make me throw away both rings.”

“is that so? i should've ordered twenty spares.”

“no.” you scold.

“oh? look at my darling, so jealous,” he smirks, nuzzling his face into your neck. you then feel his lips press into a straight line. “you're not something i would ever try to hide. i would never be ashamed of our relationship.”

you laugh, “prove it.”

your smile faces seeing the smirk on his face. in that exact moment, you know that kamisato ayato, the preposterous god in human flesh, plans to do something grand and explosive to prove you otherwise.

“do not.” you begin, “we've talked about this. you cannot—you absolutely will not bribe the government to declare our wedding date as a national holiday!”

bonus: ten minutes before the clash

“is it getting warm in here, or am i sensing the intense gaze of your loving fiancé on me?” kokomi laughs, sipping a glass of champagne.

ayato takes a peek, and he chuckles upon seeing your irritated and jealous expression. “they certainly are.”

“please do not involve me in your lovers' quarrels. everyone knows we're just close friends.”

“they do.”

“have you told them?”

“...it may have slipped past my mind.”

kokomi shakes her head. “sadistic.” she slips a black box into his palm. “clear it up. i do not want to be murdered by your future partner.”

ayato glances at you from across the room as you engage a conversation with his sister. “mhm, i could, but their jealous expression is too endearing.”

“sadistic,” she repeats. “absolutely sadistic.”

he chuckles.

“also, kazuha mentioned that you've been referring to them as your companion. correct that.” she continues, “and stop calling them your friend!”

“they asked me to when we started dating.”

she rolls her eyes. “you're so petty. stop trying to provoke them!”

“anyways, everyone knows we're engaged,” he corrects. “their whining face is the cutest.”

“sadistic.”

“kokomi?”

she tilts her head and hums, “yes?”

“ever wondered how much it costs to propose a national holiday?”

author’s note: lmao. so in this modern au ayato actually succeeds in turning your wedding date into a national holiday. the government actually appreciates his donation because a.) they always accept goodwilled (lmao) funds and b.) ayato's an important pillar to the gov and they don't want to upset him 'cause petty rich boy tantrums tilt the economy (how sadistic).

so, ayato's the heir of the company where you are employed at as an idol turned actor/actress. kokomi is the heiress to a big jewelry corporation. lmao they were both engaged together when they were like five but they instantly broke it off because well, they both threw five year old tantrums.

plus thoma telling you that they were to be engaged was just a fact he blurted out when you asked about kokomi (he manages to omit the five-year-old part because he's careless + he didn't think it matters because anyone can tell ayato's intensely in love with you)

[magicshopaholic]

A Night of Firsts

Summary: Yoongi spends the night in the studio with the last person he wants to be with. Seokjin prepares for an important dinner.

Pairing: Seokjin x OC, Yoongi x OC (different OCs)

Genre: Best friends, coworkers; mild humour, banter, awkwardness, tension, angst

Word count: 12.8 K

Rating: 18+

Warnings: language, alcohol, smoking, mentions of pregnancy and sex

A/N: Tried something here (read: this isn't regular angst; it's cool angst). Takes place a couple of months after New Year’s Eve Eve. Banner by the lovely @hobeemin - thank you, Beezy <3

Tagging: @bbl32 @quarter-life-crisis2 @meirkive @faearchives @margopinkerton @dreaming-with-happiness @confessionsofamarshlily @purpleseoul7

Listen to: "black sun" by death cab for cutie

seokjin masterlist | yoongi masterlist | main masterlist

“That was good.”

Yoongi’s voice takes on an encouraging lilt that sounds rather unfamiliar - to Miso at least. She turns and gives him a blank look, just enough to convey her acknowledgement of his tone.  

The young idol in the recording booth stutters a thank you, while Yoongi returns Miso’s glance with a slight raise of the eyebrows.

Miso struggles not to roll her eyes and speaks into the mic, pausing the track. “Yeah - but try it again, a little calmer and relaxed this time?”

The idol - his name escapes her - nods and repeats the line, his clear soprano ringing through the speakers. “How was that?” he asks expectantly.

She forces a smile onto her face with remarkable ease. “So good.” Keeping the expression frozen on her face, she turns off the mic and tilts her head towards Yoongi. “You see that was exactly the same as before, right?” she mutters.

Yoongi purses his lips to suppress a smile; once in a while, when Miso’s snark and sarcasm isn’t directed at him, she can actually be funny.

“He just needs some time,” he replies and turns on the mic again. “That was better, Jungwon,” he says to the idol, whose eyes seem to mist over at the compliment. “Let’s do one more take for comparison. This time, can you go a little higher at the end? It’ll sound more playful, natural. Yeah? Okay, let’s go.”

Jungwon sings the same line again, and even Miso can’t help but raise her eyebrows at the improvement. 

“Damn,” she mutters, giving him a thumbs up from behind the plexiglass. “What superpower is that?”

“Practical feedback,” supplies Yoongi, giving Jungwon a rare smile of approval. “You tell them what to do instead of what you want. Makes a world of difference.”

“Huh.” Miso nods, apparently impressed. “Guess it’s a good thing I got assigned to you. You may have a lot to teach me.”

“I don’t think this assignment is going to last that long,” he quips, giving her an innocent shrug as she smiles widely in response to his sarcasm.

“Um, hyung,” stutters Jungwon from inside. “I’m - I’m getting a call from my manager, so can I - can I -”

“Yeah, of course.” Yoongi shakes his head slightly as the door to the studio swings shut. “He needs to relax,” he mutters.

“That was the feedback I gave him. Wasn’t applicable enough, apparently,” adds Miso, swinging slightly in her chair. “Shall we listen to what we have so far?”

Yoongi motions for her to play it and leans back in his swivelling chair, crossing his fingers on his stomach and closing his eyes. The audio plays, nearly three hours worth of Jungwon’s hard work and almost a day’s of their own in production. Miso is equally silent until the track ends and for a few moments after, until Yoongi winces slightly.

“It’s not our best work,” he admits, sighing. “Maybe it’ll be better once we get that bridge arrangement from Donghyuk. He should send it over in a bit.”

“Can’t we just ask him how long it’ll take?” she asks, already reaching for her phone. “If it’s going to take all night, the least we can do is get some sleep before working on it in the morning.” She sighs and runs a hand through her hair. “God, I hope it takes all night.”

“You would think,” he says, stretching and rolling his chair closer to the controls, “but we need to mix the whole thing tonight. Marketing wants a sample in the morning so they can decide whether or not it can go in the soundtrack package of the group’s video game.”

Miso is quiet for a moment. “In that case, it can’t get done fast enough. I’m going to go next door and follow up with Donghyuk.” 

“Be my guest,” he mutters, putting on a pair of headphones.

She’s about to leave when she stops and turns, the door half open. “Maybe we can sweet talk Marketing into giving us an extension. What was that manager’s name again? Seulgi?”

—

“Wait, what’s his girlfriend’s name again? Seulgi?”

Nari shrugs noncommittally as the elevator pings and opens up on Seokjin’s floor. They step out into the dim lighting, Nari’s heart jerking uncomfortably with every beat. The closer she gets to this dinner, the more it feels like a terrible idea. 

But Seokjin proposed it - a double date - and she had no choice, especially when he offered it at a high school reunion, surrounded by their hometown and their old friends. It was Seokjin’s way of extending an olive branch. That far away from their everyday lives, it felt easier to talk to each other again, even forget for a moment how messed up everything was between them. It was a glimpse of their old friendship and Nari did what was necessary to hold on to it, which included saying yes to dinner with Seokjin and his new girlfriend.

A few feet away from his apartment, she halts. “Jason,” she begins, turning to him. Tall and freshly showered, in a black button-down with the sleeves folded halfway up his forearms, it occurs to her suddenly just how much she owes him for accompanying her tonight.

He tilts his head slightly. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Just… thank you for this. I know it’s probably a little awkward because it’s technically a double date and you and I aren’t…” She trails off and is relieved to see him shrug easily. “But I’m glad you’re here. I owe you.” She doesn’t know how to word the fact that she’s glad there will be one person in her corner tonight, but from the knowing nod he gives her, he might just know.

Jason squints for a moment and pushes his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “It’s no big deal. Honestly, from what you’re telling me, I may be the only person for whom this night won’t be awkward,” he points out. “And besides, anything to get out of the hospital tonight. If I have to listen to Heejin brag one more time about the cool bone graft surgery she stole from me, I might throw a shoe at her head.”

Nari pauses. “So… you’re saying I’m doing you a favour as much as you’re doing me one?”

“Probably not as big, but, yeah.”

“Works for me.” Exhaling and forcing a smile, she begins walking again, this time not stopping until she’s actually in front of Seokjin’s door. She rings the doorbell, when Jason suddenly swears under his breath. “What?”

“Damn it, I forgot my inhaler in the car.” He pats his pockets. “I’ll be back in one minute, okay?” Patting her shoulder and ignoring her frantic shaking of the head, he jogs down the corridor and presses the elevator button, stepping in just as the front door opens.

“Hey.” Seokjin gives her a small smile and steps aside, motioning for her to enter. Nari steps inside, the familiarity of the hall making her nervous. “Where’s Jason?”

“Um, he forgot something in the car. He should be up in a minute.”

“Oh. Okay.” Seokjin shuts the door, their shoulders brushing momentarily. He’s in black, too, the collar of his shirt open and the hollow of his neck exposed. He’s in slacks, though, and barefoot, something oddly and heartbreakingly domestic about it.

Nari slips off her shoes and follows him inside, somewhat regretting her decision to wear make-up tonight and trying to remember the last time she was in this house. It looks exactly the same, except for minor differences. She sets her bag inside by one of the chairs and is about to sit on the sofa out of habit, but stops herself at the last minute.

“This is for you,” she says, suddenly remembering. Retrieving a bottle of red wine from her tote bag, she hands it to him.

“Wow, thank you.” Seokjin nods and briefly skims the label. “That’s really nice.” He walks over to the open kitchen and places the bottle on the island where plates, cutlery and napkins are neatly stacked, ready for use. Pausing, he turns to her again.

“Do you want a drink?”

“I’m on call.”

Seokjin falls silent and nods. It occurs to Nari that he may have wanted a drink, but was trying to be polite. She considers asking for a glass of wine anyway when he speaks.

“Is Jason alright?”

“What? Yeah, I guess.” She shrugs. “We parked a little way down the street. Where’s, uh…”

Seokjin’s eyes shutter over slightly. “Seulgi.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

“Stuck in traffic. She should be here any minute.”

Silence again. Nari half-wishes she’d declined this dinner - or accepted the drink. Neither of those options would even come close to fixing anything, but they might have made this particular moment less unpleasant or completely non-existent.

“Thanks for coming.” Seokjin tries again. “I was a little afraid you might decide not to.”

“I said I would, didn’t I?”

There’s a moment where they hold each other’s gaze and she thinks he’s about to retort. She almost wants him to, not wanting to be the only one making this night uncomfortable. But then he simply nods once and looks away, slipping his hands in his pocket.

Nari swallows, already feeling a trickle of shame creeping up her throat at that jab. “The food smells great,” she ventures, and the smell wafting from the kitchen instantly seems stronger.

Seokjin cracks a smile. “Thanks. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, definitely. Kind of skipped lunch, so…”

He looks like he’s about to ask, but visibly changes tacks. “It’s bulgogi and japchae,” he states.

“Sounds good.” The awkward silence this time feels like a physical attack so she continues with reckless abandon. “By the way, you didn’t - you didn’t have to go through all this trouble,” she stammers, gesturing to the kitchen. “We could’ve just ordered in.”

“Oh, it was no problem,” he says immediately, shaking his head. “Unless… do you want to order in? We - we can, if you want -”

“No, no, of course not -”

“It’s really okay -”

Mercifully, the doorbell rings just then and both Seokjin and Nari break off abruptly. Exchanging a gaze of pure panic and a mutual relief, Seokjin moves past her to get to the door.

—

Meanwhile, Yoongi is hanging on to his last vestiges of patience. 

“Jungwon,” he says deliberately into the mic, “it’s not a contest. Okay? It’s a song about freedom. You’re not a trainee anymore and you’re not going to get cut at the end of the night.” Giving him an encouraging nod, he takes his finger off the button and sits back in the chair. 

“Trainwreck,” mutters Miso, sounding as annoyed as he feels. 

“Don’t,” he warns her quietly. “We can’t have him getting discouraged right now. He needs to finish recording this tonight.”

“Discouraged?” She frowns at him, looking slightly incredulous. “I think we passed discouraged a while ago. He looks like he’s about to burst into tears. You have maybe… twenty minutes before that bomb goes off.”

She’s right, Yoongi realises with some dread. “Jungwon!” he calls into the mic. “You’re doing great!”

Next to him, Miso snorts. “Dude, that convinced no one.”

“Not helping,” he hisses. “You know what, Jungwon? Take five. Go get a coffee and come back, and we’ll take it from the top.”

The young idol lowers his head, looking crestfallen, and slowly trudges out of the studio. 

Yoongi watches him leave before turning to Miso. “You know, you could try and help him through this.”

She raises her eyebrows. “And what is this exactly?”

“The - the process. Encourage him a little bit, make him feel like he belongs here. He’s just a kid.”

“A - he’s twenty-two,” she corrects him, looking unimpressed. “And I’m sorry, okay? I’m not his therapist - it’s not my job to hold his hand. My job was to mix the instrumentals and come up with a complete arrangement, which is what I spent all day doing,” she reminds him. “I gave you six options and at least one of them is decent.”

Unfortunately, Yoongi cannot argue with this, for she did provide him with a range of choices for the final mixing session. They’re better than decent; in fact, he’s having trouble choosing between two of them. She’s not a prodigy, but she’s talented - and is coming alarmingly close to churning out the kind of music he genuinely approves of.

But he isn’t about to admit any of this to her. Compliments with Miso are like navigating a field of landmines: take one wrong step and the dynamic between them is instantly changed.

“Working with the singer is also part of this job,” he tells her instead. “So is encouraging them and getting the best out of them. Or they’ll do a subpar job of it and your precious arrangements won’t matter because the finished song will suck.”

Miso sighs. “Fine. Let him come back and I’ll try to coddle him through the process. Just… stop pretending he’s a child.”

“You have no idea what he’s had to go through to get here,” he argues. “He was a trainee for four years. It’s absolute hell. The ones who are lucky enough to debut come out with more armour than you’ll know.”

“Seriously? Armour?”

Yoongi doesn’t respond, his cheeks heating up slightly. It’s something he never realised he did, saying things that sounded more dramatic than he intended. But Miso noticed, and picked up on it. It was one of many quirks in each other that they noted and leveraged, and this one annoyed him just as much as the others.

“Yes, armour,” he repeats, opening up one of Miso’s arrangement files from earlier today.

“Is it armour that’s keeping him here -” She checks her phone, “- three hours longer than he was meant to be?”

“It is, actually. It’s called hard work and sacrifice.”

The insult in his tone doesn’t escape her. “And obviously, I have no concept of either of those things,” she says sarcastically.

“Your words, not mine.”

“So that is what you’re saying.”

Yoongi finally turns to her, giving her a look. “Wasn’t that a limited edition Range Rover I saw dropping you off this morning?”

It’s Miso’s turn to flush, but she doesn’t look away. “I fail to see what business that is of yours,” she says coldly.

“People who get dropped off to work in their father’s fancy cars aren’t known for things like sacrifice, is all.” He adjusts a few settings and plays the track again but at low volume. It’s the third option Miso sent him earlier today; he overlays the audio on it and they listen to Jungwon’s latest attempt.

They’re silent for a minute and a half while the music plays, possibly the longest ninety seconds of Yoongi’s life.

“Well,” says Miso finally, when the track ends abruptly, “I think that’s enough sacrifice for one night. I think I need a smoke. You know, to let all of that armoured talent wash over my privileged self,” she adds dryly, getting up. “If you can take a break from Jungwon’s masterpiece for a minute, you’re welcome to join me.”

Yoongi doesn’t answer her, staring sullenly at the rubbish recording they have so far. It’s going to be a long night, and his options right now are attempting to salvage a second-rate audio sample or hanging out one on one with Kang Miso.

The answer comes surprisingly simply to him.

“Hey, wait up,” he says a moment later, pushing his chair back and standing up, feeling his knees stretch. “I could use a smoke, too.”

—

It’s only been an hour and yet, it feels like one of the longest nights of Seokjin’s life. He can’t tell exactly what’s wrong, though - other than everything. 

Seulgi and Jason arrived together, giving him and Nari some respite from the painful awkwardness that seems to have replaced two decades of friendship. After the initial ten minutes which consisted of introductions, typical small talk and serving of drinks, he was forced to acknowledge the lack of talking points in common between two doctors and two people in entertainment.

Jason, for his part, seems to be the only person keeping the conversation going with ease. Seokjin suspects Nari would have filled him in somewhat on the situation, but he can’t imagine what she would have said exactly. My best friend that you met that I slept with and told my mom was a no-go from the dating angle but still asked if he had feelings for me and got upset when he lied and then had a pregnancy scare with followed by months of tense conversation is inviting us to dinner with the girlfriend he met when he was supposed to meet me at a party?

It seems far too wordy, even for Nari. She seems to be cordial enough to Seulgi, though, whom Seokjin can’t thank enough for being so graceful even after a long day of arguing with producers, only to end the day having dinner with her boyfriend and the best friend he hooked up with.

“Oh, Jason,” she says, after a brief recalling of the discussion she had earlier today with Yoongi and his abrasive assistant producer, “your glass is empty. Do you want a refill?”

“Sure, thanks,” he replies, smiling and moving to stand up from his place on the sofa. But Seulgi motions for him to stay, already gliding towards the kitchen island where the opened bottle of wine is placed and bringing it back. “Thank you,” he repeats when she pours him a generous serving.

“You’re welcome. Nari?” She looks over at Nari, who’s said about eight words in the last hour. “Are you sure I can’t get you a drink? Even a small one?”

Nari pauses for a moment before answering, her facial muscles moving in what could be the beginning of a forced smile, but doesn’t reach all the way. “Like I said, I’m on call,” she says. Then, in a slightly lower voice, she adds, “Just like I was twenty minutes ago.”

Seulgi pokes her tongue into her cheek and her gaze falls slightly. She looks like she’s about to say something but finally decides not to, straightening up and placing the bottle on a coaster on the coffee table. 

Seokjin stares at Nari. “It can be non-alcoholic. Ginger ale or… lemonade or something?”

She gives him the briefest of glances. “I’m really okay.”

There’s another terse silence during which Seokjin resists the urge to close his eyes and sigh. He stares into his own glass of wine, the same one he’d started the night with. Much as he’d like to drown his annoyance in alcohol, he’s honestly a little afraid of what he might say if he drinks too much, and the last thing he needs is for this night to become any more uncomfortable.

“Uh, Seokjin,” begins Jason, making him look up. “Nari tells me you cook. The food smells great, by the way.”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s true,” he responds, nodding a little too hard. “In fact - shall we eat? If everyone’s hungry?”

There’s an awkward chorus of yeses and of courses as everyone gets to their feet and shuffles towards the dining table, a simple and elegant eight-seater adjacent to the kitchen. Seokjin stops at the kitchen and begins gathering the various serving dishes when someone approaches him.

“Need a hand?” Jason offers good-naturedly.

“Uh… yeah, sure. Thanks.”

They begin assembling cutlery and Seokjin turns on the stove for a few seconds to heat the food. It occurs to him that Nari and Seulgi are alone at the table; it makes him vaguely anxious.

Almost as if Jason is reading his mind, he speaks, forcing Seokjin out of his reverie.

“By the way, thanks for having us over.” He waits until Seokjin looks at him. “Obviously, the food looks amazing and… Seulgi seems great.”

“Thanks.” Seokjin nods, feeling an unexpected gratitude towards him. “She is. And… glad you guys could make it. I know you work a lot.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it. Nari’s best friend, right?” He half-chuckles, sounding a bit uncomfortable now. “Also, she’s not… she - she’s been working really long hours lately. Lost a patient yesterday… I’m guessing she hasn’t got a lot of sleep.”

It takes Seokjin a moment to realise this information is meant to be an explanation for Nari’s behaviour tonight, meaning he isn’t imagining it. He turns off the stove but doesn’t move, wondering how he’s supposed to respond to this. He gives Jason a sideways glance.

When he’d invited Nari to dinner, he hadn’t quite known what the status of her relationship with Jason was. In an effort to not pry, he’d simply said you can bring Jason, too, if you want. Evidently, she did, and while Seokjin can’t help but be glad about it, it still gives him no indication as to whether they’re actually together, although it seems fairly likely.

He wonders if he’ll ever be able to ask Nari about it, before remembering it’s none of his business.

Seokjin clears his throat. “It’s… it’s okay. I get it.”

Jason nods, looking rather like he wants to ask something but apparently thinks the better of it. “Nice shirt,” he remarks, a joking lilt to his tone.

Seokjin looks down to look at his black shirt before noticing Jason wearing the exact same thing. He cracks a smile, a real smile, and his face feels slightly better.

“You, too.”

When they arrive at the table, it’s to see Nari and Seulgi on opposite seats at the table, the head left conspicuously vacant. Nari is on her phone, while Seulgi seems to be nursing what’s left of her drink, gulping down the last sip when she sees him and Jason.

“Oh, thank God! I mean… looks great.”

Seokjin catches her eye and they share a look of amusement at her slip of tongue. He and Jason set the food on the table and take their seats next to their respective dates. 

“I think we can serve ourselves,” says Seulgi, picking up the bowl of beef and offering it to Jason. “Nari, do you want to start with the meat?”

“I’ll start with the noodles,” she says instead, barely looking at Seulgi and reaching straight for the bowl filled to the brim with noodles.

“I’ll have the meat,” murmurs Seokjin, taking the bowl from his girlfriend. He touches her hand meaningfully as she passes it to him and ladles some into her bowl before moving to his own.

Everyone serves themselves in relative silence, with only mutters about passing dishes around. 

“Oh, wow!” Jason exclaims and everyone jumps slightly. He points enthusiastically to the food with his chopsticks and nods at Seokjin appreciatively. “This is excellent.”

Seokjin smiles back and nods. “Thanks, I’m glad you like it. Are the scallions chopped appropriately this time?” he asks Seulgi, a little teasingly, referring to an inside joke.

She laughs and pats his shoulder. “They’re perfect.”

He grins and looks diagonally across at Nari, who’s sweeping a mouthful of japchae into her mouth. “Nari?” he prompts after a moment.

Nari waits to swallow before looking up at him, her face slowly relaxing into the first genuine smile of the night. “It’s really good,” she agrees softly.

His chest suddenly feeling lighter, Seokjin smiles back and nods. Maybe Jason was right - maybe she was actually just tired and hungry, for now that she’s eating, she seems to be marginally more participative. It’s still Seulgi and Jason carrying the conversation like champions, with Seokjin joining in occasionally, but Nari is at least listening and chuckling on cue, which is a decided improvement from where they began.

Maybe it’s his imagination, but the entire mood of the night improves after that. Jason seems relieved as well; he responds to Nari encouragingly and - Seokjin notes with a twinge of envy he didn’t expect - with an indulgence that can only come with extensive familiarity.

In theory, it increases the likelihood of them being a couple. However - and Seokjin has absolutely no way to back this up except that he knows Nari - he doesn’t think they actually are together. There’s smiling, quiet laughing, shared looks and amused nodding, all of which could indicate a relationship but could also be signs of a really good friendship, for weren’t all of these things that he and Nari did as well, for years?

“Hey.” Seulgi nudges him. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” he says immediately, squeezing her knee. He tries not to read too much into the lingering look she gives him before turning away, and resolves to focus on more appropriate topics.

It works for a while; Jason tells them all about a fellow resident who irritates the life out of him, complete with a mimicry of her which, if Nari’s reaction is anything to go by, is completely accurate.

“She sounds like a nightmare,” comments Seulgi, shaking her head sympathetically.

“She’s actually not that bad,” disagrees Nari, slapping Jason’s shoulder lightly. “You made her look bad in the skills lab last week when she was just trying to ask a question.”

“And I apologised,” he reminds her. “I let her get a full night’s sleep, even when the ER was flooded with all those pesky, cool surgeries,” he adds with a straight face.

Nari snorts while Seokjin lets out a low whistle. “Wow. You guys are cutthroat.”

Jason shrugs. “Part of the job. I’m sure your jobs are, too, no? Dealing with fame can’t be easy - I would presume,” he adds quickly.

“Not as much as you’d think. Seulgi actually deals with artists and producers,” he tells them, gesturing to her. “That’s cutthroat.”

Seulgi chuckles. “I wouldn’t say cutthroat, but some of them can be a pain for sure.”

“Oh, hey, how did your meeting with Yoongi and his team go?”

“Oh, that.” She sighs and shakes her head. “They managed to talk themselves into a day’s extension for one of the demos.”

“Yoongi asked for an extension?”

“No, his assistant producer did. Kang Chanel,” she states with another sigh. “It’s literally impossible to win a negotiation with her. The last time we tried, that meeting got extended by hours - and we still couldn’t come to a compromise.”

“Damn,” remarks Jason, nodding. “Can’t imagine that. Negotiation is my worst fear - well, Nari’s worst fear for sure,” he adds with a grin at her.

“Yeah, that wasn’t a great night. But it looked up a little after that,” adds Seulgi, smiling at Seokjin. “Remember? It was raining and traffic was backed up fully on the route to my apartment so I came over here? He made me homemade jajjangmyeon,” she tells them. “It was the first thing I’d eaten in - what, twelve hours? And it actually felt like coming home. I mean, you know now that he’s pretty good in the kitchen,” she adds, gesturing to the food on the table.

It takes Seokjin a second to realise that Nari’s gaze is on him; when he looks up and meets her eyes, it’s like being hit by a bus. There’s more meaning in that one look than she’s acknowledged all night and even though she looks away after a moment, her gaze falling to her lap, Seokjin can hear the word echoing between them like a chant. Jajjangmyeon.

Jason laughs at Seulgi’s anecdote, and Seokjin is too preoccupied to realise that Seulgi doesn’t quite respond to it. He’s still looking at Nari, who seems to be done with dinner.

“Um,” she murmurs, taking the napkin off her lap and placing it on her table. “Do you mind if I use the ladies’ room?” Barely waiting for his nod from the corner of her eye, she stands up and walks away. There’s a moment when she’s about to enter his bedroom, presumably out of habit, before abruptly changing directions and going down the hall.

“Actually, I really need to check on this patient, too,” says Jason apologetically. “Do you mind if I -” He picks up his phone.

“No, not at all.” Seokjin watches him leave the dining area and head into the balcony, sliding the door shut behind him.

“Okay, what is going on?” Seulgi asks immediately, her voice low and level.

“What?”

“Something is happening,” she elaborates, twisting in her chair slightly to face him. “There’s a vibe, from… everyone,” she explains, and Seokjin suspects she’s diplomatically avoided using Nari’s name. “It’s like something has happened or is happening… and everybody is in on it but me.”

Seokjin shakes his head slowly. “I - no. I mean, yeah, it was awkward in the beginning -” He looks back surreptitiously in the direction of the guest bathroom to make sure there’s no one there. “But it’s getting better, right?”

Seulgi observes him, a slight frown on her forehead. “What happened between you and Nari?” she asks plainly.

He shrugs. “Nothing. I mean - apart from what I told you.”

“You hooked up.”

“Yeah.”

She continues looking at him, but he can’t detect any suspicion in her tone. “That’s it? You didn’t date?”

“God, no,” he answers immediately. “Never even came close. We - we hooked up a couple of times but… we never really ventured down the dating territory,” he clarifies, realising a moment later that he’s not even lying.

She sighs, biting her lip. “Then what is it? Did I say something? Does she have a problem with me?” she asks, dropping all attempts at keeping her concerns general. “I don’t - I can’t tell. Or is it Jason?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly, although he does have an inkling. But it’s too conceited a possibility for him to entertain. “You haven’t done anything,” he assures her.

Seulgi nods slowly. “You’re absolutely sure nothing else happened between you two? Are you guys fighting?”

“We -” Seokjin sighs, for it’s the question of the hour. “I have no idea. It’s a bit awkward right now, I know. It’s complicated.” He pauses, wondering where to begin. “We hooked up, it was fine for a while, then that party happened where you lent me the wrist brace… oh, then I snapped at her at my brother’s wedding - but we resolved that…” He’s just thinking out loud at this point, frowning and pressing a finger to his mouth. “Then we had that pregnancy scare and then I was supposed to meet her at this fundraiser - I guess she’s still mad about that… but we were fine at the reunion last month, too, so I don’t -”

“Wait. Back up.” Seulgi interrupts him. “You guys had a pregnancy scare?”

“Um, yeah,” he answers, a little uneasily. “It was… we were stupid - but I swear, it’s the only time I’ve ever not used a condom, if that’s what you’re -”

“And it was after your brother’s wedding? Didn’t your brother get married, like… six months ago?”

Seokjin hesitates. “Uh… something like that.” When she doesn’t say anything, just frowns deeper as though just realising something, he feels his heart start to race uncomfortably. “Seulgi, what -”

“You thought she was pregnant?”

“But she wasn’t,” he clarifies, still sure he’s missing something. “It was genuinely just a scare.” 

“Pregnancy scares aren’t just scares,” she disagrees, looking a bit incredulous now. “They’re - they’re terrifying. And you two -” She touches her fingers to her temples. “Oh, my God,” she whispers. “You thought she was pregnant…”

“Seulgi -”

But before Seokjin can continue, the balcony door slides open with a sound and Jason returns. A second later, the bathroom door unlocks and Nari appears, running a hand through her hair.

Seokjin chances a glance at Seulgi, who’s staring at her plate, still looking troubled. With his heart sinking slightly, he looks around the table and forces a smile.

“Dessert, anyone?”

—

“Wow.” Yoongi sits back and raises his eyebrows.  

“I know.” Miso nods, albeit sounding less surprised. “That was actually good. Tonight may not be a complete waste after all.”

“Was that better?” Minji, the featured artist, asks from inside the recording booth. Next to her, Jungwon looks daringly hopeful.

“Much better,” says Yoongi into the mic, giving them a thumbs up. 

“Great.” Minji gives them a satisfied smile and hooks her headphones on the mic. Next to her Jungwon follows suit. “Does that mean we can take five?”

“Sure,” says Yoongi, too relieved to deny them anything right now. “Come back quick, though. I want to listen to the last version together and make any changes, if needed.”

Both the artists nod and duck out, leaving him alone with Miso.

“Thank God,” he sighs, stretching in his chair and running his hands over his face. “I think I could cry,” he adds dryly.

Miso frowns, looking amused. “It wasn’t that good. But a definite improvement. We can work with it now, at least.”

Yoongi nods as she rolls her chair closer to the controls and starts layering the recording over the instrumentals. “Try starting it half a second after the beat,” he advises, watching as she nods and obliges. They listen to it in silence and she turns briefly to give him an appreciative nod.

“Sounds good.”

“Thanks.” He checks his watch. “Jesus, it’s eleven pm. Can you think how much sooner we could’ve had this track if we’d scheduled Minji to come in earlier?”

“Wouldn’t matter because Donghyuk is still going to take all night,” she reminds him, her eyes focused on the laptop screen.

“Yeah, but we could’ve had more time to experiment with the track.” He shakes his head. “Anyway. Lesson learnt. Minji is our secret weapon to get the talent out of Jungwon.”

To his surprise, Miso chuckles. “Is she ever.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“What?” When he doesn’t answer, Miso twists her shoulders to look at him. “Wait, are you serious?”

Yoongi starts to feel a familiar annoyance brewing at her superior tone but tries to keep it at bay, at least until they’re done with their work. He frowns mildly back at her, as though he doesn’t quite care what she’s getting at.

“Serious about what?”

“Minji, Min Suga. You think she inspired some hidden talent out of Jungwon? In the recording booth?” She chuckles again and turns back to the laptop. “Dude, they’re totally screwing.”

Yoongi stays frozen in his chair for a few moments while Miso continues mixing the track, with disjointed sounds emanating from the speakers every few seconds.

“Okay,” she says, sitting back slightly. “I think we have a rudimentary version at least for Donghyuk.”

“What do you mean they’re screwing?”

Miso turns around blankly, as though already having forgotten what they were talking about.

“They’re… having relations?” she ventures, before shrugging and going back to the laptop. “I don’t know, what do you think screwing means?”

“They’re - no.” Yoongi scoffs but it comes out more like a choke. “You have no way of knowing that.”

“Really? You think Minji tutored Jungwon out of the goodness of her heart?”

“Yes,” he says forcefully. “She debuted five years before him. And we all mentor our juniors.”

“And sometimes, some of you sleep with them, too.” Miso shakes her head, still adjusting the track. “What’s the big deal, anyway? It wouldn’t be the first time someone hooked up with a coworker.”

“Yeah, but -“ Yoongi breaks off, for she’s right, but he’d sooner dunk his laptop into a fountain than admit that to her. “I still don’t think so. They were singing a love song; they were meant to sound like they were in love.”

Miso snickers. “I didn’t say anything about love,” she reminds him wryly, before tilting her head at the screen. “Can we try adding a synth kind of sound in this segment here?”

“Uh, sure, go for it,” he says distractedly. “I think you’re wrong, though. I don’t think they’re hooking up.”

She rolls her eyes but doesn’t look at him. “I’m pretty sure they are. I could tell by the way they were looking at each other.”

Yoongi squints at her. “You could tell by a look?” he asks incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah, I am. That’s how I figured out my mother was sleeping with my twenty-two year old maths tutor.” When he doesn’t respond, she turns to him. “What?”

“You know, a lot of your stories would be more impactful with fewer details,” he informs her, just as the door to the studio opens and Jungwon and Minji enter, holding cups of coffee and looking fresh and energetic.

Yoongi chalks it down to caffeine. “Okay,” he exclaims, clapping his hands. “Are we ready to work on the track?” Without waiting for a response, he pulls the laptop to him and clicks on Miso’s completed version. “Listen carefully and tell me what you think,” he tells them.

“Sure,” says Minji, scooching a bit on the sofa so Jungwon can join her. “Hit it.”

Pointedly ignoring Miso’s knowing look, Yoongi plays the track. Both their voices flow out of the speakers, filling the recording booth for everyone to listen and provide their feedback. As the session goes on and Minji stops him here and there to give her inputs, Jungwon adds on to it, Yoongi discusses it and Miso silently observes and speaks only when spoken to, Yoongi feels his mood start to sour slightly.

An hour and forty minutes later, after several rounds of inputs and rough editing, Minji and Jungwon take their leave. With much more work in front of them, Yoongi watches them pack up a little sullenly, sighing deeply when the door closes.

“I hate this,” he mutters, before dropping his head back and groaning.

“Why?” Miso frowns. “That was actually productive. Minji had some good thoughts.”

“No, I hate that - that you’re right,” he says tightly, before sighing again. “They’re definitely hooking up.”

It takes her a moment to realise what he’s said and she laughs quietly. “What convinced you?”

“Just… the way they were around each other. He’s hanging on to her every word,” he adds, disgruntled. 

“Yeah, it’s nauseating to watch. But she’s making him more of a collaborator than just a puppet who sings,” she points out fairly.

Yoongi glances sideways at Miso, the irony of this statement not lost on him. 

“What?”

“You weren’t much of a collaborator right now, if we’re really going there.”

Miso stares at him, her face betraying nothing. “What are you talking about?”

“Please,” he mutters, turning back to his laptop but not really looking at anything. “You said maybe five words that whole session.”

“I was taking notes. And I’ll be translating every single one of them into edits. The good ones anyway,” she adds wryly.

“That’s not what I mean,” he says, more patiently than he feels, for not only is this his job, it might just be the hardest part of his job. 

She swivels her chair around to face him. “What do you mean, Min Suga?”

He doesn’t take the bait. “There’s more to being a producer than just mixing good tracks. You’re the creator of the song - you’re literally producing it. Collaborating with the artists is part of that process.”

Miso’s eyes flicker and she looks down at her lap, her jaw hardening slightly. “Is it so hard for you to pay me a compliment without tacking on a bunch of things I’m doing wrong?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “What?”

“You can just say my track was good. It won’t kill you.”

It might, he thinks. “Fine. Your track was good,” he admits honestly. “It was like something I would’ve made a few years into my role as a producer. You have an experimental mindset.”

She looks a little taken aback, as though she hadn’t quite expected him to be so blunt about it. The corner of her mouth twitches and she looks at her lap again before looking up. 

“Are you being sarcastic?”

“Jesus. No.”

She pauses before nodding stiffly. “Thank you,” she says nonchalantly, turning her chair back around to face the laptop.

Yoongi raises his eyebrows, staring at her side profile. Her skin, already pale, looks translucent under the white light from the recording booth. He sees her glance at him out of the corner of her eye.

“And… point taken on the other thing.”

It’s as good as it’s going to get, he decides. He shifts in his chair to get into a more comfortable position as she starts editing the music. 

“We’re going to have to bring in Jungwon to redo this whole section,” states Yoongi a little while later, shaking his head at the same fifteen second segment they’ve been playing over and over again. “He sounds like he’s drugged.”

Miso chortles. “You may have to bring in his girlfriend, too, if you want anything useful to come out of him.”

He clicks his tongue in disgust. “Don’t remind me.”

“Oh, lighten up. They’re young, they’re working all the time,” she reasons. “It’s natural.”

“It’s unprofessional.”

“Really? You’ve never hooked up with a coworker?” she asks sceptically.

“Not that it’s any of your business but no, I haven’t. Not as a senior and definitely not as a rookie,” he adds, shaking his head. “He needs to focus on his work.”

Miso frowns. “Weren’t you the one that was on my case a little while ago about being too hard on him? And now you’re doing a one-eighty over something that, honestly, is none of your business.”

“How is it not my business?” he argues. “He’s underperforming unless she’s around, they took two very unnecessary breaks in the middle of our editing session, and they left before actually listening to the finished version,” he lists, holding up his fingers. “This is Jungwon’s first solo, in his first year of debut. It’s ridiculous.”

Yoongi can sense her curiosity at his outburst and he wishes he’d kept his mouth shut. But it’s late, the food they’ve ordered is still on its way, and Donghyuk doesn’t seem to be any closer to finishing his arrangement so they can call it a night.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little uptight?”

He bristles. “No. I don’t. But I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“Oh, of course not, because I have no concept of professionalism,” she says sarcastically. “Let me just add that to the list of things I lack.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Way to make this about you.”

“Aren’t you making Jungwon’s personal life about you?”

He flushes again but rallies, giving her an extremely unimpressed look. “Everybody’s entitled to a personal life. Just don’t mix it with a professional one.”

“Interesting,” she says, finally leaning away from the laptop and he feels an instant sense of foreboding. “That lady from Marketing that we had a meeting with today, Seulgi - isn’t she dating an idol? I’m pretty sure I know his name,” she says, frowning deeply and snapping her fingers, pretending to remember before her forehead clears. “But I definitely know what group he’s in.”

A faint smirk flashes across her face, and Yoongi finds it insufferable. “Seokjin and Seulgi don’t actually work together. And his dating life is none of my business.”

“But wouldn’t that make you a hypocrite? What?” she asks when he groans loudly. “Afraid you’re losing an argument?”

“No,” he states forcefully, glaring at her. “I’m just pissed that it becomes an argument! Why can’t a conversation with you ever be easy? Why can’t it just be a conversation instead of turning into a fucking argument every time?”

“It takes two to turn something into an argument,” she points out, her eyes narrowed.

“Sure. But all due respect,” he caveats, “and no offence - I still have friends and allies in this company who are capable of small talk without constantly exerting their brains and superiority, which leads me to believe that you might be the problem here. And you know what?” he continues, cutting her off. “If I’m that argumentative, why don’t you just switch to another producer?”

“Because I got assigned to you, Min Suga,” she retorts. “That’s how it works. And as long as we’re talking about friends and allies - has it ever occurred to you that I don’t want friends who can’t make small talk without exerting their brains?” She huffs and turns back to the laptop. “It might explain why you’re the only person here I actually talk to.”

“Oh, that’s by choice?”

“Shocking, isn’t it?” When Yoongi doesn’t respond, she lets out a half-chuckle without humour. “What? Nothing to say to that?”

“No,” he answers, a little uncomfortable at this sudden change in direction. “Except… well, this might be the first compliment you’ve ever paid me.”

“Yeah, well, don’t go throwing any parades about it.”

A terse silence follows, broken only by the sound of the laptop keys and the random clips from the song. Yoongi glances at her with a mixture of confusion, inadequacy and frustration, her lips pursed and her eyes darting around the screen. The navy blue sleeves of her long-sleeved t-shirt almost reach her knuckles, her wrists thin and fragile against the table. 

Yoongi wonders how she’s surviving wearing it despite the heat in the studio, especially with a grey t-shirt over it, unless it’s her way of winning one over the heat.

He decides to chalk down this awkward end to their conversation to hunger. Still, it feels odd not to reciprocate it. He clears his throat, noting how the sound doesn’t make her flinch at all.

“You are not… unintelligent,” he ventures cautiously.

“I know that,” she replies casually, and Yoongi gives up. They continue working in silence for a few minutes, the silence still awkward but less tense. Something continues to bother him, though, their dialogue having come to a rather abrupt and unsatisfying end.

“I don’t actually care if they’re hooking up,” he says after a moment, in a low voice. “You’re right; it’s none of my business.”

Miso doesn’t respond, but spares him the briefest of glances, which tells him she’s listening.

“I was living paycheck to paycheck,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “I was delivering food and battling privileged rappers wearing designer crap at night to make money. Then I started training and the company I was training with had no money. Me and the guys, including Seulgi’s boyfriend, worked our arses off to debut and grow the company…” 

Yoongi trails off when the silence suddenly feels a little louder, and he realises he can no longer hear the keyboard of the laptop.

“Anyway,” he says flatly. “Call me conceited but I’m attached to this company. I feel I was part of building it and I feel like I’m a part of growing it. I don’t like people getting in the way of that,” he finishes in a murmur, a little embarrassed at his confession.

Miso doesn’t respond immediately, eventually exhaling softly. “You could’ve just told me that. You wouldn’t have had to exert your brain at all.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

—

“Nari, hang on a minute.”

For a moment, Seokjin thinks she’s going to ignore him, but at the last moment she slowly halts just outside his front door. Jason, a few paces ahead of her, also stops, but something on Seokjin’s face seems to tip him off about what’s coming and he clears his throat.

“I’ll go bring the car around,” he tells Nari, before turning to him. “Thanks for having us over. Dinner was great.”

“Thanks. Glad you could make it.” They shake hands and Jason leaves. Seokjin waits until the elevator door closes before turning to Nari, but she beats him to it.

“Are you?” she asks wryly. “Glad he could make it?”

“Yes,” he answers honestly, not elaborating, for Jason remained the least stressful person all night, himself included. But he doesn’t feel the need to explain this to her. She raises her eyebrows expectantly, arms folded across her chest, and Seokjin pauses. There is a lot he wants to say but he needs to play this just right, or it can go down an unnecessary rabbit hole he’s not sure he has the energy for right now.

“Nari,” he begins, then pauses again. “Do you… do you have something you want to say to me?” 

He tries his best to make it sound as less confrontational as he can, keeping his voice calm, hearing the genuine underlying desperation that he didn’t even need to consciously add. By the way Nari’s eyes flicker slightly, he can tell she’s caught it, too.

She hitches her handbag higher on her shoulder. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Anything you want to say. Anything you want to ask. Anything you want to talk about, or - or clear up…” He purses his lip. “I can still tell when you’re upset. And I don’t want you to be.”

“I’m not upset,” she says automatically. “And it isn’t your problem, even if I am.”

Seokjin bites his lip and nods slowly. “You’re not upset,” he repeats for confirmation.

“No. Do I have any reason to be?”

“I don’t know. But if you’re not, then I don’t understand why you’ve been so annoyed all night,” he points out. “You barely spoke, you barely ate, you didn’t even touch the dessert that Seulgi brought -”

“I’m sorry if I hurt her feelings by not eating the store-bought dessert she picked up on her way back from work.”

Something jolts in Seokjin’s heart; for a moment, the woman in front of him is unrecognisable as Nari. “She was trying to be nice,” he says softly but firmly. “She’s been nice to you all night but you haven’t returned any of it.”

Nari scoffs. “She wasn’t being nice. She was reminding me - very subtly, I might add - where she stands and where I stand.”

He blinks. “I’m sorry - what? What does any of that mean?”

“She’s your girlfriend,” she explains slowly, like she’s doing so to a child, “and I’m not. I am a girl, though. But she’s your girlfriend. And she was reminding me of that. Not at first,” she admits. “But during dinner? And especially after dessert? That’s what she  was doing.”

Seokjin finds himself lost for words. The fact that the tension hit an all-time high after dessert is beyond dispute; everyone apart from Jason seemed to have given up any semblance of remaining diplomacy, with sentences becoming shorter and words getting more clipped, until a stretch of three-minute silence passed and Jason suggested he and Nari make a move.

Seulgi had definitely run out of patience by this point, choosing to speak much more sparingly. There were uncomfortable silences and lingering looks and sideways glances, all in response to statements that seemed completely innocuous. But he can’t imagine he would’ve missed something this blatant.

Suddenly feeling terribly tired, he shakes his head. “She wasn’t - I mean, why would she do that?”

Nari observes him for a moment, as though trying to work out whether he’s faking ignorance. Finally, she shrugs. “I don’t know. But I know women better than you do.”

Seokjin senses this discussion is getting away from him. “I - okay. Honestly, I have no idea what to say to that. I thought she was just being nice - and you admitted it, too, that she was being nice in the beginning.”

“I guess.”

“But you weren’t being nice to her at all,” he points out. “Can you blame her for giving up eventually? She was being welcoming because she knows you’re my best friend,” he says, noting the shadow that crosses her face at those words. “But you gave her nothing. Why? What did she ever do to you?”

Nari looks at the ground again and taps the toe of her shoe on the ground, and for a moment Seokjin wonders if he’s made a breakthrough. “Nothing, I suppose,” she admits in a small voice. “You’re right. I shouldn’t be taking it out on her.”

Seokjin almost sighs in relief; now they’re getting somewhere. “Taking what out on her? Nari, are you angry with me? If you are, just tell me. We’ll talk about it, fight about it -” He breaks off, shaking his head. “I’m sorry about the night of the fundraiser. I really am - I should’ve called or - or -”

She’s looking up at him now and it’s impossible to decipher what she’s thinking. Seokjin is faced with the sudden urge to hold her by the shoulders and make her continue meeting his gaze. He slips his hands into his pockets for good measure.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. “But… come on, if you’re angry about something, is this really the way to go about it? Passive-aggressive digs at dinner?”

Nari shakes her head, a bit disbelieving. “Did you really think a dinner would solve all our problems?”

“I’m not even sure what our problems are!” he exclaims in frustration. “That’s why I wanted to talk about them! And for the record, I didn’t think a single dinner would solve anything, but I thought it would be a good start. I thought we could make it through one night - or at very least, fake it like grown ups,” he mutters, disappointed in everything, including himself.

She swallows and takes a step back, and it feels like a chasm. “Guess I’m not grown up enough for that yet,” she says finally, meeting his gaze with seeming difficulty. “But I’m glad you found someone who is.”

“Don’t make this about her.” He tries to firm but it sounds more pleading than anything. “If you have a problem with me, tell me. Or there’s no point to any of this.”

“That’s the thing, though,” she says, and there’s an air of finality to it. “There’s no point talking about the problem because it’s not going to change anything.”

Seokjin has nothing to say to that. Instead, he watches Nari turn around and leave, his heart sinking.

Nari doesn’t stop until she’s out of the building and inside Jason’s car. He’s parked across the street, tactfully keeping his distance, no doubt due to the heart-to-heart he thinks she’s having with her best friend.

Best friend. The words feel like rote; she doesn’t know if they’re quite true right now, but she knows for sure that they’re not untrue. It’s both sad and comforting.

“Everything okay?” Jason asks lightly as she straps herself in.

“Totally,” she mutters, busying herself with the buckle, her hair covering most of her face. “Are you going back to the hospital?”

“Well, no one’s called me. I was thinking about taking advantage of it,” he tells her. “Stay in. Catch up on some sleep.” He starts the car. “Do you want to head back or pick some ice cream on the way? You didn’t eat dessert,” he reminds her, his tone still light.

Nari nods absently. It’s starting to drizzle slightly; just a light spray, not even enough to warrant the wipers. She glances up at Seokjin’s building, at the lights in the apartments on the top floor. 

She’s not sure if one of them is his, or if his apartment even faces this side of the street. But she pictures him anyway, silent and annoyed at her, cleaning up his kitchen along with Seulgi. 

Her throat burns a little and she recognises the onset of her emotions finally creeping up on her - starting with shame.

She can’t afford it, though. There’s only one thing she does when this happens, when she’s overwhelmed, when it’s all just too much. There’s only one place she goes, one place she’s ever gone. But that place is no longer available to her.

Swallowing everything before it has a chance to hit the surface, she turns to Jason.

“Actually,” she says, tucking her hair behind her ear, “can we go back to your place?”

—

Seokjin trudges back into his apartment once it’s clear Nari isn’t coming back. He’s not sure what he was hoping for; perhaps a change of heart, or her annoyance getting the better of her - anything to move this painful stalemate along.

He rubs his eyes and heads to the dining area to help Seulgi, who’s putting the wine away.

“That went well,” he says tiredly, leaning backwards against the table. He needs sleep.

“Didn’t it?” Seulgi mutters in reply.

Seokjin frowns a little belatedly, wondering if he’s imagining the bite in her response. He tries again. “Do you need some help?”

“I got it.”

“Okay, hang on,” he says, unable to believe it. “Are you angry with me, too?”

She starts folding the placemats, not meeting his gaze. “Why would you say that?”

He scoffs loudly. “Seriously? How did I manage to piss both of you off tonight?”

Seulgi chucks an unfolded placemat on the table and finally looks up at him, glaring with a hand on her hip. “Not that I don’t love being lumped together with your… ex… sex friend, but I was doing my best.”

“I know! That’s what I was -”

“But you ambushed me!” she interrupts, looking upset. “With your - with all your history together. You told me about it in the middle of dinner with her - God, Seokjin, what the hell was that?”

“What are you talking about?” he exclaims. “I told you we hooked up, before I ever invited her to dinner.”

“Yeah, and the way you said it made it sound like you made out once when you were twenty,” she snaps. “Not that it was happening recently enough for it to still be awkward. Not to mention a pregnancy scare that happened less than a year ago?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Seulgi opens her mouth but then closes it, as though unable to decide what to say. Eventually she closes her eyes and turns away slightly.

“I’m sorry if you felt ambushed,” he ventures uneasily. “But that wasn’t my intention. I just didn’t want to get into something that wasn’t relevant to this -“

“But how is it not relevant?” she interrupts him again. “She’s your lifelong best friend, but not a completely platonic one. And then you invite her over, she’s totally weird with me the whole time, and that’s when you choose to tell me you guys slept together? Of course I felt ambushed, Seokjin! And then I got defensive and - God, I was such a bitch,” she mutters, dropping her face into her hands.

This is unexpected. “Wait, what? No, you weren’t.”

“Yes, I was. Towards the end, I totally was,” she insists. “I was taken off guard, I was on edge and I went into fight or flight mode. Or… girlfriend-faced-with-boyfriend’s-ex-fling mode,” she finishes, shaking her head and looking embarrassed.

Seokjin wracks his brain, wondering if two glasses of wine were possibly enough for him to not notice something both Nari and Seulgi seemed to have observed and reacted to.

“She was never a fling,” he says weakly, but Seulgi doesn’t even seem to hear him.

“And then you tell me there was a pregnancy scare,” she continues after a moment. “In the middle of dinner, just when we’re -“

“What is it with you and the pregnancy scare?” he exclaims in frustration. “It was eighteen hours of tension and that’s it! It lasted less time than a flu!”

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “What did you do when you thought she was pregnant?”

“I freaked out,” he says immediately. “A lot.”

“That’s not - okay, what did you say to her when you thought she was pregnant?” Seulgi amends, sounding as though it’s taking everything in her to remain patient.

“I…” Seokjin hesitates; this isn’t a situation he wants to relive. “I told her I’d be there for her. Of course I did, Seulgi,” he says quickly when she doesn’t respond. “It was the decent thing to do - you can’t be mad at me for trying to be a good guy.”

But Seulgi shakes her head slightly, and it’s clear that this isn’t her problem. She isn’t meeting his eyes; her gaze is somewhere near his elbow. 

“You can’t… intend honestly to be there for her for the rest of her life,” she begins slowly, as though choosing every word carefully, “and then the next day, just… not feel that anymore.”

There’s a few moments of silence while Seokjin processes this. He can’t fathom how this evening got so far away from him, and he has absolutely no idea where it can possibly end.

“Look, that situation was… it was very stressful, okay? For both of us,” he explains, taking a step closer. “I don’t - I don’t know what I’m supposed to have done. I did mean what I said to her then. But it doesn’t have a bearing on how I feel now, for you.”

Seulgi gives him a small nod, still not looking at him.

“I know it’s awkward between Nari and me now and - and I need to figure that out. But if you’re worried that there’s something going on with us - there isn’t.”

She exhales and after what feels like many, many moment, she drags her gaze to meet his. “She’s your best friend,” she states softly.

“Yeah. And you’re my girlfriend.”

“That… doesn’t matter,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head and looking at the floor again. He’s sure he wasn’t meant to hear that but he did, and his heart sinks. “Not in the way that you think,” she adds, slightly louder now.

Seokjin has no response to this. He feels exhausted, cornered and frustrated all at once and he sighs, rubbing his eyes and leaning backwards against a chair.

“I can’t change the past, Seulgi,” he says tiredly. “I don’t know what you want me to do right now.”

“Nothing,” she answers, sounding slightly surprised at this question. “I know you can’t change anything. I just wish you’d told me,” she says after a moment. “Before I sat down to dinner with her.”

He nods, but words of apology don’t come to him at the moment. “Can we just head to - where are you going?” He follows her to the living room where she picks up her handbag, the designer logo glinting dimly. 

“I’m going back to my apartment,” she murmurs, shuffling past him to get to her shoes: sleek high heels. Even after a whole day, she looks perfectly presentable, as though ready for a meeting. 

“I thought -“ But Seokjin doesn’t finish the sentence.

“I know,” she murmurs, sounding a bit apologetic for the first time. “But I just need to… I need to go home. Take a shower, go to bed.”

He nods silently, placing his hands on his hips and looking at the ground. He’s suddenly aware of how huge his apartment is for one person only.

“The bulgogi was great,” she says after a moment. She waits until he glances at her, nodding once more. When he doesn’t say anything, she turns around and opens the door, stepping out and leaving him alone.

—

When the elevator pings and the doors open, there’s a moment when neither of them make a move to enter first. Yoongi opens his mouth but Miso beats him to it.

“Don’t say ‘ladies first’,” she warns him.

He freezes before rolling his eyes. “I was going to say ‘elders first’,” he says, a little smug. He expects her to take offence but she chuckles instead, sounding a bit surprised.

“You don’t care a jot that I’m older than you,” she says dryly, stepping in with him right behind her, and pressing the button.

“On the contrary.” Yoongi leans against the back of the elevator as the doors close. “You’re the one who told me on your first day that under no circumstances was I to call you noona.”

“I also didn’t ask you to call me Miso.”

“No, you asked me to call you Chanel,” he remembers, a little wondrously. It feels a little strange to believe that was less than a year ago; it feels like forever that she’s been in his orbit, the frequent and regular dose of unexpected conflict he never asked for.

“That’s right, Min Suga.”

“You still want to be credited as Kang Chanel?”

“Just Chanel. No Kang.”

Yoongi nods as the elevator begins moving smoothly. They don’t say anything for a few seconds, standing a couple of feet away from each other. Miso isn’t leaning, though; she’s slouching slightly, and her bony shoulders are visible through her t-shirt. A jacket hangs on the strap of her bag, the Burberry tag visibly at the back of the neck.

“Will I -” She stops abruptly. She turns slightly to look at him, a bit nervously before looking back ahead. “Are you sure I’ll be credited?”

Yoongi frowns. “Why wouldn’t you?”

She shrugs nonchalantly, but her slender fingers tighten around the strap of her bag. “You know. In case there’s a conflict of interest or something?”

“Right.” His eyes flicker to the designer tag on her hoodie again. It was on the sofa in the studio, he remembers, discarded casually with her bag placed on top of it. He watches her run a hand through her shoulder-length hair, not even seeming like she cares about the answer.

“Your dad’s a shareholder,” he says. She doesn’t turn, but he notices her stiffen, her dark eyes darting in his direction. “And you’re an employee of the same company. There’s no conflict of interest. It doesn’t matter how you got the job,” he adds after a moment.

Miso simply nods and says nothing. Yoongi tries to look away, but he can’t. There’s something different in the way she asked him that question, something almost doubtful, or hesitant. It makes him uncomfortable, the feeling of his resentment and annoyance with her wavering. It feels as though she’s disturbed the dynamic, and this is not a side of her he wanted revealed ever.

All of a sudden, the elevator jerks and the lights flicker before turning off, leaving them in pitch darkness.

“What the hell -”

“Don’t panic.” Yoongi hears himself say the words without realising it. He feels a movement next to him and immediately reaches out and grabs something, hearing her gasp just as the lights flicker back on. He notices his fingers grasping her forearm and lets go at once, feeling his face heat up.

Just as abruptly as the elevator had stopped, it begins descending again, quiet and smooth. Yoongi can hear his heartbeat in his teeth but he isn’t sure why; darkness has never been something that scared him. 

“Oh, the button -” Miso points at the pane, where all the buttons seem to have reset when the power went out. Both of them reach for it together and when Yoongi retrieves his hand, he feels a tug and realises the edge of her sleeve has caught on his watch.

“Sorry, I’ll just -”

“No, it’s okay -”

She tugs her hand back the same moment that he slips his watch out of the loose thread it’s stuck on and in the split second that her sleeve gets pulled back, Yoongi catches a glimpse of something on her wrist before she pushes it back down.

It’s only a flash but it stands out against her pale skin, a discoloured mark of some kind. For a moment he thinks it could be a bracelet, but there’s no indent visible through her sleeve.

“Donghyuk really came through, huh?” Miso says, but it sounds slightly forced.

Yoongi hesitates but then clears his throat. “Yeah. This way we get the entire morning off. We don’t need to be in by… two, at least.”

“Are you sure? I can come earlier, too, if you want. Maybe Donghyuk could use the help.”

“He’ll manage. Take the time,” he suggests, stretching his neck. “Rejuvenate.”

She waves a hand. “Overrated. I really don’t mind, though.”

“Noted. But Donghyuk will be fine.”

“I’m just saying -”

“My God, I have literally never had to convince anybody this hard to take a day off,” he interrupts, the tiredness of the day finally catching up to him. “Can’t you just…?”

“Fine. Just offering.”

The elevator doors open and Yoongi waits a moment for her to step out before following her. They head out outside the building into the chilly air; he exhales and wonders if he can risk a cigarette right now.

“Don’t.” Miso’s voice almost blends in with the wind. She’s giving him a knowing look while pulling on her hoodie, her bag placed on the ground by her feet. “You almost got caught smoking outside once.”

He really hates it when she’s right. “It’s one-thirty in the morning,” he argues instead.

She shrugs. “Your call. But if you smoke, you’ll have to share.”

“I don’t mind sharing.” As if to prove it, he slips his pack out of his pocket and offers one to her along with the lighter. They light their cigarettes one by one and smoke in silence, in a rare moment of peace together.

He notices the cigarette in between her long, pale fingers. The sleeves of her t-shirt and hoodie cover her knuckles, making the remaining part of her hand look white against the dark hoodie. 

“Good work today,” he says after a minute, when he’s almost done with his cigarette. 

The muscles in Miso’s face seem to relax a bit, but she still doesn’t smile.

“You’re giving me a compliment?”

“Only if you take it without a fuss.”

“Such a low opinion of me,” she laments, dropping the butt of her cigarette on the ground and crushing it. She looks up to see Yoongi raising his eyebrows and holds his gaze for a moment before picking up the stub and throwing it in a bin behind her.

“By the way,” she begins, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, “that thing I told you about my mom earlier? I was - I was joking. You know that right?”

Yoongi struggles for a moment to remember what she’s talking about, rewinding the night back to their argument about Jungwon and Minji. His gaze locks on her slowly once he remembers, but he makes no other motion.

“I mean… I made that up. To make a point.” She bites her lip before shrugging. “It’s just… she’s a socialite and the last thing I need is for some false rumour about her to start spreading.” She crosses her arms across her chest.

He doesn’t respond for a few moments but eventually nods. “M-hm.” He waits until she looks away before putting out his stub and throwing it in the same bin.

They step out of the courtyard after that and out of the Big Hit gates, the air cold and the streets deserted. Yoongi shivers slightly and spots his car in the building parking lot next door. 

“Well… goodnight, then.” Miso loosens her fingers from the strap of her bag in a gesture of farewell and turns around when Yoongi remembers something.

“Do you need a ride home?”

She turns around, looking far more surprised than he thinks is necessary. “Um… no. Why?”

He shrugs, thinking privately that he’s never quite had to justify this question to a girl before. “It’s the middle of the night? And I know where you live.”

“Oh.” She pauses but then shakes her head. “That’s okay, though. Thanks.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what possesses him to ask again. “Are you sure? My car isn’t a limited edition Range Rover; it’s just a regular Range Rover, but it’s not bad.”

Miso cracks a smile and it takes him a bit by surprise. “Thanks, but… my car is here.” She points with her hand in a pocket of her hoodie to the handful of cars parked at the end of the street. To be sure, he spots a sleek black hood, rather similar to his own, at the beginning of the row.

“You called your driver at one-thirty?” He tries to keep the judgement out of his voice. “Wait, when did you even call him?”

“I didn’t. He’s been here since nine pm.” She looks away awkwardly, presumably guessing where his mind is at. 

“He’s been here almost five hours?”

“Yeah.” Her eyes flicker up to meet his. “My dad… prefers to know my whereabouts,” she confesses slowly. “So the car waits for as long as I need.”

The wind seems louder somehow. Yoongi brings up Kang Jaesung’s face in his mind from months ago, in the midst of suited men in a lounge in his sprawling mansion, scotch in hand and a sharp, chiselled face. He glances at the limited edition Range Rover again, noting the tinted windows this time.

“Anyway.” Miso breaks the silence. “Goodnight, Min Suga.”

“Yeah,” he mutters as she walks away. He waits until her driver opens the door for her, she steps in and the car drives away, before turning around and heading to the parking lot.

—

Yoongi reaches the dorm at five minutes past two. There’s silence when he opens the front door, which he appreciates, but when he enters the living room he sees he’s not alone.

“Darkness, please.” Seokjin groans, muffled by a cushion on his face, lying along the length of the sofa with one leg dangling off.

“Jesus,” mutters Yoongi, a bit startled. “Hyung, what - what are you doing?”

Seokjin groans again and slowly sits up, wincing like an old man before slouching again and closing his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious, Yoongi?” He gestures vaguely at his surroundings, including an almost empty bottle of wine on the centre table. When Yoongi simply shrugs, he clicks his tongue impatiently. “I’m wallowing.”

Yoongi nods after a moment, dropping his bag on a chair and joining him on the sofa. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad.” Seokjin pauses. “You look happy.”

He stares. “I do?”

“Well, satisfied,” amends Seokjin. “Like you do when you’ve made some significant progress.”

“Oh. Yeah, I guess I did. What about you?” He changes the subject. “I thought you had some big night planned at your place.”

Seokjin scoffs but it comes out more like a choke. “Oh, yeah. My best friend and my girlfriend are both mad at me for opposite reasons. And also sort of the same reason,” he adds, frowning. “Who knows right now. Anyway, it was too depressing staying there tonight. And the kids and I have a shoot tomorrow morning anyway, so…” He shakes his head and falls silent.

Yoongi nods, knowing he’s not required to say anything. 

A few moments later, Seokjin speaks again. “I brought some bulgogi and japchae. It’s in the kitchen.”

Not needing to be told twice, Yoongi immediately makes a beeline for the kitchen and returns a few minutes later with a microwaved plate of food and two sets of chopsticks. “I’m good,” mutters Seokjin, waving a hand when Yoongi offers him some.

They don’t speak again until after he’s done eating, wolfing down the food with scarcely a breath in between.

“Wow,” comments Seokjin. “It wasn’t that good.”

“Guess I was hungrier than I thought,” he replies, placing the plate on the coffee table and leaning back on the sofa, closing his eyes and sighing contentedly. “Thanks, hyung.”

“You’re welcome.” 

There’s a few more moments of comfortable silence. Yoongi considers asking Seokjin if he wants to talk but stops himself, knowing he will if he wants to. 

“Did you finish the track then?”

Eyes still closed, he raises his eyebrows. “No, not yet. Donghyuk’s going to mix the final version and we’ll check it out tomorrow.”

“You haven’t finished it?” Seokjin sounds confused. “I thought you said you’d made progress.”

It takes Yoongi a moment to realise what he’s talking about. “Oh… I did. It got a lot farther than I anticipated. It’s been a while since I’ve worked with a rookie,” he says, and Seokjin nods knowingly. “But I think Miso and I got most of it done.”

“Kang Miso.” Seokjin half-chuckles. “I heard she gave Seulgi a bit of a hard time today.”

“Sorry about that,” he says automatically, wondering a moment later why he’s apologising on her behalf but then remembering she is his assistant producer. “She can be a bit of a pill. But I think we’re coming to a middle ground of sorts, hopefully.”

“Sounds like progress to me. Quite the opposite of my night.”

Yoongi doesn’t respond, his thoughts drifting. Miso’s face right before she’d left swims to the forefront of his mind. Thin and pale, with the thick open hoodie engulfing her, there was something that had changed in her body language. He’d thought about it the whole drive, unable to put his finger on it. 

He thinks about the flash of colour he’d seen on her wrist, her strangely uncomfortable way of asking if she would be credited on the song she’d worked on with him every step of the way.

Something clicks but he isn’t sure what it is. Maybe it’s progress, but he doesn’t overthink it. Reaching for his phone automatically, he opens their chat and types on instinct.

Min Yoongi [02:25] Just remembered. Need to create a demo for the remixes. Should start ASAP - studio, 10 am tomorrow.

Her response comes a short while later, just as Yoongi is getting ready for bed.

Kang Chanel [02:40] As you command, Min Suga. See you then.

—

Thank you for reading. Don't forget to drop a review :)

[rogueddie]

continuing Enter Sandman a little as a little celebration for one year 🎉

Steve has always considered himself brave. Especially after fighting interdimensional monsters and helping save the world. The idea that anything could scare him after all of that? Ridiculous.

But, standing in front of a mirror, he feels terrified. He's so anxious that he's sure that he's going to puke.

"You look great," Robin says, coming up behind him.

She's wearing a baby blue dress with a blazer on top, matching his three-piece suit. Not only is her outfit tailored, it's custom made- some big designer that owed Eddie a favor.

"I don't feel great," Steve mumbles. He tugs at the hem of his blazer. "We should have gone for traditional black. This is too much. What if Eddie-"

"Eddie is the one who insisted on color!" Robin reminds him, gently smacking his arm. "He said it's supposed to be a day for both of you, right? Or do you not trust him anymore?"

"Of course I trust him! But I want... I need this to work."

"It will. You look great, everything is ready, it's exactly how both of you want. It's going to be perfect." She grabs his shoulders, gently shaking him. "I will make sure it's perfect- if that means dragging you out by your ear then, damn it, I will."

Steve laughs, gently batting her off him. "Alright, alright, I get it!"

"Do you? Because we don't have long left, we need to get a move on!"

"Yeah, alright," he raises an eyebrow at her, nudging her. "Well, come on then, we don't have all day!"

She throws his hands up, pretending to be annoyed- it's ruined by how her face immediately softens, curling an arm around his. "Come on loverboy, the alter won't wait forever."

The yard is just as beautiful as Steve hoped it would be. El had taken over the organization, insisting that Steve and Eddie can't see it before the big day (the same way she insisted they couldn't see each other the night before).

Steve knew she would do an amazing job, but he's still blown away.

The new place the Byers got is bigger than their previous home in Hawkins- the back yard isn't much bigger though. They had managed to make it work, even with such little space.

Eddie stands at their little make-shift alter, Jeff nudging him when Steve steps out.

He looks beautiful. His suit is a dark blue, near black- but with the sun behind him, illuminating him, it's the perfect shade. His hair is half up in messy braids- Maxs work.

"You ready?" Steves mom asks. She looks awkward, most likely stressed with how harsh Steves father had reacted, but she's there. She's trying.

"Yeah," Steve says. His eyes are glued to Eddie.

"Come on," she laughs, tugging his arm out of Robins grip. "Go ahead, Robbie. I've got him."

Robin gives her a two finger salute.

The music starts up, a second before El skips up beside Robin. She hand her one of the baskets she has, full of white petals.

It's surreal, walking up the aisle. He's surprised that it's not being on this end that's throwing him off- he's been more than happy to be the one to walk up the aisle, and actually doing so isn't changing that.

No, it's that he's actually getting married. He's finally getting his happy ending and it's to someone he loves. To someone who loves him.

He feels like he's underwater, stuck in a dream- he's relieved that they agreed with El about doing the 'usual' vows, not a personal version or speech, when he finds himself repeating the vows Hopper on autopilot.

Robin gives his hand a squeeze when she gives him one of the rings.

"I love you," he can't help but whisper. It's worth it, to see Eddies smile get so big and bright.

"I love you too," he whispers back, as he slides Steves ring on.

Hopper clears his throat, giving them both pointed looks- something that has the crowd tittering. He lifts the little notebook, continuing to read out the vows.

He pauses, at the last line, looking up and grabbing Steves shoulder. His voice is a little choked when he continues; "is it my privelage to pronounce you husband and husband." He jerks his head towards Eddie. "Kiss your man."

Steve manages to hold his laughter in, just long enough to kiss Eddie. Luckily, Eddie also bursts into laughter when they pull apart.

Dustins cheering is the loudest.

Eddie pulls him close to his side with a hand on his waist, their friends swarming them with love and congratulations. He leans close, so Steve can hear him over the noise; "is it everything you dreamed of?"

"Better."

[blorb-el]

3 and 15 for the asks? happy new year! ✨

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year (fanfic end of year asks)

uhm. idk if it's cheating a little to say something i haven't posted yet, but the heart of chapter 8 (or 9 depending on where the split ends up) of wsbf, between diana and clark, was my favorite to write. it's going to need a fair bit of revision when i get there in editing but it was what started me on writing the whole fic!

as far as single lines go the last line of isostatic still makes me go >>>>>:3ccccc because its a sillay little contextualization of the entire everything that came before it even if it is grammatically a little awkward. And a somewhat related line I've repeated most to myself from a wip: tanahvruhtodh rrup rrivahzh w rrehd khahp vo?! i'm pretty terrible at languages so any given kryptahniuo line is memorable because it takes me about 87 years to come up with it. but this one feels so satisfying to snarl out. it translates to 'do you understand what you DID to me?!' which may be familiar <3

15. something you learned this year

posting what i thought was gonna be really niche idfic and having it get an absolutely crazy positive response was a little eye opening and also very validating. it happened last year with tacere and this year with wsbf. it really reinforced the idea of writing for myself first, and along the way there might be people who are interested in the same things i am. and even if that isn't true i still end up with a story Perfectly Tailored to My Interests, so. win win

when i'm using sprinto in this very lovely supportive writer's discord it helps SO much not only to sprint with other people, but announce my target word count before the sprint begins so there's mild public accountability. weaponizing anxiety for my own benefit

i gotta read everything out loud in the editing pass even when i don't wanna... it's so helpful.....

the problem is either about 5 paragraphs before where i THINK the problem is or a fundamental dissatisfaction with the entire premise of the section that i gotta take a walk about and then sleep on. if neither of these solve the problem trying to explain the problem to someone else usually ends up in fixing it at the cost of me sounding unhinged. if THAT doesn't work it's time for the fic to go in the drawer for a while

sitting in cafes at lunch/during appointment cancellations with a cup of tea and a crepe and a Little Treat and my notebook and fountain pen FELT very satisfying and it did get quite a few words on the page but my God was it expensive. also not happening with my new job 💀 i ought to figure out how to make crepes at home

triple check ya damn contractions to make sure they're clear 😭😭

happy new year to you too!!!

[the-sparkling-diamond-satine]

for the WIP ask game: very curious about fuffy genderfluid, christmas present for echo, catholic boarding school buffy/faith, and non-girl talk buffy and jenny. sorry I know that’s a lot but the list is all very intriguing to me!!

Send me an ask with a title that intrigues you from my list of wip's and I'll tell you something about it or post a snippet from it.

Fuffy Genderfluid:

Buffy thinks she’s about to be kissed but it never comes. When she opens her eyes again, Faith is just staring at her. “What?”

“Got distracted,” Faith says, thumbing Buffy’s cheek affectionately.

“By what?”

“By how beautiful you are.”

Buffy blushes. “You sure you weren’t just watching the TV over my head, getting distracted by…” Buffy turns her head to look at the TV. She continues, “By those two boys kissing?”

Faith frowns at her, “What show are you watching?”

“I’m watching the same thing you’re watching.”

Faith shakes her head like Buffy’s being silly. “That one,” she points to the kid with a shaved head, “is a girl. Her name is Eleven.”

“Eleven?” Buffy thinks she might like this show. Monsters and aliens or whatever aside, another girl with a shaved head? A kid with a name that doesn’t mean she’s a boy or a girl, it’s just gender neutral?

Christmas Present for Echo:

Echo is my friend and beta, and for Christmas this year we exchanged fics :) The one I wrote her was a Faith/Buffy + fake marriage story. Post-Chosen. Supernatural things are happening at a honeymoon resort, Faith and Buffy have to pose as a married couple and go undercover to slay. Angst, pining, awkwardness, and much "how do we act like we're married??" ensue :)

Catholic Boarding School Buffy/Faith:

This one is very loosely based on Bare: A Pop Opera, which is a story of two high school boys secretly in love at Catholic boarding school, set against the backdrop of their school play: Romeo and Juliet. They are, in many ways, Romeo and Juliet. Much angst and tragedy ensue. As someone who was sent to 13 years of Catholic school (of the non-boarding variety) secretly growing up queer, this musical was very formative to me haha and this fic is near and dear to my own experience.

The title of my fic "Am I Here to Damn You? Or to Help You Navigate This Maze?" is one of my favorite lines. Just...the moral questioning that you have to go through being raised in a certain faith, falling in love and being told it's wrong, and then starting to worry not only about the fate of your own soul but of the soul of someone you love so dearly. Just. Ouch??? It hurts so good. Another one of my favorite lines: "Father, we were so in love. And that's what I find so odd. Our love is pure and nothing else brought me closer to God." This musical absolutely destroys me okay???

I'm changing a lot of plot points to fit the Fuffy dynamic and the story I want to tell and tbh I haven't decided whether I'm going for that MCD tragic ending tag or if I'll rewrite. Decisions, decisions. Either way, much angst and moral questioning abound.

Non-Girl Talk Buffy and Jenny:

Summarized here but since I got asked again I suppose I can be brave and share a snippet from my VERY ROUGH draft:

Buffy’s hand stills on the doorknob, and Jenny relaxes her tone, saying the next part with more calm and less urgency. “When I was your age, I was doing the same thing.”

Buffy turns completely, her intention to leave forgotten. A myriad of emotions flit across her face, so quickly that Jenny only registers a couple of them: hope, longing, joy, hesitation. The one Buffy settles on is disbelief. “But…” She glances at Jenny’s obviously unbound chest, then back up to Jenny’s face, her cheeks pink. Asking without asking.

“When I was your age,” Jenny repeats softly.

“So, you’re trying to tell me that it’s ‘just a phase’ and I’ll get over it when I’m older?” Buffy asks, a hint of that angry, defiant Slayer returning. Jenny sees how Buffy manages to give Rupert so much trouble, and she loves her for it.

“You might,” Jenny admits. “Or you might not. I don’t know what’ll happen for you. I didn’t get over it.”

[freakingoutthesquares]

No More Scrubbing Crabs Graham Diss unknown publication c. October 1985 Transcription: PulpWiki

Pulp have been about to 'break' for years. The big build-up's happening again and it's probably their last chance. Things look, promising this time, provided they don't fall out first ...

Forming at school, Pulp played their first gig at the Leadmill over five years ago. Only Singer/Guitarist Jarvis Cocker remains from that era. Russell Senior (occasional vocals, guitar and violin) gave us a potted history:

"There have been three basic incarnations. One did a John Peel session which was repeated. That was the first swell of success. That group split. Second, was the album line-up, which didn't sell many, but got a certain amount of critical acclaim and was heading in the right direction. Then that split. This line-up's been going for two years."

Jarvis: "So we're just about ready to split up now."

Russell: "We're on just about the same stage of teetering on the edge of independent success."

All the group are unemployed (the others being Peter Mansell, Candida Doyle and Magnus Doyle), but they have become "Damn near full-time. With the current work, there's no way we could get a job." (Russell).

This activity includes a 'mini-tour', including an anti-apartheid gig at the University on October 25th (which isn't in Machst Du — Prod' Ed.), also featuring local band Mr. Morality and London band, Popular Front. Also, a single is imminent, recorded at Sheffield's Input Studio.

But don't expect to hear these tracks live! Jarvis — "We've stopped playing the songs on it. Some people think we're being awkward, but it's there on record; we're fed up of hearing them. If people see us live and like us, I'd have thought they'd go and buy our record, anyway."

Their new label signed them on the strength of the L.P., released two and a half years ago, which Jarvis says is "very polite and relaxed", while Russell says "We're now rude and intense."

Their disagreements with their label seem to typify the band — "We don't hang around with each other; we don't like each other very much. There is a certain tension — I don't like it when everyone gets comfortable." (Jarvis). "Most people have fights with the audience, we have fights with each other." (Russell).

Jarvis is responsible for much of the songwriting, and the band now has a large repertoire. "Which we swap around, like crop-rotation". (Russell). "We've got one coming up soon; a winder [sic, winter?] song, which we've not played since last year." (Jarvis). "The really dedicated Pulp fan will know they can come and hear the song if it's been snowing". (Russell).

Jarvis: "If things are bad, you can either get depressed about them, or you can think — they're so bad it's almost funny. That's how I feel most of the time. There isn't anything humorous about us — well, not intentionally. We're not wacky!" "Although we have tongue in cheek, every word's meant!" (Russell).

Russell believes in "A theatrical element in our performances," which (apparently) used to be aided by toilet rolls draped around the stage ("Which looked quite effective with the lights" — Jarvis). "I really like being in a band. To do something good, you really have to be self-obsessed and fight for it," explained Jarvis. Russell talked of an ultimate objective to make "The best music in the world. Of necessity, you think what others are trying to do, is not so good, so you have to hate them, in a way."

So what of other bands in Sheffield?

Russell: "Best it's been for years — very healthy. What it lacks is a fanzine — you normally get one associated with a 'movement'."

Does that mean there's actually a movement?

"That supposed 'Sheffield Scene' is based around Caberet Voltaire and their minions. But now, there's a hell of a lot of 'clean cut young men' doing passionate songs about love and things, in various ways... But quite good, not wimpy. The best bands in Sheffield from that past wave never got anywhere. It was the worst ends of it — those that compromised round the edges, that got anywhere. I think some of the bands in the current Sheffield upsurge are going to break. My tips would be: Tree Bound Story, Dig Vs Drill, and us, in that order.

So where can we expect to find Pulp in another five years?

Jarvis: "I don't really like old bands. In five year's time, I'll either be in the 'Hole in the Road' with a cider bottle and a brown paper bag, or I'll be quite well off somewhere. Either very happy or very depressed, I won't be in the middle."

Russell: "There's only two options; you're either a pop star or you're scrubbing crabs."

[mermaidsirennikita]

ARC REVIEW: A Monsoon Rising by Thea Guanzon

4.25/5. Releases 12/10/24.

vibes: arranged marriage--what now?, awkward super powerful virgins falling in love, falling in love with the one you're meant to betray

Heat Level: 7.5/5

The Basics:

Now that she's married to Alaric, the Night Emperor, Talasyn wants to keep it purely political--especially since she's secretly a part of a plot to overthrow him. Unfortunately, their attraction to each other has already caused problems. Now more than ever, they need to remain strict and remote, with the Moonless Dark, a catastrophic, potentially apocalyptic event approaching. But the encroaching doom could make their feelings even more apparent, even as outside forces pit them against each other.

The Review:

This was the best thing the second book in a trilogy can be: better than the first (and the first was already good). Though I enjoyed The Hurricane Wars, it did at points feel very much like a set up, both in terms of the fantasy plot and Alaric and Talasyn's relationship. In a lot of ways, you get payoff on both aspects in this installment... while at the same time leaving some tantalizing threads hanging.

Well, like. A lot of tantalizing threads. Remember--this is a trilogy. We're going to have to wait for that ending!

Really, the last book ended just as Alaric and Talasyn's relationship was beginning. Here, we find them in the midst of this alliance marriage that isn't supposed to be even vaguely real. Yet they've already--well--gotten each other off. And that should be it! No repeat performances! No feelings!

Sure, Jan.

What I loved about this is that both Alaric and Talasyn are incredibly powerful beings, skilled fighters, and even growing politicians. But when it comes to their emotions--and their sexual experience on both sides--they're really just a couple of babes in the woods. It gives a delicious vulnerability and awkwardness to their interactions. I mean, of course Alaric has mommy issues (and so does Talasyn, for that matter). Of course Talasyn has the ability to beat his ass in a fight while at the same time lacking the social experience to know how to flirt. They're basically a couple of gawky, traumatized losers together. Especially Alaric. And I love that!

Y'all, he's so obsessed with this girl. And sometimes it comes out in a "I want to write her name over and over in my notebook" kind of way, and sometimes it comes out in a "MINE MINE MINE OM NOM NOM" kind of way. Both ways are good.

I'll admit, sometimes the political stuff can still be A Lot for me, but I found it a lot easier to follow this time around. Additionally, the focus on the Moonless Dark itself really allowed me to sort of... zero in on this cataclysmic moment. It's a great way to amp up the pacing and push us towards as climax.

Speaking of climaxes...

The Sex:

WELL DAMN. There was very little sex in the last book, and I suspected that would change this time around. I don't think I suspected it would change this much. We have the build up with "I'm so aroused against my own will" shenanigans. We have actual consummation, and like... a lot of stuff after that.

Alaric is pretty dirty, y'all! I was proud of him! I had to reread one of those lines to be like "Well fuck, he sure did perk up." There's some good shit here. And it really does serve the relationship. You have a really fantastic progression of physical intimacy aligning with the increasing emotional intimacy.

Another thing I so appreciated--the sex isn't like, constant smooth sailing. There's some awkward stuff in the beginning, befitting a couple of virgins figuring it out. Hell yeah.

Anyway--I really enjoyed this, and I'm super excited to see what happens next. It ends on quite the Moment.

Thanks to NetGalley and Harper Voyager for providing me with a copy of this book. All thoughts and opinions are my own.

[positivelybeastly]

🖤 for core

attractiveness:

repulsive / hideous / ugly / not attractive / unappealing / not unattractive / meh / no preference / ok / mildly attractive / nice looking / cute / adorable / attractive / pleasant on the eyes / good looking / hot / sexy / beautiful / gorgeous / hot damn / would tap that / perfect / godlike / holy fuck there are no words.

That is Hank's son, you will not hear him say anything other than a strong, passionate admission that Core is a very handsome young man. He will happily tell you, however, that whoever's lucky enough to hold his hand should count their lucky stars (and garters).

personality:

grating / irritating / frustrating / boring / confusing at best / awkward / unreasonable / psychotic / disturbing / interesting / engaging / affectionate / aggressive / ambitious / anxious / artistic / bad tempered / bossy / charismatic / appealing / unappealing / creative / courageous / dependable / unreliable / unpredictable / predictable / devious / dim / extroverted / introverted / egotistical / gregarious / fabulous / impulsive / intelligent / sympathetic / talkative / up beat / peaceful / calming / badass / flexible.

Honestly, Hank probably has a fairly unique perspective on Core, given the fact that he's been privileged enough to be allowed in to take in what a genuinely smart, wonderful, and gentle person Core is. A lot of other people would probably find him a lot harder to approach, a lot more introverted and quiet and hard to get a read on, but Hank knows how awesome he is and will happily extoll their virtues to anyone who asks.

how likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending / fuck no! / never / no way / not likely / not sure / indifferent / I’m asexual / maybe / probably / it depends / fairly likely / likely / yeah sure / yes / would tap that / hell yes / fuck yes! / wishing that could happen right now / as many times as possible / we are already having sex.

I repeat, that is Hank's son. He will not hesitate to box you soundly twixt the ears if you continue down this line of questioning.

level of friendship:

never in a million years / worst of enemies / enemies / rivals / indifferent / neutral / acquaintance / friendly toward each other / casual friends / friends / good friends / best friends / fuck buddies / bosom buddies / practically the same person / would die for them / true friends / my only friend.

Some fathers are really more like good friends with their sons because they don't know quite how to be there emotionally for them. Hank is not that kind of father figure for Core. He does his absolute best to be emotionally available, helpful, kind, instructive, and supportive in any way he can, and he knows he has Core's full support in return. He's family.

first impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

I mean, first impression was staring him down in one of Sinister's cloning labs, that was never going to start with Hank thinking wow, what a cool kid. That being said, whenever Sinister's involved, Hank is very aware that people aren't necessarily doing what they want to do, just what they feel they have to or are required to do, so I don't think hatred or anything like that would have come into the mix. Hank's not the kind of person to hate on sight.

current impression of them:

i hate them so much / i don’t like them / i don’t trust them / they annoy me / they’re weird / I’m indifferent / meh / they seem alright / they’re growing on me / truce / I think I like them / I like them / I’m not sure if I trust them / I trust them / they’re cool / they’re genuine / I think we’re going to get along / I really like them / I think I’m in love / oh fuck they’re hot / I love them.

Platonically, I hasten to add, but you knew that. Hank just genuinely thinks the world of Core - he's never really had the chance to have kids of his own, and the kids he's taken under his wing (Rictor, Elixir, Broo, etc) have all gone on to do pretty decently, all told, so he likes to think he's done all right by the young man.

[charmed-asylum]

Let me try not to do this…… okay moment over let’s get it done w a lovely deep dive 💦 🐬 🕵️‍♀️

Part 1: Awkward Moment: now fact that ally comes out to just surprise Colin same moment reader leaves leave me full of doubt about this bitch. Like mmm u n Colin r nasty af like at this point I’m really thinking they want to do a 3 some bc sus. Then the oh I didn’t see u but never and I say NEVER reach out to her bc getting some before work n “happening to run into each other don’t count “ roo . But she recognizes she wasn’t there like obviously 🙄 she left afterwards when u was fuckin like 🐰 in next room. And reader little hard on her self poor thing. Part 2: Office Space If this is anything like the show hot damn we just enter a two for and a bitch could not be more happy. Lord so many times I seen this and it’s like mm. I know this is a Colin fic but honey u left to many stiff open w endless questions I have and probably go on a rant about but won’t just please 🙏 ring ring a sis when u got a chance. Shari shariiiii I love her yup only five secs n I’m like clap slap yuuuup. I wonder do they hang out is reader just socially awkward bc if so hot dog I found my double lol 😂 He's tall, blond, and neatly groomed. He wears a dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt. Even without a tie, he carries an air of formality. The shade of the fabric brings out the lighter hue of his eyes as they scan the spacious but crowded office floor. Idk why but I was like DAMN YES 👍 like mmm found a suitable mate for reader wooo. Lord huh sounds fine. Now I really was like oh shut did he see her the contact at this moment I’m just shipping the shit of the two ( especially once he drop it like it hot w the name girrrrrl) again knowing my luck it’s a trap 🪤 n bitch need to run to CVS n stock up on my clown makeup . THE FACT OKAY REPEAT IT FOR THE BACK THIS HAPPENED HAD ME ☠️ 🪦 His lilted accent is like music. You can't help but be enthralled by it. Your mind as ever sprints ahead of you as you wonder where he's from and how he got here. BC IM SAY WAY IDK WHYYYYYYYYY BUT VOICE ALWAYS GET ME zoooooon out now after this line she says last thing she needs is this choas ( my pink glasses tilt down as I give a confused look) why she say that part 3: First impression; nooooow 👏🏼 ���� idk about yall but tension is tight n I’m grabbing my coins bc I feel it. To meet people and to see what their worth is okay but mmmm idk 🤷‍♀️ he kinda going at it differently idk and how he said That is not my question," he closes the folder and drops it, "forgive me. You have my full attention," he steps around and leans against the desk, only a foot away from you, "describe this office in one word." Like idk much but BUTTT I’m feeling something about the way this convo turn now I’m not gonna lie I just huhhh point at him something up BUT IF ALL ELSE FAILS THE GAZE ROO THE GAZE SOMETHING UP ONCE HE HEAR THAT WORD

Part 4: Colin : I want to start by saying he diff was waiting for her like nope he jobless basically n bored so why not be a sexy creep and stalk a bitch u ain’t fucking but make sure she can hear it mmm u nasty 😷 So quickly the knife sinks back in as you find Colin standing along the other side of the hall, leaning on the railing that overlooks the lower level. He watches you as you appear. Like whooooooo does this 🫤 waits like this makes me wonder like idk maybe we discovered a im a creepy ass man kink w him bc like why or it’s enjoyment like ally all Colin she heard n now im mad pout n he all so what lalala they get n a fight n he fucks w reader bc he a dick . 👏🏼 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 why is he clocking a bitch like u a Rolex , Ally said you got pretty loaded. Andddddd you again talking about her w ally u guys really talking about her this much like who does this. And he creeeeping rooo oh my god can we find a level above steve n bucky on the god damn u is quite sneaky this never end nicknames n flirting yoooooo men just don’t HOLD UP TAKE MY POODLE HE SNAP HIS FINGER AT HER OHHHH NAH HE GONNa ( in a whisper) DIEEEEEEEEEEEE n come on this Buttercup,” he snaps his fingers, “you’re the best friend ever, you know that? So fucking chill. God, just… beautiful!” Whaaaaaat he doing n a 😘 boy what is u doin n then it hit me he got a im a horny dick kink who does that n say stuff then act like it ahhhh

Crushed 3

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, manipulation, cheating, sleazy behaviour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your next door neighbours hook up, bringing to surface deep-seated feelings.

Character: Colin Shea

Note: Things are already gettin messy.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you like my dog loves belly rubs (that’s a lot). Take care. 💖

Ps. Do you like my divider? I’ll make you one for your stories

Sunday is spent recovering. Emotionally. Physically, you feel fine. The nausea and headache fade before noon but you still feel sick. You don’t dare emerge from your apartment.

Keep reading

[alloftheimagines]

robin buckley | everything has changed

MASTERLIST | TAG LIST | KO-FI

words: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ brief mention of reader and robin smoking weed, mention of Eddie's death and Will and Hopper's disappearances, strong language, gay pining <3, best friends to lovers with mentions of reader's home conflict and fear of falling in love (but it's too late) so... angst. and fluff.

prompt (from this list): Robin x "maybe won’t you take it back? say you were trying to make me laugh and nothing has to change today. you didn’t mean to say I love you."

— an: i strongly believe writing sapphic fics is my only purpose on this planet so send in more robin requests pls

Robin Buckley is absolutely, catastrophically in love with you. She knows this. She’s had two years to get used to the fact. 

Only she never really does get used to the way you make her feel. She knows it’s wrong; for all she knows, you’re not even remotely interested in girls romantically, let alone her. You've never said so explicitly, let alone crossed boundaries with her. The worst part? The only person who doesn’t know about Robin's feelings is you. Steve has worked tirelessly in the art of pep talks since noticing Robin’s affliction in the Upside Down, shortly before you all risked your life to fight Vecna. She hasn’t heard the end of it since. Just go for it. You don’t know until you try. She likes boobies, Robin!

And Robin doesn’t know what it is, but it all bubbles over one Friday night. The two of you are sharing a joint courtesy of Eddie while watching a bunch of old movies. You sit on the couch with her, legs entangled while you act out Audrey Hepburn’s dialogue in Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and Robin is laughing so hard it feels like her voice is trying to climb out of her throat and make its way to you. She knows that you don’t know how fucking hilarious and warm and joyful you are, and god, she wants you to know.

So she throws popcorn at you and inserts her leg between yours just to get a little bit closer, and you plump up your hair as you deliver the next line in sync with the TV, unfazed by the flying food, and Robin… 

Robin blurts, “God, why’d you keep making me fall so fucking in love with you, you big idiot?” 

The world stops, Audrey’s lines stumbling out of your lips and then stopping altogether. Robin stops hearing the TV, though her face and yours continue to light up together as you look at her. 

Your brows rise, mouth parts. Nothing comes out. Robin scrambles for a way to fix it, to stuff those words back into her mouth with the buttery popcorn, but… there’s nothing. No taking it back. And maybe…

Maybe she doesn’t want to. For just a moment, things feel lighter with the words finally out in the open. Until the dread sets in, at least, because you still haven’t said a damn thing and you’re looking at her like you’ve never seen her before. 

“What…” You clear your throat when your voice cracks. “What did you say?”

“I…” Robin sighs and sits up, batting her blonde hair from her eyes. Her face is burning, but there’s no going back now. Steve’s voice echoes in her head. What if she does feel the same and you’re just too scared to find out?

She has to know. Either way, things will always be awkward in the wake of her confession, even if she tries to brush it off as a joke. She may as well find out the truth.

“Yeah, okay. I’m doing this,” she murmurs to herself, wiping her greasy hands on her jeans. And then: “I said I’m in love with you.”

“As a friend… right? Or a joke?" You shuffle further away, and it makes Robin ache. She knew this would happen. It was the thing she dreaded most when she realised she was a lesbian. Losing her friends. Only you never cared about her sexuality. You’re so open and understanding, and sometimes you talk about how hot Michelle Pfeiffer is, and… maybe a part of her hoped too much. Maybe she’d been naive to think there was a chance.

“Robin… tell me you’re joking,” you repeat when she doesn’t reply. “You meant it as a joke.”

Robin is good at talking. She’s good at rambling her way out of any sticky situation. But, for once, she can’t seem to find the right words, so she just sits there with her mouth agape, tears pricking at her eyes. 

You stand up, hand rising to your mouth in shock, before you run out of the living room, out of the house. Robin’s heart sinks, but you’re her best friend and she has to chase after you. She can’t just let you go. She can’t lose you.

“Y/N, wait!” she begs, shirt rippling in the mild autumn breeze as she chases you down the street. You stop on the sidewalk a few steps away, illuminated by the glow of the neighbour’s house. Robin knows this is her only chance. She balls her hands into fists and thinks quickly, desperately, for the right thing to say as you turn around. Tears glisten in your eyes. 

“I can’t tell you that I’m joking, okay? I can’t. But I can tell you that this…” she motions between her chest and yours, “I’ve felt this for a really long time and I’m super good at hiding it. So you don’t have to worry. I won’t make it weird. It doesn’t have to be weird. I can be your best friend and you can pretend I didn’t say anything and everything will be fine, right?” She smiles hopefully, but it’s shaky and difficult to keep there. “It will be fine. People hide their feelings for their friends all the time. You don’t feel the same, and that’s… that’s fine.”

You cross your arms over your chest as though Robin has physically hurt you. “Robin… I can’t just pretend. We can’t just… You can’t hide what you feel. You’re not supposed to hide things from me. I’m supposed to be your best friend.”

“You are!” She’s choking on sobs now, inching towards you slowly. “You are, and that’s why I hid it. And that’s why I don’t want you to feel weird about this.”

“I don’t feel weird,” you whisper. 

Robin’s heart stutters. “Then what… what do you feel?”

This time, it’s you who can’t talk. You shake your head instead. 

Her pit of sadness burrows between Robin’s brows. “It’s okay. I didn’t, like, expect you to feel the same or anything. Well, maybe I hoped because we’re so close and you play with my hair and we have these moments, right? But I told Steve. I told him you’d never—”

“Steve knows?” You recoil as though stung, and Robin can’t figure out why. You’re all friends. You love Steve as much as she does. 

“He guessed, okay? I didn’t tell him… Well, I did, but only because he wouldn't let it go...”

“But he knows,” you repeat. “How long has he known?”

Robin shrugs, at a loss. “I don’t know. Like, a year. I'm sorry, I'm confused. Why is this the thing we’re focusing on?”

“Because.” You sniffle, throat bobbing, and you don’t look at her. Can’t. “Because I should have known first, Robin. I thought we told each other everything and now…” You let out a breathless, pained sound, shoulder’s shuddering. “Take it back,” you plead then. “Tell me this is all bullshit. It’s a joke, right? It's all a big joke.”

But Robin can’t lie to you anymore. Not if this is what it does. She thought she was being a good friend by keeping the truth concealed, but now she realises that the look of betrayal contorting your features has been caused by her. She lied to you. Kept the most important thing in the world from you. All because she wanted to keep you. She didn't want things to change.

Now they have.

“Y/N…”

“You’re not in love with me. You just love me as a friend. Because that’s what we are. We’re not… You don’t…” You struggle to form a coherent sentence.

“We can be just friends,” Robin says, defeated this time. She can already tell by your face that she’s dropped a bomb on this friendship and she has to watch it detonate. “We can stay as we are.”

“Tell me you’re not in love with me. Please, Robin.”

“I can’t do that.” She wants to reach out, comfort you, but she’s so afraid of you running away and never coming back to her. She’s ruined everything, and still, she can’t take back the truth. Still, she doesn’t want to. She’s never even seen you cry before today. Not when Eddie died or when Will went missing or when Hopper never came back from Starcourt. But you’re crying now and it’s killing her, and the worst part is, she doesn’t know why. Not beyond the lies. Is it that terrible that she’s in love with you?

“Y/N,” Robin continues, “I don’t expect anything from you. Nothing has to change.”

“Everything has changed!” you scream. “How can I pretend I don’t feel anything now? Do you know how hard it is for me to look at you and not want to kiss you? But I do it every damn day because you’re my best friend and I don’t want to lose you!”

It’s the last thing Robin expected to hear, and the words echo over and over in her ears. You… want to kiss her? You feel the same? “What?”

“You sat there and you pined for Tammy and Vickie and all I ever saw was how much you invested yourself into them, and how much it hurt. How the hell am I supposed to want that with you when what we have already is so damn perfect?”

But Tammy and Vickie were just distractions. It’s always been you. How can't you know that yet? “You’re… scared?”

“Yes, Robin, I’m fucking scared!” you exclaim. “Love ruins everything. It never lasts, and when it does, it becomes an obligation. Not something you can get out of when it fades. I can’t be like our parents. I can’t let myself be with you when it means that we have to risk the only good thing I have. The one constant friendship I’ve ever held onto.”

Robin knew you weren’t one for romance, not really. Your parents raised you in a loveless home, always yelling and drinking and cursing, and you’ve asked Robin time and time again if love is real, or just a miserable myth. But she thought… well, she thought she might be different after so much time spent so close. So intimate. She hoped that maybe, if you chose to trust anyone with your heart, it might be her. And you love rom-coms more than anything. Robin always thought you were just being cynical. Waiting for someone to change your mind.

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Robin says gently. “I would never hurt you like that. Not as a friend or as more. We trust each other, don’t we?”

You bite down on your wobbling lower lip and nod. 

Robin risks a step closer so she’s almost able to touch you. “Do you really feel something for me, too?”

Another nod as tears stream down your face. “Of course I do. But… But if this goes wrong, I won’t have you anymore. I don’t know how to not have you, Robin.”

Robin takes your hand gently. “You’ll always have me. Always. I’m your best friend. You think you can ever get rid of me? Do you know how annoying I am?”

You laugh finally and Robin’s heart soars as she smiles with you. 

“Nothing has to go away or end. We can just be best friends who sometimes kiss,” she says. “We can just be best friends who are super into each other.”

“Super?” you tease, eyes still round with fear. 

“Super,” Robin affirms, offering you another lopsided smirk. Her pulse pounds and she can barely breathe as you finally lace your fingers through hers. 

And then you lean in, swiping her bangs from her eyes, and Robin has to kiss you before she combusts — so she does. It’s magical, every moment of it, all soft pink lips and wary tongues, breathless rasps and shaky hands, and she is so in love with you. Her best friend. Her person. 

“Please don’t let us ever ruin this,” you beg a final time.

Robin is quick to reassure you, swallowing your words with another tender kiss. “I’m not going anywhere.”

[babyboibucky]

The Match

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You come across your boss’ Tinder profile.

Word Count: 1,446

Warnings: HMMMM sexual tension 😏

A/N: I wrote this in a whirl and tried to format it through the app last night and it SUCKS so I’m posting this just now. Anyway, there will definitely be a smutty part two to this lmfao ya know it

Edit: PART 2 IS UP!!!

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Saturday night and you’re on your bed, wine-drunk and all as you mindlessly swiped through Tinder. You start to frown when none of the guys impressed you enough to swipe right. Their bios were all the same, revolving around their egos only to end up with the good ol’ “DTF” line.

Bored and disappointed, you almost exited the app until a very, very familiar face appeared on your screen.

“Holy shitballs, it’s our boss.” You sat up immediately, bringing your phone to your face for a close inspection.

Indeed, it was your boss James Barnes but he was using “Bucky” as his profile name. You wondered whether it was his real account or a poser one. But then you remembered his closest colleagues calling him that.

You snorted as you checked out his profile. He didn’t have a bio but had a couple of photos uploaded. And oh wow, is that a shirtless mirror photo?

You rarely worked closely with your boss but goddamn, sometimes you wished you did because he was a hot piece of ass.

“Should I swipe right...” you mumbled to yourself.

Would it be unprofessional to do so? But then again, you never really interacted with him that much. Just a couple of polite nods and greetings whenever you passed by him at the office. You weren’t even directly reporting to him.

That being said, you were quite sure that he wouldn’t swipe right on you given that you’re his employee. Of course he wouldn’t want to be the unprofessional one so being tipsy and all, you decided to take one for the team.

“Tss, what the hell.” You huffed out and swiped right.

Not even a second later, the “It’s a match!” message popped up on the screen almost immediately. You choked on your wine and dropped your phone, eyes wide and heart racing because you just matched with your fucking boss.

“Shit!” You hissed, diving onto the floor the pick your phone up.

If the message popped out as soon as you swiped right on him, then that means...

“He swiped right on me first, what the fuck!”

-

Monday came quickly and you’ve never been this restless before. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you matched with your boss on Tinder. Neither of you messaged the other over the weekend but now that you were headed to work, you honestly didn’t know what to expect.

You debated whether to call in sick or maybe, pretend that you died? Pack your bags and perhaps fly to a different country and start anew? You were overacting but matching with your boss on a dating app known for hook-ups should be a valid reason to justify your thoughts.

Maybe James didn’t recognize you that’s why he swiped right. That was possible since you and him didn’t really work together. It’d be better if he swiped right by accident, his phone probably slipped from his hands. He probably doesn’t even know he matched with you, yeah, you decided to settle on that conclusion.

Taking a deep breath in, you fixed your hair before stepping out of your car. Mondays were meant for meetings so he probably wouldn’t be around the office anyway. You rushed over to the elevator and let out a sigh of relief when you didn’t have to share it with anyone.

That was until someone managed to slip a foot in between the doors, catching up to you before the elevators slammed shut.

“Oh.”

Well, well, well if it isn’t James “Bucky” Barnes. Out of all the people you had to share an elevator with, it just had to be him! And judging by how his eyes widened at the sight of you, the Tinder incident wasn’t simply an accident.

“Good morning.” He greeted, clearing his throat as he stood beside you.

James’ scent wafted in the air as soon as the doors slid close and he smelled divine. He smelled like a man, a man man and it almost made your eyes roll. You greeted him back with a soft voice, fighting so hard not to look at him because as always, he looked pretty damn good.

He was restless beside you, adjusting his suit and then his tie. You could see him through your peripheral vision, he kept on fixing his hair as well. Did he get a haircut? It was shorter than before, not that you were paying way too much attention to him.

Meanwhile, you too were fidgeting with your shoulder bag, picking at the leather and praying for this torture to be over before you could even lose control and slam your lips against his.

“How was your weekend?” James asked, glancing at you.

This was probably the longest conversation you had with your boss. You weren’t even sure which was more awkward, striking a conversation after the match or simply remaining quiet for the entire ride up.

“Um, it was good. Yours?” You asked, stammering a little as you stole a quick glance at him.

James nodded, “Good too. Interesting actually.”

Fuck! He knows, he so knows about the match.

You would have preferred complete silence over the elevator music echoing in the air while the both of you were obviously feeling the tension. Was the elevator really this slow?! And when did it get this hot?!

You started fanning yourself when you started to sweat from the awkwardness of it all. Bucky too could obviously feel it, the tension and the elephant in the room waiting to be acknowledged. He loosened his tie all of a sudden, popping the top buttons of his dress shirt which quickly reminded you of the shirtless pic in his profile.

You could feel the heat creep up to your neck and ears. With how bright the lights were in the elevator, it’d be easy for James to notice how red you turned.

“Kinda hot today, don’t you think?” He asked.

You let out a mirthless chuckle, “Yeah, really hot. I think the maintenance should have the air conditioning unit checked.” You breathed out, clearing your throat again as you wiped the sweat forming on your forehead.

For a couple of seconds there was nothing but the collective sounds of you and your boss clearing your throats. The tension was so thick you can literally touch it if you tried. You wanted to address the unspoken issue but how the hell were you going to do that? Jump on his bones? It would seem like a good idea to do so except that he was your boss and that would result to you losing your job.

You wanted to ask James though, whether he was aware that you were his employee when he swiped right. Actually, you just wanted to bring up the topic just to get it over with. Acknowledge the match and then pretend it didn’t happen to save you both from the embarrassment. Yeah, you could do that.

Unable to hold back anymore, you broke the silence to ask James a question.

“Did you swipe right on accident?”

“So are you down to fuck?”

You and James asked at the same time, his straightforward question making you weak in the knees because what the hell...

James bit his lip, shaking his head in response. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.” You blinked, unable to stop yourself from staring at James’ mouth when he ran his tongue over his lower lip before taking it in between his teeth as he looked you over with glazed eyes.

Damn that tongue, though. And damn those blue eyes too.

“Are you...?” He repeated again, reminding you of his question.

Your boss, whom you rarely interacted with in the office, just asked you whether you were down to fuck. Truthfully, you were only on Tinder because of boredom and it wasn’t your goal to actually hook-up with someone. But now that your hot boss swiped right on you and seemed to be really interested in you...

“I...uhh...” you stammered, not really knowing how to tell him that yes, you would very much like to be fucked by him.

The elevator dinged, interrupting the tension between you and James. The doors slid open and James quickly straightened up before walking ahead.

But not without turning around to look at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

Due to the pressure and the elevator doors beginning to close, you blurted out the first thing that you could muster.

“Yes, sir!”

You blushed at your response but it seemed to have stirred something in James because his eyes darkened as he smirked at you.

“Good. Then I’ll see you in my office in fifteen.”

-

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[roscgcld]

GOJO SATORU || pretty eyes [pt.2]

anime: jujutsu kaisen 

character: gojo satoru

pronouns: she/her 

notes: high-school! gojo x underclassman! reader

the part two of ‘pretty eyes’ is here! read part one here.

“You really do have pretty eyes, senpai.”

Gojo prides himself as a man who just ‘doesn’t do relationships’. Besides the fact that there is a line of women who were just waiting to get with him, he had never really seen what an actual functioning relationship looked like. His parents had an arranged marriage to ‘keep the Gojo clan’s genes powerful’ - his father was barely around, going about his duties to the clan whilst his mother was out and about having affairs left, right and center. 

With that being said though, Gojo was a determined man. He may not know exactly what was it that draws him to a particular junior of his, but he’d be damned if he didn’t get to at least know her better. The problem? He has absolutely no clue on how to woe her. 

“Remind me again exactly what am I doing here?”

It was a Friday afternoon - and classes are always let out earlier on Friday. Usually Geto would spend the free afternoon just relaxing in his dorm after a long week of classes and missions; but before Geto can evens step one foot out of the stuffy classroom, Gojo had grabbed his arm and teleported them both out of campus. That’s how he found himself in a random café that Gojo had graciously dragged them into, narrowing his eyes over at his best friend as he raised his mug of earl grey to his lips. “If this is about copying my essay-”

“How do you ask a girl out?”

“Hah?” Geto asks with an annoyed scowl, to which Gojo just made a noise before he awkward sets his clean cake fork down; the multi-layered cookies and cream cake sat untouched before him. That alone should be concerning, since Gojo is known to have a strong affinity for sweets. “How do you ask a girl out? Like, on a date.” Gojo repeated with the utmost serious expression on his face, and for a few moments Geto just blinks at him owlishly. “Satoru, how the hell have you been asking women out before this? It’s the same damn thing.” 

“Asking a girl you actually like out and asking someone for a one night stand are two very different things.” Gojo stresses whilst Geto actually sets his mug down before him, the situation slowly dawning onto him. “You’re actually being serious right now.” He mutters whilst Gojo tossed him an annoyed look, clearly unamused by how little faith his friend has in him. “Well, first things first, you actually need to get to know them better first before you actually ask them.”

“Yeah, well - I’m trying to work on that.” Gojo grumbles out quietly as he picked his fork back up, digging into the corner of his cake with a soft frown whilst Geto leans back into his seat with a thoughtful look. “But I didn’t even notice her until recently.” He sighs softly to himself as he examined his forkful of cake, a slight pout tugging on his lips. “I am sure Ieiri might help. But knowing her, that means I’ll owe her another debt that she will use against me.”

Geto, for once, actually feels some form of sympathy for Gojo. Whilst he grew up in a functioning household with loving parents, Gojo was brought up in a lonely world, where he was treated like a prized position to be paraded about. So Geto wasn’t shocked at how unsure the usually overconfident Gojo is when it comes to something as trivial as dating. “Well...you can bring her out for coffee like you’re doing with me.” He offered, to which Gojo just made a face at his statement. “Sorry buddy, I don’t swing that way.”

“You little piece of shit.” Geto grunted with a light scowl as he kicked Gojo hard underneath the table, his annoyance growing at the familiar grin that was tugging at the corners of Gojo’s lips; and also the fact that his foot was stop by the Limitless that Gojo had activated before Geto can kick. “I mean an actual cute date dumbass - bring her café hopping about Tokyo or something. Or one of those pet cafes - people love pet cafes.” Geto said with a tired sigh, picking up his mug to take a slow sip from his warm liquid whilst Gojo actually pauses for a moment at Geto’s words. “Wait, that’s not that bad of an idea.”

Geto just rolled his eyes at that, taking soft sips from his mug whilst he watches as Gojo start googling about a few cafes that he can bring her about. “You’re welcome.” Geto said with a tired sigh as he sets his mug down, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks over at Gojo. “Now figure out a way to get to know her better and see if she’s even interested in your annoying ass.” He stated simply, to which Gojo just grins as he pointed the end of his fork as Geto, having eating that bite of cake whilst he typing away on his phone. “Who wouldn’t be interested in me?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

The next time he had gotten a chance to bump into her was actually by complete accident. 

Like usually, he had decided to slack off instead of doing his homework; so it was no surprise to find the young shaman cooped up in the library of the school with a variety of textbooks opened around him. To be honest, Gojo wouldn’t have done this essay if it wasn’t for the fact that it had a heavy weightage on his final grade, determining if he could graduate from high school. 

Even with that threat overhead, he decided to drag it out until the very last day to start writing it. Geto was just annoyed at him, since Gojo is actually really smart - yet he enjoys slacking off. It was infuriating, and since Gojo had already annoyed him enough with his entire ‘crush’ situation, Geto had just told him to go to the library before promptly closing the door in his face.

So there Gojo was, long limbs stretched out all over the place as he twirls his pen between his fingers. He had the most bored expression on his face as he tilted his head back with a sigh, his eyes blinking up at the wooden ceiling. If he was being honest, he had actually finished half of his essay - until he grew bored and wanted a distraction. He was about to get up to go and grab a snack from the vending machines when he heard a pair of soft footsteps and a quiet voice calling out to him.

“Oh, hello there, Gojo-senpai.”

Gojo widen his eyes in shock as he suddenly sat up straight, almost dropping the pen he was twirling between his fingers as he snapped his eyes up at the girl that had plagued his thoughts day and night. The same smile gracing her lips as she curiously walked towards the messy desk, casting a glance over the many opened books and the half-written essay before him. “Am I disturbing your research?”

“N-No.” Gojo said, cringing a little at how awkward he sounded - it was so unnatural and so unlike him, and he hopes that she didn’t notice it. Fortunately she hadn’t picked up on the awkwardness that he was basically radiating as she smiles and nods, gesturing to the free seat opposite from his with her free hand. “Do you mind if I take a seat there? I don’t really like studying alone in the library, it can get really quiet and boring.”

Numbly Gojo nodded, feeling a light blush coating his cheeks when he saw the grateful smile she tossed over at him casually as she made her way to the seat. He snapped out of it when he saw her pulling her own textbook from her bag, quickly shifting his mess into a neat pile so she has more space to work. She thanked him quietly with a smile, settling down in the free seat opposite from his as she started to flip through her book. He pretended to return to his work as well, but in reality he was watching her through his lashes, admiring how she can make something as simple as reading look graceful.

There was no way he was going to be able to do work now.

Closing his eyes a little, he reaches up to rub the bridge of his nose, this action causing his signature rounded sunglasses to fall down the bridge a little more. He was about to push them back when he felt a pair of eyes on him, causing him to look over the rim of his glasses over at the girl before him. When she was caught staring she just smiles at him, causing Gojo’s now calmed cheeks to flare up once more. “You really do have pretty eyes, senpai.” The girl stated simply, tilting her head a little as she casted him another smile. 

And once more, the simple act of a smile caused Gojo’s breath to hitch, his eyes widening even more as he watches how she just casually looked down at her textbook once more. If only she knew just how that one sentence had basically shot-circuited his brain - rendering him useless for a few seconds. Somehow though, he managed to slowly return to his senses and start on his essay, the sound of having someone else studying with him getting him into the groove of things. Without even knowing it, he wrote the last sentence of his essay; smiling victoriously as he picked the essay up and flipped through the sheets of writing. He gave them a quick scan, reading it briefly to make sure everything looks alright before he slipped his essay back into his folder.

He had started to pack his books up when he spotted the clear look of confusion that was splashed across the face of the girl opposite from him. For some reason she reminded him of a kitten, and for a brief moment he just wanted to reach over to gently squish her cheeks in his hands. Instead he gave into his smaller temptation; gently kicking her slipper clad foot with one of his own to grab her attention. “Need some help with that?”

The younger girl gave him an embarrassed smile as she nods, rubbing the back of her head softly as she glances back at her textbook. “I wouldn’t mind...it’s just - I’ve been reading over the same chapter for a few days now, but I just don’t understand anything.” She admitted with a tired sigh as she hangs her head a little, sporting what looks to be a soft pout of frustration that caused Gojo’s heart to skip a beat at how adorable she looked. Wordlessly Gojo got up, grabbing his seat from his end of the table as he made his way towards her. 

Settling down beside her, he leaned closer to scan over the page of the textbook, a memory jostling in the back of his mind at the same lesson he took back in his first year. “Oh, I remember this. I can help you if you want.”

“Really?” The younger girl said with an curious look as she glanced back at the man seated beside her, Gojo widening his eyes when he realised just how close their faces were. He can feel her soft breath against his cheek, and what smelt like mint coming from parted lips. This caused him to blush as he hid his widened eyes behind his sunglasses, wondering how the hell was she not outwardly reacting at how close their faces were. “Y-Yeah. I mean, I’ve already finished my work...I don’t mind killing some free time helping you.”

The girl gave him a grateful smile before she rubs the back of her neck gently, feeling a soft flush appearing on her cheeks that caused Gojo to stare shamelessly. “Thank you, senpai. If you need anything from me after this, don’t hesitate to ask.” She offered shyly as she glances over at Gojo, who blinked before he decided to take his opportunity. “A-Actually, there is something you can help me with.” Gojo admitted after he took a deep breath to steel his resolve, but the tone of his voice was still far too shy for how the third year.

His words caused the girl beside him to cast him a curious glance 

“Would you maybe...be interested on going on a date with me?” He asks her, biting his lip a little as he stared at her from behind his sunglasses. For a brief moment the girl just blinked at him before her face suddenly blossomed in a deep shade of red, her hands coming up to slap over her warm cheeks as she stared at him with wide eyes. “M-Me?”

A shy nod was given before Gojo awkwardly glances down at his lap as well, rubbing the back of his neck with one of his hand whilst the other rested on the desk before them; anxiously tapping against the wood. “Y-Yeah.” He mumbles in a soft voice, and for a few moments there was silence that caused Gojo’s heart to beat painfully against his chest. 

Screw whoever says that facing a Special Grade Curse would be terrifying - Gojo feels like he might just die from the anxiety of asking someone out for something as simple as a date. 

He was about to start babbling about some random reason as to why when he heard her shy answer. “I-I mean...I wouldn’t mind going out on a date with you...”

Cue short-circuited Gojo once more.

“O-Oh.” Gojo spluttered out with wide eyes, having not expected for her to agree so readily as she gave him a shy smile, her face still dusted in a light shade of red as she nodded her. Her answer caused him to smile, biting his lip a little to stop his face from splitting open in a huge grin as he tilts his head a little. “Does 5pm tomorrow sound alright for you?” He asks her quietly, to which she grins softly and nods her head, her action causing her hair to fall over her face in perfect waves; the action causing Gojo’s already poor heart to do another flip in his chest. “We can meet up at the front of the school.”

With a final nod and another shy smile shared between the two, both of them returned to the work that hand. However there was a certain atmosphere between the two; the slightly excitement that was clearly on their faces at the idea of their date tomorrow, the light bumping of shoulders as Gojo reaches over to point at something as he explained it to the girl quietly, soft comments that leads to soft giggles and the shy glances they both share. The soft smiles on their faces sealing the scene for anyone to walk past to know that there was definitely something brewing between the two 

Who knew all it took was a simple complement to land them where they are today.

© roscgcld — all rights reserved to me, rose, the author and creator of these works. do not repost/translate/claim my work as yours on any platform

[sordayciega]

Alright

First and foremost, THE ART STYLE. Every single damn scene was BURSTING with flavor and my little artistic brain was being fed gourmet level fine cuisine. I especially loved the scenes with Gwen and her Dad, him finding out when she pulled off her mask, you see him go from red to blue to black and you feel his grief and confusion. The colors, the line art, the angles, the animation, (all the other terms for movie stuff that I don’t know bc I’m dumb) just looked sooo gooodddd. The art style opened the door for so much expression with emotion! That aspect is visible in literally every single scene it’s delicious. I also really loved the use of music whether it guided an entire scene or whether it was in the background.

Movies like into the spiderverse, puss and boots the last wish, and across the spiderverse truly use all the space and time they are given to move you along with the story line. The action scenes from The Last Wish and both Spider-verse movies is only paralleled by iconic anime action scenes (in my opinión~). It’s nuts that in other movies from the same studio like Strange World (OOF) and Turning Red (not the best imo) (and I’m not excited for Ruby Gilman Teenage Kraken :/) I felt like i was being dragged through an awkward hell of plastic stupidity.

It’s flat, predictable, and boring. Maybe TikTok and the internet have just shot my attention span (probably) but the Golden Age of animation that brought Sleeping Beauty, Mulan, Princess and the Frog, and other stuff like The Sword in the Stone and Jungle Book are so beautiful! Their animation isn’t like Across the Spiderverse, it’s slower, more traditional, and soft, but it’s just aesthetically pleasing art and style.

I personally dislike the “New Generation” animation style so much I can genuinely barely watch anything new disney/Pixar maybe I’m just a hateful picky bitch idk

Pair the irritating art style with unrealistic dialogue, awkward jokes, and frustrating plot points? I’m in the middle of the road waiting for an 18 wheeler to hit me and I’ve only ever seen the movie’s trailer. I refused to watch Turning Red I hate it I hate it I hate it I-

I was able to sit through Luca and Encanto and they were alright. Bruno was villain material and the fact that Abuela was forgiven so quickly made absolutely no sense. Bruno was forced to live in Casita’s walls for years bro. YEARS. And then they just hugged at the end?? WHERE IS THE BLOOD? WHERE IS THE DEATH? WHERE IS THE MELODRAMATIC VILLAIN SONG? WHERE IS THE CINEMATOGRAPHY? WHTA THE FUCK

Anyway. Across the Spiderverse had amazing dialogue. The jokes were FUNNY and WELL TIMED. They were perfectly inserted, even in the more serious moments like when Miguel’s little station pad was descending comically slow, when Lyla wanted Miguel to repeat himself when he needed back up, etc

It was realistic and super enjoyable. I actually laughed multiple times and it was GREAT.

Ugh character design? Don’t get me started. I noticed the diversity that was plugged in from the beginning, the men playing basketball in wheelchairs, Pavitr Prabhakar, the Spider-Woman in the spider wheelchair who chased Miles for a bit, Cyborg Spider-Woman, Pter Ptarker the T-Rex Spider-Man (my personal favorite lmao) Malala Windsor, etc. And they didn’t make it weird. They weren’t tokens, they were there as people, fully fleshed out people with personalities, depth, and lives. I saw that in pretty much everyone. In the little things, how they walked, talked, were present in scenes where they weren’t the main characters. The attention to detail for every single little thing in this movie is astounding.

For the character design of only Malala Windsor, the designer Kris Anka spent two whole months researching how different women wore hijabs and other head coverings during sports and consulted his Muslimah friends on the most accurate ways to design characters (according to Into the Spider-Verse wiki page). And we only saw Windsor for literally 6 seconds max on screen. The amount of care that went into a tiny character in a movie is just so admirable. The creators of this movie researched and they cared. The hijab wasn’t necessary, it would of been easier to not research, to not include, to not care. BUT THEY DID CARE. And it shows.

The pacing of the movie: fabulous. It was interesting to me how they simultaneously explored like 20 different situations all at the same time but maintained a feeling of organization and purpose. All scenes shown were there for a reason and acted as a tiny piece of a huge mosaic. Across the Spider-verse isn’t a stand alone movie, but the connector piece between Into the Spider-verse and the eventual 3rd movie of the series.

And finally, possibly the most important part, Miguel O’Hara is hot as fuck. Impressively so. Distractingly so. Beautifully so.

Fuckin hell I’m going to see across the spiderverse TOMORROW and I have to abstain from looking at your sexy hot art of it bc I don’t want spoilers 🥹🥹🥹 wtf 🥹🥹

But I’m also excited bc after I see it I can see your sexy hot art of it so 👀👀

As soon as you leave the theater I want a full 10 page essay about how this movie changed you as a person due on my desk by Sunday

[hotwings0203]

fighter Bakugo is so mean!!…..write more of him plz 🤲 (ALSO I LOVE UR STORIES SO MUCHH❤️)

OOOUUUU TYSMMM I’m glad you’re enjoying him hehe

Alright let’s see here…

Tw:noncon, implied death, assault, gaslighting

He forces you to come to every one of his matches, after he has his way with you.

It doesn’t matter how brutal the fight is, it didn’t matter if you’re flinching every time his fists make contact with the poor schmuck’s face, knowing damn well that any day it could be yours. It doesn’t matter if he’s shaking off pieces of broken teeth from his hair while you’re clutching your stomach and puffing your cheeks, and it sure as hell doesn’t matter when others clamor around you asking if you were okay, if you needed a doctor.

None of that mattered, because in the end all those scenarios ended the same way: with one of his feet planted on the unconscious body below him, a fist in the air and a mean smile straight at you.

You weren’t allowed to excuse yourself to the restroom or close your eyes when the men around him scream and need at him to either stop the match or to keep going Bakugo, knock the bastard out.

And when he won the match-which was every time-he would make a beeline straight towards your cowering, backing-away form and yank you by your wrist into the office to let out his excess adrenaline.

Your cries could be heard from the entire basement.

On one particular day however, you stop your compliance. It’s when you catch a glimpse of Katsuki’s opponent for the next day.

He’s a young man, no more older than you were.

He’s a meek guy, his smile is oh-so reminiscent of the man you used to like before Bakugo put him in the morgue.

You can’t have a repeat of last time. He doesn’t stand a chance.

“What’s got you all quiet today,” he gruffly asks you as he wraps a hand with tape.

You bite your lip and look at your feet. What’s the best way to go about this?

“You, um…y’know that guy that you’re supposed to fight today?”

“Yeah, what about it?” He raises an eyebrow in warning.

But you continue nonetheless. It’s not like your destiny was flock to change, hed still fuck you up regardless of what you do.

“He just seemed kind of…young.” You stammer and avoid eye contact.

It’s hard not to flinch when he stops wrapping his hand and walks over towards you. He crouches to your sitting position on the bed and lowers his head to look at your gaze on the ground.

“‘That remind you of someone?”

Crap. He’s not as stupid as you hoped for.

This time, you do look up at him, eyebrows scrunched together in a pleading way, and he laughs in your face at your pathetic state.

“Lemme guess, you don’t want me to fight him?”

You nod your head.

“Well, what do I get out of it in return?”

Your eyes widen as you comprehend what he’s saying. Was there actually a chance he’d listen to you?

“Hello? Answer me dumbass.”

Oh, right.

“Um, what-what would you like?” Fingers cross behind your back as you pray to anyone listening that he won’t ask for anything derogatory.

It’s almost laughable that you don’t know him well enough by now.

Bakugo walks around the bed and settles himself against the headboard, legs spread and arms crossed over behind his head. He smirks at you and nudges you with his toe.

“Dance for me.”

“D-dance? What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he sits up and leans towards you, his smile all teeth and cutthroat undertones, “I want you to shake your ass on my dick and give me a lap dance.”

Fire rushes to your face at his crude choice of words. You open your mouth to argue but stop when his unwrapped hand flexes, bones popping in place as he inspects it casually.

He doesn’t need to say anymore to get his point across. But if you had any doubts as to who was the one who wanted a chance in the first place, he reminds you with a curt “You can always say no. I’ll let you walk out this door and you can just watch me beat the living daylights out of him,” he shrugs and says it so easily, so casually that you’d think he was informing you of the weather.

You swallow hard and shakily rise to your feet.

Katsuki already locked the door, so you don’t need to worry about anyone coming in. You look at him and take a deep breath.

“How do I, like, y’know.”

He stares at you for a moment and bursts out howling , the bellowing sound echoing across the small room and making your head ring.

You look at him warily as he lessens his laughter, and tries to address you.

“I knew it. You really are a brain-dead, numb cunt,” he says as he wipes his eyes from tears. “Just fucking- I don’t know, sway your hips back and forth and put it in reverse on me I guess. Arent whores supposed to be good at these things?” He leans back down comfortably and leers at you while you grimace and then back around, ass facing him.

You’ve only messed around on your own time in your room before, shaking it to slow R&B songs or fast pop ones. How do you go about this with no music?

But within a minute you gather yourself and toss your dignity away. You start imagining a beat in your head and do exactly as he instructed, swaying your sides left and right while moving your shoulders with whatever rhythm you deemed easy.

He stifles a snicker behind you, and you dig your nails into your palm. It was obvious he was trying to be completely silent just to amplify the awkwardness and humiliation tenfold, but dammit if this is what he wants then might as well get it over with.

You begin leaning forward and sticking your rear out more towards him, simultaneously rubbing your hands up and down your sides and flicking your hair with ease in his line of sight. You roll your head and roll your ass in a circle, praying it wasn’t too jerky.

Katsuki wasn’t laughing anymore.

Your confidence starts to grow again as you hear him softly inhale when you crawl backwards slowly onto the bed. You drop your hips low and arch your back, rolling your spine and lifting your ass back up into the air, shaking it in his face as best as you could.

You stay like that, letting it bounce slowly and then faster while you hear his breathing lick up. The sheets around you pull slightly towards him, and from the corner of your eye you can see his fists balling tbe covers, shaking slightly.

Looks like this was having more of an effect on him than you thought.

Just to sell it home, you lower your pelvis back and against his crotch as you begin grinding on him.

His shirts are silky and thin, and as you drag your mound up and down his imprint you can’t help but moan. The way your puffy clit catches on the elevations and ridges of his clothed dick, the feeling of his length swelling beneath your moist panties makes your head spin and all precautions are thrown out the window.

Your ass lightly claps together on his slightly thrusting hips as his breaths become pants. You feel his hands slide up your ass and onto your hips as he growls, “Teasing slut. And here you had me thinking you didn’t know what you were doing. Strip.”

Your body stills and you blanch. Your head clears a bit as his own body stops moving against yours, and you realize what position you’re about to be in.

Your head turns slightly to face him. “Kats-“

But he yanks your hair from the ends back until you’re scrambling for solid ground against his toned chest. Your fingers grab your torn strands and try to yank them out of his unrelenting grip. Your eyes well with tears of pain as he gets more aggressive with your subtle hesitation.

“I said, strip, now.” He shakes your head for good measure and you yelp when you feel more hairs ripped out of your aching skull.

“Okay! Okay, I’ll strip.” You blubber, snapping your head forward when he finally lets go.

You look back at him tearfully, hunching over into yourself as his hands guide your shirt up over your stomach and begin massaging your tits.

You hurry to take your pants off before he can wound you any more in his childlike impatience, and he grunts in approval when you’re down to your panties and no bra.

“Bend over.”

This time, you don’t argue when you go on all fours and his rough hand shoves your upper back down until you’re in an arch that’s satisfactory enough for him. He lets his fingers dance over your spine and linger when they get lower down your back.

Your upper body shakes with anticipation as all goes silent, save for his soft inhales. You can feel his digits run over the crack of your ass and lift the top of your panty line up, your labia and clit being pulled up as well.

Katsuki smirks as you weakly moan beneath him, and he tugs harder upwards just to see your ass follow in pursuit. He rubs his knuckles over the damp spot over your clothed hole and pushes in ever so slightly, just enough to make you keen and whimper.

Then, he retreats his touch.

The air is still for a moment or two as the cold absence of his touch fades.

You have no idea what he’s doing or thinking. For the second time, you try to turn your head towards him.

“Wha-“

Crack.

You scream so loud you’re sure your eardrums pop, but your focus isn’t on your poor ears, no, it’s on the raging hot burn across your right asscheek as his reddened hand swivels in its socket in a warm-up stretch. You’re experiencing for the first time what the hands of a fighter can do.

“That’s what whiny bitches like you get. And don’t you dare turn back around, otherwise I’ll whip you within an inch of your life.”

Your body freezes at those terrifying words, and you’re caught off guard when the next slap hits the same cheek. You yowl in pain and grip the sheets tighter before you, knowing that writhing away would mean so much worse.

Years of cute and open wounds and cells revealing just to open again and regrow have caused his hands to hold a similar texture to hard leather. There is no mercy, there is no soft reprieve they hold on their grasps, and you take each lashing with the reminder that he deals these kinds of blows to less fortunate men, men who don’t get a hold-back from Katsuki Bakugo.

“The next time you-crack- bitch about who I’m fighting-crack, crack- I’ll make sure to fuck you in the ring and let everyone- crack- have a turn with you- fuck, stop fucking screaming!”

He covers your wailing mouth with one hand and grips your throat in the other, bringing your head back to his seething lips.

“You wanted this, didn’t you? What’s wrong, why’re you crying so fucking much baby? Didnt you want to spare one more spineless bastard?” He croons in your ear and strokes your cheek with one finger.

You shake in his chokehold, terrified and in pain. You squeeze the tears out from your eyes and try to steady your breathing. He shushes your sobs and cooes when you hiccup against his palm.

“Hmm, Y/N? Whaddaya say, you wanna spare one more dickless wonder? Or are you gonna chicken out and save yourself?”

He chuckles darkly when you shake your head. He doesn’t need you to speak to already know your answer.

“Alright then, whatever you want. But just letting you know, I have the next match with him, so I’ll have to make this fast.”

And as he fucks you to oblivion, and fucks over his promise, you laugh to yourself for ever trusting him.

Because Katsuki Bakugo is not a lover, but rather, a fighter.

[heyyyharry]

Happier

(inspired by happier by Olivia Rodrigo)

Word count: 2.4k

I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

Part 1: Drivers License

Part 2: Deja Vu

A/N: I edited the original lyrics to match the POV :)

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Harry had come up with a thousand scenarios of how this day would play out. Actually, he’d been thinking of this day since the moment he’d received the news. He didn’t dare to hope that she’d say yes to coming back for a sequel. He’d been sure that they would write her character off, give a lame excuse for how his love interest could not make a return and make his character forget about her completely to move on with a new girl in town. It would have been great if it was that easy in real life. Once someone was written off the script, they were gone for good. Real-life relationships were not that simple. Goodbye didn’t mean ‘never see you again’. You would still share the same friend circle and social bubbles, and it was worse when you two worked in the same industry. Harry didn’t know how he’d lasted a year without running into her, not since the Grammys.

“Didn’t you two date?”

“No.” Harry shook his head, but his eyes stayed glued on Y/N from across the room. She wasn’t looking his way, too busy saying hello to everyone else. “No,” he repeated, more to himself than to his co-star. “We didn’t.”

“But she wrote an entire album about you,” said the other twin. What was her name again? Lulu?

“Luna!” cried her sister, Lex. “You can’t ask him that!”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said with a tight smile, slightly annoyed by the blonde twins, but he didn’t want to seem like an ass on the first day of filming. “And I don’t know if it was for me. You should ask Y/N.”

“Ask me what?”

Harry flinched when he looked up and saw Y/N padding towards them. She hugged the twins, who seemed way too excited. Harry guessed they were Y/N’s fans. They gave off crazy fangirl vibes, probably just pretending not to know the drama to interrogate him. He couldn’t blame them for assuming he was the villain and definitely could not blame Y/N for portraying him as one. It was more important that he knew who he was and how much he had changed since his last relationship. Maybe they could finally be friends.

“Were they bothering you?” Y/N asked him once the twins had left.

Harry nodded. “They’re your friends?”

“Oh, I met them last year on tour. I’m surprised you don’t know them. They were on Disney.”

“I don’t watch Disney,” Harry admitted with a smile. “Well, not today’s Disney.”

“Understandable.” Y/N nodded and bit her lip. She seemed guarded with her straight back and hands hidden behind her. She eyed him up and down, quite subtle yet noticeable. “How have you been?”

“Pretty good,” he said, nodding slowly. “You?”

“Yeah, but mostly tired because of tour.”

“You’re done?”

“Yup, last night was the last show.”

“Nice.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Nice?”

Harry blinked. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No.” Y/N giggled. “You still sound very...you.”

“Well, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah, you should. But it’s been a year so…I mean, you haven’t changed much.”

“Right,” he said lowly, his eyes falling to his feet. Harry supposed he should say something else, perhaps bringing up another random topic to discuss, but all he could think about was what had happened between them. Things had been messy, hadn’t they? How could they go back to before that? Before her first song about him. Before he’d chosen someone else over her.

Or he could talk about her new relationship. She’d been in a happy relationship for almost six months, right? No wait, hadn’t they broke up two weeks ago? He wasn’t sure because he hadn’t been catching up. If they’d broken up, he’d sound like an ass to even mention her ex’s name. He should just stay quiet.

“I’ll see you later?” she said, gesturing at her stylist who was waiting by the door.

Harry could ask her right now -- the reason she’d agreed to film the sequel to their first movie together. He’d heard from a very reliable source that she’d specifically asked her agent to decline any project that he was in. So did this mean they were good? That she didn’t hate him anymore? He could have gathered his courage and got the answer right then…

“Yeah, see you.”

...but he didn’t.

And so she gave him a smile and a little wave, then happily returned to her stylist.

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“See you tomorrow, Y/N!”

“See you, Annie!” Y/N said as she put the rest of her things into her tote bag. Her new driver had got her schedule mixed up, and so she had to wait here for another half an hour. She was in no rush. It had been a light first day, and she’d had a fun time getting to know the new cast members and catching up with old friends.

She sat on the sofa in the lobby, legs crossed, texting her best friend about her day. She’d purposely left out the short off-screen conversation with Harry, and her best friend didn’t even bother to ask. In their world, he didn’t exist, and his name was censored in every conversation like a curse word that was even worse than ‘cunt’. Nevertheless, she didn’t hate him anymore. She was doing just fine on her own, being busy with her career, and she’d been in a happy relationship after her fall out with him.

She and the guy, a model, had broken up two weeks ago due to long distance and some differences that they could not change. They had ended on good terms and decided to stay friends. They said you could only stay friends with your ex when you still had feelings for each other, or you had never loved each other that much in the first place. For her, it was probably the latter. Her previous relationship had been more platonic than romantic, apparently. So she had nothing but the best to say about him.

As she was going through her camera roll, just reminiscing about the past, she heard footsteps approaching and looked up to find Harry. He offered a smile and gestured to the spot beside her on the sofa. “May I sit here? My ride is late.”

“Yeah, sure.” She hurriedly scooted over.

“Good job today,” he said. “You were great.”

“Thanks, so were you.” She smiled, and they both looked away at the same time. This was so awkward. She hated small talk. She’d never had to have small talk with Harry. Conversations with him used to be so easy and natural and silly. Whatever this was, it wasn’t them.

“Can we just be normal?”

At first, Y/N thought she’d been the one who’d said it, so when she realised it’d been Harry, she was speechless.

He swallowed and sat a bit straighter, still not looking at her. “I don’t want us to be weird and awkward.”

“Okay,” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Wanna try again?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Okay, not to sound like an ass but when Joey kept forgetting his lines, I was so pissed off, I could throw a chair at the wall.”

“Right?!” exclaimed Y/N, feeling free to have finally broken out of her shell. “Like, he doesn’t even have many lines. I know he’s new but damn...you can’t get far if you don’t learn your goddamn lines.”

Harry shook with laughter. “Oh God, we sound like dicks, don’t we?”

“Maybe.” Y/N laughed, covering her mouth. “But you know what? We can’t be nice in this industry. It’s impossible.”

“Shhh, if someone heard this, we would be into big trouble.”

“Oh please, I’ve had worse articles written about me than ‘Y/N speaks facts about her lazy co-star’.”

Harry tossed his head back and cackled. “The worst one I’ve got this week was ‘Harry Styles hates therapists.’”

“What?!” Y/N gasped. “No way! That’s so stupid!”

“Right?” Harry rolled his eyes. “I could get all my therapists to speak up for me but I’m kinda immune to bullshit now.”

“Therapists? Like plural?”

“Yeah, one in every city.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah.”

Y/N rubbed her hands onto her legs. “Rough year?”

Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he leaned back. “You have no idea.” Then he swept his hair out of his eyes, sucked in a breath, and finally looked at her. “I wish I could have talked to you, though.”

She bit her tongue, knowing what she was about to say next would disappoint her best friend so much, but she had to. “So do I.”

Harry looked taken aback before his lips curled into a smile. “It’s silly, isn’t it? I haven’t talked to you in a year, and I feel like I know everything that’s happened to you except that I don’t.”

What he’d just said might make no sense for most people, but Y/N knew exactly what he meant. She nodded and wetted her lip. “You only know as much as everyone else does.”

“Yeah, I got updates on you from the news and our friends.”

“Same.” Y/N smiled back. “I hate how they write articles about your new haircut but not mine.”

“I like your new hair colour.”

“Thanks. I like your new car.”

Then they both burst out laughing. It was fun and also a little bit strange that Y/N didn’t feel the same anxiety talking to him as she used to. It must be because they had grown and were now meeting again as better people.

“Damn, my ride's here,” Y/N said as she read the text from her driver. “I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Harry stood up and followed Y/N to the entrance. “Hey, just wondering--”

“Yeah?”

“Am I...am I still blocked?” He looked a bit flustered as she tilted her head and squinted her eyes. “On your phone. Because I remember you having my number blocked--”

“I unblocked you on your birthday.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah.” Y/N shrugged. “I should’ve sent you a happy birthday text but...I didn’t want your girlfriend to get the wrong ideas.”

“My ex.”

“Yeah, I know.”

They smiled at each other one last time before saying goodbye. Y/N knew it was silly, but she was hoping he would go after her.

Ding.

A notification popped up when she was in the car. She was almost home, and it was from Harry’s number. He’d sent her a link with a message that said, “Hope you like it :)”.

Curious, she tapped on it and was directed to an audio file titled ‘Track 5’. The upload date was last year. About two weeks after their short conversation at the Grammys.

Hurriedly, she fumbled inside her bag for her iPods and put it on before she pressed play.

“Hey, Jeff, I couldn’t sleep so I wrote this song. Listen and let me know if it should go on the album.”

Then came the piano intro. It sounded good, so Y/N wondered how it hadn’t ended up on his last album.

But when he started to sing...

We ended a while ago Your friends are mine, you know, I know You've moved on, found someone new One more guy who brings out the better in you

And I thought my heart was detached From all the sunlight of our past But he’s so nice, he’s so funny Does he mean you forgot about me?

Oh, I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

And does he tell you you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen? An eternal love bullshit he might not even mean Remember when you were with me I meant it when you heard it first from me

And now I'm pickin' him apart Like cuttin' him down will make you miss my wretched heart But he’s charming, he looks kind He probably gives you butterflies

I hope you're happy But not like how you were with me I'm selfish, I know, I can't let you go So find someone great, but don't find no one better

I hope you're happy I wish you all the best, really Say you love him, baby Just not like you loved me And think of me fondly when your hands are on him I hope you're happy, but don't be happier

The song was for her. He’d written it when her new relationship had gone public. Y/N sat there, staring blankly ahead until the honking of a car tore open her inner peace, and reality came crashing back in. The driver dropped her off at her house. Instead of going inside, she stood on her front steps and replayed the song one more time. When it ended, she decided to text him: Why didn’t this make it to the album?

She didn’t know where he was now, but it showed ‘typing’ in less than a second, as if he’d been waiting in their chat since he’d sent that link.

You would’ve hated me, Y/N.

True, she replied. Still, I would’ve loved the song lowkey. And added, I love it btw.

He took so long to type that it was driving her crazy. She flopped down on the concrete stair with her phone clutched in her hands, her heart thundering against her ribcage. Anxiety popped like a balloon when his message appeared: Were you happier?

She reread it again and again.

No.

I wasn’t either, he responded. I kept getting deja vu.

Ha, nice reference.

That song is my guilty pleasure. Love listening to you roasting me on loop.

That last message made Y/N bury her face into her palm and giggle like a fool. She thought for a second and wrote: I could come roast you in person now if that’s what you prefer. I think we’ve never had a proper roasting.

Can we meet, Y/N? Or are you busy now?

No, not busy.

Great, I’ll pick you up.

Just tell me where, she responded with a smile on her face. I got my drivers license now :)