#i think its a more familiar feeling for a lot of us than unrequited love

[bryndeavour]

thinking about how the true conflict between morse and the partners paired with him, is really how its FAMILY above all else. Its the same with Thursday as it will be with Lewis - a man with a family that he doesnt give as much attention as he should because of The Job - but also because of Morse’s needs. Now, Morse doesn’t think he has those needs, but everyone around him knows it. And it inevitably gets to the point where the family can’t be ignored anymore. And sorry for Morse - he isn’t their spouse or son or cousin. He’s truly a guy who wants to just work and work and work and be left alone until it’s not convenient for him to be. Everyone is going to prioritize their own son’s upset over him. Their wife’s. Their daughter’s. I dont think it’s a coincidence either that Thursday and Lewis have the same family set up (wife - one son - one daughter). These families are always made open to him but he will never ALLOW himself to be one of them they way he could be - and there will always be some reminder that he ISNT one of them. It takes him years to even be an active part of his own sister’s life (and mad props too for being a part of Gwen’s even into old age when he helps provide for her). TBH i think this is more familiar for a modern audience, especially us in specific generations who have gone the ‘chosen family’ route or just arent the types to settle down and get married and have kids. It’s just those options weren’t considered to be mainstream or standard, or even advice that anyone would think to give Morse - that its okay to pick your own family and no you dont have to get married actually. I think Morse hit a specific age where he HAS realized marriage isn’t for him and so he thinks hes a failure at Life Things and Milestones. I GENUINELY DONT THINK HE WANTS TO SETTLE DOWN. I dont for a second think he really wanted Joan at the point of the recent seasons. Her moving on is just a bittersweet punctuation on something he already knows and feels. That life isn’t for him. Maybe when he was younger he wanted it. Maybe 5 years ago. But now? No. He just hasn’t been given societal permission to feel that way.

I have some thoughts about how this carries through into s9 but since this isn’t a spoilery post I’ll either discuss that elsewhere or in another post. 

[lurkingshan]

Since you've watched a lot of kdrama, what are common things you've seen in kdrama that have been consistently ported into K-BL, and what is your assessment of that approach?

Ooh, interesting question. So first, let's acknowledge a few things:

Korean bl is short format, with even the longest shows (Light on Me, The Eighth Sense) not even half the length of a standard kdrama (16-20 hours), and most clocking in around 2-4 hours

Kbl operates under much smaller budgets and significant constraints around casting as compared to mainstream kdrama

Kbl often draws from webtoons and manwha and mostly does not have the kind of auteur writers and directors behind it that you get in kdrama (Hwang Da-Seul is the most consistent creator in genre with Where Your Eyes Linger, Blueming, To My Star)

All that said, there are a few features of mainstream kdrama that have definitely ported over into kbl despite these constraints:

Slick production values and strong use of setting and color: even the cheapest kbls still look decent, and there is always intentionally behind the setting and use of color palettes to set the tone and feel. Korea has a very well-developed film industry and it shows. Color Rush, Semantic Error and Blueming were fantastic examples of this: even within more familiar school romances, the settings felt specific and the use of color to communicate character and themes was striking. I also think often of Our Dating Sim and Choco Milk Shake and the very effective characterization work achieved through design of the apartments.

Sound production and music on point: the home of kpop is not going to be caught sleeping on the OSTs. Nearly every production has original songs and given the leads of these shows are usually idols, they're often the ones on the tracks. And when they use music that is not original, like in The Eighth Sense, it's a very intentional choice to set mood and tone. Korea is not going to let a boy who can't actually sing take the mic (*side eyes Thailand*). To My Star is a great example of memorable OSTs even in a fairly low budget production, and Wish You and Sing My Crush showed us what kbl can do when it decides to bring the full kpop treatment to bear.

A keen understanding of the international audience: kdrama production is a big part of South Korea's explicit goals to take the global media landscape by storm, and kbl is included in that. It's not a coincidence that Korea decided to step up its game in this arena shortly after Thai bl exploded (shoutout to 2gether and pandemic lockdowns). Kbl follows trends and explicitly caters to international audiences in a way jbl does not. The Eighth Sense was basically a case study in marrying kdrama sensibilities and western aesthetics for maximum international attention.

Second leads and valorization of unrequited love: you and I have discussed this one a lot because this is a feature of kdramas that will never die and that kbls also clearly love. Korea loves a one-sided love story and culturally, there is a certain dignity afforded to owning your feelings and being honest with the object of your affection, even when there is no hope of reciprocation. Often second leads don't get the guy/girl because they hesitate or hide their feelings until it's too late: the trope is used to underline the important of honesty and effort as well as providing a catalyst for the main lead to make their move. In Korean culture, the trying is what matters much more than the succeeding. We are meant to like most second leads and see them as honorable and dignified for their sincere feelings toward the protagonist. Second lead syndrome is a thing for a reason. It's also just a cheap and easy way to create drama so you'll often see it in the lower budget kbls. Second leads showed up recently in kbls like The Tasty Florida, Jun & Jun, Oh! Boarding House, Bon Appetit, etc. We also sometimes see kbls playing with the idea of unrequited love in the main pairing that is actually requited, like in Our Dating Sim.

Love triangles: relatedly, Korea loves them a love triangle, and they are uniquely good at doing it well when they want to. Light on Me is a fantastic example of a narrative where you can legitimately see the protagonist liking and ending up with both the main and second lead. And that is rooted in the way the narrative treats Daon with dignity even as it punishes him for his hesitation in reciprocating Taekyung's feelings (see above). When you have a strong second lead who engenders real sympathy with the audience, love triangle excellence is achieved.

Workplace romances: kdrama loves workplace romances, and we have seen kbl start to move into that space recently with shows like Roommates of Poongdock 304, Love Mate, Our Dating Sim, Jun & Jun, and The New Employee. Kdrama workplace romances run the gamut, but they often feature chaebol characters paired with a "normal" aka not wealthy person, and we are starting to see that more in the bl genre as well, as we discussed a bit yesterday. I believe @nieves-de-sugui commented on your post about how the rich/poor romance fantasy trend in recent bl may be coming in from kdrama. I think there's some truth to that, but really it's a foundational romance trope that predates kdrama by literal centuries, and is absolutely rooted in heteronormative patriarchal dynamics that assume men are breadwinners and caretakers for women (translated to seme/uke dynamics in bl). Often in kdrama the chaebol character is unable to live an authentic life due to the demands of filial piety and the expectations tied to their wealth, and I do think that dynamic is ripe for enrichment when you layer on gay identity in a homophobic society. But that requires shows leaving the no homophobia bubble, which few kbls have done.

Physical intimacy squarely in the middle space: comparing to heat levels we see across the spectrum of dramas, I think kdrama and kbl are pretty consistent in that they tend to land right in the middle of the spectrum. It's rare to see straight up dead fish kisses from romantic leads anymore (though it still happens, wincing at Unintentional Love Story), but they are also not going to be serving authentic sex scenes. What you get instead is very pretty open-mouthed kissing that feels more realistic than, for instance, the pure jbl lane, but still polished and aesthetically pleasing. Think Semantic Error, Blueming, Roomates of Poongdock 304, Love Mate, To My Star 2, Jun & Jun. This seems to be where the genre is landing and I don't expect heat levels to get any higher for kbl, as this is right in line with mainstream kdrama. The Eighth Sense offered a less polished version of intimacy that felt right in line with its grittier sensibilities.

So, after that long list, on to your second question: my assessment of this approach is that kbls are doing fairly well for themselves when you consider the constraints they are operating under. Look at a show like Love Tractor stacked up against something like Hometown Cha Cha Cha. These are both based in the classic romance trope of a city slicker coming to the country and falling in love with a humble working person. But where HCCC has 16 hours to build a quasi-enemies to lovers narrative with a rich community of side characters, LT has 3.5 hours to achieve the same thing. So it makes sense that it would fall back on well-worn tropes and story beats it knows the audience will recognize to help save time. These shortcuts help the audience ground themselves and get invested in the stories quickly.

One thing I'll say is that kbl mostly stays in the romcom lane with very occasional ventures into melo, and despite what casual observers think, kdrama actually has a lot more to offer than that. It's a giant world with stories based in every possible genre, tone, and style, and Korean media is particularly adept at embedding romance plots that actually work in all kinds of stories including action thrillers, horror, crime narratives, mysteries, supernatural and fantasy epics. I'd love to see kbl try this, though of course it would require the resources and runtime to do it successfully. Here's hoping they get the chance.

[galaxytastes]

some random clorivia hcs? 🥺

Oh my heavens aren't you just a sweetie, asking me about my fav Sapphic ship... I think about them so often, so this will be my PLEASURE. Clorivia headcanon dump, lets GOOOOO.

~This is the biggest one. Shorter Clorinde. Just a bit shorter, but its very obvious when Navia wears her tallest boots. Even as young girls, Navia was always just a few inches taller. Perfect for forehead kisses!

~During their childhood DND days, Clorinde first started out with a swashbuckler rogue character, but eventually preferred using a bard. Her instrument of choice was the lute. Navia would get a kick out of seeing Clorinde try to rizz up traders and shopkeepers with her bard-ish charm.

~Navia and Clorinde prefer tea and cakes, but on occasion, they'll share some cocktails or wine. Navia is a giggly drunk, but she can hold her drink better than any of the men in the Spina di Rosula. When Navia starts laughing at even the most unfunny statements, Clor knows its time to take her home. Clorinde on the other hand is a huge lightweight. She's very affectionate when she drinks, often forgetting about the rest of the world and starts babbling out lovely sweet nothings and risky touches that turn Navia as pink as a rainbow rose. After just one glass, Clorinde starts smiling like an idiot, asking Navia to sit on her lap.

~Clorinde and Navia love to exchange flowers with one another, even before they became romantic partners. Clorinde loves to leave flowers for Navia in private during their candlelight dinners, never getting tired of the infectious giggle and smile she is given in return. Navia prefers to gift the bouquets in public, especially at work or in front of friends. Clorinde blushes like crazy and puffs her cheeks up while everyone stares. (Navia knows what she's doing)

~While Clor does prefer more neutral/muted clothing when off the clock, she will rarely dress up when Navia asks her nicely. She even allowed Navia to drag her to Chiori's Boutique for a big poufy dress with ribbons and pearls. She only groaned just a little. (She secretly enjoyed it. Only that one time, though.)

~The whole "my lipstick would look good on you" thing is very much a love language between Clorinde and Navia. If someone pays very close attention, they would see the peachy pink blush that adorns Navia's round cheeks is sometimes very softly brushed over Clor's cheeks. At times, the familiar smell of Clorinde's cologne will fill the room, but instead it is Navia you find there instead. And Clorinde is often found fiddling with pearl earrings that look a lot like the ones Navia wore last week! Sharing is caring!

~Navia spent a lot of her childhood dancing with her father, balancing on his tip toes while rocking side to side. It got her in the habit of asking Clorinde to do the same. Tiny Navia would offer her hand like the gentlelady she is and Clorinde would accept awkwardly and they would share little girl tip toe dancing, but this time, Navia would lead, letting Clorinde use her feet to balance as she twirled them as her father taught her. Now as adults, the women still love dancing together, but in private, Navia tugs Clorinde onto her feet, letting the tired champion duelist wobble back and forth.

~Wriothesley was the first person Clorinde (accidentally) confessed her feelings for Navia to, after the "incident." The two spent a lot of time together and he could tell something was wrong, especially with how often Clor wanted to spar. He saw how she threw herself into the fights recklessly, leaving herself open with every turn. He pressed her on the issue mid-fight and thanks to adrenaline, exhaustion from the lack of sleep or maybe just grief, she blurted out her "unrequited" feelings for her childhood friend. The fight was quickly stopped and the talk was continued over tea. He's good at keeping secrets.

I have a lot, but this is getting kind of long! If you'd like more/a longer post, just let me know and I would be happy to ramble on about my dearest girls. Or if you'd like to ask for headcanons for another ship/character/platonic pairing, I'd love to write those too!

Thank you again for asking me, this was fun to write :)

[onewmin]

the perfume on the shelf. pt. 5 | bangchan

Pairings: Bang Chan x Fem!reader, Kim Yugyeom x Fem!reader (briefly for now)

Summary: Falling in love with your best friend was never a part of the plan. So you end it up. But does he want to put a stop to it, too?

Warnings: AU, SMUT!! (minors dni!!!), heavy make out sesh lol, slight nipple play, cockblocking the readers, Chan being depressed/disappointed in himself, profanity, mental issues, angst, clichés (I’m a fan of them), typos, change of povs. Flashbacks, which are closer to the end, are in italics. Another set of Taylor Swift references + some One Direction and Harry Styles ones, even a GOT7 reference… very creative of me lol

Author’s note: another depressive episode for everyone in “the perfume on the shelf”, definitely not something you expected to see when you started reading this work lmao hope you liked it!! Let me know what you think!!

Disclaimer: the names and appearances of real people are used for inspiration and writing purposes only. I do not claim anything, everything belongs to its owners.

Part 4 | Part 6

Chan could feel the walls shaking from the way you slammed the door. Only after having heard the angry stomps fade away, he laid down on the bed, hands covering his face. That’s for the good, he thought, she’ll be better off without me.

Of course he lied to you. Of-fucking-course!

However, some of his words were true — those ones about ‘the thrill expiration’ especially. It happened to him quite often not to notice the pattern: since the middle school, if a girl reciprocated his feelings, he started growing cold. He tried to make it better later in life, going to therapy to find out the reason of it — but nothing worked. His pride was definitely damaged when another girlfriend of his broke up with him, but it wasn’t for long. The breakup just turned into a great opportunity to make an album, to make his tiny misery bring him any profit possible.

Something similar happened with his last girlfriend. When she was a bit detached, still pining over her ex but already dating Chan, he was infatuated. The second she realized she had feelings for him, Chris got that chills down his spine — the first sign he was falling out of love. No amount of therapy really helped.

Though, he tried. He tried really fucking hard with his last girlfriend: they even went to a couple therapy several times, before she eventually realized he was the problem.

“I can’t fix you”, she said during their last conversation, “and I’m not supposed to. You’ve gotta fix it yourself”.

She was right, Chan knew that. Every time he got out of a relationship, he realized what a mistake it had been to get attached to someone in the first place. But he just couldn’t help it. A pretty girl, with similar hobbies, more intelligent than he’d ever be, but with no feelings towards him? A jackpot. And all her quirks he adored so much turned into annoying habits the moment she uttered “I love you” in response.

He hoped it wouldn’t happen with you. The second he realized he’d been in love that whole time, Chris wished you’d never reciprocate. He could’ve spent his entire life being your best friend, having sex with you and just loving you without having his feelings acknowledged. Yeah, that’s the moment when he resisted therapy. Chan himself stated he couldn’t do anything about it: this unrequited shit just happened.

However, that wasn’t the whole truth. He could do a lot of things about it, but he just wouldn’t. ‘Cause living like that was easier. It was a familiar scenario, a path he’d walked on thousand times. His therapist had tried every thing possible to get Chris to work it out, but Chan and his stubbornness, his unwillingness to fix anything worked harder.

But with you? What could he do with you?

Chan remembered the feeling vividly. When he got the message, when he realized you were going to leave him there was no chill going down his spine, there was no growing coldness, no relief. Only pure fear that you would disappear from his life forever. And losing you without actually loving you… It seemed like a nightmare. What would he do without your dolphin-like laugh? You, the only person, who rolled on the floor after another set of his dad jokes, you, who brought in your own pile of puns just to make him smile.

What would he do if you suddenly disappeared? Not something he could imagine. He got used to calling you at night just to hear your voice, got used to running his hand through your hair whenever you kissed him, to hearing your whimpers when he roamed his hands over your body. He couldn’t imagine his life without you in it.

Although now he would have to adjust to the new realia.

He kicked you out from outer space back to Earth, with no spacesuit on. And Chan could only imagine the way the falling must hurt.

“What you are saying”, his therapist (one of many) once asked, “is that you love the process of ‘chasing’. Correct?”

“Yeah”.

“What else do you like about it?”

“The fact that I can make an album out of it”.

True. He could’ve been hurt by a breakup, but music would always put him back on his feet. Music, that was his solace, his guardian angel, had always made him more and more successful and popular, despite the broken heart and fucked up mental state. A harsh word spat at him, or his unrequited love rejected — everything was turned into a tune, a poem, a song. Every little detail of all his relationships. All but the one with you.

Maybe he’d find inspiration to write weeks later, who knows. However, now was the time to suffer in silence, no poetic lyrics coming into his head. Chris suspected that, perhaps, he wouldn’t be able to create anything at all: he was hurt, hurt so terribly by his own actions that making something decent out of it couldn’t be possible.

“Holy shit”, the thought ran through his head, “even now I’m thinking about music, about making money? What kind of an asshole am I?”

A heartless piece of shit, as you put it. And you were right.

His only chance to redeem himself as a partner, you slipped away as if you had never been there. A vivid dream, full of graphic details of every move of your body, those birthmarks on your thighs, and the feeling of your nails digging into his shoulders. He would savour the moments till he sucked them dry, until nothing but intolerance to the very thought of you would be left.

Because he dropped your reaching hand, brushed off the soothing touch, pushed you away. Chan wouldn’t have ever forgiven someone who treated him this way; whether he was a masochist of a sort, willingly loving people unconditionally, that type of attitude would have been a full stop. Although deep inside his twisted heart he hoped you’d take him back.

Chan dreaded coming back home, lying in bed, falling into the loneliness again. This time he couldn’t reason with himself — there were no excuses to his atrocious actions. It wasn’t the case of the “expired thrill”, as he had lied confidently before, it was the case of him hurting you even more if there was no rejection. What if he lost interest when the two of you would get more serious, married, with kids? What if he lost interest and hurt you more? He couldn’t allow any more pain he could cause you; even him genuinely reciprocating the feelings, loving you in every way possible couldn’t do anything. In his chase for potentially unresponsive partners Chan had become someone else. Someone even he wouldn’t want around.

But the question never left. Didn’t he take it too far? Allowing you to fall in love with him and turning your friendship into this mess? To be honest, the friendship was never one hundred percent genuine: Chris had always held hopes in getting with you, even if he was dating someone at any point of that period.

Perhaps, letting all of this happen was his ‘revenge’ master plan from the beginning. He’d fallen for you quite quickly, never really hiding the fact of it. You were oblivious to his flirtations, too engrossed in the relationship with Yugyeom. Shit, Chris hated that motherfucker. Chan could never really comprehend what was so special about Kim Yugyeom to you. Was it his height? Him being the top class student? His exchange program at Columbia University? Chris even asked you once, but you started talking about some nonsense he didn’t understand at the time. Something about… Yugyeom picking you up in his arms whenever you fell over, Yugyeom being your only solace in the world.

Why was it Yugyeom? Why? Chan couldn’t accept the fact that you held onto your first love so much and so long just because of some stupid cheesy shit. Was Kim Yugyeom there when you drank yourself unconscious because of the breakup with him? Was Yugyeom there when you broke your leg and had to stay home for over a month? Nope, he wasn’t. Chris was. He was there at every high and low, at every little win and major lose — same as you were for him. But you never noticed Chan loving you. You would hug him tightly, peck him on his cheeks, praise his success and cheer him up at his losses, but never, ever loving him back. So maybe, you finally falling in love with him was an act of vengeance for his unrequited love.

But what did he achieve with this master plan of his? You leaving him? A tremendous success, Chris. He would never win this battle: no matter how much he hurt you, your relationship with him would never be mourned by you as much as the one with your ex. Shit, you were still wearing that damn necklace with Yugyeom’s initials! After all these years! Chan had given you a ring as a present, hoping you’d take off the necklace, but you never did. And that was when Chris realized whose name was carved in your heart. Lingered like a fucking tattoo, that first love of yours.

And four years ago, when you were already single, when Yugyeom came to Seoul at one of his rare visits after he stayed in New York… You were out with Chris, a typical Friday night out for the two of you. Food, beer, gossiping, planning to have a movie night at his place. Just two best friends enjoying their time together, when you suddenly asked Chris whether he was okay if you left. And your tipsy explanation, eyes reddening and welling up with tears, because it was Yugyeom, and you had to, just had to see him once again. Chan couldn’t stand to see you crying, so he let you go, gaslighting himself into thinking, “It’s the last time, she’ll forget about him soon”. A lie you would frequently tell everyone, yourself included, was that you got over Yugyeom. ‘Cause you never did. And Chris mercilessly hoped you were as hurt now as he had been before.

If so, why did it cause him so much pain? Why wasn’t he happy and relieved you were finally in his shoes? Why?

“You’re a fucking moron”, Minho’s voice sounded exactly like Chan’s inner one. The man was his inner voice, his conscience indeed.

“Yeah, I know”.

“What did you tell her? The same bullshit you said to me?”

“I’m tired, Minho”.

Lee Know huffed. “Tired of being an ass to people who love you? Can’t believe it”.

“What d’you wanna hear from me? That I’m sorry? That I shouldn’t have done all that? You think, I don’t know that already?”

Minho shook his head, his piercing gaze starring right into Chan’s twisted soul. “I think, you’ll lose everyone if you keep this bullshit on”.

The next day hit Chan heavily, like an avalanche falling and burying him under the snow. He hated the snow, winter and cold; everything related to a slight chill resulted in Chris’ mood dropping to its lowest.

But now it was the middle of July, with warm wind blowing through the trees and sun shining. Chan stood in the hospital park outside the building, starring straight into the sun, with no sunglasses on. No protection to his eyes, maybe he’d go blind — it was the least of the punishments he could’ve gotten for what he did to you. He despised the tiniest image of himself.

The eyes eventually became teary, making Chan squeeze them and cover his face with the palm of his hand. How would blindness help to redeem yourself, dumbass?

Chris sat down on the bench, his thumb scrolling down your texts. You tended to be pretty active on social media, always posting stories and tweeting, but it was radio silence for a week. Firstly, you were probably too stressed to post, only having your cat show up on your stories occasionally; secondly, you were too busy with your job — as you always had been, Chan knew that too well — and worrying about him. Thirdly, you always disappeared from the ‘public’ eye whenever your life turned into shit. And this time it was truly fucked up.

Chris had typed dozens of messages everywhere his hand could reach you. He typed, erased, typed again, went back to his notes, hesitated to send and erased. It was a vicious cycle he repeated over hours. And not once during this time had you sent him a word. Perhaps, he had found the answer to the question he kept on asking himself, “Who’s gonna be the first to say goodbye?”

You tried to, but it was Chan who pushed you away. He could only sit there and overthink every little detail, absorbing in the memory of you, still hoping — maybe, you’d take him back, maybe it was going to be over in mere time.

“Maybe if I write her a song, a thousand songs, maybe she’ll come back?” Yeah? And what happened to actually apologizing? To saying sorry using your fucking mouth while being face-to-face?

Chan didn’t know how to properly apologize. What could he have said for you to actually forgive him? It seemed that no word or action would ever bring you peace and make you forget his harsh monologue.

Chris got back to the hospital room, his mom collecting his things. They didn’t talk much; his parents were still outraged with him — no wonder, you fucker — however, they stayed with him, silently waiting for him to defrost like a fucking Anna at the end of “Frozen”.

His dad was there too, helping him, letting Chris lean on him while walking. Chan was finally going home, and there were only his parents to take him there. Minho left as well; Chan knew it was his fault again that his best friend lost every bit of hope and trust in him. Lee Know wasn’t the one to sulk over every little thing; but if he happened to be fed up with shit, he wouldn’t stay. He’d disappear for some time to clear his mind. “And maybe to realize what a shitty friend I’d been”, Chris thought, entering the apartment.

His parents didn’t ask either about Minho or you; Lee Know had probably told them everything already. Whatever, Chris lied in his back on the floor in the living room, he’ll thaw out eventually. Han used to say they were like an old married couple, a young, successful singer and his choreographer, the closest friends you’d see in the industry. Since the moment they met four years ago, there wasn’t a moment they didn’t share, always being together. Now Chan felt as if that time was over. He knew how deeply he hurt Minho, spitting poisonous words at him too. He hurt the two people love the most besides his parents.

“Channie, I’ve made dinner. Eat with us, please”. His mom sat down on the floor beside him, cautiously observing her son. She ran her hands through his hair, the thing he loved when he was a kid. She noticed him growing up, but never expected to find her son so lost and broken. And it ripped her heart apart to know they couldn’t help him unless he made the first step towards everyone and everything.

“I’m not hungry”, he mumbled, eyes closed. “You and dad, you two should eat. I’ll do it later. Maybe”.

She singed and stroked his cheek, getting up from the floor. She was his mother, but he was a full grown adult. She couldn’t fix his problems and save him as she used to do when he fell down when he was a kid. He had to get up himself now.

Though, was he capable of it?

Chan didn’t know how much time passed. He might have dozed off to be awoken by his dad, who gently asked him to move to the bed. Obliging and getting up, Chris noticed it had gotten dark outside; that whole day was a blur.

Lying down on the bed, he checked his phone. Still nothing from you. Radio silence from Minho. Only Han texting him non-stop, some of his friends in the industry checking up on him in the DMs. Putting Jisung aside, the rest of the people were strangers. Those, who Chan wanted to hear from, got evicted from the big apartment of his heart by the vicious landlord. The latter, obviously, was Chris himself.

He dozed off again. Everything seemed just so… Pointless. Pointless to beg for forgiveness, pointless to try and fix something. This time, he massively fucked up. And Chan had no idea if there was a way out of it.

Every day turned into a blur. He’d wake up, lay there for half an hour, thinking of you, envisioning you while jerking off, imagining it was your hand, your hot breath on his neck, your kisses on his jaw. He’d be ashamed of himself, turning another memory of you into dirty thoughts; he missed every little thing about you. After showering he’d have breakfast, his parents long gone to work, but a small note from each of them on the fridge door. They got back to their house after a few days and a doctor’s visit, as he told that Chan’s recovery was quite successful. He didn’t really need much help anymore; the pain had faded — but only the physical one. Three weeks had passed since he last saw you and Minho.

And since then, every day turned into Groundhog Day. Same routine, eating what his parents cooked, talking to them over the phone or spending time at their house, just to fill in the hole inside. Han would come and see him almost every day, bringing those stupid board games he was obsessed with. Chan was grateful to have at least one true friend left.

Jisung didn’t ask any questions and insinuate any conversations. Only occasionally Chan would catch him texting someone — he saw Minho’s name on screen — and he had to physically restrain himself from dropping to his knees and beg Han to arrange a meeting with Lee Know. If he only got through this shit with his best friend, he’d get you back too. However, Chris never asked.

He only leaned towards sleeping, napping his problems away. Drowning in the memories and dreams of you, Chan found himself losing those thin threads connecting him to reality. He’d fall asleep, confident you were there, only to wake up to an empty bed.

Today he dozed off early again. When he woke up, Chan blinked slowly before staring into the ceiling again. The room was dark, as the flat itself. Han had probably left already, perhaps, another board game not to discreetly put on the shelf. Yeah, he did. It was 1:31 A.M. It was too late for someone like Jisung to go home past midnight.

Chris looked to his right, to the empty space where you used to lay. He swore to himself at that exact moment that he’d stay in this place, in this bed forever if you magically appeared there the next second. He would stay anywhere, freeze in his movement, turn into an icy sculpture that could melt under the sun — anything. He would do anything to have you here, with him, at that moment and for eternity.

Chan could almost feel the smell of the shampoo in your hair, while you were lying there, back pressed against his chest. His arm you used as a pillow would always go numb, but he’d keep it there, right under your head — just to absorb in you as much as possible. He wished he could have traced his fingers along your arm, feeling the shivers appear, and leaving small kisses on your shoulder. Never in a million years he ever felt this much ache inside his chest.

Images of you started floating in his head — not that they ever left — your face, your hands massaging his back, your laugh. He could still drown in the aroma of that perfume you used, the one that you were keeping on the bookshelf in your bedroom. You couldn’t bare using any fragrance as the smells made you sick (no matter how good they were, you just weren’t built for this kind of thing), but Chan remembered one specific moment. That moment now resulted in this perfume being the smell he couldn’t live without.

“Either take it off, or I’ll gladly do it for you”.

You stood in front of the mirror in Chan’s room, a new bathing suit on. You tried it on multiple times: at the outlet, at home after washing it and now here, in his room. You wanted to hear the honest opinion of his, but Chris only tended to spill out vulgar remarks concerning your appearance. Not that you hated it.

“Ugh, shut up”, you groaned, turning to look at your back in the mirror. A two-piece bikini really accentuated your ass and hip dips. That was good, but… You had never worn a two-piece bikini after you turned nineteen. You gained some weight and had the same body shape for years; despite never being shamed for your body, you felt insecure, even after losing some of the weight due to exercising with Chan. He basically made you suffer at the gym — all because you once said you needed a personal trainer to actually start working out. He took in that position immediately. Even though the trainings with him were truly resulting in your body transforming, lately it all turned into overly sexual workouts. He would be behind you, too close for a trainer, hands on your hips, his bulge dangerously close to your entrance. Every freaking time you two would end up having a quickie in his car after. Every time.

You sighed, turning to face yourself in the mirror again. You didn’t have abs, but your squishy belly was almost gone, now replaced with muscles and something close to mid-flatness (Chris said there was no such thing, but you disagreed). You always felt like people were judging you while wearing a bathing suit; and now, in a freaking bikini, would they judge you even more?

“What’s wrong?” Chris was behind you in no time, arms wrapped around your waist and his head on your shoulder. He looked at you through the reflection in the mirror, picking on your slightly confused face.

“I dunno if”, you stuttered, your palms landing on his hands, “if I look okay in the bikini”.

“Okay?” The tone of his voice, the guttural sound he let out made you chuckle. “Are you kiddin’ me? You look fantastic”, he whispered, leaving a kiss on your cheek.

And when you wanted to say something else, to somehow doubt his words again, Chris slightly moved, his half-hard dick pressing into your ass. You arched your back almost automatically, scarcely catching the moan from escaping you mouth.

A pleased hum in response from him. You felt his hot breath on your neck, lips leaving burning kissed on your neck. “Shit, baby”, his eager hands roaming around your body, “you smell so fucking good. Did you put it on just for me?”

A choked answer, something incoherent left your mouth. When Chan’s hand untied the straps of your swimsuit bottom, you could swear you would turn into ashes right then and there.

“I’m gonna go crazy”, he growled into your neck, hands firmly holding you waist, keeping you in your place. “I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t fuck you right now”.

You gulped, head still spinning slowly. You were always too easy to break into pieces with his touch only, it was a fact. Although today you wanted to last longer. You wanted to win that round.

Turning around, you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers in his hair. “You’re only interested in me when you wanna fuck, Christopher?”

Chan remembered being taken aback by your words, the boldness in your voice he had never heard before. He liked that; he liked that you could be bold when he didn’t expect you to. But that question… How could you even think that?

“I’m interested in you when I wanna fuck, that’s true”, he answered, lips brushing over your nose, “but I only wanna fuck you, ever”.

“That’s a terrible answer”, you relied, chuckling under your breath. “Still sounds like I’m just a fuck toy to you”.

Chan buried his head in the crook of your neck, sighing deeply. He whined your name into your skin, the sensation of his lips on your most sensitive part making you rub your thighs slightly. Almost automatically begging for friction.

“You’re not a fuck toy”, Chan went on, trailing kisses along your neck, “you’re much more than that”. You mewled in response, resulting in Chris grabbing a handful of your ass. “So much more, baby”.

Goddamn it. That was true; you were much more than a fuck buddy, a friend with benefits — you were his entire world wrapped in a lovely jewel, whose shine reflected on him. But only slightly. The rays of your solar system reached his black hole in small doses only — enough to cling onto them for his existence’s sake, but not enough to make you his and his Sun only. Your solar system, no matter how much time passed, was shining just for Yugyeom, waiting for him to take the sunlight in, to be absorbed in the sun beams.

How Chris wished he had met you earlier. Before Yugyeom, maybe when you were kids, so that you and him would’ve been ‘childhood friends to lovers’.

Chan envied Yugyeom. The blackest waves of purest hatred towards the man you’d been in love with rose inside Chris. Probably that was the thing that couldn’t let Chan believe you loved him back just as much — his inner voice, that overthinking anxious coward insinuating you would come back to Yugyeom in a heartbeat. The reality of the things didn’t really matter — only Chan projecting his insecurities onto you did.

He rubbed his eyes and let out an exhausted sigh. Chris was running on empty with that constant overthinking. He’d rather be back there, in this same bedroom several months ago, when none of it went down the drain yet.

When you were underneath his body in mere seconds, every word of yours swallowed by his hungry kisses. The bikini top was still on; however, Chan got rid of his clothes, wearing his boxers only. He just liked the view, the yellow piece of clothing barely covering those parts of the body he’d be the only one to see.

Your whole body ached because Chris only kissed you. His hands were squeezing your waist, but never reached the places where you craved them to be. Not that Chan didn’t want to, quite the opposite — the way you arched your back every time his boner brushed over your bare core, the way you whimpered, trying to get him touch you. But he just couldn’t miss the opportunity to tease you.

“Ch-Chris”, you inhaled sharply, legs wrapping around his waist, “please”.

He smirked, lips crushing onto yours in another passionate kiss, and his hand finally moving up your body.

“Why did you buy it?” He breathed out, fingers lingering over your already hardened nipple. “It’s so fucking revealing. Do you want”, he moved the fabric to expose your boobs, “everyone to see this?”

His mouth landed onto your nipple in an instant, licking, sucking, biting — all in a spin of a moment, not letting you adjust to one sensation only. You made a strangled noise, eyes closed to give in the feeling of him only. Chan’s left hand was massaging your other breast, not leaving any part of your body unattended.

The sight of you, so lost in pleasure of him sucking on your nipples only… He could come from this, from having you fall apart under the slightest of his touch.

The memories were so real, that vision of you being right here and now was so true, Chris caught himself palming his growing bulge through the fabric of his pajama pants. Shit. If you were here, if he could only tell you how much he loved you, how much he cherished you loving him back, if he could reassure you it was different now, that he never really meant what he told you weeks ago… If only.

A sudden sound of the doorbell interrupted his reminiscence of the past, making Chris jump up in the bed. He was panting, his heart was racing — he wasn’t expecting guests at such an hour.

Moving extra cautiously, Chan approached the door. At first, he didn’t doubt the sight he witnessed through the peephole was another hallucination his touch-starved mind showed him. Upon the second look… It was not a mirage.

He opened the door in an instant, struggling not to pull you in and capture you in his embrace, so that you’d never leave him again. But he just stood there, staring, gawking at you, the gaze of yours never leaving his eyes.

“Hi”.

Taglist:

@heylookwhoitis @amaranth-writing @itstorimf

[roostersup]

Garreth's very Happy Halloween

Garreth Weasley x f!MC Word count: 6290

This is a one shot at the end of book one of Isekai Legacy. I was writing my actual entry for #garrethweasleyfest24 when I got inspired for the filler episode for my actual fanfic.

I am posting it still because I think its so adorable, and even my readers who were sad the MC chose Garreth over Ominis still really liked it.

I still need to finish my actual entry for Garreth Weasley Fest... but it will get done!

Chapter Summary: Jane (the MC) is ready to confess her feeling for Garreth, but she doesn't know how she should do it. With the help of some friends she plans a Halloween party so can declare it to the room. Unfortunately those same friends make her declaration more difficult than expected. Oh and they have matchy Greek themed costumes for Halloween ☺️

When she made it back into the common room neither of her fellow Gryffindors from earlier were there. She looked around again, but the only familiar face she saw was Leander’s which looked very perplexed. She made her way over the table that he was working at, their charms textbook and essay out in front of him. 

“How’s it going?” She said, taking the seat next to him. He jumped a little at her words.

“Ah there you are!! Did you know Garreth has been looking for you all afternoon??” He crossed his arms and looked at her like he was very disappointed. She held back a laugh.

“Yes, he found me already.”

“Oh, well that’s good-” he looked around. “Where is he?”

“He went down to the kitchens to get some food for me and Natty- we both skipped dinner.”

“Ah well, alright then.” He looked a little bit lost as to what to do. It seemed he was ready to give her a lecture or something, but now apparently it wasn’t needed. She smiled towards him.

“Hey, can I talk to you about something?”

“Is it about charms? Because if so I don’t think I am going to be able to help.” 

Jane chuckled. “Ah but you’re so great at summoners court- is charms class that much of a struggle?”

“Yes.” he replied grimmly. “It seems that accio is the only spell I can get a handle on.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry- I don’t want to talk about charms. I actually want to talk about Garreth.”

“Ohhh” he said, turning more towards her and looking interested. “Are you finally going to admit your feelings for him and ask him to start courting?” He looked rather pleased with his little joke, but Jane just smiled softly.

“Actually yeah.”

“WAIT WHAT???” He yelled out so loud that the entire Gryffindor population still in the common room turned towards them. Jane covered her face with her hand, trying to avoid the incredulous looks from the other students. 

“Sorry-” Leander called out towards the other kids, then he rounded back down to her, whispering this time. “What???”

“I’m going to tell Garreth that I like him and ask if he wants to be with me.” She replied, her voice steady. “And I wanted to know your thoughts on how I should do it.”

“How you should do it?” He looked bewildered. “I’m still trying to comprehend the fact that this is no longer unrequited love.”

“Well comprehend faster- I don’t know when he will be back. “Jane said, glancing towards the portrait hole. “I want to know, is Garreth the kind of person who would want a loud declaration in front of lots of people, or would he rather have a private moment?”

“How should I know??? Neither of us have ever gotten this far with a girl, let alone have her be the one to share her feelings first!” Technically Garreth had already shared his feelings, and Jane had too- but she was just going to let him think what he wanted.

“You’ve known him for five years, he must have mentioned something along the lines of this.”

Leaner closed his eyes tight, looking like he was really trying to concentrate. She let him go at it for a while, but she was starting to feel antsy that Garreth was going to walk in at any second. She was about to tell him to just forget about it when he lit up like a lightbulb.

“Wait, I remember!” He said, his voice attracting attention again. “There was one time in our second year, after Gryffindor had won their quidditch match, that everyone gathered in the common room to celebrate. We were too young to really join in, but we watched everyone from up on the balcony-” he pointed up towards the little landing. 

“Everyone was drinking butterbeer and acting all merry. I think someone may have slipped in some firewhiskey because all of the older kids started to get kind of wild. Then the captain at the time, I forget his name now, was so drunk he actually stood up on the table and-”

“Leander,” Jane cut in “Focus.”

“Ah right sorry. Anyway during the party there was a girl who also stood up on a table, but she just yelled out into the crowd that she was in love with some bloke who was there. Everyone cheered and the boy was carried up towards her. Then they stood in front of everyone and kissed while everyone cheered again.”

“And Garreth… said he liked that?”

“Ah well I thought that it was a bit too public for such affections, but I remember looking over at Garreth and he practically had stars in his eyes. He said something like the bloke being the luckiest guy ever, and that he would be thrilled if someone ever did that to him.”

Jane sat and thought about his answer. Honestly it surprised her a little bit that Garreth would be one for public displays of affection, but at the same time she hadn’t really been sure. That was why she asked in the first place- as much as she did like him, there was still a lot she didn’t know about him. 

It wasn’t much after Leander’s story had finished that Garreth walked in, followed directly by Natty. Jane motioned for the boy to keep quiet about the whole thing, turning to smile towards her two friends.

That night Jane went to bed a little earlier than she normally would have. She said it was because the events of the day had tired her out, but really she just wanted to have time to scheme. Once she was in her room she started to make a plan for how she was going to create an event that was going to be lively enough for people to be standing on tables.

Without quidditch there wasn’t much that the school had to celebrate. Jane didn’t feel like she knew enough people to just throw a party at random, although maybe if she got others involved it could work. But thankfully there was a perfect excuse coming up in just over a week- Halloween.

If not for all the jack o'lanterns in the original Hogwarts Legacy game, Jane wouldn’t have been sure that Halloween was even celebrated at this point. But surely it was a thing here. Over the next day she casually asked her friends about the holiday and was surprised to hear that it was pretty similar to what she already knew.

People would dress up in costumes, kids would trick or treat, there was bobbing for apples- you know all the classic Halloween stuff. Hogwarts put out for a big feast each year on the holiday, and the choir sang, but that was all that was done regularly here. When Jane mentioned having a party though, both Natty and Poppy seemed really excited about it.

So now with the help of her two girl friends, the party preparations were in full swing. Jane even went to talk to Professor Weasley about it, not wanting to get anyone in trouble for coming to the Gryffindor common room on a random Saturday night. She got the green light from the professor, whose rules consisted of: no alcohol, no extra students in dormitories, no one younger than fifteen after 9 o'clock, and the whole party ended at midnight.

As word spread, Jane was nervous that they weren’t going to be able to fit everyone in the Gryffindor common room. Poppy reassured her though that it would be fine. Apparently because of the age stipulation they weren’t likely to get many younger students, and a lot of the seventh years chose to be out at Hogsmeade for the Holiday anyway.

Finally it was the night before the party, and it seemed they had everything in order. They had drinks from the Three Broomsticks, Deek said he would deliver them food, there were decorations already hanging all over the common room, and now she sat with Poppy and Natty in her dorm room as they finished their costumes.

“What are you going as again?” Natty said, leaning over to look at the large white sheet Jane was attempting to sew together.

“Andromeda from Greek mythology-” she said, not dropping her eyes from her work. She didn’t really know what she was doing, but she didn’t want to make any stupid mistake.

“Aren’t Leander and Garreth going as Hercules and Perseus?” Poppy said, rolling towards the edge of the bed to look down at her.

“Mhmmm.” Jane replied, snapping the last of her thread with her teeth. “But don’t tell Garreth, my costume is a surprise. There, how does it look?” 

She held the makeshift dress up for her friends to see. They both oohed and awed at it.

“It looks great!” Poppy said, jumping down from the bed. “But I feel like it's missing something….”

“I know!” Natty said, stepping forward. Then she pulled out her wand and waved it around the dress. 

Jane watched in awe as beautiful gold detailing showed up around the edges of the dress. When she held it up again it looked like it could actually be from Greek times!

“How did you do that???” She said turning towards the girl. Natty just shrugged confidently and returned to her own costume. Damn, this girl and her nonverbal spells.

She moved over to the mirror, holding her dress up against her as she stared at it.

“You don’t think it will be too… revealing do you?” She was feeling a bit worried about that aspect of the costume ever since she had heard what Garreth was dressing as. It was kinda hard to pull off Greek God and still fit 1800s dress standards. 

“It's just a costume so it should be fine,” Poppy said without looking up from her work. Jane smirked, ah so this fell under the category of party clothes. Like how men would faint at the sight of a woman's ankle on a normal day, but during a ball she could have her entire bust out and no one would blink an eye. Totally made sense.

The next evening the three girls got dressed together, Jane inspecting her handiwork again in the mirror. It was kind of revealing… but in like a slutty Halloween kinda way. Normally she wouldn’t have an issue with it, but it still felt like a bit much for the 1800s… 

“You look beautiful!!” Poopy cooed, coming over to her.

“And you’re sure it's not a bit too much? Because I know for a fact that if I walked into a muggle village in this I would be burned at the stake.”

“No- it's perfect!”

Jane nodded and then turned to look at her friend- and her jaw dropped to the ground. There before her was Poppy in a full length yellow gown. It was medieval style with tons of intricate patterns to it. Her hair was also a lot longer and braided into two braids down her front- honestly it gave Professor Garlick vibes.

“Damn Poppy, you look amazing!”

The girl giggled “Thank you, but you should see Natty.”

Jane turned 45 degrees to face her Gryffindor friend, and her jaw hit the ground again. Natty was in a similarly styled red dress, but her hair was pinned up tight. She also had a sword. Jane looked at the pair of them, and thought that for sure they had been lying to her about her costume looking alright.

“You both look like queens! There’s no way Helga Hufflepuff and Godric Gryffindor looked this good, and I mean, obviously Gryffindor didn’t.”

Yup, you heard that right. The two girls had decided to wear matching costumes as two of the founders of Hogwarts. It was honestly the coolest cosplay ever, they would have totally killed at comic-con. 

“Thank you! I am still disappointed though that we couldn’t find anyone to be the other two founders. I asked Samantha Dale, but she already had a costume, and when I asked Ominis he wasn’t sure he was even going to come.”

“Ominis isn’t coming?” Poppy said, turning towards Jane.

“Last I heard he wasn’t-” Jane said shrugging. “He said the only reason he might have gone was because we were throwing it, but that he usually avoided gatherings such as these.”

Honestly it made her a little bit sad, but it was hard to feel too upset with two beautiful ladies next to her. 

Once Jane had finished ogling over her friends, Natty made her sit at a vanity so she could do her hair. She used some more cool magic to make Jane’s soft curls into tighter ones, and then did a messy half updo, pinning the top up with a golden laurel leaves hair piece that she had prepared. When her friend was done Jane felt like she was meant to be going to some ancient Olympic games or something.

The three of them headed downstairs, hearing the party already in full swing. Naturally there wasn’t any music, sadly even the gramophone was still an up and coming idea at this point. But there was a whole lot of chatter and laughter to be heard. 

They walked over to the railing that overlooked the common room. Jane smiled as she saw everyone in costumes. She wasn’t sure what people would dress like- most muggles would have done like a witch or wizard but those were just normal people here. There was a lot of creativity in the crowd though. 

Just from where she could see there was a ballerina, mummy, ghost (someone had transformed their hair to look white), a nurse (who looked just like the one at the school), a myriad of different animal costumes, a pirate, an american cowboy (which was wild to see), a few people in masks and cloaks, and of course- two Grecians. 

She smiled as she spotted the two red heads. Jane and the other girls had put them in charge of getting the celebration going while they got ready. They were happily handing out drinks to everyone who walked in, and having what looked like a great time.

Both boys were in white tunics, looking like they were made from sheets just as Jane’s had been. Leander was holding a, hopefully, fake sword and waved it carelessly around. He also had a greek looking helmet on as well.

Garreth had just a gold band that went around his head, forcing his usually wild locks into a more slicked back place. He had a gold looking rope or tie or something around his waist. He was also holding some sort of… ball? No wait, it wasn’t a ball it was-

“Is that supposed to be Medusa’s head??” Poppy said, her eyes wide.

“I think it is-” Natty said a little warrily. 

“Damn. That’s kinda metal.”

The other girls turned to her and she quickly rephrased her words. It was pretty awesome though, definitely an easy way for people to tell who he was dressed as. Jane stared at him some more, watching as he laughed with the people who had just walked in. She felt her heart start to pick up as she stared at his mostly visible back- which not shockingly was covered in freckles. It made her reminisce about the one other time she had seen him shirtless.

“You could just go down and talk with him,” Natty said, grinning towards her. Jane felt her face flush as she realized that both her friends had been watching her.

“Uh yeah um, I know I just, well I am kind of enjoying the view from here.” They both giggled, and even though she was feeling embarrassed, Jane turned to look back over at him.

“Well we are going to head down,” Jane heard one of them say as they stepped away, but she didn’t really register it. Honestly she found herself in a sort of Garreth trance and it felt like the whole room got a lot quieter. She could see his beautiful hazel eyes glowing from here.

She was a little surprised to see Natty and Poppy pop up next to the two boys just a few moments later. She turned to her sides, realizing that they had gone. When she looked back down she saw that Poppy was pointing up to where she was. The two boys turned towards her, Leander tilting his helmet so he could see her better. He waved his sword at her, knocking the person next to him on the head. Jane laughed, but it caught in her throat when she locked eyes with the other boy.

Garreth stared up at her, his face stilled as if he had been caught by Medusa herself. He continued to stare, and Jane started to feel a blush creep up her face again. Then all of a sudden whatever spell had him frozen was broken, and he immediately dropped his fake head, and ran towards the stairs. Jane turned shocked as she heard his feet pounding their way up, taking them at least two or three at a time by how fast he made it up there. She watched him as he walked up towards her, his hair a little bit disheveled now.

When he got a full view of her he froze again, well all but his eyes. No other part of him moved as his eyes moved across her body looking up and down, and up and down again. Now she was really feeling self conscious with his unwavering gaze locked so hard onto her.

“You look beautiful-” he finally said, his voice barely making it to her it was so quiet. “Are you-”

“Andromeda.” She finished for him, smiling in an attempt to regain some composure.

“Really??” he said, finally unfreezing and taking a step towards her. “Did you know that I’m-”

“Perseus.” She finished again, this time her smile feeling much more genuine. “Leander told me what you two were dressing up as so I thought it would be fun to join along. Hopefully that was okay-”

“Oh more than okay!” He said, a smile growing across his face. “I’m just surprised, I mean, you look more like Aphrodite to me, but I guess there isn’t a way to make too much of a distinction.”

Jane felt her face heat even more. Damn this sweet boy.

“Well I guess I just better hang around you all night so that people wont get confused.”

Now it was his turn to look flushed.

They walked back down to the party together, both of them not very sneakily stealing glances at each other. Jane was barely able to enjoy the night though because of how nervous she felt standing next to Garreth. True to her word, she was right by his side the whole night- but that had more to do with him than her honestly. Anytime that she moved to get another drink or talk to someone, he was right there.

What was even more painful was the fact that they were this close, but not actually together. Like he stood right by her, but his hands never touched her. There was no hand holding or putting his arm around her. At one point she moved her hand down to where his was, but as soon as they briefly brushed against each other he swiftly brought it up to his chest, crossing his arms. Was this Garreth trying really hard to respect her choice of them having space, or had he already dropped the idea of wanting to be with her? It was kind of mixed signals honestly.

As the night got later the people got crazier. Someone had to have spiked their drinks because people were really releasing their inhibitions. Jane had stopped drinking very early on, and she was glad that she did. She definitely wanted to have her wits about her for her confession tonight, but it also made watching the madness before her more enjoyable. 

The people who came in the animal costumes were exchanging different body part pieces and turning themselves into a kind of horrifying amalgamation of beasts class. There were couples, and also throuples, making themselves right at home on the chairs and sofas around the room. The masked partiers were chill though, they were just sitting ominously in the corner of the room giving death eater vibes.

Leander had seemingly given up his Greek ways and was going back to his Irish roots by doing some sort of jig to a group of tired looking quidditch players. The worst of them all had to be Poppy though, whose voice was so loud Jane could hear it from the other side of the room.

She was laughing like a mad man at something that Natty had said, the other girl looking rather amused at the reaction. Jane put her hand to her forehead, feeling all of a sudden the lateness of the hour. Maybe she should stop her friend before anything happened that she would regret.

“Poppy seems to be enjoying herself,” Garreth leaned down to whisper to her. Jane looked up at him, getting lost all over again in his hazel eyes.

“Sure seems like it-’ she said smiling. “I was just thinking I needed to go put her to bed before she wakes up the whole castle.”

“Ah let her have her fun,” He smiled back “She always seems a little too pent up, I bet it's nice for her to have a release.”

Well she couldn’t argue with that- not that she wanted to anyway. He was way too handsome to argue with. Having him so close to her the whole evening had been difficult on her brain, but it sure made her heart happy. He was also so sweet and attentive, it made her think that if she was Andromeda she would have been able to count on him to save her from the sea of monsters.

Maybe now would be a good time to do the thing that she had set this entire party up for in the first place. She had been searching for a good time this entire night, but really what was she waiting for? People were going to get more wasted as the night wore on- if she was going to do it, why not now? Yes, it was now or never. All she had to do was find a strong table or something…

“Actually-” Garreth said, bringing her back to their conversation. “Maybe you should go get Poppy.”

“What? Why?”

Garreth reached out, pointing over to the other side of the room. She followed his finger to find it was pointed at Poppy who was now standing up on a table, her huge skirt scooped up in her hands.

“Can I please have your attention!” The Hufflepuff called out, her words slurring a little bit. Everyone who was still awake turned towards her.

“Ah fuck-” Jane swore, leaving her hero’s side and moving through the sea of people to get over to the girl.

“There is something that I want to say- something that I have wanted to say for awhile-”

Jane watched in horror as Poppy held her hand out towards Natty, who was sitting just below the table looking utterly bewildered.

“Today I was to declare that I, Poppy Sweeting, am-”

“Silencio!” Jane called out, not being able to reach her friend in time. The spell hit, making it so that no sound came out as Poppy continued her speech. Jane gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Gods of this world that all the practicing on the silencing charm with Ominis had paid off. 

She finally made it over to the table, where Poppy was still going at it, totally unaware that her voice was not there. Jane looked down at Natty, who still looked confused but thankfully also a little drunk.

“What is she doing?” Gryffindor asked.

“Uh I think she wanted to perform a song, but I heard her practice. I think this was the best call. Will you help me get her down?”

“Let me-” Garreth said, coming up from behind her. She turned quickly, surprised that he had followed her here as well. 

The two of them managed to get Poppy off her impromptu stage, and subsequently into Garreth’s arms before she straight up passed out. Damn, could that not have happened like 10 minutes earlier? Poppy had almost just confessed her feelings for Natty to the entire room while being totally wasted. Jane prayed that her friend was not going to remember how close she was to outing herself by the time she woke up tomorrow.

“I’m going to put her to bed in my room- will you help me carry her to the stairs?”

They moved through the crowd, everyone watching as Perseus carried Helga Hufflepuff through the room. When they made it to the girls stairs Garreth moved Poppy onto Jane’s back and she carried her the rest of the way to her room.

She flopped her still sleeping friend onto her bed, and did what she could to make her comfortable. It took a hot minute, but finally Poppy was undressed enough to sleep, a bucket at the side of the bed in case her drinks decided they wanted to make an appearance. 

Jane stretched her back out, feeling totally exhausted and also ready for bed. She was contemplating just moving in right next to the other girl, when she realized- she hadn’t been able to confess to Garreth. All this work only for her friend to stand in front of everyone and give a silent speech about her love for Natty. Damn. That really sucked.

She wasn’t upset with Poppy, but there was no way she was going to be able to follow her act. Honestly she lost her chance, and with the tiredness she felt, it made her want to cry. She wanted to just hide away and milk her sorrows, but she knew that Garreth was probably still waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs.

She trudged back out of her room, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror before the door and wishing she had chosen a more heavy duty costume. She tried to fix her hair, but there was no salvaging it at this point. Instead she pulled out the golden hair piece, letting all her curly locks drop down. She moved her dress around so that no bits were poking out, and headed out.

Surprisingly Garreth wasn’t waiting for her at the bottom. She looked around the landing but didn’t see him anywhere. She decided to head towards the little room with the railing where she had spotted him earlier that evening. Maybe she could just call to him from up here to say that she was going to bed.

When she walked in she jumped a little, surprised that she wasn’t alone. There leaning on the railing was Garreth, his own hair escaping from its confines and looking more like it usually did. He looked rugged and stoic standing there, almost like he had just come out of a battle- which, honestly he kind of had, Poppy was not a calm sleeper.

Jane moved in quietly, making soundless steps until she got right up to him. Then in one motion she moved right to his side, slid her arm around his and leaned her head on his shoulder. He flinched at her touch, turning his head and starting to scoot away, until he realized who it was.

“Ah Jane, you scared me-” 

She turned her head to look up at him, smiling. He smiled back at her, his cheeks starting to turn pink.

“Did you get her to go down okay?”

Jane chuckled, it sounded like he was talking about a baby. Then she stopped, the idea of Garreth as a daddy about sending her into cardiac arrest.

“Uh yeah, it all went well. I was half tempted to just join her afterwards though I felt so tired, even more so when I got a glimpse of myself in a mirror.”

“What? Why? You look so-” it seemed his words got stuck on his way out because he stopped his sentence abruptly. She looked back up at him, watching as his whole face turned a dark shade of red. 

“You uh, I mean you still look very nice.” He finished, his voice cracking as he said it. He went into a little coughing fit then, and he turned away from her. Still leaning on his shoulder Jane could feel his heart beat growing steadily faster.

He was so fucking cute she almost couldn’t stand it. It made the fact that this night hadn’t gone to plan feel even worse.

“I’m sorry Garreth,” She said, feeling defeated.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry? You didn’t do anything-”

“And that’s what I’m sorry for-” She pulled her arm away from his and leaned on the railing. She looked out at the rest of the partiers, their numbers slowly diminishing. 

“What do you mean?” He turned to look at her, his face full of confusion. 

“I mean, I set this whole party up for you as an elaborate plot to confess my feelings to you-” She gestured out to the party, feeling almost on the verge of tears.

“You- what?”

She sighed. “I had asked Leander that night after we found Highwing if there was a way he thought I should tell you that I was ready to start dating or um I mean courting you. He told me about a story in your second year where you watch a girl stand up and confess her feelings to a boy infront of everyone. So I planned this party so I could confess in front of everyone and try to make it special for you.”

He stared at her, his eyes the widest she had ever seen them.

“You wanted to confess to me?”

“Yes.” She said, unable to look away from him.

“You wanted to confess to me tonight, at this party?”

“Yes.”

“Wait wait-” he put his hand up, turning his head and looking slightly down. He looked like he was doing some sort of mathematical calculation in his head.

“So, are you saying that you’ve been ready to confess to me for over a week, but instead planned a thoughtful confession for me all because of something my idiot friend said to you?”

“Oh um, yes?” His questions were throwing her off now.

“So are you saying-” he took a step towards her “-that this entire party I could have been holding your hand, holding you close, whispering in your ear, and stealing you away any time that I wanted?”

She opened her mouth to respond but closed it as he closed the gap between them.

“You are telling me that I could have been kissing the most beautiful person in this room this entire night? That I didn’t have to hold myself back from pulling you into a corner to have you all to myself every time you laughed your beautiful laugh or smiled your radiant smile?”

She hadn’t realized that she had been stepping backwards until her back was up against a wall. She flicked her head from the wall and back to the boy, who was now leaning in towards her. She could feel his breath on her skin he was so close, and also thankfully it did not smell like alcohol. It still made her feel a little dizzy though, but more just from being weak at the knees.

“Jane-” she shivered as he whispered her name. “Are you saying that it's okay to kiss you now?”

She stared up into his eyes, her heart matching the pace his was at just moments ago. She realized that in this moment she was so weak to him that even if it wasn’t okay for him to kiss her, there was no way she was going to be able to say no. But thank heavens it was abso-fucking-lutley okay for him to kiss her.

She nodded her head, barely daring to even move, let alone speak. As soon as she gave her consent Garreth moved his hands up to her face, holding her jaw while his thumbs rubbed her cheeks. She watched as his eyes moved over her face, his eyes looking almost like he was going to cry. Then she felt him pull her head forward, bringing his even closer to meet hers.

“You know,” he said quietly, his face barely a few centimeters from hers. “Leander had it all wrong anyway. That night when we were kids, when I saw that girl confessing all I thought was that I would love for someone to feel that same way about me. It didn’t really matter if it was yelled out from a table or whispered in private. But in the end, I think I might have ended up a million times better off anyway-”

When he kissed her it was like she was transported to that night a few weeks ago. Suddenly the noise from the party disappeared from below them, and it was just him and her alone in the common room. She reached out to hold onto his shirt, but only found material in one of her hands. Since he was wearing his costume over just one shoulder one hand could grip the white fabric while the other lay flat against his chest.

When she touched his bare skin a magical surge coursed through her, making the hairs all over her skin stand on end. And in the midst of their kiss it was like she could feel everything that he was feeling about her. All this adoration and affection that he held for her, all the weight he had been holding as he tried to give her the space she had asked for, and all the hope and joy that was taking hold of him now. 

Suddenly she was hit with her own emotions as if they too were coming into her like magic. The gratitude she felt to be so wholly adored by such a wonderful person. To know that this boy was never going to do anything to hurt her, and that he was going to always be there for her. How was she deserving of all of this??? How did she end up so lucky??

Jane pushed him off of her, parting their kiss. Garreth looked down at her with a mix of confusion, concern and longing. She smiled up at him though, trying very hard not to just go right back into another kiss. She stepped away from him, returning to the railing and looking out onto what was left of the party. 

“Hey everyone!” She yelled out, calling the attention of everyone who still could move. “I like Garreth Weasley!”

There was a cheer that rang out, everyone holding up their glasses towards her. Nice- these guys totally passed the vibe check. There was someone a little bit more enthusiastic than the other though. Leander jumped up from where he had been sitting and started yelling like he was at the world cup. Jane chuckled, looking down at the totally ecstatic and drunk kid. Then she felt Garreth move in next to her.

“And I like Jane Moore!” He yelled, leaning over the railing as well.

“We know mate-” Someone called out, and the crowd laughed. Jane turned to see Garreth’s face turn pink again. Ah, fucking cutie.

“Kiss her!” Someone else yelled out, and Jane could have sworn that it was Natty but the girl just smiled at her innocently. 

Suddenly Jane was pulled away from the edge, Garreth arms moving around her. He had one hand around her waist the other behind her head- and then he dipped her down. She was so surprised by it she almost fought against it, before getting lost in his lips again and her body immediately relaxed.

There were more cheers, but they were barely audible to Jane now. Her whole body was only able to focus on the beautiful being that was holding her close. He brought her back up, parting their kiss to smile widely at her. She didn’t give him much of a chance to part though because she pounced right back on him, smashing her lips back onto him as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

He stumbled back, moving them away from the view of the crowd below- who had started cheering like mad again. She pushed herself against him, making him take a turn up against the wall. He was thrown off for a moment, but quickly recovered as he wrapped his arms around her again. 

They both flinched as the clocks around the room chimed midnight, finally calling an end to the party. They pulled apart, smiling brilliantly at each other. 

“This was the best Halloween I’ve ever had-” he said, bringing his hand up to run through her hair.

“Oh, I think you might end up liking November 1st a little bit more-” She smiled mischievously up at him. His face went pink once more, but a very different look flashed across his eyes.

With one quick motion he scooped her up, Jane yelling out in surprise. 

“What are you doing??” She cried out, half laughing.

“Oh you are coming with me-” And with the speed and strength of a real Greek legend he raced towards the boys dorms, Jane held tight in his arms laughing so hard she was crying.

A03 -- Wattpad -- Fanfic

If you want to see an Ominis POV of this same party- check out the next chapter in one of the link above!

[catra-writes]

grief.

grief for those ive lost, grief for the person i couldnt be and for the person i used to be, grief for those ive hurt and couldnt help grief for pain i caused myself for damage i caused for damage i couldnt fix. grief for things that never happened, for what could have been had i tried a little harder let a lone tried at all, had i said something for once. grief for the words i left unspoken and now will never know what impact they could have had, for what impact i could have had. i feel grief for so much, the people who left my life, the lives i left, the relationships i ended, the relationships i let slip through my fingers, the things that could have been more happy memories, the memories that turned sour. the pets i lost and no longer have, the things i neglected to care for.

i feel so much grief for things that were both in and out of my control, i dont want to feel more grief but i know this will never go away, i'll always have "sad for what could have and what ifs" moments, i'll always feel a pit in my stomach for choices i made or didnt make, that wont change. grief never goes away for a survivor of disasters, even if on the outside it doesnt seem all that disastrous.

2. mind control

a mind under control, something people think i've had all my life but in reality i never have nor could i gain it. not where i am right now. i have people still in my life controlling me, poisoning my mind with more doubts and fears and insecurities, more guilt and blame and things i cant change until im finally gone from here. my mind is under the control of seeds of doubt and anxieties planted by my abusers since i was a mere child, things i cant uproot when theyre still being watered on the daily.

i cant free myself of the mind control unless i have help choking the weeds out, until then im stuck under the thumb of voices and chains belonging to those who've hurt me to the point im convinced im beyond repair, to people i believe i have no choice but to rely on or else i cant function because thats what they want in my head.

3. betrayal

a feeling im all to damn familiar with. many of my relationships ended because of a backstab, a switch of sides. im all to familiar with the feeling of gut wrenching pain, my heart dropping to the pit in my stomach as the person i thought had my back turns and dives a sword through it. ive had my heart taken and smashed to bits but a betrayal too many times to count. whether its an ex partner or a friend, even a family member, i know the feeling all too well.

betrayal as someone i loved sided with an abuser, betrayal as someone leaves me for better or worse. i may not have absolutely felt it all but i have felt it enough.

4. jealousy.

jealous when even though we're both poly my partner gives or receives attention and affection from/to someone else, jealous when my siblings are clearly treated better than i am, jealous when people are chosen over me, jealous when people receive or give things to others and i once again get little to nothing.

i hate jealousy, it feels unfair and selfish but at the same time its justified. with all i have gone through, gotten and lacked through my life i have a right to be jealous. i get jealous and i need to admit it to myself, i get jealous and i need t let myself be.

5. cursed.

some could say i have been, maybe even that i brought it on myself. for many reasons, and they could be right. but ive been cursed in the other way, cursed out by the family i no longer what to associate myself with because they have it in their heads that im wrong and always doing wrong. cursed by those who believe i was born wrong and dont deserve to have or be right. cursed out because i dont fit in someones box so to them i deserve to be called slurs and become their verbal punching bag.

iv'e been cursed by the world to live in a body im uncomfortable with, to be a person i can only pretend to love.

6. unrequited love.

one sided love, often the reason for a lot of the relationships i ended myself romantic or otherwise. and it hurts both ways to realize that. the person i'd though i loved the same way having to get their heart broken when i realize i never did, or the person i though loved me back turning out to be a liar and a user.

i dont feel love or fall in love often, not because im too hurt and broken to want to anymore but just because thats the way i am, influenced by the damage or not. and when i do, a lot of times it turned out to be unrequited, ive given up on searching for and making new attachments, because i no longer see or feel the need to try.

7. forgotten.

being forgotten and forgetting, some of my greatest fears. i fear constantly of what i've forgotten, if maybe it was important or dangerous and remembering it could bring more pain or that i forgot something and in turn caused someone else pain. i fear that i'll be forgotten, my name and face and very being gone from all memory, no one knowing who i am, leaving me in the dust. i fear i'll forget myself, if i cant remember who i am, if others forget me, what do i do? what do i become? and im terrified that without memory i wont exist, im terrified to find out what that would be like if it were ever to happen and im terrified that the truth really is that thats going to be a good thing in the end.

ive forgotten so much already, names, faces, people, items, dates, events, very pieces of myself even. im so terrified of anymore being forgotten. by myself or anyone else.

8. terminal disease

i cant say i have one, but i can ay it often feels like it with the physical, emotional and mental anguish and debilitating pain i constantly carry with me. every movement, every word, every energy spent makes me feel just a little weaker. i'll have highs then i'll crash just a little lower ever time. it doesnt feel like it'll ever go away, ever fully heal, like i'll never recover, at least not to full. it'll keep going down, going backwards, no matter how many times or how far it climbs back up, like gravity it always goes back down. you cant take a leap without landing.

9. neglected.

ive been neglected by my parents growing up, things that should have been taught and given to be i either got very little of, never got at all and/or watched/heard others receive instead. i missed out on the support from a parent telling me it was okay to cry let alone feel, that it was okay to make mistakes, that it was okay for accidents to happen and that it was okay to ask for help, to be honest and admit and own up to things. i missed out on a parent being there when i needed it, i missed out on a parent trying genuinely to understand. instead i got nothing, i got yelled at or i got shamed.

if another adult dared give me any of that i cried or got angry and confused or scared. i missed out on proper help from adults growing up, only learning when it was to late that i had options i could have used to get further.

i grew up being sidelined and hardly even being given the bare minimum. so when im included, when im cared for, when im given even the bare minimum, i dont know what to do, i cry,i feel guilty, im convinced im less than deserving, im unfamiliar with it, i dont know how to process it.

10. ghost.

ive had my fair share of ghosts, still do, often times i was one, still am one. ghosts in the sense of haunting words and memories, ghosts in the sense of overwhelming bottled up guilt, ghosts in the sense that ive been conditioned to carry what i really dont deserve. a ghost in the sense that im invisible, a ghost in the sense that i get ignored and over looked or brushed off, a ghost in the sense that people see and have seen me as nothing more than a fleeting piece of the past.

im here, im rarely seen or heard, i have constant phrases said by others swimming in my head, constant pressure placed on my shoulder like a manipulative parent placing their hand on my and telling me whats expected of me and giving me false hope that i could ever be enough for them, false hope that they care when at the same time they push me to the back, shove me to the side and favour others over me.

ive been a ghost, haunted by the ghosts of others and their words and actions all my life.

[alexwreakinghavoc]

Misty-eyed Confessions:

A Reflective Paper on the Anthology, “Lockdown Litanies: Countless Untold Stories”

Lockdown Litanies: Countless Untold Stories is an anthology of poems full of woe and and loss. It is composed of 9 poems, each telling different stories and having their own style. The poems are written like it was in a dim room, underneath the covers, with only a flashlight as its source of illumination. It is greatly written as I think I can feel what the author is feeling as she was writing it, the emotions she would want us to experience as we were reading it.  These are poems of experience. The hurt, the loss, the pain one experiences in life as they stumble through it. Feelings realized and written in time of chaos.

As I was reading “Dear Diary”, I was under the impression that it was written for someone, despite it already having addressed the diary in the title. I was only half-right I think, as the poem really is written for someone, and that someone is the author herself. It talks about the problems she faced, the burden she carries, and the way she coped. I related a lot of what is said in the poem. My mother was also hospitalized during the lockdown, I lost a lot of people. “It felt different. I, too, became different—” was a line I related to the most. I feel differently to who I was then. I grew, but I also became lonelier? Sadder? Just somehow not who I’m supposed to be. The poem reminded me of Unwell by Matchbox Twenty. The line “My head created more voices to fill the void” from the poem was like “All day starin' at the ceilin' makin' friends with shadows on my wall”. Both lines are about loneliness, and how loneliness can turn into something bad. The end of the poem is giving out a hopeful feeling though, reminding us that we aren’t crazy, just a little bit unwell.

The second poem, “The Tale of a Modern Sisyphus” is very interesting. Just by the title, I was already intrigued. It was subtle but at the same time, obvious. It was about the presidential elections that happened just this May 2022. It was creatively written, relevant, and such a shame that it had to be written. Instead of celebrating a success, a loss was written. Instead of getting competence, we got ineptitude. Truly a waste, our country has. Now, we are left to wonder what could’ve been. The line “Holy! Haven’t seen a woman who’s clearly a ten— // Let alone the judges; they chose a far less seven.” from the poem reminded me of the line “The game was rigged, the ref got tricked // The wrong ones think they're right // You were outnumbered, this time” from Only The Young by Taylor Swift.

To continue, the third poem O’Yayi is written in prose structure. It made me feel emotional as I felt the unrequited love from the author. It told the story of a woman settling down with someone else as she lost her ‘true love’ from war. How the author is worried about who she will choose in the afterlife, if they ever meet again. It gave Lips of an Angel by Hinder vibes. As both song and poem uses voice/melody as a way to be reminded by past love. “With a soft, almost romantic lullaby playing and a small figure of a couple twirling, music and magic would soon fill up the entire space, and my ears would be welcomed by a familiar sound. Dante?” from the poem and “It's really good to hear your voice saying my name // It sounds so sweet // Coming from the lips of an angel // Hearing those words, it makes me weak”

Next, we have Two Red Laces on the Wonderwall. I felt that it was about loving someone who doesn’t feel the same way the author did. The author gave her all her affections, only for him to give only a fraction of his. I do relate to this as sometimes I feel that there are people who are only after some parts of me, like how the subject in the poem is after her body only. The “maybe you should get tested” made me think it is about an STD test, thus having the conclusion that they have a ‘friends-with-benefits’ relationship rather than being proper lovers. The whole poem reminded me of I Need to Know by Sleeping with Sirens. “You are my universe, I was your falling star” and “Two starlit lovers, we were destined to be torn apart” lines from the songs that I feel supported my statement.

Another poem in the anthology is Umbilical. It is a poem about loss. Losing a mother has got to be the hardest thing to get through. I had the same fear as my mother was diagnosed with COVID last year. I kept praying, begging to anyone who’s listening to save her. She wasn’t with us as the government took her to a facility. All four of my siblings and I were left at home, not knowing what was going on with her. I would probably never get over losing her and I thanked everyone who was there for her and ensured her safety. Fearing for her life is one thing but actually losing her? It would have been the end of me. “You have made your purpose, I guarantee. // Hush, sleep tight. Everything will be alright. // Lilom, Lilom, I beg. Spare her for me.” is a line from the poem that reminded me of “Tonight I've fallen and I can't get up //I need your loving hands to come and pick me up // And every night I miss you // I can just look up // And know the stars are // Holdin' you, tonight” from the song Tonight by FM Static.

The fifth poem in the anthology is RE: Paper (I’m Red, IMRaD)*. I would say that the poem is all about the social issues our country is currently facing amidst the new people on the seat of power. It is mostly about the educational issues that give troubles to both students and teachers alike. The song War by Sleeping with Sirens is most applicable with poems. It was opened with “this house of lies is stained with blood”. Another line from the song “when will we know our wrong from right? // to me it seemed that we have lost our sight //  we were blinded by our right”.

3 A.M Awakening is another poem in the anthology. From what I understand, it is about someone exhausted from life. Someone who thinks happiness will come in the form of rest, permanently. It would be a bit silly to hear especially if said to grown ups but the poem is very relatable. The first line, “Breathe gently ten times and let anger go” is something always said to me when someone wronged me. I am always supposed to take the high road and forgive someone, even if they aren’t even sorry. “Breathe as if it’s easy to do today” is also true. Some people wake up and thank God they’re still alive. But sometimes, living is exhausting. Bit ungrateful but it’s how I feel. “I've been up for days // I can't tell the difference from sleeping away // I'm losing my patience // I can't feel my faith” is a line from the song Sarcoma by Killstation.

Like the previous poem, My Frail Lady is a poem about hurt. It’s an idyllic poem with dark lines. The poem, I think, is about suicide. Falling to the ground at such a high place. The line “Soon she will be found— Dancing on her own” meant that she will be all alone but happy when she dies. The song Bullet by Hollywood Undead is a song most applicable here. “I've been trying too long with too dull of a knife // But tonight, I made sure that I sharpened it twice” is a line from the song that also implies suicide but presented with a fun upbeat tone.

To sum it all up, all the poems from this anthology showed the different sides of the author. All her pain, her opinions. So many of her lines I related to. These series of poems gave her a medium, an outlet to let out all her untold stories in this time of hardship. Braving the world of pain, not letting it get to her. These are the tears she refused to let fall. She wrote her confessions with misty eyes.

[yoooespinosa]

could you please write a draco x reader fic, where the reader is hopelessly in love with draco, and she's not afraid to show it. but draco doesn't feel the same. and draco being draco, he rejects the reader with no remorse. then when the reader finally comes to the realization that she deserves better, she started seeing new people (not necessarily dating, but more like talking), then that's when draco feels a bit jealous now that the reader isn't all over him anymore. the rest is up to you, love! just something really angsty, you could end it in any way you'd like.

also, sidenote. you're an amazing writer and i love you!!

a/n: Thank you for your request! ily <3

To say you had a crush on Draco Malfoy, was an understatement.

You couldn't help it, you couldn't just stop the feelings you developed every time he came around.

When he walked into the room it was butterflies breaking out of their cage, palms growing sweaty and your heart racing so fast you were scared you'd be able to see its indentions.

It was scary at first, to have such feelings at only thirteen years old. So you did your best to ignore them. You did your best to stay out of his way.

That only worked for so long.

When you are friends with Draco and the people that surround him, it becomes very hard to stay out of his path.

So it was only inevitable that your crush on him would become so much more. Especially as the years went on.

He hadn't made it much easier. Sometimes you felt as if, maybe, he returned your feelings. How could you think otherwise? With the way he walked with you to class, carried your books at times and spent time with you. Just you. Alone.

How could you not fall in love with him.

With all that simmering in you, you finally let it out. You made your affections obvious, not afraid to show Draco how you felt for him. You had thought it was welcomed. You thought that the feelings would be returned.

It seemed as though he could only tolerate you for so long. Yes, that was the right word for it, the only thing he had for you was toleration.

Your shoes sounded on the stone under you, on your way to the Slytherin common room. You had just got out of detention with professor Snape. You suppose it was well deserved, you had seen Draco almost put the wrong ingredient in his potion, so you being you had wandered to his table and helped him, much to Snapes dismay.

Whispering the password, you made your way through the dim passage. Chattering of people from all years and faint laughter was heard all around.

You spotted your friends right away, seated by the green flamed fireplace, as usual.

"She just can't take a hint." You heard Draco grumble, you paused your steps, you didn't mean to eavesdrop but it seemed as if your feet had a mind of its own.

"Wait," Blaise closes the book he had in his hold. "who are we talking about again?"

Pansy sighs, seeming they had been on the topic for some time. "We're talking about y/n."

Your brows furrow. Going back to the first thing you heard Draco say, she just can't take a hint, what was that supposed to mean. What hint?

"Why can't you just tell her how you feel?" Theo adds, his voice is laced with annoyance, maybe this isn't the first time they've talked about this.

"I thought how I felt would be obvious enough, without having to say anything." He huffs.

"Well," Theo sighs. "apparently not."

You were becoming anxious. What were they talking about and what exactly was Draco feeling? There was streak of hope in you, maybe he'd confess right here that he felt the same.

"What do you suggest I say then, oh-wise-one?" Draco asks teasingly.

"Easy, just say exactly what you tell us." He clears his throat dramatically, adopting a mock version of his voice, "Y/n, you have to be one of the most annoying girls, I have ever had the dissatisfaction of meeting. Please, oh please take the hint and leave me alone because these attempts at getting at me are getting more pathetic each time." He finishes with a clumsy curtsy.

The other Slytherins try to stifle their laughs.

You hadn't even noticed the gasp that escaped your throat until four heads turned to your direction.

"Y/n, I didn't kn-" You cut of Theo's words and apologetic stare.

"Is that true?" You ask Draco, your voice low, laced with hurt. Your nose was stinging and your bottom lip hung heavy, but you refused to cry in front of them. You wouldn't give them another weakness to laugh about.

Draco managed to keep his face blank, no emotions shining through. He shrugged, "Pretty much summed it up."

You almost flinched. He didn't even care about the hurt those words brought you.

You left without a look back. Leaving behind your friends call of your name. They weren't the ones you wanted an apology from. They had known how much you felt for him and didn't even bother telling you that it was definitely not mutual. They even laughed, like it was a joke, like your heart was a comedic topic.

The cold air hit your face, freezing against the tear stain tracks. You sat on a lone stone bench in the court yard, letting those tears make a home on your cheeks.

It wasn't obvious--his dislike to you. If it was, you would have gave up long ago. But a part of you felt that there was hope and you had chased after that.

Why couldn't he have just told you when you first let your affections known, it seemed that he had encouraged it back then, with lingering touches and soft smiles.

Looking back now, you notice that those advantages had slowly disappeared. You had been too caught up in his silky hair, those gray eyes filled with mirth and mischief, his angular face with high bones that no one could compare to, that you hadn't notice everything was unrequited.

A sick part of you even felt honored to have your heart broken in the hold of his beautiful hands, the part that saw him do no wrong.

Maybe that was the first problem, you put him on a pedestal, so high up you weren't able to see anything negative of him. You weren't able to see his cruel reality of his feelings towards you.

And he didn't even seem sorry. He didn't even look bothered by the damage of his words.

You were so nice and considerate to him. You would support him at every quidditch game, cheer the loudest even when he lost. You bought him presents for every one of his birthdays and even Christmas, each one sentimental and thoughtful. You had comforted him when he got those letters, that he despised, from his father. You had voiced encouragements when he showed a little tell sign of his insecurities. You had been there for him.

And he treats you like this, like you can be so easily dismissed. You didn't deserve that, you didn't deserve to be called pathetic for having normal feelings and then being laughed at for it.

The longer you sat on that cold bench, the angrier you got. A bitter feeling growing in your stomach, melting away those knots.

You wasted all this time and effort on some guy who didn't even deserve it, some guy who didn't appreciate you. It wasn't fair.

"Hey, you okay?" A familiar voice sounded through your revelations.

You looked up and met green eyes framed with circular glasses.

"Yeah. I was just thinking." You mumbled, the bitter taste was stuck on your tongue, you wanted rid of it.

"Mind if I sit and think with you?" Harry asked, he was nervously scratching the back of his neck, smiling warmly at you.

You offered him a smile, welcoming his genuineness. "Go ahead."

He sat there with you for hours. Surrounded by the sound of wind. It was nice and comfortable. The bitter feeling leaving you completely. You were content now, even if you could still feel the ache in your arms from holding onto Draco for so long.

Weeks had passed. Weeks of no signs of you. The first week Draco hadn't been worried, a little curious, but that was all. The longer it went on though, he became a little more than curious. Not because he cared, cause he didn't, just that if something happened to you, it would be his fault. His rejection was the reason you ran off like a fool to who knows where.

Which is the only reason he went looking for you. He already got a lot of shit from the others, he didn't need more problems stacking up.

He checked all of your favorite places. Starting with that tree down by the black lake that you enjoyed to lean on and watch the sun go down, the sunset wasn't near so he should've known you would not have been there.

He then went to the gardens, there was a bench there that was next to a small pond. It was filled with odd creatures and was home to your favorite flowers, lotus's. You weren't there either.

Lastly, he went to a certain abandoned hall. You had to be there. You went there to be alone with your thoughts, you had taken him with you there a few times. There was a big window there with a thick ledge, streams of sunlight beamed through and tiny rainbows would reflect on the opposite wall due to the cracks on said window.

He heard you before he saw you. A soft laugh reverberating through the empty hall, a laugh he had always found annoying. Hearing it now though, just made him want to get closer to you.

So he did, walking with light footsteps. He froze, you were not alone. Sitting there in the space he once accompanied, was Harry fucking Potter. What kind of sick joke was this?

Why were you sitting with him? And does that mean you just laughed at something he said?

Your laugh sounded through again, once piercing now melodic. It was a bitter feeling, Potter shouldn't have the honor of dragging that sound out of you, he shouldn't even witness it.

Draco left the hall before either of you saw him, he needed to get himself in check.

More weeks passed. Weeks of you hanging out with Potter. You were doing things with him that you had done with Draco.

It was on purpose, you had to be doing it on purpose. You were simply trying to make him jealous and it was annoyingly working.

But how could you be doing that when you didn't even look back to see a reaction.

Draco didn't know what to think. He didn't even know what to feel, or more like let himself feel. Something had changed in the weeks you were away from him.

A revelation of sorts. He missed you. Missed what you would do for him. He regretted what he said and what he never had the chance to say. Because maybe deep down those feelings had been returned, but he was just too stubborn to show.

And now he's seeing you realizing that you deserve more than blurred lines and assumptions. And he's realizing maybe Potter is that more that you deserve.

Draco doesn't like that one bit, he can't even stomach the thought. So he promises to himself that he will do everything in his power to win you back. Even if that means saying that he was sorry and admitting that he was in the wrong, something he's never had to do before.

But if that makes you his again and gets you away from Potter, then its worth it.

Part 2

[rosemaze-reveries]

oomf and I were throwing around ideas about this and thinking about miss chloe got me ill 🫣 she’s sick she’s sick she’s si

Vera contracting hanahaki disease 💐

⚠️ CW: obsessive love. you don’t reciprocate her love & she can’t cope with that 🤪

⚜ Vera has always been fond of flower fortune telling, and she often infuses lucky flowers into her perfumes. She finds it bitterly ironic when she begins to cough up marguerite daisy petals. This flower has hardly any use in perfume, as it’s not very fragrant — but plucking its petals in dozens of games of love me, love me not has left her very familiar with them.

⚜ She very rarely makes appearances in public, so she’s not concerned about being discreet. Her maids sweep the trails of petals that litter the halls every day and there’s never a mess to worry about. They only dread the days you visit because the minute you leave, Vera’s frustrations spill out like waterfalls.

⚜ Despite that, her symptoms do ease up when you’re around. You may not “love” her in the same way she does, but your concern for her wellbeing is enough to keep her flowers in check. If you happen to ask about them, she’ll act as if her unrequited love is for someone else.

⚜ It’s when she’s alone that the tears resurface and she violently coughs up all of her pent-up yearning. Many nights are spent draped over the side of her bed, clutching her mouth in agony. Petals are sprinkled all over her sheets. Her maids bring her hot towels and tea, but there’s little they can do to soothe her.

⚜ She spritzes herself with her working Euphoria formula daily. Anything for a little moment of peace. But this doesn’t work exactly as she wishes, and so she turns to address the root of her problem: your failure to love her back.

⚜ She begins to tinker with a new recipe — a “love potion” perfume, which she mixes her daisies into alongside other aphrodisiac notes. They may not be very fragrant, but there’s no better ingredient for something like this than the physical manifestation of her love 💐 One spritz and you should fall all over her... ideally.

⚜ She leaves some dried petals at the bottom of the bottle, and as she sprinkles them inside, she plays her favorite game again: you love her a little, you love her lots... you love her passionately... madly... not at all... a little... a lot... on repeat. She has a neverending stream of petals to count, but naturally she ends on “madly”. For reassurance, perhaps.

⚜ You think nothing of it when she gives a sample of this love potion to you. Any work of Vera’s is bound to be of enchanting quality, and this is no different. She asks that you try it in front of her, keeping a close eye on your facial expressions while anxiously biting the tip of her finger.

⚜ No immediate success? You’re not collapsing at her feet begging for her? She grows more and more desperate with every passing second. What will it take for you to love her?

⚜ There comes a point when she can’t hide her coughing at all around you; your presence doesn’t give her temporary relief anymore. You pity her, but this illness is tragic that way. There’s nothing a friend can do except hope her love might someday be reciprocated. Vera feels like ripping out her hair.

⚜ Her confession appears only when she’s at her wit’s end. Bitter that everyone she loves keeps “betraying” her in some way, it sounds less like a love confession and more like an accusation for ailing her. This is all your fault, she tells you through tears and matted hair — if you would only hold her the same way she dreams of holding you, then she would be free of her torment.

⚜ Despite this aggression, ultimately she does cherish you. And so she collapses to her knees after her outburst and lets you make your own decision. She even offers Euphoria to you, albeit bitterly, as a means to forget the guilt (…if you have any) — or in case this disease might take her life.

[sneezefiction]

answers

oikawa x reader

desc: oikawa changes some lyrics in taylor swift’s song “love story”

a/n: please keep in mind that most of this is just humorous & there’s no serious characterization in this particular story. i laughed a lot while writing it :,,) for @cutiekawa because you gave me the idea; thank you for that! and also for @seroto-rin because this is very similar to your husband’s lyric changing habits lol – i still laugh whenever i think about it <3 warnings: language, mentions drinking/being drunk

wc: 3k

— It’s 2 am when you hear Oikawa pattering down the hallway and past your room. From the gentle footsteps and the occasional whisper of “shit” when the floor creaks, it's obvious that he’s trying to stay quiet.

But his attempts are in vain because, one, you’re wide awake and, two, he’s just knocked over an empty beer can from earlier. It was probably the one he’d left on the hall table – you’d told him to throw it away but he’d refused saying that he’d “throw it away in the morning when his arms weren’t so tired.” 

This is just karma.

The clatter of the aluminum on wooden floors echoes throughout the dorm. A much louder, especially frustrated, “fuck” follows right after it.

The word, though crass, sounds deceptively attractive on his tongue. But most things Oikawa-related just happen to be attractive. 

You muffle your laughter with a blanket. He’s probably disoriented from the alcohol – it’s only been an hour and 5 drinks each since you both called it a night. You’d headed straight to bed but he’d fallen asleep on the couch where you left him, hair a-mess and lips parted.

But, for someone who used to stay out till daybreak on weekends, he’s spent most Fridays hanging out with you instead.

This weekend was no different.

Oikawa ordered Thai takeout, you found a mindless Netflix series to binge, both of you had a little too much to drink, laughter ensued, the doe-eyed boy found his head in your lap, and…

You pull a face – one that goes unseen because of the dark, but you make it anyway.

Okay, that last part was a little different.

He’d had his head in your lap.

His head… in your… lap.

And, if you’re not mistaken (or delirious), you’d had your hands in his hair, twirling strands and tracing circles at the base of his neck. A foggy image of him gazing up at you with softened eyes, deep chocolate in color, begins to solidify. 

That lazy smile, a hand on your thigh, tresses tickling your skin...

You turn over in your bed, bunching up your sheets and holding them close to you like a shield of fabric — a flimsy, make-shift defense against tipsy mind-wandering. It isn’t very effective.

Your brain is not wandering but racing around this hand-in-hair realization.

Like an iron rod poking at hot embers, these prodding memories make your cheeks grow hotter by the millisecond. You bury your face in your pillow, embarrassment tight in your throat. 

Somehow you’d forgotten that he’d practically climbed into your lap. You’re not in the clear quite yet, but your brain is functioning well enough that it wishes you’d had a little more to drink – just enough to forget about it entirely. You starfish out on your bed, arms and legs dramatically splayed across the mattress.

Do (hot, charming, charismatic, windswept) flatmates usually get this... cuddly? Is that normal?

Does Iwaizumi wrap his arms around his roomies after a long day and a few bottles? How about Mattsun? Makki…?

Okay, no, none of them really seem like the type to get up close and personal with their roommates without good reason. Well, maybe Makki, but he’d do it to be a pain in the ass – not to charm the living-hell out of someone.

You try to take in a deep breath and wrap your head around what this means for you… but end up inhaling a feather from your pillow instead. As you hack and cough, you try to smother the noise in more cloth material – you really didn’t need him coming into your room, much less leaning over your bed to check on you.

Oikawa is messing with your head. 

If you knew any better, you’d have run away screaming the moment he’d asked you to room with him. No one that pretty and charismatic is good news. At least, not when it comes to shared housing.

But, here you are, writhing under the covers and hot like a fever all because he couldn’t keep to himself. Screw him and his charming smile for putting you in this position.

He either knows you’re crushing like he’s the last man on earth or he’s blissfully unaware and way too physically affectionate for his own good. 

You don’t dare consider that he likes you back though. Only deer and Olympic athletes made leaps like that. Oikawa had too many admirers… an irritating amount.

The blankets scrunch even tighter between your fists, likely thanking their maker that they don’t have nerve endings.

Every fiber of your being is begging to know if these feelings are reciprocated. You’d hate to live out the rest of this semester knowing the boy down the hall may not like you back. Worse, that he finds out you think he’s hot shit and doesn’t like you back – that would be unrequited love at its finest.

But, with a degree and your mental health on the line, why should you care about such minor, itty bitty, pointless details. 

This isn’t that big a deal.

And even if he did like you back? Well, Oikawa isn’t someone you can simply “pin down.” He comes with a distinctive, dramatic personality and a meddling side. Not to mention, he’s already the embodiment of chaos – he’s proven this to be true over the past 4 months he’s lived with you.

There’s a familiar squeak of the shower faucet handle and the hiss of hot water. You jump at the sound.

Maybe he’d forgotten, but your bedroom shares a very thin wall with the bathroom. Though you recall him saying he wanted to take a shower earlier, so you guess that he’s only just remembered.

You pick up your phone, blue light casting a less-than angelic glow on your sleepy face. You pray that TikTok will have some sort of life-changing “I’m in love with my hot, crazy flatmate” advice. Or that it will distract you from your inner turmoil. Either would be appreciated but the latter seems more likely.

Scrolling slowly, you get through about 3 videos before something else catches your attention.

There’s a deep reverberation buzzing through your wall. A gentle hum, much like a shower-concert lullaby.

But the noise is getting louder. And the humming? A lot more lyrical.

You shift into a sitting position, propping yourself up with your hands. With your side sunken into a pillow, you press your ear against the cool drywall. Your ears tune into the sound.

Oikawa, voice confident and free, is… singing.

“...But you were everything to me, I was begging you ‘please don’t go’…”

But he’s not just singing.

“And I said…”

He’s belting Taylor Swift with the enthusiasm of an 11-year-old Swiftie super-fan. Like the world would end if he didn’t put enough passion into this performance. Like the showerhead is his microphone and the surrounding tiles are his adoring audience.

“Romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone. I'll be waiting; all that's left to do is run...”

Most people would be pissed if their friend were singing in the shower at 2 am… but you can’t find it in yourself to be anything but enamored.

God, you hate him for doing this right now. Hate that he’s inadvertently endearing you to him. Hate that, no matter what you do, he’s somehow always there.

Pressed up against you on the couch, meeting you for dinner at his favorite restaurant, fussing at each other over a shitty cup of coffee in your even shittier kitchen, calling you when he needs somebody to keep him company at the library… 

“You'll be the prince & I'll be the princess…”

And now he’s accidentally serenading you with Taylor’s “Fearless” album. In the shower.

You facepalm, sinking into your hands, exasperated and just so… done.

You sink back down into the bedsheets, wishing your earbuds were nearby to drown out the regrettably adorable performance. 

“It's a love story y/n, just say ‘Yes.’”

And your heart drops, panic setting in like the touch down of a whirling tornado. A fire tornado. A fire tornado with frogs and lizards and sharp objects spinning around inside of it.

What… did he just say?

The lyrics… they were muffled. You definitely heard them incorrectly. You… you just need to get your ears checked. Yes, that’s it. That’s all there is to it. You’ll schedule an appointment first thing tomorrow morning.

Because who the fuck sings like that at 2 am in a shared dorm? And who the fuck puts someone else’s name into a song like that? No one? Yes, no one.

Especially not the Oikawa Tooru.

And especially not with your name.

Because that’s just... weird.

The grip on your phone is mighty – thank God for durable glass because any other material would’ve splintered or shattered in your hold. 

But what the hell.

“Y/n, save me, I've been feeling so alone,” he sings as though he were Beyoncé’s son.

This time it’s clear as day. Oikawa is definitely still out of it and he’s undoubtedly singing your name.

No, no, no.

“I keep waiting for you but you never come…”

You bolt out of bed, feet hitting the floor at lightning-strike speed.

“Is this in my head? I don't know what to think,”

In one swift movement, you fling the bedroom door open and rush down the hall. You shouldn’t be listening to this. 

“He knelt to the ground & pulled out a ring, and said...”

And before you can stop your hand, it’s knocking rapidly on the bathroom door.

There’s a gasp, what you assume to a bar of soap hitting the shower floor, and an abrupt silence that follows.

You’d only wanted to stop him from singing.

However, you hadn’t thought through what you were going to say to him about this whole... lyrical mess. Your face feels like the surface of the sun, burning and flaring and flushing. What are you supposed to do now?

Oikawa speaks up, voice quiet, “Hello?”

Shit.

Maybe if you’re careful you can get yourself out of this. Just act like you didn’t hear anything and bring it up tomorrow when you’re both thinking straight. A thorough and sober discussion would be needed.

You had questions. Questions that needed answers.

Why did he have his head in your lap? Had you said anything to him that you’d regret later? Does he like you? Where should you two place your boundaries if he doesn’t like you back? And why Taylor Swift?

“Y/n, is that you?” He asks, nonchalantly.

Who else would it be?

The handle squeaks and, with that, the water stops. Only the gentle swirl of the drain and the occasional drips and drops from the showerhead are audible.

It’s too late. You’re already there. You’ve knocked and, in doing so, you’ve sealed your fate.

“...Yes,” is your whisper of a reply.

“What’s up? Was I too loud for you?”

You’ve got the entire building on high-alert singing that loudly.

...is what you would say if you weren’t currently imploding. This is like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. And nothing you ever want to experience again.

“Um, yeah, sorry.” You look down at your shuffling feet.

The hallway is pitch black, hardly allowing for even a mere shadow. Rushing out of your room, you’d forgotten to turn on even a single light.

You hear him step onto the tile floor and the rustle of a tower from the bathroom closet.

“Wait, can we talk?” He asks as though it weren’t the question of the fucking year. “I mean, preferably after I get out of the bathroom.” There’s a lack of tact to his words.

This isn’t the charming Oikawa you’re used to. This is a blunt… confusingly straightforward Oikawa.

His tone wavers like maybe he’d had a little more to drink than you’d last remembered. Your memory was proving to be disappointingly unreliable tonight.

You swallow thickly, “Sure.”

Because what else can you say?

“Can I stop by your room in a minute?”

You take a deep breath, “Yeah.”

And you patter back to your no-longer very safe haven. Oikawa is about to infiltrate your space… with your permission. And the weapons he’ll bring will either harpoon you or leave you emotionally paralyzed – whether that emotional paralysis is a good or bad thing will be decided in the near future.

Your bed, though soft and blanket-covered, looks far less appealing now. It may as well be a bed of nails because you would rather hide beneath it than sit atop it.

But you sit anyway, letting the mattress dip and the springs twang.

The bathroom door cries as it opens, putting you on edge. Your heart is pounding like a drum at a summer festival – hotter and louder with every beat.

The trod of footsteps tells you he’s approaching and, sure enough, the open door reveals Oikawa.

With only a lamp to brighten the space, he’s more contoured than usual. His hair is wet and heavy against his head, taking on an even darker brown than before. You’ve seen him fresh out of the shower before, but this… is different. Oikawa’s shirt sticks to his chest slightly – he must’ve thrown it on without drying off fully to get to you faster.

He takes a few steps into your room, choosing to lean his back against a wall next to your work desk. Oikawa brings his hands behind his back, pressing his weight into them. Brown eyes flicker from you to the wall behind you and back again.

Naturally, tension lays thick as a fog in the air space. 

“Hey, I’m…”

You cut him off, “You don’t have to say sorry! It’s… it’s okay.” 

Oops, you’d said that a little too loud. Not that it mattered much after Oikawa’s passionate performance.

An eyebrow raises and confusion sparks across his face. Your body freezes.

He brings a hand behind his neck. “Oh, I was just gonna say that I’m still kinda drunk.”

You knew that much. Though you really thought he’d say something other than that. Preferably something about the, uh, devoted love-song?

Why is he acting so casual right now? Is this even Tooru? Had he read too many alien conspiracies and been abducted for learning too much about extraterrestrials? 

Maybe he doesn’t realize you’d even heard him say your name in the shower.

“Oh... right.” You say slowly, lips staying parted at the end of your sentence.

“Which… probably isn’t good for either of us,” Different words drawl out and there’s a soft slur to some syllables, but at least he’s easy to understand, “me drinking too much, I mean.”

“Yeah,” you mutter.

“I think we should both just go to bed then.”

Your chest tightens. Of course, you want answers.

They’re likely embarrassing, face-reddening, Taylor Swift-centric answers. But you want them, nonetheless.

Although, it’s probably for the best that you don’t bring this up tonight. It was all probably a joke or a harmless accident – and, anyway, he admitted to being drunk.

“Right.”

“But I think you should know that I like you. A lot.”

“Yeah,” you respond again, automatically.

There’s another heavy silence. The pretty boy just stares at you, cherry colors tinting his cheeks but showing no expression of fear or embarrassment. You stare back, processing his words at turtle-like speeds.

The words tumble out, “Wait, say that again?” You double back, your own face reheating to its earlier temperature.

“I’m gonna be mad at myself in the morning if I don’t leave right now. And I really need to stop listening to that stupid song,” Oikawa says to himself. 

“But I wanted to see how you would respond if I changed the lyrics,” the words are pointed back at you again.

He stands up, feet moving slowly toward the doorway. Did he just… completely ignore your question?

Your jaw drops, “Did…” you can hardly speak.

Clearing your throat, you try again, focusing intently on your words, “...did you mean for me to hear you?”

“...Maybe.” He draws out the “e,” looking back at you.

That’s it. He’s lost his fucking mind. You’re going to strangle him. 

No TikTok advice could have prepared you for the monstrosity that is Oikawa Tooru. How Iwaizumi put up with that... that child for all these years, you have no idea.

You have to make a note of sending him a “get well” card, because nobody could be mentally okay after dealing with him for that long.

“B- but… why? What?” You stammer out, back stiff as a board.

“You like me don’t you?” He tilts his head, hair flopping cutely with it.

You gape like a fish, mouth opening and closing.

And it’s not that you don’t want to respond.

It’s that you can’t. You have no words. You vocal chords are on a panic-induced lockdown.

Because he knew.

He knew this entire time. Which you thought he might, but that doesn’t make the situation any less infuriating.

“And I like you back.”

You’re dumbfounded. You can’t think. This is ridiculous.

You open your mouth once more but he has no intention of continuing this conversation.

“Sleep well!” Without further comment, Oikawa flashes you a sleepy smile and begins scampering back to his room after having wreaked havoc on your poor heart.

Your voice comes back just in time for you to wake up the entire building once more,

“No, you get your ass back here and explain yourself!”

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt.4

h. jisung x reader | netflix rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: future smut, language, reader being followed at night, not much, Chan’s sexy ass arms?

A/N: the big day!! also there’s a little scene for binnie’s birthday (even though it was yesterday)

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

—UNEDITED

Your mind was running circles around you, everything a blur.

Talking on the phone with Chan lifted your mood exponentially, but there was still something that ticked in the back of your head. With the way your conversation with Chan ended, you weren’t sure if you should’ve been jumping for joy or hiding away under your covers in hopes that no one would ever find you again.

“So, I was wondering,” His voice drawled over the phone.

You held back the urge to shiver in order to hear exactly what he had to say. Granted the wind had stopped, but the night air was slipping through the thin fabric of your clothes and making up for its absence.

“Yeah?”

You heard Chan chuckle—surprisingly enough it sounded nervous.

“Would you ever date a guy like me?”

And just with one question, you almost fell forward off of the swing.

“What are you saying?” You uttered, eyes staring out at the bright red slide in front of you that had been dulled by the darkness.

Chan cleared his throat, “Do you want to go on a date with me, Y/n?”

You had said yes too quickly, not just in the sense that it was embarrassing, but also because after you hung up, it really occurred to you that you would be going on a date with Bang Chan.

A date.

Had you even been on a date before?

You wrapped your arms around your body as you contemplated the whole situation. It was dark outside despite the street lights, and even then, they were too dim to really be doing their job. But you hardly noticed, too immersed in your own head to worry about the dark or the possibility of meat-heads roaming around looking for their next meal.

Your skin prickled, your subconscious attempting to warn you about the shadow that lurked only a few feet away.

The date. It should be easy; smile, talk to him without vomiting, and be sure not to make a complete fool of yourself in front of the single most attractive man you had ever seen. Piece of cake.

You mentally cursed Minho for possibly scaring you for the rest of your young life. Could you hold it over him if his years of desensitizing you turned you into a lonely cat-lady?

No—he’d already taken that title, and you weren’t sure if the universe was ready to support two financial tragedies within the same family.

The sound of footsteps fell to deaf ears, the lights of the dorms were able to be seen from your place on the street, and there wasn’t a shred of dread in your naive body. Not even when the sound of sneakers padding against tar got closer—too close for comfort had you been paying any attention. Maybe you were too tired, or your head was too preoccupied to focus on the approaching body behind you.

Not until there was a hand wrapping around your mouth and another pinning your arms to your sides. In your shock, you could feel the flex of your aggressor’s biceps—he was strong, and it had your heart stopping in your chest.

You wiggled the best you could in his grip, but the man’s hold was too constricting, and you suddenly wanted to cry. How stupid could you have been to let something like this happen?

Your heart pounded in your chest as you plead against the calloused hand, your legs shaking like jelly. He leaned closer, his lips brushing your ear—mint, the one thing you could focus on was that his breath didn’t reek of alcohol like you would’ve assumed.

“Wow…” He released a breath with a small chuckle, and your brows furrowed.

The voice was familiar—

“You really are stupid. Do you realize that you would’ve been so dead if I wanted to like—take advantage of you and dump your body in a river, or something?”

You squirmed out of the stupid stupid strong arms of your stupid stupid ex-friend, you eyes set in a harsh glare as you brought your fists down on his firm chest.

“You fucking pig!” You screeched with rage, fists clenched even when he grabbed your wrists in between fits of laughter. You actually wanted to stab a knife into his eye. “I can’t believe you did that! I thought I was going to die, asshole!”

Changbin snickered with a mocking coo, “I know. Poor baby...”

“You’re a sadistic bastard.”

“Just think—” he released your hands, only to block the oncoming smack that you sent. “You won’t make this mistake again, stupid-head.”

You huffed, wrapping your arms around your body again and continuing forward, your pulse more intense than it had been before. “What if I had gone into cardiac arrest or something? You would’ve been fucked in more ways than one. Do you know what they do to rapists in prison?”

“Y/n,” Changbin chuckled under his breath, meeting your stride easily. “I didn’t rape you, in case you didn’t notice.”

“But if I died, that’s what it would’ve looked like! And suddenly you’re in concrete hell.”

Changbin shook his head. “God—just be more careful next time you decide to walk alone in the middle of the night. Call one of us or something.”

Guilt nawed at your skin, and you sent him a sulky pout. He was right. If something really had happened, you would’ve been fucked. Unless the guy was thinner than a twig and had a shit center of gravity, your chances of getting out of that kind of danger was unlikely. Damn Changbin and his infuriatingly true points.

You let out a groan as the boy beside you casually slung his arm around your shoulders.

“Fine. You’re right. Happy?”

Changbin’s head turned to you and he released another coo, his forehead pressing against yours and successfully annoying the shit out of you. How everyone else dealt with him was a true mystery.

He was supposed to be older than you?

The pitch of his voice raised, “Of course I am.”

You wrenched out of his grip, swatting away his reaching hand and stepping out of his range.

Perhaps there would be a murder tonight.

“Stop being a creep and act like a normal person for once, Bin.”

Without even looking back, you could feel the pout on his lips. But he only let out a quick whine before following after you, his hands stuffed into his jeans.

You had hardly noticed before, but he was dressed strangely—he was in a torn to shit grey t-shirt, multiple splotches of something black plastered across his torso just above the ragged seam of where the shirt ended, holes scattered everywhere exposing glimpses of his firm chest. The jeans weren’t any better, almost completely colored black by the same substance on his shirt, baring rips at the knees and not the ones you get solely for fashion.

“By the way…” You drawled, twisting around to rake your eyes over him one last time. “What were you even doing before this?”

Changbin glanced at his attire and shrugged, the smallest glow of red covering his ears. “I’ve been working on cars for some extra money.”

Your eyebrow raised. “At night?”

“It’s the only time I have free between producing new songs and school.”

Nodding you faced back towards the dark street in front of you.

Changbin had never sparked you as a manual labor kind of guy, let alone someone who could fix cars and get paid for doing it. But after taking a moment to think about it, it made sense. He fit the scene, so to say, and it somehow added to the edgy look he already had going on for him.

You didn’t know as much about your friends as you probably should’ve.

“So you guys actually got the recording room done? Are you and Chan using it now?” You asked nonchalantly, a terrible attempt to slide Chan into the conversation. Changbin must’ve known a few things about Chan that could help you quench your nerves for the upcoming date.

Changbin sent you a sideways look, letting you know that you weren’t as slick as you thought you were.

“Ah, Chan…” He hummed, the two of you finally getting close enough to the university to discern the different buildings. “What’s up with you two?” He asked hesitantly, a hint of a frown on his brow.

“Well—I mean, I like him a lot.” You fumbled for the right words, though you knew that Changbin wasn’t one to rush you. As annoying as he could be, he was a good listener. “And he just asked me out—”

“He did?”

Well, you thought he was a good listeners

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “Earlier he asked if I wanted to go out on a date or something—”

“Or something?”

You shoved him to the side, though his heavy body barely moved an inch.

“Would you stop interrupting me? I’m serious.” You huffed, frustrated.

“I am too.”

You froze—huh?

Your eyes searched his for a moment, his words not as comforting as you wanted them to be, instead his questioning only made your stomach twist in more knots than they had been in before. You really didn’t know anything about Chan, and talking to someone who did only made you hesitant about continuing with this first date of yours.

Sure, you weren’t one to believe rumors about people you barely knew—but it was the fact that you barely knew Chan that made you so nervous.

“Well I’m a little surprised that Chan asked you out.”

You frowned. “Why?”

“Uh…” Changbin paused, searching for his next words carefully with a contemplative hum. “It’s nothing bad. I mean, Chan’s one of the best people I know.”

“But…?”

He stopped to wait for you to run your student ID along the sensor, listening to the automatic click of the door and using it as a stall for time. He was trying to find the right way to word what he wanted to say. He didn’t want to blindside you, nor did he want to sabotage his friend by telling you something that might steer you away.

He waited for you to take a step inside the dorms before continuing with a hushed voice.

“Chan is… very selfless let’s say. He doesn’t really take the time to date per se. He’s work oriented. Not to say he hasn’t had girlfriends before, but they never really—”

“Became anything?”

That was what you had been contemplating. If the date went wrong, could you talk to Chan afterwards? Would he still be that person you could call if you wanted to step away from the world? You couldn’t find yourself feeling upset if that happened to be the outcome.

But with the small look of suspicion that Changbin sent, his brow curling upwards, you quickly backpedaled.

“He mentioned something about it while we were on the phone.” You rushed to save yourself.

Taking your answer without question, he stopped. You were both standing outside of your room, the quiet hallway encasing the both of you and chilling you to the bone more than the night air had. Changbin bit his tongue.

“Chan is an amazing friend. But I’ve never really seen him as a boyfriend before.” He sighed, scratching his cheek. “And as much of a little shit you are… I care about you enough to want you to be happy.”

“Is this you warning me?”

“No.” His mouth formed a thin line, he really had no idea how to word anything. It was beginning to frustrate him. “Just be aware that he isn’t the most observant guy when it comes to himself, so be patient with the guy.”

Okay, that helped you none whatsoever.

You sighed, pushing your dorm door open and nodding finally for Changbin.

“Well, thank you, Bin. For walking me and all that…”

Your gratitude was pitiful, but Changbin smiled wide nonetheless, glad that he could help you out despite his advice being absolutely terrible.

“Anytime, Y/n.” He ruffled your hair before you could stop him. “But next time, call me before you decide to be stupid and walk alone agian, okay?”

You smiled.

“Yeah. I promise, Bin. Thanks—seriously.”

As you closed the door, you missed the way Changbin’s lip quirked, his ears once again shining a red in the dim lighting of the hallway. He chuckled, shaking his head.

He wished both Chan and Jisung luck—you really were a handful.

“So this is a date?”

You had absolutely no idea what to say, your nervous gaze on the road in front of you as Chan glanced over at you from his place behind the wheel of his beloved Subaru Crosstrek—he had gone on a cute spiel about how he managed to scrounge up enough money from producing his tracks to afford the down payment on the car. It was cute only because he giggled every time he mentioned some miniscule detail that wasn’t necessary for the development of the story.

He always apologized when he got off track, but those were your favorite parts.

And you still had no idea what to say.

“Yeah, Y/n. A date. Have you ever been on one of those before?” He joked, taking another turn into yet another neighborhood.

He had to have gone down at least four streets already—

“Does a slow dance at a mediocre prom count?”

“A what?”

You snorted, feeling the telltale heat of your cheeks reddening. You were such a loser, the best you could do was tell him about your failed relationships?

“I mean, Jung Wooyoung was pretty hot, so I guess it could count. Granted, Minho stepped in before he could kiss me at the end of the song.”

“You’re kidding.” He looked close to ripping his cheeks with how wide his smile was stretching.

His eyes flickered to you and a shiver ran down your spine at the way he took one hand off the wheel and leaned against the center console. You were either terrified of him crashing or really turned on by the way his biceps bulged at the movement.

You cleared your throat, “Minho was always really adamant about keeping me away from all the funny business.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately not. My brother sucks.”

Chan burst out laughing. “That’s why he pulled that, ‘what are your intentions with my baby sister’ act?”

“He didn’t.”

“He did. But he backed off so quickly, I was convinced that it was a joke.”

You nearly choked, your eyes widening as you suddenly threw yourself around to look at him, unable to feel surprised at the way he was already looking at you with a charming smile.

“He did what?”

“Yeah,” Chan shrugged, shifting back to look at the road. “I asked him why it mattered and he just kind of backed off.”

That was right—Minho was scared of Chan.

You would never forget that fun fact for as long as you lived, and it was all thanks to Bang Chan. It really had you rethinking the whole reason why you were nervous in the first place. Chan was the only person in your life that had managed to get rid of stress rather than add to it, and you were obviously worried over nothing. Chan was amazing.

And you were crazy.

You laughed, catching Chan’s attention, his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips without you noticing. How you had managed to have him whipped within a matter of days was a complete mystery to him. But there he was, staring at your lips and risking his damn life while doing so. Chan was hopeful, he wanted things to go well this time, and he was going to do everything he could to make sure of that.

“Where are you taking me, you maniac?” You giggled in exasperation as he took yet another turn into a neighborhood, house stacked upon house.

Sure, it was nice to drive around with him, but you were beginning to get antsy. Even more so as Chan continued to look over at you and smirk, his smile as infuriating as it was attractive.

“We’re almost there, hold on.”

“That doesn’t tell me where—”

Turning down a dead-end, Chan lifted his hand to your mouth with an emphasized “shhh”.

Maybe he was a maniac and he was planning on killing you as soon as you reached the end of the street. You definitely wouldn’t be able to find your way back to the main road if he tried, so it was definitely a possibility.

“Don’t worry about it.” He hushed.

With a small scoff, you puckered your lips in a pout and they briefly brushed against the palm of his hand. With the action, your eyes widened as his head snapped your direction. Immediately, your lips pulled into a tight line, your stomach tying up in knots as he dropped his hand and let it fall to your thigh, causing your whole body to go ridged. What was wrong with you?

Chan chuckled, patting your thigh in an attempt to dissolve your tenseness, but it only proved to make your clothes feel much tighter than they had been before. You were physically going to melt into the seat with how hot you were getting, and you sure as hell hoped you weren’t sweating as much as you thought you were.

But the feeling of his hand wasn’t unpleasant—it was warm, but not so much that it was uncomfortable, which was surprising considering how your skin was close to melting off the bone. It simply rested there, occasionally he drummed a nonexistent beat against it with his first two fingers, though you suspected that he hadn’t even noticed that he had been doing that.

Without you realizing, he pulled the car into park, his eyes amused as he watched you stare at his hand for a little longer.

Something else—you definitely were.

“We’re here.” Chan said, lifting his hand away from your thigh to pull the key from the ignition.

You weren’t upset that he had moved his hand, but you couldn’t deny that disappointment had started to bubble up.

Looking out your window, you noticed that you were, in fact, at the end of the dead-end road. But instead of a dense thicket of trees or a mountain of concrete blocking it off, there sat a decrepit and grey building. The maroon of the bricks had been worn and chipped, and the large barn looking doors were rusted and close to falling off their hinges. You can tell that it had once been beautiful with the large stone bird watching over on a centered pedestal.

Chan opened his door to get out and you followed, despite how strange it might’ve been that he took you to an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere.

“What is this?” You asked, almost shell shocked at the sheer size of the building as you both stepped closer.

“It’s an old fire station.”

Old didn’t do the place justice—every new fire station you had seen was pristine and white, large open door garages lining the first floor. The one in front of you was nothing like the ones in town.

“I used to live in this neighborhood before I moved to Sydney. I was very young and don’t really remember much about it, but I do remember this place.” He smiled, looking up at the two storied building. “When I came back I never expected it to be still standing after fifteen years. I thought the two would’ve torn it down and built a convenience store there or something, but nope, it’s still here.”

It was nice to see his face light up while talking about something he cared about. It was endearing.

He then grabbed your hand with a small wink and dragged you forward, though you didn’t put up much of a fight at all. Every part of you screamed about how nice his hand felt around yours, how his palms weren’t too calloused to be rough but enough to want them all over the rest of your body. His pale skin pretty with the contrast of his raised veins. Veiny hands were nice… You really were just reverting back to your horny high school self, weren’t you?

You cleared your throat.

“But why did you bring me here?” You questioned, looking warily at the back of his head.

You weren’t scared, but you were almost certain that a building that was decades old wasn’t a normal date site.

“Why not?” Chan shrugged, hoping to god that you couldn’t see just how terrified he was.

“Maybe because I was expecting to go watch a movie or go to a restaurant?”

He glanced back with a raised brow. “Do you want to do those things?”

“I’d rather chew off my foot,” you admitted, catching him off guard for a moment. “But I’m trying to make you feel like the weird one here.”

Weird one indeed. He had spent the entire night before without sleep, not coming up with a new track, but thinking of where exactly to bring you. He contemplated how to explain to you the reason why he was so exhausted and jittery was because he didn’t want you to leave the date thinking that he was some average guy. Chan didn’t want you to think he was boring. So he could be weird if it meant you wanted to see him again.

You shared a smile, both of your nerves fading away with each passing second. Of course, Chan had nothing to worry about.

He proceeded to pull you through the old rickety door of the station, completely ignoring the way the visible slivers of his chest flexed when he tugged the door open with one good yank. Now that you were actually thinking about it, his outfit was one of the best you’d seen him in; a simple black muscle tee topped with a heavy denim jacket, and his jeans whitewashed and ripped.

It was simple but effective considering you couldn’t keep your eyes off the strips of flesh that peaked behind his jacket. If only the autumn breeze had taken a day off.

The further the two of you got into the building, the more excited Chan looked. His eyes lit up and there was suddenly a bounce in his step. Not to mention the way his grip on your hand tightened to the point where he was nearly cutting off the circulation. But it was nice nonetheless. You didn’t have the heart to be upset with him.

Your eyes flew around to all the different old contraptions that must’ve been shiny in their prime. With torn hoses all over the place, and precariously placed pipes, you had no idea whether to be amazed that they hadn’t succumbed to the elements or terrified that if you took one wrong step you would fall and get impaled.

Looking over at Chan, you giggled as he began to unravel a wound up hose, momentarily releasing your hand to act like a complete child.

“So what was your plan when we got here? Get me in a secluded place so you could tie me up and kill me?” You teased, offering him a smile.

Chan wanted to do two of those three things—that was for sure.

“What? You don’t want to explore this magnificent building with me?” He asked despite himself.

“So you didn’t plan some elaborate picnic with candles and fancy homemade French food?”

Chan paused for a moment, lips fighting a smile. You had built up quite the impression on him from the very moment you two met. The hours of preparation was for naught, and Chan could care less.

He hummed, “Well if you mean a blanket on the floor and take-out, then yeah. No candles though. I have a bad feeling that if we were to light any fire within ten miles of this place it would turn to dust. Which would be pretty ironic considering it is a fire station—”

“Are you rambling?”

Chan froze, mouth open to deny your question, but found that it wasn’t completely false and shut it.

“...it’s probably cold too.” He added lastly.

You smiled.

“Sounds good to me.”

You then proceeded to struggle your way up a flight of unstable spiral stairs with Chan close behind—so close that his arms were almost completely around you. He assured you that it was only so he wouldn’t be at fault if you fell. But it felt nice whenever his chest brushed lightly against your back, so you let his lame excuse slide.

The food was, in fact, cold. But it was still good since you really couldn’t go wrong with traditional Korean food.

And so the rest of the evening played out, the two of you sharing pleasantries and learning about one another, with many cracked jokes about your brother and his friends, only strategically avoiding Jisung all together.

Chan went on about his story, how he had two younger siblings back in Australia and a set of loving parents that believed in each and every one of his dreams as he grew up, and supported his pursuit of becoming a producer. You bit your tongue, keeping your questions of “do you miss them?” and “do you still see them?” to yourself. Still, Chan seemed happy enough, you thought. Considering you would be miserable if you had to spend your time with someone who complained and sulked the whole time. You were glad he could talk about his family without falling into a pit of missing them.

That date was pretty perfect, despite its oddities.

Who knew someone could be a by-the-book romantic and an original dork at the same time?

Your own thoughts had you chuckling into your water, almost making you cough, but thankfully Chan hadn’t noticed, his attention too zeroed in on all the food in front of him.

“Oh shit—I forgot all about that thing!” He suddenly exclaimed, his eyes locked on a rusty fireman’s pole that ran up into a hole in the floor. Chan hadn’t even finished his (second) bowl of food when he jumped up and ran up to the death trap. The thing didn’t even have any padding at the bottom to protect someone from breaking their legs, and he was excited about that?

Suddenly, you let out a laugh—it was the kind that comes out unexpectedly and makes a loud, unattractive noise and it surprised you both. Your hand clamped down over your mouth on impulse before your shocked expression broke, a swarm of giggles leaving your covered lips and forcing a pink tinge over your cheeks. Chan could only stare at you in awe, trying to think of everything else that could beat your laugh in the most beautiful sound he had ever heard, but he came up blank.

“Come down the pole with me.”

His words had you freezing mid-laugh, eyes wide.

“What? No way am I doing that. What if I get pole burn?”

“Here,” Chan threw his jacket over your shoulders, surprising you with the flood of warmth cascading around you. “Now you can’t get pole burn.”

You pushed your arms through the arms of the jacket, silently relishing in the warm weight.

“Ah, look at you Romeo. I see that you’re trying to make up for all the years I missed going on dates. How romantic.”

“I try.”

With a wink, he was grabbing onto the pole all of a sudden and wrapping his legs around it. You barely had time to stare at the image of his thick biceps curling around the pole before he was descending down it with a laugh of his own. You leaned forward to watch him hit the floor, his knees bending to absorb the impact. He smiled up at you, the sight blinding.

“Your turn!”

“Did I ever mention that I’m kind of allergic to bad ideas?”

Chan snickered, leaning his hands on the pole and shaking it to show you just how “sturdy” the thing was. The wiggle and creak didn’t set you at ease, that was for sure.

“Oh, come on, Y/n. You just watched me do it!” Was his genius response.

The night was beginning to just become you counting how many times Chan said or did something that made you think he was a child.

“Okay, I just don’t understand why you want me to go down this damn pole! Is it some right of passage or something? Do you only go out with the girls who have the balls to do something this stupid?”

“Slide down here and find out.”

He got you there. You really did want to find out.

So you bit the inside of your cheek and wrapped your shaky hands around the rust crusted pole. How Chan managed to do so so easily without sleeves was baffling and a little sexy for whatever stupid reason. You had a thick layer of denim protecting you, and you still felt like you were going to be filleted open.

“Don’t think about it,” he encouraged with a soft voice. “Just jump. I’ve got you.”

And at the words of a poet, you squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath, taking a step off the wooden floor and letting gravity pull you down. You could hear the rust tug and catch on the fabric of Chan’s jacket, but only for a second, because it only lasted a second before you felt hands grab your sides and pillow your impact. A surge of adrenaline had you breathing heavy as Chan cheered lightly in your ear.

“There. You did it.” He poked your forehead with a chuckle, getting you to open your blown eyes. “You have successfully completed the initiation.”

Your heart felt heavy and beat hard against your ribs as he straightened you out, hands finding purchase in his jacket. Subtly he was admiring how you looked in his clothes, but he would never admit that sappy fact to anyone.

You smiled; admittedly shakily. “Ah, yes. Validation. My favorite.”

Chan admired how you could keep releasing quips despite your fear. You weren’t one to be deterred, that was for sure.

“You have an unlimited supply of sarcasm in you, huh?”

“I don’t know. It hasn’t run out yet.”

He smiled and you smiled, it was a good moment—the best of the day. A moment where you were glad you listened to him and literally took the leap. Ready to take another one, your eyes dropped to his lips and his dropped to yours.

And he finally leaned forward, pressing his lips to yours.

You weren’t completely caught off guard, but you definitely were. His hand that wasn’t preoccupied with fiddling with your fingers found your face, palm cupping your jaw and urging your head to tilt to meet his kiss better. It was gentle, as you had expected from Chan, and you were thankful for that.

His lips were softer than you expected and you prayed that the hand that held your cheek wouldn't be able to feel the way your face was burning. The way he intertwined your fingers was more intimate than the kiss itself and you couldn’t help but feel yourself getting light-headed. You lost yourself to the way your shared breaths echoed around the large room every time your lips separated only to reconnect again immediately.

Your first kiss—well, your first real kiss. Surely that one you had shared with Kang Chanhee back in your first year of high school didn’t count. You had only gotten away with it since Minho was home sick that day, anyway.

It was much warmer than your last kiss, that was for sure. His jacket kept you shielded from the cold air and his body secreted a natural heat that had you pressing closer, which in turn sent him a signal to push forward as well.

Suddenly, his teeth bit down on the sensitive flesh of your lip, pulling a taut gasp from your throat.

The noise had Chan withholding a groan, pushing him to break the passionate exchange, his hazy eyes meeting your wide ones.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, voice small and unsure.

He could see the way your lips shined with not only your spit but his own. In some sick and twisted way, he was pleased to see the redness that the kiss brought to your puckered lips. It was satisfying. It was a sort of claim, and he was proud to hold it.

"Nothing. Just admiring my work." He grinned.

You hardly had time to register his words when the hand wrapped around yours was used to yank you forward, Chan’s mouth finding yours once again in a quick peck, leaving you just about a hundred degrees warmer than you originally felt.

[notnctu]

cupid’s arrow - h.rj | 7 days

━ sweet greetings from the 7 days fluff series 

genre ❥ slight angst, fluff !!  details ❥ college!au, friends to lovers!au, genderneutral!reader ━ where renjun makes a bet to get you to fall in love with him.  warnings ❥ explicit language, light banter word count ❥ 7.1k  synopsis ❥ The silly boy has no idea what he’s gotten himself into when he makes a bet with his arrogant friend to get you to fall in love with him. Renjun never intends to confess, mainly because his past unrequited loves have demolished his confidence. So a low stakes gamble causes him a great deal of stress and pride, wishing that it was as easy as striking you with Cupid’s Arrow. While he wants your feelings to develop organically, he actually doesn’t know what he’d do if you did end up liking him back. Because to him, you have always been someone unattainable and out of his reach  taglist ❥ @yourmagnanimousholiness​ ; @lovelycharm05​ ; @watermelonxes​ ; @jaehyunsjasmine​ ; @mjlkau​​ <3

a/n ❥ this is author doie ❀!! uhh this came out a little more angsty than i had planned it to be.. anyways its been a long time coming and we’re still working on the requests hehehe uhh keep an eye out for some blog updates bc we are starting school soon :) thanks for sticking with us so far! lots of love for everyone<3

Huang Renjun catches a glimpse of your enchanting figure across the lecture hall and how you effortlessly slide into your usual seat near the front. The tap against the tiny turnout table with your pen, ruffling your hair to only have it fall back in place beautifully, and aura alone suffocates him.

In a three hundred person lecture, all he sees is you. The only person in the room who has his undivided attention and while it might be entirely infatuation by your attractiveness, the mutual friends you two share describe you having a heart of gold.

A heart that is impenetrable. Strong, sturdy, shining metal that no one has been able to get through, but Renjun thinks that it’s because you can tell someone is undeserving. Keen and observant eyes, it’s a good thing that his stares don’t linger for long.

As he walks down the descending steps to sit in the row behind you, he remembers a very drunk night over the past weekend and an idiotic bet that has him punching himself. He wishes that he never agreed, but the liquid pride in him could not bite his tongue.

“(Y/N)?” His friend scorns and Renjun slaps his forehead at the slip of your name. Truthfully, the alcohol is messing with his head and he’s saying things that are no longer in his control. But how could he have possibly let the one secret he holds to himself out into the small crowd.

He mumbles profanities underneath his breath, trying to limit light from hurting his blurry vision, and rubbing his throbbing temples. “Yes, (Y/N).” There is no confidence in his voice at the whisper of your name.

“Dude, (Y/N) is way out of your league.” The headache just doesn’t have an end. He knows this; there is no way you’d ever bat an eyelash at him first. Renjun just likes things that are impossible to him, a poor habit of his.

“I bet I could get (Y/N) to get with me first before you ever can.” Then, Renjun’s eyes shoot open wide and the view of the arrogance laughing in the dimness slowly boils his blood.

Renjun may seem like the weaker link to pick on, but he is not one to give up a fight. While his friend has an advantage, the last thing Renjun would want is for you to fall for a horrendous two faced personality.

He’ll charm your pants off and when he gets what he wants: the victory and your vulnerability, he’ll hurt you. Would you be able to see past his fake genuineness or actually fall for the person he plays so well? Renjun can’t let anyone hurt you if he can prevent it.

“I bet that I can get (Y/N) to fall in love with me.” Renjun stumbles to stand up proudly, making himself bolder and more intimidating. Nevertheless, the drowsiness intoxicates him and he can barely keep his line of vision focused.

He sees the disgusting smirk on his friend’s face and a hand extends out for Renjun to shake. “Okay. Let’s bet on it. If you can’t get (Y/N) to fall in love with you, they’ll be mine and you can’t speak to them ever again.”

“Nice use of claiming someone who barely knows you exist.” The alcohol didn’t take away Renjun’s sharp sarcasm and the constant rolling of his eyes.

Renjun truly has no confidence at the game he decided to engage in, his only motive is to protect you from a bad guy. He wouldn’t even know how to handle the potential chance that you could like him back, did you have the ability to do so?

He never had the intention to confess to you, his heart has been broken all too much already by unrequited loves from his past. And if he had to be honest with himself, his admiration for you has become so strong that even he’s afraid to be someone to taint it.

What are the odds that the entire row behind you is already filled? Renjun’s throat closes when he sees the empty seat right next to you and the professor starting up his presentation. Other students push past him to hurry into empty seats before lecture begins, and his own feet pick him up toward you.

Like a magnetic pull, you attract him with an inexplicable force so naturally. Clearing his throat, he swallows the anxiousness that blocks him from speaking. 

“Is this seat taken?”

This is it. This is the first of many looks you two will share, and Renjun’s heart pounds at his chest to wait for your eyes to meet his own for more than a second.

As if the room falls silent and everything is in slow motion, Renjun captures the very image when you blink up at him with beautiful dazzling gentleness and the utter sugar of your lips curling upwards. And he’s stunned, hoping it doesn’t show on his face.

“No.” It’s a simple reply and nothing worth jumping out of joy about, but he tries so hard to hold back the growing smile of your acknowledgement. You are being polite, but something inside of him feels giddy and like static running through his veins.

“Thanks.” Dropping his bag, he enters the seat carefully and sits with his hands folded together on the tiny table.

You examine the attentive boy, as his focus is trained on the lecture slides and the unprepared professor messing with his mic. Chuckling, “you don’t take notes?”

Renjun is surprised at your sudden interaction, completely blindsided by your friendliness. He wasn’t sure how well that would have worked, but your curiosity speaks for you. “I actually forgot my laptop today.” The heavy device sits in his bag at his feet, but he doesn’t dare take it out after the lie.

The soft ‘oh’ that falls from your mouth is too cute and Renjun clears his throat to bring him back from his daydreams of you. Looking apologetic, he shrugs and pretends to gear his attention back to the professor, who finally starts the long awaited class.

“I can send you my notes for the day, if you’d like.” The kindness in your voice does not go unnoticed, in fact, it causes Renjun to hold onto it for a little longer to fuel his undying crush for you.

“I’d love that—” Perhaps he shouldn’t have used the word love for the strictly friendly gesture. “—you’re a lifesaver. Uh, how should I refer to you as?” Playing dumb is his only way to get to you, for now.

“(Y/N). And you?” You hand your phone toward him with social media popped up to input his user handle.

Renjun introduces himself as his sweaty fingers type, and he wonders if he should have polished up any photos that may have you steering away from him. However when he returns your device, the smile that lights up your face allows him to breathe easily.

“I knew you sounded familiar. You’re friends with Jaemin, right?” Your whisper grows soft as you multitask to make conversation and jot down a few important bullet points from the slides. Renjun tries hard to dissect the information as well, but the boring tone of his professor is nothing compared to his crush finally having conversation with him.

“We’re housemates along with two other people.” His body is able to relax now that he’s broken the wall of introductions. You carry yourself to be more intimidating than you actually are.

When he peeks back over at your concentrated expression, your lip is hidden by your top row of teeth and your quick eyes dart between the monitor and your page. How are you so good at literally everything?

“A small world.” He picks up your every word, “well Renjun, since this class has basically ruined my life, would it be too much to ask if you’re down to study with me?” And despite the fluorescent lights being absolutely dull, they still dust your eyes with an enticing glitter.

He must have been staring for too long because you start your sentence of doubt, but Renjun stammers over his response. The professor isn’t quite happy with the small overlap of chatter and shoots a glare at the two of you.

That’s definitely not a good way to start, but it’s memorable. Renjun motions for your pen, and scribbles in his own font the answer to your offer:

I’d love that :)

Then, his heart soars back into the clouds once again at the grin that settles and your written response:  

Me too <3

How does one get someone to fall for them? If Renjun knew, he wouldn’t still be single and infatuated with someone too good for him. He wishes that it’s as simple as the myths make it out to be, where all Cupid had to do was draw his bow and launch a loving arrow that pierces through the heart — an instant love.

But playing Cupid himself is harder than anticipated. He has no handy tools to assist him with his goals. He just has himself, lacks luster and is invisible. Can he be more painfully boring?

And he looks at you with literal hearts in his eyes. An excitement that awaits him, the true meaning of a head turner. That is you. And all he can offer is his mere presence.

“So how did you and Jaemin meet?” Looking up from your blinding laptop screen, Renjun feels the light tap underneath the table from your foot. He chuckles at the subtly adorable affection, and your own way of showing it.

This has to be the third round of study sessions you two shared, and bit by bit, he falls more and more for you despite it needing to be the other way around. The captivating get-to-know you conversation of favorites all down to your aspirations and goals.

The intelligence of you, your wisdom, your perspective. While he did not have this insight before, knowing it now only makes you more alluring. He can’t believe you’re even sitting with him in his shared living room, just the two of you.

“We met at orientation. He’s persistent.” Renjun laughs lightly and you smile in return, nodding along with his statement.

“Wish I met you guys at orientation. I was never the one to reach out to people first until college forced me out of my shell.” He hopes his ears didn’t deceive him, but Renjun had to do a double take: you said you guys, which includes him, right? You wish you had met him earlier?

But the latter shocks him a bit. If he recalls your first meeting, you were the one curious enough to continue speaking to him. “I would have never guessed.”

“Really?” There is a notable light in your eyes as you tilt your head. “I don’t seem shy?”

“Not at all…” He has to stop himself from going on an incredible tangent about how greatly outspoken you are, it gives away too much on how observant he’s been.  

“I’m good at hiding it then.” You examine the soft shade of pink on the tips of his ears and his averting shy gazes. “What are you good at hiding?”

Your question leaves him speechless and gripping at any ends of answers. There are a number of ways he can go about it, but the truth is not one of them.

What is he good at hiding? His unconditional affection for you. He’s good at concealing every heavy heart beat at your smallest actions. He’s good at keeping a regretful secret bet.

But as those options pop into his head, he doesn’t want to say any of them. So, he opts for a white lie instead and hopes that the hesitation doesn’t sell him out for being a nervous wreck.

“I’m good at hiding what I fear.” You blink at him, clearly intrigued to want to know more.

“You do seem pretty fearless, Huang Renjun.” There is a brief exchange of eye contact and Renjun swears that his pounding heart can be heard in the silence. A smirk on your lips as you return to your work, he’s warm inside from the usage of his full name. And you don’t even realize the effect you have over him.

“So, you and (Y/N) are close. How did that start?” Jaemin jumps onto Renjun’s neatly made bed. The covers are now ruffled and tossed from the impact.

Jaemin isn’t home very often, but in the rare times he has been, it’s always during the study sessions with you. The first time you came over, Jaemin tried not to talk up a storm from seeing a familiar face. He respects Renjun’s relationships, so he tried his best to keep from prying at the boy.

“You finally want to know?” Renjun scoffs lightheartedly, punching his housemate lightly on the shoulder as he swivels around in his chair. With an excited wide smile, Jaemin tugs at his friend’s arm as an endearing sign of persistence. “Okay, okay. We have the same class.”

“(Y/N) really approached you in a three hundred student lecture?” A tone of disbelief settles in Jaemin’s rhetorical question. He cocks an eyebrow, waiting for Renjun to tell some truth.

“Not exactly. I sat next to them and a conversation just happened.” Renjun shrugs as if it’s nothing big, as if it hadn’t been for your curiosity that started this blossoming relationship.

“Spare me the details.” Jaemin sits up to hold Renjun by his shoulders. The pressure feels oddly crushing, like a whole weight dropping on him. Jaemin stares him dead in the eyes. “What are your motives, Huang Renjun?”

His mouth hangs slightly open from the question. “I can’t be friends with (Y/N)?” Almost defensively, Renjun furrows his eyebrows at his friend, but he can tell Jaemin has caught onto his lie.

“I heard that you made a bet with a certain shithead.” Jaemin rolls his eyes at remembering their horrible mutual, a crime to even consider him as a friend. He drops his heavy hands from Renjun’s shoulders and falls back onto the mattress.  

The alarming expression of grave danger, Renjun is screwed. He gulps the gathered saliva in the back of his mouth, searching for a plausible explanation. “I was drunk.” He slaps his forehead at the stupid reasoning as Jaemin shoots upright to begin scolding him.

“Let me explain,” Renjun covers his mouth to halt Jaemin’s excessive nagging. “I like (Y/N), that’s how the bet even came alive. I slipped up and then he was saying all this stuff about (Y/N) being out of my league.”

“Which is true.” Jaemin adds, quite muffled but doesn’t slip past Renjun.

Renjun glares and thanks him sarcastically. “I made the bet to protect (Y/N) from him. He was provoking me by saying that he can get (Y/N) first and since I was heavily intoxicated, I didn’t think before I spoke.”

Jaemin holds Renjun warmly, seeing that his friend needed a hug from the saddened memory. It’s all too obvious how regretful Renjun feels. “So I’m trying my best at carrying the bet because there’s too much at stake.”

A chill runs down his spine remembering the consequences. He just can’t fail. Jaemin pulls away and lightly pats Renjun’s hair. “Cupid has made you into a fool for your crush.”

“He’s made me into a bigger one for thinking I could get my crush to like me back.” Renjun sighs in defeat and groans loudly. Why does this frustrate him so much? Perhaps it’s the lack of ability to actually get someone to like him back.

Renjun has been single for his entire life, not by choice. He’s done the movie cliches of a confession: a bouquet of roses, a poster, a night under the stars. And not one has ever accepted his feelings. He doesn’t blame any of them since he still struggles with finding things to love about himself. What is there to love about him? He can’t seem to find any redeeming qualities worth mentioning.

But you. You, alone, is simply worth an honorable mention. And now that it’s been well over a month of your friendship, he can confirm that you’re everything he’s ever wanted and more.

“Why don’t you start by being (Y/N)’s friend first? Love doesn’t just happen in an instant, no offense to Cupid or anything. I mean.. isn’t it all just a myth anyways?” Jaemin picks Renjun’s falling chin and he can see the glossy eyes of sadness. They swim with frustration and guilt.

Like an epiphany, Jaemin gave Renjun a starting place. For weeks, Renjun racked his brain for an easy solution out of it all. In reality, he didn’t need any wicked form of magic for foul play. He just wants to be by your side for as long as you allow. And a part of him is scared for you to like him back.

You’ve always been too out of his reach. Standing on a pedestal, you’re something unattainable. It’s lucky that you even bat an eyelash at him. He’s admired you all too much, Renjun won’t actually know what to do if you ever did like him back.

This all stems from his inner insecurities, like a recurring thought: what is there to like about him? Or is he even good enough for you?

If someone had warned him that love could become this confusing, he would’ve sacrificed his heart for something less complicated. To feel. To love. Renjun wishes he can remove the love bow that pierced through his chest.

On a random Friday night, Renjun’s phone rings with an unexpected caller ID. He pauses the song he’s been listening to for the past hour to pick up.

“Renjun! I’m sad and drunk right now.” Your voice is incredibly slurred and he can barely hear you with the loud background noise. “Can you come pick me up?”

“Are you over on Third Ave. again?” He despises that place. A house on the corner of Third Avenue right off the interstate from campus that throws weekly parties. These parties are overcrowded with creeps and cheap booze. Unfortunately, you’re favorite place to run away to.

This isn’t his first time coming to get you. Over the past few months of your established friendship, you’ve sent him numerous amounts of drunk texts calling for him. This is the first time you actually called, preluding to a really rough night you’ve been having.

You sigh into the receiver, “you remembered.” like you’re on the verge of tears, he can hear the quiver in your tiny voice.

“I have your location, idiot.” Renjun smiles at your silly drunk reactions, finding you more enduring from the innocence. “I’ll be there in a blink.”

“Okay, I’ll close my eyes so I can open them to you.” You giggle before hanging up and Renjun can’t keep the widest grin off of his face. He’s rushing out his door, not wanting to wait another second to see you.

One thing Renjun realized after finally growing close enough to you is that through all his infatuation, you’re still a human. While he thinks of you in a sparkling cascading glitter waterfall, you’re made of the same softness that Renjun has. You’re not perfect and he needed to stop idolizing you as if you’re some shiny trophy.

No, he’s learned that he needed to love you for who you truly are. And the moment he broke down your layers, the glass tears that fell from your cheeks were real. The pain through your confident façade, Renjun needed to love you at your lowest.

He saw you for you, not the attractive person from his lecture he drooled months over. You are the exact reality that movies are afraid to portray. You’re courageous, chic, charming. But you’re also shy, soft spoken, and silly. You’re like waking up during dawn and marveling in the silence of a sleeping society. You’re also like smiles on a sunny day and living in the moment.

Renjun is lovestruck, wildly in love with all that you are. The only thing that brings down his spirits is the lingering bet he made several months ago and he hates how it’s always gnawing at him. It’s like an echo, bouncing off the walls of his mind. He can’t shake it off. Most of the time, he tries to focus the moment in front of him, but it has him tossing and turning in the middle of the night.

Without much surprise, you stand in front of the overflowing party house with eyes cutely squeezed shut. A friend by your side to wait with you. “Open your eyes.” Renjun yells as windows roll down and he double parks the car.

Your eyes gleam in the darkness and bidding your friend a quick goodbye, you jump into the familiar vehicle and embrace your good friend with a longing hug. Renjun chuckles at your adorable actions, patting your shoulder lightly. Despite the cheerful welcome, the mood immediately shifts when he hears your tiny sniffs and feels the tears on his shirt.

“C’mon, your favorite ice cream flavor is waiting for you at my place.” As he whispers positive affirmations, you can only cry harder into his chest. “You’re not feeling too good tonight, are you?”

It’s way too obvious of a question to ask, he knows. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to say and comforting is not his strongest skill without it turning it into a life lesson. He knows what you need, just someone to acknowledge how you’re feeling and to listen.

“I’m feeling the worst tonight. I don’t want to talk about it. Maybe later?” You pull away from his arms, even if he isn’t ready to let you go. He helps buckle your seatbelt and wipe any remaining wetness on your cheeks.

Your hand briefly touches Renjun’s which causes the boy to freeze at the sudden action. Your hazy smile is unclear, but you lean into him before he can process all the randomness. A kiss on his cheek, the most delicate feeling of lips on skin.

Renjun explodes inside, like hazardous fireworks on a cloudy night. He wants to enjoy it, but his circumstances make it difficult for him to. “Thanks for coming to get me.” Your body slumps back onto the seat, a pout on your lower lip. Renjun shifts awkwardly in his seat, buckling his seatbelt to begin the ride home. He can’t find the words to say.

You’re being too casual about what had just happened, as if you’re ignoring it all. Or you simply have no control over anything that you’re doing. “Let me tell you a secret, Injunie.” The sugarcoated nickname. You’re definitely too drunk at the moment, and whatever you do now will be long forgotten the next morning.

Renjun still doesn’t say anything, relishing in the kiss on the cheek just seconds ago. His fingers lightly touch his face, grazing upon the very part your lips came in contact with. He’s truly through the moon and— “I used to have the biggest crush on Jaemin.” Renjun abruptly steps on the brakes, whipping the both of you in your seats.

His heart is falling, it’s plummeting and he can’t do anything to save it. “I really didn’t expect such a surprised reaction.”

Renjun clears his throat. “I’m just caught off guard.” Not a lie, he really wasn’t expecting a confession and his heart to break right at this moment. “Why Jaemin?”

He knows why Jaemin. He’s a social butterfly with no caution to the wind and a heart made of pure kindness. A welcoming friendly figure that won’t hesitate to feed into someone’s need for words of affirmation. Not to mention, Jaemin has a good few inches above him and looks of a poster kpop idol. Of course, you liked Jaemin.

“He has such a good heart. I guess I just like guys who think of me first, as selfish as that sounds. I don’t prioritize myself, so it would be nice if someone else did.” You fiddle your thumbs and Renjun is impatiently tapping his fingers against the wheel.

The red traffic light before you enacts two different feelings. Renjun wants this ride to end as fast as possible. You want this ride to last forever.

“But, Jaemin is seeing someone.”

Your head ducks down and out the window at the shining streetlamps; you know very well about Jaemin’s love life. “I didn’t expect anything from him. I just liked him for him. He came to pick me up every time I would ask, I guess I have a thing for guys who do that.”

Renjun tightens his grip, heart pounding at your statement. You peer up to look at your friend in the lack of light. His glasses sit low on his nose bridge, a soft cotton shirt hugs his torso, and pajama pants that clad his legs. A mess bed of hair as the cherry on top.

After Jaemin, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t fall for anyone so easily. All of that was thrown out the window the very first night Renjun came to your saving. Despite contrary belief, your heart is not as impenetrable as people make you out to be. And as tough as you can be, it was too hard not to be the slightest interested in him.

Ever since your first meeting, Renjun has always been cool and collected. He’s a hothead at his best, but too playful for any serious damage. Renjun reminds you of yourself. Like a huge impenetrable wall built against any trouble to enter, he is as guarded as you are. He’s timid, and while you had tried your best to hide your own, Renjun simply embraces that part of him.

Renjun stayed after every tearful night. He’s helped you through every difficult study guide, if anything he saved your failing grade.

Renjun puts you first throughout anything; asking if you want the booth seat at restaurants, strategically walking on the outer side so you can avoid driving cars, always has your favorite snacks without you asking. Every tiny gesture, may you be slightly delusional, seemed as if he loved you. And if he did, you wouldn’t mind one bit because you wanted to love him back.

“What about you? We’ve never really talked about our love lives before.” You speak up in the silence, Rejun being awfully quiet tonight. He hopes you don’t blame him, but everything has been too overwhelming. He is no longer sure on what he wants to do or how to react.

“My love life is too sad to talk about.” He’s never wanted to talk about it with you, in case he’d slip up and say something too revealing. “It’s a long list of unrequited loves. I’ve given up on professing my feelings to someone at this point.”

“What would have to happen to get you to confess?” Your eyes coin a mischievous twinkle.

Renjun feels his palms grow sweaty, a bit nervous with this conversation topic. 

“Something catastrophic.”

Something catastrophic did end up happening. Renjun wishes he could disappear, or if he runs away, would anyone notice?

He stands behind your fuming stance. In any other given situation, Renjun would be more than flattered that you’re standing up for him. However in this case, you’re making a fool out of yourself on his behalf.

“Oh, so you haven’t told (Y/N) about the bet?” Of all the nights Renjun decides to accompany you on a Friday evening, he runs until the one person he never wanted to come within ten feet to.

Truthfully, the night was going well. He ran into a few of his other acquaintances from his club, others from his classes. You held onto his arm the moment you two entered the party, afraid to lose this precious boy in the dense crowd. People walked by and expressed how cute you two looked together.

You poured him drinks that will make his head throb and you busted dance moves that made his heart throb. You were the epitome of a fun time, like an explosion of positive endorphins. Your toothy smiles. Your bright electrified eyes. Your sweet laughter. This was the last beautiful image he had of you before everything came falling apart.

“What bet?” You quickly turn around to face Renjun. His hand scratches the back of his neck and his gaze stays staring at his own feet. Your throat grows tight from Renjun’s hesitation.

“He made a bet with me that he could get you to fall in love with him.” Please stop talking, Renjun begs in his thoughts. He tightens his fist, unable to form words to speak. The thumping of the loud music makes it hard to focus.

“He—” Shaky voice and stuttering… even you are having doubts of Renjun’s character. “He wouldn’t do that.” Your eyes bounce between him and Renjun.

“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you don't know him very well then.” Renjun’s arrogant friend crosses his arms coolly, a smug smirk unfolding on his face.

“It’s true, (Y/N). I did make the bet and I regret it every waking day.” Renjun finally speaks up, but you’re out the door before he can continue.

There isn’t another thought in his head when he’s running after you; you’re already so far down the road. The secret was bound to be revealed, but he wasn’t ready for it. He was never going to be ready for this day because his first mistake was making the bet to begin with.

He should have thought about you. He should have just swallowed his pride and talked his friend out of it. Was that a choice? Could he have just done that instead of letting it fester into such a problem?

Out of breath and out of mind, Renjun calls out your name. When you spin on your heels to walk toward him, his heart reaches for you. However, you push at his chest and he almost falls backwards.

You’re angry, more than angry. You’re upset. You have every right to be. “What were you thinking, Renjun?” There is a small crack in your voice and he can see your tear stained cheeks under the moonlight. “Am I even your friend? All this time… you had an agenda. Were your actions all fake, then? You wanted to manipulate me into falling in love with you?”

Your words are hitting like large bricks. You are questioning the past five months of your friendship and everything Renjun has ever done for you. A false reality, Renjun didn’t actually give a damn about you. He wanted to prove some odd male status. Could you be any more blind?

“Please let me explain… I was drunk out of my mind that night and the bet I made was stupid. It was before proper evaluation. Does it make it okay? No, I understand that.” Renjun speaks with his hands, clearly panicked and frazzled by the way they waved around in the air. “The bet… I did it to protect you from that guy. I didn’t want him to hurt you.”

“So you hurt me instead?” If someone were to listen closely, they would be able to hear the shattering of two hearts tonight. On this late evening, two hearts are broken under the moon and stars.

But it’s pitiful because the arrow that struck Renjun remains intact. He still loves you, which is why it pains him so much to where he can’t breathe. The information in his head is scattered, like an alarm blaring through his empty brain.

All he knows is that he loves you. You are the one thing he’s afraid of losing. From the first words you two exchanged, his fear that he hid all too well is and always will be losing you.

“That was not my intention ever. I never wanted to hurt you.” Renjun takes a step closer, but you take one back.

“Well you did because your little bet… it worked. I love you, Renjun, so congratulations.” There is bitterness and an inexplicable amount of heartbreak that lace your venomous confession.

All of his life, he thought that if one person liked him back, he’d be the happiest person in the world. Possibly confused at how to proceed with the information, but definitely glad that someone could see any redeeming characteristics in him.

But he feels all the opposite. Your confession keeps his heart broken. If anything, it puzzles him more. “How..? Why would you ever like me?” There were no tricks, no attempts at flirtation, nothing out of bounds of being your friend. He just had himself. And if anyone in the universe were to like him, he’d never expect it would be you.

You groan, growing more infuriated at Renjun. “Because you’re everything I wish I could be. You’re level-headed and insightful. You’re calm and cool, without any necessary arrogance. The way you make me feel… I feel important to you, at least, I thought I was.” Your voice continues to drop softer and softer, “how could I not like you?”

The butterflies could not come at a better time. Hearing you compliment him when he found it difficult to look past his own self deprecation, he’s beyond any levels of shock. Nevertheless, he feels apologetic and knew that this is all too good to be true.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), for making that terrible bet. But, I need you to know one thing: our friendship was genuine. All I’ve ever wanted these past months is to make sure your sweet smile stays resting on your beautiful face.”

“Why? You didn’t know me! You used me for some … pride gamble. I was nothing to you the day you made that bet.” You shout harsh words at him, and Renjun can’t hold back any longer.

This is what he meant by something catastrophic. When he’s pushed to the edge of a cliff, all his buttons are pressed aggressively. Everything falling apart. The loose ends coming undone all too quickly to grapple. He never wanted it to come to this.

“That-That’s not true! I loved you long before that regretful night! You mean every single moment of happiness to me. You’re every ray of sunshine that kisses my skin, every blue sky that reminds me of good days. You mean everything to me.” Genuine words pour from his lips, hoping that you’ll understand what’s left of his heart.

“You’re confessing?” You gasp, practically dazed at the amount of metaphors he compared you to. “Something catastrophic.” A small moment of recollection and a mumble under your breath, you’re understanding what he meant by the phrase he used several nights ago.

“Yes because I can't lose you. I’m a mess of feelings at the moment, but I just know that I’m scared to wake up to days without you in them.” Renjun pleads, the night air causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. His eyes are full of melancholy and fear as he waits for your response.

And you want to forgive him, but would that mean your heart is being too easy? You feel lingering pain, but your eyes reflect Renjun. “To think I thought you were pretty fearless.” Scoffing, you roll your eyes at him and are completely unsure what to do next.

Nevertheless, you’ve wanted someone like Renjun at some point in your life. You hoped for better days and those didn’t start happening until you two met. Renjun went from being your distant study partner to being your number one person to call. He’s wiped more tears than any boy has.

The difference between Renjun and Jaemin is while Jaemin is known to have an extravagantly warm presence, Renjun’s is hidden underneath all the quietness. Like a breakthrough, getting through Renjun felt like getting through to yourself. You needed him to aid in your own self love.

All you’ve ever wanted is to be seen and Renjun saw you.

“I forgive you.” Renjun can finally breathe and rest his tense muscles. But when he reaches for your hand, you take it away. “But it doesn’t mean we are okay. I’ll approach you when I’m ready.”

It’s not easy to love as it’s not easy to pretend that everything can go back to normal after being hurt. You need him to understand that, would he wait for you? The many others before didn’t.

“Okay.” That is all he can say, in the midst of a defeat, he still wishes that you’d stay by his side. But he wrestles that desire with transparency and having organic feelings. Nonetheless, he values the latter. If you did really somehow manage to love him, you’ll come back when you’re ready. He knows. He understands. He sees you through and through.

And he watches you disappear back into the house to find a friend to drive you home. He loves you, but love can also be consequential.

It’s already midway into the school semester and not that Renjun is counting or anything, but it’s been practically a whole month since the night at the party. He’s done nothing, except sigh in despair and reminisce about the memories before they were ruined.

While Jaemin’s efforts to console him are much appreciated, it doesn’t do much for the fact that you haven’t acknowledged Renjun’s existence for a whole thirty days.

And although he’ll wait a lifetime for you, the question of when he should move on ponders his clouded thoughts. His intensively agonizing desire of wanting to be by your side has dwindled down now. Renjun just wants to see you happy.

“Hey Cupid,” It’s a newly despised nickname coined by the one and only person who knows how to push at Renjun’s buttons — Lee Haechan. Haechan knocks obnoxiously at his door and does not wait around to hear an answer, “get your sad face out here.”

“Go away, Haechan. I’m not in the mood.” As Renjun mindlessly skims over his calendar for important dates, he is pained by the reminder of your upcoming birthday. You had marked it yourself a while back and specifically told Renjun that his attendance is entirely mandatory.

Times have changed now, right? You’ve been radio silent for weeks and as much as he hates to say this to himself: you probably don’t remember making such an assertion. Why would you? You’re most likely not thinking about him anymore anyways and maybe that’s for the better.

“Hey! Lovestruck Asshole, I’m not going to tell you again. Get that arrow out of your ass and come outside now.” Just the demand alone in Haechan’s voice irritates Renjun enough to where he’s storming to open his door.

But what it reveals is not the smirk of his annoying housemate, instead, it is the image of the very first time Renjun ever laid eyes on you and the moment Cupid’s Arrow struck right through his heart. It’s a rush of nostalgia that surges through his veins.

You sit with a hand underneath your chin and elbow pressing into a flat surface for support. The dazed stare of daydream as you’re unaware of your surroundings, yet still waiting for something exciting to catch your attention. And just how lovely you look in the softest rose colored shirt and how your lips, still barely glistening from a quick swipe of your tongue, are slightly agape into an expressionless rest.

All before your eyes trail to the distraction of another body entering the room and for a brief second, make eye contact with Renjun as he’s all the more astonished by your grace. Then like a scene that’s imprinted in his head too clearly, your gaze drops back down to the floor and you’re back to your inner thoughts.

As if the pierced arrow in his heart is triggered, Renjun rediscovers the feelings of a newfound infatuation — a crush. Though baseless except in regards to physical attraction, he’s nonetheless amazed by how quickly you take his breath away… again.

Unlike the first memory, you actually speak to him as you’re now familiar with the starry eyed boy. “It’s been a while.”

The color in your voice that he’s missed hearing is pure music. He clears his throat as if he’s afraid of his own vocal chords breaking from nervousness.

“H-Hey, yeah. It’s been a while.” Renjun repeats dumbfounded that you’re even sitting in his shared living room.

“How have you been?” There you are being polite, but the giddiness still runs like static through his veins at being asked about his well being.

“Lost.” He blurts out the first word that comes to mind. Perhaps, he should stop using words with such heavy implications to friendly gestures. Your head immediately pops up and he scrambles to correct himself. “I mean I’ve been distracted lately.”

“Sadness really does take its course.” You tread lightly, testing the waters with a small grin. The atmosphere is oddly comforting, like feeling you can’t quite replace.

Renjun looks rather rough around the edges, but you don’t blame him since you did show up unannounced. However, the glint in his eyes is much of a delight to see. The way his small mouth curves into the tiniest smile and the gentleness in his regular cadence remind you of past long days full of laughter. The best part of them all — you spent them together.

“My birthday is coming up soon.” Jumping straight to the point of your visit, you stand up to approach him. “I plan to host a small party… and I remember saying a while back that your attendance is mandatory.”

Renjun catches his breath in his throat and he could run gleeful laps around the room if it isn’t for the poorly spaced complex. “So are you still down, Huang Renjun?”

“I’d love that.” He smiles greatly at your offer and as simple as that, your arms wrap around his torso into a long awaited embrace.

“Me too.” You mumble into his shirt and take a deep breath of his lavender scented detergent, “I’m ready. I’m ready to have you in my life. I’m ready to laugh with you. I’m ready to lay in your company. I’m ready to give you my heart.”

As you finish your last sentence, his arms wrap around you too and pull you into a tighter hold. “You have always had mine.”

Renjun can finally remove the arrow that unforgivingly stayed stuck in his heart for the longest time. Your reciprocated love fills up the hole that is left behind. He can now love you with a full and whole heart.

[its-me-jessi]

I Wish I Were Her - Introduction

Pairing: (Modern) Hvitserk X Reader

Summary:  The reader looks for love in the wrong person. Her love is unrequited but there is still hope of true love. In the right place at the right time with the right person she will eventually find it.

Part 1

Sometimes we fall in love with the wrong person while the right one is still waiting for us somewhere far away or maybe even in close proximity to us and we let them wait. We are wearing our rose-colored glasses, which blocks our view and doesn’t let us see the truth; doesn’t let us see the obvious things.  It takes time to see past them and to realize what or who is actually good for us and which way we have to go. The path of love isn’t easy to walk on, we might take the wrong turn sometimes, but in the end, we will reach our final destination; our place to be and stay. In the end we will know who we belong to.

“Ivar!”, I shouted beaming with delight as soon as he opened the door. I’ve been away for a while now, have been traveling and exploring what the world has to offer. It has been months since I last saw him, and I missed my best friend. Friend. Yeah, that’s what he was although I always hoped he would be more than that. I’ve loved him for a long time already, and he has never loved me back, at least not romantically. He always saw me as his best friend, no more, no less, but somehow, I always believed things could still change and in the moment I knocked on his door I hoped that he would look at me differently.

But he didn’t.

“I’m glad you’re back! I felt lonely without you!”, Ivar said grinning at me. We sat in his living room on his couch and I told him about my trips and adventures. He listened closely and actively, asking me to tell him everything. Time flew by and I enjoyed sharing my experiences with him. I could hardly stop myself from talking too much. Letting him know everything almost felt like taking him with me on my journey, which I would have loved to do. To be honest, I missed him a lot and seeing him being this interested in my stories and hearing him saying nice things to me made me think he missed me too. Well, he possibly did, but not as much as I missed him. Someday I really longed for a hug of him, for his scent, for his presence and I wished he would’ve felt the same way.

While I was gone, we didn’t speak a lot to each other, mainly because of time difference. I didn’t know much about what was going on here, but after the next few hours I knew every little detail. He told me about a girl, and I listened to him as carefully as he listened to me. I would’ve lied, if I said I didn’t feel heartbroken and sad, but I didn’t show it, of course. As his best friend I had to be happy for him and encourage him even if it was hard for me to do so and with every minute and hour that passed it became harder. “I really like her!”, Ivar raved about that girl and I smiled at him, at least I tried. On the outside I may have looked happy but on the inside I felt nothing but disappointment, exhaustion and sadness.

I looked at my phone and realized how late or rather early it already was. It was two o’clock in the morning and time for me to go. “It’s quite late. I think I should go home.”, I said and got up. Not only should I go home, I also wanted to. I needed some time to let everything sink in.

Ivar showed me to the door. “See you soon?”, Ivar looked at me smiling. “Of course!”, I smiled back but as soon as I turned around my smile disappeared from my lips. I didn’t think our reunion would be this awkward.

I left his apartment and stepped outside into the darkness and its silence. There were no people around and the streetlamps were the only source of light. Thank god I parked right in front of his entrance. I pulled out my car keys and unlocked my car as I heard a familiar voice calling my name. I looked up from the doorhandle I was about to grab and looked at the man who crossed the street and came over to me. It was Hvitserk, Ivars brother. “Hey Y/N, good to see you!”, he said to me bluntly. I didn’t know him very well. For me he only was the brother of my best friend and the amount of times we actually talked to each other could be counted on the fingers of one hand. “Hey Hvitserk, good to see you too!”, as always, we didn’t take it further than a simple greeting. He went inside and I got into my car.

I really hope you liked the introduction to the new story and you are as excited for the first real chapter as I am.🥳 Stay safe! 😇🤗🧡

[metalbvcky]

Back in May, I made my first Stucky Ficrec post and months later, I’ve decided to make another since this fandom is hella talented. There’s a little over two dozen fics down below ranging from 10k-100k+ and everything’s categorized.

Do note that lot of these are Modern AU’s (I love those) and most of them are smutty. (yes hello, an asexual here who enjoys smut so very much) Also heed the tags once you click the link(s). Other than that, enjoy!!!

Key:  ♥ = My personal favorites, S = Smut, DS = Dom/Sub

a) CANON UNIVERSE

If You're Reading This, Steve Rogers by fallendarlings Words: 39,273 | Post/Canon Divergence 2012 Avengers/TWS, Recovery, Slow Burn

Nobody tells Steve it's okay to cry.

Nobody touches him.

Nobody remembers Steve Rogers is a person under the mantle. It's okay. He hasn't felt like a person since he watched Bucky fall.

don't threaten me with a good time ♥ by canistakahari - Words 10,106 | Post-TWS, Sick!Fic, Sick!Bucky, Cabin Fic

Steve's taken him on vacation to a cabin in Canada in the middle of winter, so it's obviously the perfect time for his body to go haywire. Bucky is determined to stick it out, though, partly because he's a stubborn bastard, but mostly because he feels some kinda way about Steve.

Higher Ground by EmilianaDarling - Words: 13,002 | Post-TWS, S, DS (undertones), Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

“S’okay,” Bucky murmurs quietly, and Steve sucks in a sharp breath at the brush of Bucky’s lips against his ear, his breath hot against the side of Steve’s neck. There’s a hint of a grin in Bucky’s voice; amused affection and confidence and something heated beneath it all, a familiar tone from so long ago that makes Steve’s heart clench and his cock twitch helplessly in his jeans.

“S’okay, Stevie,” he says again, and Steve can feel the curl of Bucky’s lips against his throat when he smiles. His metal thumb is rubbing circles on Steve’s shoulder. “M’gonna take care of you.”

A year and a half after the events of The Winter Soldier, Steve's been acting recklessly. Bucky deals with it as best he can.

The Simple Life ♥ from The Simple Life Series by howler32557038 - Words: 114,329 (Series Total: 337,273 + ongoing) | Canon Universe, MPreg, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"The simple life."

"You'll get there one day."

"I don't know. Family, stability...The guy who wanted all that went in the ice seventy-five years ago. I think someone else came out."

Bucky wants to be part of Steve's life. He wants to be an Avenger. He wants to be a good partner. Unfortunately, sometimes that means not telling Steve everything.

a road less traveled by Claudia_flies, cyclamental art (cyclamental),maichan, zilia - Words: 75,396 | 2012 Timeline AU, Post-Avengers 2012 (Endgame Divergence), Domestic Avengers, Recovering!Bucky

Steve wakes up on the cold stone floor of the foyer. He scrambles up; there’s glass shards everywhere and they crunch under his gloved hands. People are staring, holding themselves back. They must have seen the fight, must have seen two of him.

His own voice rings in his head.

“Bucky is alive!”

Kept Safe by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 54,419 | S, DS, BDSM

Steve and Bucky are friends. Best Friends. If asked, Bucky would say he knows absolutely everything about Steve. Except when it comes to sex. Steve lives such a monastic existence that Bucky doesn't know if he likes girls, boys, or none of the above. For all he knows, Steve may have no interest in sex whatsoever.

But then a mission goes wrong, Steve is bleeding out from a wound to the femoral artery and Bucky is trying to stop the bleeding when his hand brushes against metal. Where there most definitely shouldn't be metal. Or a padlock. And most definitely not a torturously small cage.

48 hours by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 25,894 | Post-CW, S, DS, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Steve is keeping it together. No one would say he's keeping it together well, but he's getting by. Mission after mission, he goes back to his apartment in Wakanda and breaks down. Then he watches Bucky sleep and tries to not notice how everyone looks at him like he's the saddest bastard that ever lived.

But, this time is different. This time, Steve goes back to his apartment post-mission and Bucky is awake, out of cryo and making them dinner in Steve's kitchen. The breakdown is still happening. Bucky isn't pleased, but he does have a plan. For 48 hours after every mission, Steve is going to let Bucky take care of him or he's going to be on Steve's next mission. He can't risk losing Bucky again. Which should make the decision simple.

It isn't simple.

The Sex Therapist ♥ by Whendoestheshipsail (restricted to AO3 users only) - Words: 179,941 | S, DS, DKink, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Current/Past Steve/Sharon

Sharon has given him an ultimatum- either go to sex therapy or it's over. Sex therapy sounds like normal therapy but more humiliating and expensive. It's total BS. He will go because she's making him, but he will also make everyone's lives miserable (Yeah, including his own) and never return again.

Do they have a lot of sex? No. Does Sharon want more sex? Yes. Does Steve do his best? Yeah, actually, he does. He can get it up, he just needs time. Alone. There's... preparation involved. It's not like one just 'is' aroused.

He can't explain it. And he won't. He definitely won't tell Bucky what exactly he thinks about to get worked up enough to screw his girlfriend.

Found My Place in Time - Cap_D, humapuma - Words: 12,492 | Post-EG (Divergence, duh) S, Fluff, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

“Buck,” he heard Steve say, “wake up. We’re here.” Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of his back. When Steve’s words sunk in, though, he turned and leaned forward, staring past Steve’s chest to look out the window. Beyond the wing of the plane, he found a beautiful coastline with white sand, blue waters, and palm trees, as well as rows of bungalows on the water. “Wow,” he murmured. “We’re staying in one of those, right?”

In which Steve invites Bucky on a trip to Fiji and they discover something a lot more than beautiful vistas and friendly locals.

Total Institution ♥ from the Institutions of Love and Incarceration series by thelittlestpurplecat - Words: 94,303 | Canon Universe AU, Prison!AU, Guard!Steve, Prisoner!Bucky, Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, WS Trial

The Winter Soldier has been sentenced to life without parol. His entire world had been condensed to a hot, cramped cell that he hasn't seen the outside of in the four years since his apprehension. It's hell. He has no means of escape, no means of terminating his suffering, and no means of distraction...that is, until he's assigned a new guard. Steve Rogers is assigned the Winter Soldier as his singular charge. He expects a sadistic, violent murderer. What he finds instead is a broken, tormented man with no memory of his past life, and no control over what had been done to him. He's a victim. Not a monster. And Steve won't stand to see him pay for crimes over which he had no control.

Raise Your Glass by minkeys - Words: 10,008 | Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve, Light DS, S, DKink

Bucky knows Steve in ways that his 21st century friends could never even begin to imagine. Or at least, they couldn't until tonight. It's about time somebody corrected all those historians that painted Steve as a straight-laced, God-fearing soldier, and what better way to do it than over a harmless game of "Never Have I Ever." What's the worst that could be said?

b) SHRUNKYCLUNKS

Waking Up Slow ♥ by odetteandodile - Words: 44,638 | Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic, Hurt/Comfort

In 1945 Steve Rogers crashed the Valkyrie into the Arctic Ocean and was never recovered.

In 2019 Bucky Barnes is walking along the beach below the decommissioned lighthouse where he lives with his sixteen month old daughter when he finds the body of a man washed up in the surf, half frozen but miraculously alive.

Bucky manages to revive him, but finds that the stranger has no memory of who he is or how he got here aside from a name: Steve. Snowed in by a blizzard soon after and unable to get Steve a medevac, Bucky discovers that the funny, good-hearted man slips into the fabric of his and Alice’s life faster than he would have thought possible. The two are undeniably drawn to each other, but as their feelings grow so does the looming possibility that the answer to the question “who is Steve?” might be much more complicated than either of them realized.

Isn't It Ironic? (Don't You Think?) ♥ by HeyBoy, Huntress79, imhereforgaysuperheroes - Words: 33,342 |  Jewish, Dad!Bucky, Kid!Fic

Bucky is used to his daughter bursting into tears in the middle of department stores. What he isn't used to is someone braving the wails and actually being able to stop Becca's tantrum in its tracks. Oh, and he's also not used to that someone being Captain America.

AKA, how Steve Rogers calms a screaming kid in Target and falls in love with two more Barneses than he had bargained for.

in my condition love's the best physician by aniloquent - Words: 9,177 | Pharmacy!AU, Russian!Bucky

“This situation is a little more delicate because I don't even know if he speaks English and I'm tired of going down to the pharmacy for constipation medication and allergy pills when I haven't sneezed since 1941.” Steve shouts.

The room falls silent, and he turns back around to find four pairs of stunned eyes watching him.

Tony, as always, speaks first. “He?”

Or the one where Bucky is a hot pharmacist and Steve keeps making up bullshit reasons to go see him.

c) MODERN AU

Home Is Wherever I'm With You ♥ by cydonic  - Words: 88,570 | Neighbors!AU, Slow Burn, Parent!Steve, Kid!Fic

This is what happens when you buy a house to flip having only seen the online images: you get more than you bargained for. Bucky Barnes brings all the tools to handle a dilapidated home, but he's hardly prepared for a smart-mouthed child (with poor aim), a crying baby, and the hottest dad he's ever seen in his life living right next door.

That House-Flipper!AU.

if only you could see me (for the pie that i am) ♥ by bitelikefire (theoleo) | Words: 35,121 | Baker!Steve, WeddingPlanner!Bucky

In which Steve is the proud owner of Frost; a semi famous local bakery in D.C. And despite the overwhelming insistence that it’s about time he start dating, Steve swears up and down he isn’t ready for that.

Or as of recently, just doesn’t have the time because of Mr. Barnes. The highly demanding wedding planner on the phone who keeps asking for nearly impossible deliveries and maybe Steve would like to personally strangle him. Maybe.

(There is pie. And misunderstandings. But a lot more desserts and eye rolls.)

So Alive ♥ from the Brooklyn Heights Books Series by GottaSaveBucky (Cosmic_Entity_1of4) - Words: 109,074 (Series Total: 165,440 + ongoing) | Bookstore!AU (sort of), Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, DKink

A man wearing a light denim jacket over a dark blue shirt came into the shop, a box tucked under his right arm. Despite it being late afternoon, he was wearing sunglasses with bright blue lenses, and his long, dark hair was pulled back in a messy little bun. A few strands had escaped, framing his strong, unshaven jawline. The man looked into the café, smiled widely, and waved in Clint’s direction as he kept walking into the bookstore, and Steve’s mouth went completely dry.

Beautiful, was the only word to describe that smile; straight, white teeth framed by full, lush, red lips, bracketed by laugh lines and an adorable dimple in his right cheek, a charming little chin cleft just visible under the light stubble—Steve was struck literally speechless. And that was before he got a glimpse of the man’s backside. Slim hips and a round, firm-looking ass led to long, lean legs that were encased in snug, dark blue jeans.

“Guh,” Steve said, watching the dark-haired man continue on to the back of the store.

The Penthouse Suite ♥ by elle1991 - Words: 15,873 | S, DS, BSDM, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky, Happy Ending

Bucky Barnes has the chance to earn $5,000 in one night. All he has to do is go to the penthouse suite of a luxury hotel and spend the night with his client, one enigmatic Steve Rogers.

The catch? Steve is a massive pervert, intent on using this one night to satisfy every single one of his many debauched kinks.

Even ignoring the big box of sex toys on the bed, Bucky should have known he was in trouble the moment Steve opened his mouth and said his first words: "My name is Steve Rogers, but you can call me Sir..."

Burnin' For You by GoldBlooded - Words: 15,753 | Firefighter!Steve, Detective!Bucky, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve Rogers is Fire Captain of Brooklyn’s very busy Station 118. He wants three things out of life: People he can count on, for everyone to get through their shifts safe and sound, and for Sergeant James Barnes to get the hell off of his arson scene.

James Barnes is Detective Sergeant of Brooklyn’s very busy 107th Precinct. He wants three things out of life: A decent cup of coffee, good leads to chase, and for Captain Steven Rogers to get the hell off of his arson scene.

Everyone knows to steer clear when these two have to deal with each other. Everyone knows about their mutual dislike and sometimes hatred. But what everyone doesn't know? How they got to be like that in the first place.

Collar Full of Chemistry ♥ from the Rich People Are Wild Series by 2bestfriends - Words: 188,437 (Series Total: 219,519) | Heavy BDSM, DS, S, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

Steve is very rich and desperate to feel in control of his life again after a recent divorce has left him feeling bitter and lonely. When he keeps crossing paths with a disaster twenty-something, an unconventional solution presents itself. Steve's always been one for following his instincts.

Bucky is very broke and can't seem to catch a break, especially after some asshole fires him for one fucking mistake. So of course, it follows that he should sign a contract agreeing to do everything and anything that same asshole wants for a whole year in exchange for a payout that could finally change his life for the better.

Toothpaste Kisses ♥ by buckybees - Words: 18,736 | Dentist!Steve, Patient!Bucky, Amputee!Bucky

Sitting in the horribly antiseptic gateway to hell, otherwise known as the waiting room, Bucky was deeply reassessing his life choices. Maybe if he didn’t eat ice cream for every meal this wouldn’t have happened.

Steve's a dentist, Bucky's a patient. You know the drill.

Out of the Blue ♥ by IsabellaJack - Words: 37,564 | PreSerum!Steve, Detective!Bucky (and Sam!), Mystery!Fic

“Does she have family?” Barnes asks again.

Steve tries to remember. “I don’t know.”

“You sing her praises and don’t know a simple info like that?” Barnes huffs, looking irritated.

Love Is An Ocean Wide by fancyh - Words: 29,009 | Shapeshifter!AU, Orca!Bucky, Marine Biologist!Steve

When marine biologist Steve Rogers helps to rescue an injured orca from the marine traffickers Hydra, he has no idea how his life will change. Once rehabilitated, the orca is released and disappears, and a despondent Steve throws himself into his work, only to feel a spark when a new volunteer arrives, a man with one arm and curiously familiar blue eyes.

Bucky has lived in the ocean his whole life. But when his family is killed and his sister captured by Hydra, he is forced to turn to humans for help. One human in particular intrigues him, a man by the name of Steve. As Bucky comes ashore to search for his sister, he finds himself falling for the man, but dangerous secrets still stand between them.

Includes clueless-about-humans Bucky, heart-eyes-Steve, and lots of Very Important rocks.

Innocent Until ♥ by L1av - Words: 136,866 | Lawyer!Bucky, Defendant!Steve, DS, BDSM, Top!Bucky, Bottom!Steve

Bucky Barnes made a name for himself as the attorney who could get anyone off, but he still lives by the saying, "Innocent until proven guilty." Steve Rogers finds himself on trial for multiple homicides but he swears he was only trying to protect a girl. Bucky's been in this business long enough to know when someone's innocent, and Steve is innocent. Steve already feels like a monster and Bucky's worried this guy's going to lay himself on the sword come his trial. So Bucky offers up another course for punishment:

Turns out, chains and whips really excite Steve.

Brooklyn Syndrome ♥ by lordelannette - Words: 158,350 | DARKFIC, Dark!Steve (VERY DARK, heed the tags, you have been warned) Doctor!Steve, Writer!Bucky, Kidnapping, Slow Burn, Graphic Violence

Bucky's back was pressed against the cold floor and he stared through blurry eyes as Steve stood over him. He was trying to push himself as far away as he could, using his hands and bare feet to slide himself out from between Steve's legs but he couldn't find purchase against the wooden floor. Steve's legs were locked on both sides of his hips and Bucky couldn't move, couldn't get away, and the room was swimming before his eyes and he couldn't focus, couldn't think straight. All he could make out was the hazy figure of Steve towering over him and he lifted his arm to push uselessly at Steve's shin.

"P-please," Bucky whispered. His voice was weak, like him, and his jaw trembled as Steve reached down.

Steve slid down onto the floor and effortlessly gathered him into his strong arms, cradling Bucky to his chest as he leaned against the wall. "Bucky," Steve breathed. One of his large hands slid gently into Bucky's hair, the other curving against his spine and pulling him even closer. "You're mine now, remember?"

Steve's grip tightened then it all went black.

lay me down (tell me i've been found) by coffeeinallcaps - Words: 25,188 | Modern!AU, DS, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

The collar is a little on the heavy side, and incredibly soft against Bucky's skin. Even softer than he thought it would be. It seems to fit snugly, and for a second he feels like he can't breathe. Then, Steve slides two fingers under the collar and runs them along the inside, almost all the way around. Bucky shivers. Goose bumps spread down his back, his arms. "How does it feel?" Steve murmurs, hooking his fingers into the ring and giving a gentle tug on it. Bucky swallows. Nods.

(In which billionaire businessman Steve shows up and turns Bucky's life into an improbable fantasy.)

All Those Things You've Always Pined For by LavenderProse - Words: 92,142 | Family Man (2000) aka the Nicholas Cage movie AU, Domestic, Kid!Fic, PreSerum!Steve

“Steve Rogers. I haven’t thought about him in…God, at least ten years. Probably longer." “Who is he?” Sharon asks, and perches on the corner of his desk, hands folded in her lap. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Bucky clears his throat, tosses the sticky note onto the desk. “Steve was…my college boyfriend. We almost got married.”

It's been fifteen years since Bucky Barnes left Steve Rogers standing in a New York airport and never saw him again. Those fifteen years have brought him wealth and stability; everything his lower middle class Brooklyn upbringing had not provided. He is happy. He doesn't want for anything. He doesn't need anything. That's about to change.

Karma's A Fake Orgasm ♥ by daisymondays - Words: 51,637 | College!AU, Friends to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Humor, Slow Burn

There’s another abandoned mug, festering with mould in the living room — Steve offically has the world's worst roommates. And complains about them. Often. Bucky, tired of his lack of action, decides it’s time to avenge Steve's sleepless nights and unsanitary conditions once and for all. They’ll pretend to be the world’s most annoying couple: excessive PDA, loud fake sex, and general repugnance. The plan sounds easy enough; it will be strictly platonic. Or will it?

I'll Be Your Shield by 17 pansies (17pansies) - Words: 23,332 | Bodyguard!Steve, Rich!Bucky, Top!Steve, Bottom!Bucky

"If he's just minor nobility, why does he need a bodyguard?" Steve shoved the folder which held Barnes' details towards the middle of the table. "He's not exactly prime kidnap material."

"His parents aren't worried about kidnapping," Fury said. "They need someone to steer him away from the dumb ass situations he keeps getting into."

"You mean he needs a babysitter." Steve sat back and folded his arms. "Seriously."

I think this is a pretty diverse list :) There’s a good sample of everything here, some old fashioned post TWS recovery fics, some good dom steve/bucky, slow burns, fake pretend relationships and so forth!

PS: I’m on AO3 with more bookmarks plus my own hurt/comfort fics if anyone is interested :P

[bbyboibinnie]

two of us

synopsis: love is hard to come by, especially when the boy you’ve been pining over is already taken. pairing: reader x jisung  genre: fluff, angst, romance, college au  warning: explicit language/cursing wc: 2.8k

one

It was halfway through your senior year in high school when you two had met. This was unexpected to say the least because it was the last semester of your last year; you had no intentions of making any new friends, considering you already had a handful of people you were close with and stuck by for the last three years. It was Chan that introduced you to him. You had known Chan for awhile–he was your lab partner for two consecutive years now–and although you considered him as a friend, you had never actually hung out outside of school before, unless it was for a group project of course. However, one day he had invited you to his birthday celebration and that was the day when you met his other friends, one of them being Jisung. 

“Woah, slow down there.” His word caught you by surprise as you were stuffing cupcakes in your mouth. You didn’t really know any of Chan’s friends at the time and socializing with new people didn’t exactly come by easily for you, so you had opted to linger around the snack table instead. 

Hastily dusting the crumbs off your face, you introduced yourself, “Oh, hey. My name is y/n.”

“I’m Jisung. I think we have calculus together right?” You looked at him closely; with black hair, deep brown eyes, and round cheeks you couldn’t lie–he was pretty cute, but you shook your head in response as you didn’t recognize him.

“Ya, Jisung! Come help me set up the cake!” Another one of the boys had called out, cutting your conversation with him short.

“Keep an eye out for me in calc.” He said as he was dragged away into the kitchen.

two

Sure enough, he was in the same math class as you. Honestly, besides your best friend in that period, you really didn’t pay attention to the other people. After all, the class was impacted and half of them were underclassmen so why bother remembering all the names and faces? 

It was the day after the party and you looked around at everyone in the class; it only took you a moment before you spotted him in a seat two rows over. The lecture hadn’t started yet so he was talking to his friends. You didn’t feel the need to get up to go over and spark a conversation or anything, but when you two made eye contact, you gave him a quick smile before turning back to face the front board. 

For a while, you two would occasionally spare glances at each other and wave or smile if you locked eyes, but there was nothing more. It wasn’t until after the latest exam when he approached you again.

“Hey, how’d you think you did?” He asked, waiting as you finished packing up your belongings. 

“Could’ve done better. What about you?” You made your way to the door and he followed suit.

“Just hoping for that passing grade. Anyway, Chan and I were going to meet up to grab food after class today, wanna come?” You debated going with them for a second but ended up agreeing anyways. 

You didn’t know what to make of Jisung at first, considering you had only exchanged a few words, but after hanging with him, even if it was just for a few hours, you found him to be quite likable. 

From then on, he stuck around and you didn’t mind, in fact, perhaps you enjoyed his presence a lot more than you were willing to admit. 

three 

High school came and went but you were ready to face the new challenges and opportunities that college presented. Most of your other friends had been accepted to places further away, but you had settled for community for the time being. For the most part, you were an independent person; therefore, you tried to not be clingy when your friends left to reach their own goals–you’d see them soon enough again–but you had been worried about starting this whole new chapter of your life alone, luckily for you, someone by the name of Han Jisung had enrolled right alongside you.

As days went by, you two were seen together more and more. Of course he met new people, and so did you, but it was always nice to have someone familiar to go back to and for you, that familiar face was Jisung, and for him, that person was you. 

Your majors were completely different and so were your classes, but you still spent time with him studying, ranting about professors, and passing out in each other’s rooms after staying up to finish assignments. 

“Hey, Jisung,” you whispered, trying to not startle him awake, “it’s almost midnight. You should probably head back to your place before it gets too late.” He was slumped over your desk, fingers lifelessly placed atop the keyboard of his laptop, already drifting into a deeper state of sleep. “Jisung.” You tried again, only to have him groan in response. Shaking your head, you draped a throw blanket over his figure before returning to your workload. 

It had gone on like this for weeks, months, nearly a year. One night he’d sleep over at your place and the next you’d be at his. Both of you had been accustomed to this routine now and you thought nothing of it, however, the more time you spent with him, the more you found things to like about him, and that’s what you were afraid of in the beginning–falling for him.

four 

You were never the type to fall head over heels for anyone, all throughout elementary, middle, and high school, you only had occasional crushes but nothing significant. Yet,

there was something about him that you couldn’t shake off. Maybe it was the way he always made stupid jokes that you couldn’t help but laugh at, or perhaps it was the way he played his guitar and share the new songs he wrote with you first before anyone else got to hear them. It was the smile that reached his eyes and the way he knew you so well, like the back of his hand. It was everything. 

You didn’t expect anything more out of the platonic relationship, but you couldn’t just get rid of the feelings on demand, so you had to let them settle and hope that they’d go away eventually, of course that didn’t work. 

five

Just because you saw Jisung differently, didn’t mean he would have the same outlook on you. 

“What do you think would make a good first date?” Jisung had asked casually over the counter. You were currently on shift at the local boba shop and Jisung often tagged along; typically he just sat there and did his homework as he waited, but on days where store traffic was low, he would ease your boredom by talking aimlessly. This particular caught you off guard though.

“Um, I’m not sure. Why do you ask?” You said, trying to sound casual, while restocking the ingredients.

“Well, I finally managed to receive a ‘yes’ after I asked someone out earlier today.” He said, smiling to himself in satisfaction. You were shocked, but at the same time, not at all. During the twelve months or so that you’ve known him, relationships weren’t a common topic of discussion. Yes, it did come up a few times but college and just life in general was already too time consuming so you didn’t bother with relationships, and neither did he.

“Wow, I’m impressed Jisung. I didn’t think anyone would fall for a clown like you.” You teased him, hoping your disappointment wasn’t showing. You knew that it was a platonic relationship and had set no expectations, yet you still felt a wave of sadness wash over.

“Oh, haha. Seriously though, I only prepared on how to ask them out, but I didn’t think past that because I wasn’t sure I’d even make it this far.”

“In that case, why don’t you consider what the person likes and try to set up something that you both would enjoy? Personally, I don’t think you could go wrong with arcade, pizza, and boba though. I could even hook you up with a discount on the boba.” You said jokingly in an attempt to lift your mood up. 

“What would I do without you? You better keep your word about that discount though. Oh shit, I gotta head back and finish my essay, see ya y/n. Also, text me when you get back to your place!” He shouted the last part as he was in the midst of exiting and the door jingled as it shut behind him. 

six

So his date had gone well and now his status went from ‘single’ to ‘taken’ while you were still struggling to manage your unrequited feelings. You had accepted the situation for what it was but that didn’t make it any easier. 

Naturally as he began to split his time between his new relationship and you, the time you spent with him dwindled down. Weekly study sessions became bi-weekly, which turned into monthly events. You didn’t hold this against him though, you were glad he found someone to connect with. 

“Hey, sorry I’m late… again.” Jisung said sheepishly as he entered your room, with a backpack slung over his shoulders, messy hair, and pink marks peeking out from under his t-shirt. You were flustered at the sight, knowing that he had just come back from being with his significant other, doing who knows what. 

“Uh, it’s okay. Just–let’s just get to studying.” You preoccupied yourself with your various notes and textbooks and tried you best not to be distracted. Suddenly, somewhere along the line, tension began to build. Maybe you were just imagining it but something had shifted between you and Jisung these days, and it gave you a sense of hopelessness because there was nothing you could do about it.

seven

More time had passed and your friendship was still afloat, but it definitely wasn’t the same as before. It seems like everything has its peak and you two have surpassed that; what goes up must come down, so it was all downhill from there. 

As his relationship became more unstable and doubts, he slowly began to make his way back to you. You should’ve been happy, even elated at this fact, but you weren’t. 

“I don’t know what happened. One minute we were fine and the next we were arguing. It’s like I am dating a different person now.” He expressed to you, once again at the boba shop you were still working at. It had actually been awhile since he came.

“Mmhhm.” You nodded wordlessly as you continued to spray down the tables with disinfectants.

“The argument was so petty, I should’ve known better than to engage in it.” The rant continued on and on and you had mindlessly agreed with everything he said, until he noticed you weren’t even paying attention.

“Y/n, are you even listening to me?” 

“Yup.”

“Okay, then will you give me your entire life savings?”

“Yes.”

“Y/n!” He shouted, getting up from his seat to stand directly in front of you on the other side of the counter. His loud voice startled you and you looked up, only to face a boy who was seething in anger. “Why are you blatantly ignoring me? I’m trying to rant to you and you’re not even helping.”

That was the last straw. 

“Listen, don’t come in here asking me to be your guidance counselor after cancelling our plans on dozens of occasions. Also, how could you really expect me to give you my time when you can’t even spare me a minute on any other day. You’ve been a real jerk lately and you haven’t even noticed it! I can’t believe I ever liked someone like you!” The indirect confession left your mouth before you could stop yourself, and he stood there absolutely dumbfounded. 

eight 

 That night, you immediately wanted to hide in the back of the store and hope whatever happened never happened, but you were tired of miscommunication.

“You like me?” Between the two of you, he was the one who had the courage to break the silence.

“Liked. I liked you. Past tense.”

“Do you still like me? Present tense.” 

“No, I don’t–or maybe. I don’t know right now.” You had mentally convinced yourself that you were over him, but trying to admit it out loud proved otherwise. 

“Y/n, I–” He started but you cut him off before he could finish.

“Maybe you should just go home now. I need some time to think.” He had hesitated for a moment, but eventually, he respected your wishes. 

nine

It had been over a week, nearing two weeks, since you’ve talked to him. You already had so much on your plate with finals coming around and constantly having to work, so this was not something you wanted to deal with now, or ever actually. But closure was necessary, for you and for him, so you decided that once finals were over, you’d set things straight.

Grabbing the phone off your nightstand, scrolled through your contacts to find his name.

(11:57 PM ) 

[ you ]  hey, we should talk after finals r over

You sent the text, hoping he’d want closure as well, but minutes passed there was no response. Just when you were about to sleep, your phone vibrated.

(12:05 AM)

[ jisung ] okay, see u after finals then. gn 

ten 

You had just gotten out of your last class of the day when he came into view. Frankly, you hadn’t expected to meet up with him until later on in the day, but that was your own mistake for not specifying when or where to meet in the text. Although this had slightly caught you off guard, you couldn’t put this off forever so you made your way towards him.

It was a relatively cold day; he stood there bundled up in his hoodie and a beanie atop which tamed his hair from the strong winds. 

“Hey.” You said as you stood face to face with him.

“Hey, it’s been awhile.” He responded, eyes softening when he saw you. 

* * * 

Together, you ended up walking back to his place to talk. Nothing much was said during the trip back, besides the occasional polite small talk like “how have you been?” and “how were finals?” 

When he opened his door, you entered wearily; although you had visited his place numerous times in the past, the last time you actually came by was months ago so it felt odd to be back to place so familiar, yet foreign again. 

You were grateful for the fact that it was so warm in his apartment because the weather outside had left your body feeling numb. 

“Here, I know you get cold easily.” Jisung handed you an extra sweater he pulled from his closet and you thanked him before sliding it over your shoulders. 

The both of you just stood in his living room, no one knew what to say or how to start the conversation, but you were here now so it was time to say everything you’ve felt. With a deep breath, you began. 

“I thought I could let go of my feelings for you, but I couldn’t.” You said, focusing on the floor as you couldn’t look him in the eyes. “And I’m sorry if this makes you feel uncomfortable or jeopardizes whatever is left of our friendship, but I can’t keep lying to myself anymore. If you don’t like me, then I’ll have to accept it and move on but I just had to let you kn-” 

Your spiel came to an abrupt stop when he drew you into his arms. Not knowing how to react, you were frozen from confusion and shock.

“Y/n, do you know how long I’ve been waiting for you?” He held you at arms length and gently titled your chin up so you could meet his gaze. “If I had known you liked me, I would’ve never looked at anyone else.”

His words were forming incoherent sentences in your head. Was this his confession? Did he feel the same way? 

He must’ve sensed your puzzlement because he smiled at you and said, “Yes dummy, I like you too.” 

Your immediate response was to smile, but then something dawned on you.

“What about your current relationship?”

“I’m no longer in a relationship. We have been broken up for nearly a month now.” 

“So what does that mean for us?” You say, almost too optimistically. And his response was to pull you in close, so close to the point where you could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks and your noses were barely touching, before closing the gap between your lips and his.

a/n: honestly, this piece is kind of all over the place since it’s my first one but hopefully more practice will make my writing better! also, this is not proofread so my apologies for any grammatical/punctuation errors. 

also here it my masterlist in case you want to read my other works!

[kyotarou]

what we had

gn reader

characters: miya osamu

plot: after years of being together, you and osamu fell out of love. now, osamu feels there’s something missing in his life. he agrees to let atsumu set him up on a blind date, and to his shock, it’s you. as the date progresses, you both reminisce about the past and the unspoken regrets you hold.

word count: 2.7k+

warnings: TIMESKIP SPOILERS, angst with a happy ending, somewhat unrequited love, swearing, osamu being a bad boyfriend

(artwork does not belong to me, i only added the text)

You no longer slept in each other’s arms. You and Osamu gradually drifted apart on the mattress to the point where you now slept with your backs facing each other with a significant gap in between. Things were quiet. It wasn’t the peacefulness you thought you’d reach. It wasn’t that you despised him, or you felt uncomfortable. Simply put, you fell out of love, and so had he. Neither of you were brave enough to bring it up, so you held onto the hope that something would reignite the spark you had for years. But two painfully long months passed, and it was the same feeling, or lack thereof. It felt more like living with a roommate than your boyfriend.

One morning, after you had breakfast filled with the same, monotonous small-talk, Osamu set down his utensils and looked you straight in the eyes, the first time he’d done so in months.

“I think we should break up.”

You thought it’d be painful, that the realization your love had fizzled out would finally hit and you’d be flooded with regret. Instead, you felt relieved, and you nodded, knowing it was time to go.

Fast forward two years. With the help of his friends and family, Osamu built Onigiri Miya from the ground up. Business was booming and he had a wonderful team of employees to back him up. He was content with life, but it was still missing something. Osamu hadn’t been in a stable relationship since your break up. Dates after dates, no one stuck. When he thought he finally found a suitable partner, he found out they had an obsession over his twin, Atsumu, and Osamu was merely a gateway to get closer to him.

It was in times like this he thought about you the most, the stability and love you once had since high school up until your twenties. Although you ended on good terms and promised to stay friends, he hadn’t spoken to you in person since the day you moved out and bid him goodbye. He assumed he’d at least run into you on the street or at the store, but nothing. It was as if you disappeared. The first time he heard from you since the break up was when you sent him a text after the grand opening of Onigiri Miya.

[Congrats, Osamu. I knew you could do it :)]

[Thank you (Y/N). It means a lot.]

He wondered if he should’ve messaged you more, maybe ask how you’ve been or if you wanted to catch up. But he pondered for too long, and he realized it would be weird to text you so late at night. He turned off his phone, but the thought of how you were doing still lingered.

Osamu never would have agreed to go on a blind date if he weren’t this desperate. It was Atsumu’s idea, of course. Atsumu saw an ad for a new dating app on a billboard while on the way to one of his matches. The app was catered specifically for blind dates. When his twin offered to help set up a date, every fiber in Osamu’s body begged for him to say no, but he’d been single for too long, and Atsumu’s jabs at his poor love life weren’t helping. He agreed, on the condition that he could beat Atsumu if he purposefully set him up with a bad partner.

Osamu entered the cafe in a hurry, phone in hand. Atsumu scheduled the date for 4:00 PM, and it was now 4:30. Osamu had forgotten all about it, and on top of that, he had to cover the shift of one of his employees who was out sick. He rushed home, threw on his nicest shirt and pants, hoping his date hadn’t left.

His eyes darted around the crowded cafe for a person in a grey jacket, as stated in their text to his brother. He looked, but the hustle and bustle made it harder to focus. There were blue coats, red sweaters, black suits, but nothing grey. His gaze fell to the corner of the room, and his heart stopped.

No, it can’t be…

You sat at the very back of the cafe, away from the other patrons. You sipped on your vanilla latte, which was cold by now, and waited patiently for your date. His brother, who set it up, texted you that he’d be late because of work. Thirty minutes wasn’t too bad, but you hoped whoever showed up made it worth it. You only got the general details of your blind date; he worked in the food industry, had a twin brother, and he used to play volleyball. Reading those notes made you think of a certain set of twins, and you wondered how you would react if it was indeed Osamu. But the facts were so basic, it could’ve applied to anyone.

Maybe you shouldn’t have thought about it so much. None other than Osamu Miya slid into the seat in front of you, trying his best not to make it awkward. You choked on your coffee and quickly dabbed it away with a napkin.

“Hi. It’s been a while.”

“Yeah…” You glanced at his phone, which was on the table, and saw the app open to details of your date. Below that were the three facts you gave to who you now knew was Atsumu.

Over the past two years, Osamu compiled so many questions for you. Now that you were here, face to face, they all disappeared from his mind. He had no clue what to say, and judging from how you were avoiding eye contact, you didn’t, either. He didn’t think it would be that awkward—you did end on good terms, after all. But the tension between you two felt as if the cause of your break up was endless shouting when it was very much the opposite. 

Sometimes, Osamu wished it’d been like that so he’d have an excuse as to why he let go of the one person he valued most. When he told his family about it, they were more heartbroken than he was. His mother cried for days, and Atsumu was angry that Osamu didn’t work hard enough to reignite your love. 

“Couples’ counseling exists for a reason!” he screamed.

Osamu shrugged in an attempt to look nonchalant, but in his heart, he knew Atsumu was right. You never brought it up, never tried to talk it out. He waited for a sign, for some outside force to magically tie you back together. He let it play out without putting in an ounce of effort. In the end, he took the path he convinced himself was best. When you agreed without a hint of sadness on your face, and he noticed how relaxed you seemed, all the guilt came crashing down at once. He told himself he didn’t love you anymore. He told himself it was for the better, that good things would come his way. So, why is it that when you were in front of him, he wanted to say, I love you?

You had no clue why you brought up the idea of visiting the places you used to go as a couple. And it shocked you, even more, when Osamu said yes. Now, you were at the train station, eating the custard buns you used to buy after school. The inside was just as sweet and gooey as you remembered. For a moment, you felt like high schoolers again. Osamu had a bottle of green tea, the same brand you bought for him years ago. Though you smiled at your youthful past, you couldn’t shake the memory of the day you last saw Osamu.

It was at this station where you said your final goodbyes. The sky was a mix of pink and orange, casting an ethereal light over you as you waited for the train. Osamu remembered wanting to ask you for a goodbye kiss as closure, to end your relationship on a good note. But what more did he need? He didn’t love you anymore. Kissing you would be like kissing a stranger, and the last thing he wanted was to make you uncomfortable. And yet, he couldn’t stop admiring your lips, imagining the plushness of it against his, the feeling that had made his heart race for years.

The train came to a stop, and its doors hissed open. You grabbed your bags, bid Osamu goodbye, and boarded. Through the window, he watched you settle in your seat. He thought you’d turn around and watch until he faded into the distance like everyone did in the movies. It was he who watched until the train disappeared into the tunnel. The entire time, you were on your phone, and he knew he was already a distant memory.

The train took you to the neighborhood where your old high school stood strong. Even in the dark, Inarizaki looked no different than it did when you and Osamu attended. You passed by the boys’ gym, and your mind began to play the familiar sound of squeaky shoes and the excited cries of the team. While Osamu idled around campus, he realized you stopped near the club room building. He couldn’t tell if you were sad or pleased as you stared at the water fountains, wrapped in nostalgia.

“Ah,” he clicked his tongue. “This is where-”

“-I confessed to you,” you finished. 

It was clear as day. You and Osamu were second-years in the same class. You harbored feelings for him since junior high but never dared to confess. But you only had a year left until you graduated, and your friends convinced you it was now or never. So, you asked Osamu to meet you before afternoon practice by the club room building. You shoved the love letter in his hands before running off, shouting, “Do your best!” over your shoulder.

That night, you couldn’t sleep. Your heart couldn’t stop pounding at the thought of facing him the next day. You nearly screamed when your phone rang. It was Osamu. You didn’t want to pick up in fear of rejection, but the thought of what if? inspired you to answer.

“Hey,” he said. “I just read your letter. Is it true? Do you really feel that way about me?”

You nodded before realizing he couldn’t see. “Yes, it’s true. I like you, Osamu. A lot.”

“I really like you, too, (Y/N). So, so much.”

Though the phone call was the start of your relationship, it wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t meet him by the club room. To be in that spot years later felt unreal, like you were confessing to him all over again. Together, you talked about college, marriage, children, and growing old. You planned your whole life with Osamu only for it to end the moment you found stability and peace. You wondered where you’d be now if the break up never happened, if you managed to reignite that spark. Would he be your husband? Would you have kids? 

Osamu wandered off to another part of the campus. Although the space felt empty without him, you were glad he couldn’t see the tears streaming down your face.

The bridge was filled with bittersweet memories. Before things became motionless, you and Osamu used to argue over the littlest things, from washing dishes to turning off the TV. Small sparks set off a bigger blast. A snide comment would turn into a fit of shouting until you were too exhausted to continue or one of you left. When Osamu stormed out of your shared apartment, you knew he’d be at the bridge. Something about the serenity of the water below made you forget all the anger, and you both apologized. 

“I’m sorry, Osamu,” you whispered after a particularly nasty fight. “Please, come home. I miss you.”

He’d give you a warm hug and kiss you on the lips, stroking your back and telling you he was sorry, too. 

Osamu never realized how you were always the first one to say sorry until now. Despite him being the one to start fights, he never once apologized until you did. He left you waiting, begging him to come home. How often did you fear he wouldn’t come back? How many times did he make you feel like you were in the wrong? The insecurities you told him about, the idea that you weren’t worthy of his love, did he make you feel like that?

Maybe you realized you were too good for him. Maybe that’s why you stopped snuggling him in your sleep. Maybe it was him all along, the one who set off the wrong sparks and snuffed the one that mattered most. Now, Osamu was looking for a sign once again. If you stayed silent, all that happened was water under the bridge, and there was no point in bringing it up. If you spoke, Osamu would hold onto the hope that the flame of your love would burn once more. He counted the seconds, growing antsy as the numbers increased. You could say anything, and it’d be enough for him to hope. Hell, you could comment on the weather, and he’d take it as his sign.

Please, please, he begged in his mind. Something, anything, just one word-

“It’s a lot more peaceful here than I remembered.”

Holy shit.

You stared into the starry sky. “Being here used to give me the worst anxiety. It’s almost like a tradition to apologize here. This place should’ve given me hope, but all those times when I’d find you here, I’d think to myself, ‘This is it, this is the end. It’s over.’”

You answered his unspoken questions. How could he have been so blind? He should’ve known that a simple 'sorry' wasn’t enough to lift the weight off your shoulders. What kind of boyfriend lets their partner bear all the burden? And to think your breakup was mutual—no, he convinced himself it was a relief when in reality, it only felt like that for you. He couldn’t blame anyone other than himself for the karma he rightfully deserved and received. The emptiness he felt, the hole in his heart-

“I still love you.” He looked you in the eyes for the second time that day. “I still love you, (Y/N). I’m sorry. I’m sorry I never realized how much I hurt you. I’m sorry that this is the only time I’ve apologized first on this damn bridge, and we’re not even together anymore. I am so, so fucking sorry.”

“Osamu…”

“God, I hate myself. I’m a piece of shit. I let you carry all that pain around and didn’t do anything to help. I didn’t even ask if you were okay. What was I thinking? But I still love you, (Y/N). I feel so fucking empty without you. All this time, I’ve been pretending I’m okay, but I’m a mess. I love you, I love you so much it hurts, and I know what you’re going to say, and it’s gonna be the worst pain I’ve ever felt, but I deserve it.”

Your bottom lip quivered. “Osamu, I’m sorry.”

Here it comes.

“I’m sorry you’ve been feeling this way.”

Any time now… 

“But I can’t return your feelings.”

There it is.

Osamu nodded solemnly.

“However-” your voice trembled and your vision blurred. “I’ll admit, I miss what we had. It was the happiest I’d ever been in my life. I miss all the dumb shit we used to do in high school. I miss the stability after graduation, even if it was short. I miss everything, Osamu. Especially you.” You wiped your eyes. “It’s hard to forget someone you’ve loved since junior high. I don’t think I’m ready to let go, not yet.”

Osamu stood in stunned silence as you let out a weary laugh through your tears. You took his hands in yours. His fingers fit perfectly in your palm, and your thumbs rested in the familiar dents between his knuckles, like you were molded for each other.

“Osamu,” you whispered. “I can’t say ‘I love you’ right now, but I think I can soon.”

It took a moment for him to process your words. When he did, his eyes gleamed with excitement. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

You nodded. “Let’s give it another shot. Let’s fix what we had.”

Osamu smiled and nodded back. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”