#it's not like i'm being unreasonable like all those girls i went to high school with

[itsjustpoopeh]

i just saw my lights flicker aht aht AHT don’t you do it alabama power DON’T YOU TRY ME RIGHT NOW

[berryhobii]

Hiii! I recently discovered your account and I'm so in love with you writings 😭. Can you do a namjoon x f!reader where namjoon gets really jealous and possessive so he picks a fight with her but then he regrets it when he saw her crying so he decided to remind her who she belongs to?!! Thanks in advance 💜

Thanks for your request! I actually kind of forgot what you specified so by the time I finished and read it again, I realize that you asked for reader to cry. I totally forgot. I’m sorry! I did include some tears of pleasure though. Hopefully that makes up for it. I also made Namjoon super toxic in this🫣still, I hope you enjoy!🩵🩵🩵

~

“You’re such an asshole! Why do you always do this?!” You slammed your purse down on your vanity, the furniture rocking under the force. You didn’t even care about your expensive makeup tumbling off it. That blush was $30!

“Why do you always insist on parading yourself around like you’re not in a relationship?”

Your head whipped around so fast that the tips of your braids smacked you in the face.

“You’re acting like I have For Rent sign hanging off my pussy, Namjoon!”

“You might as well!”

This wasn’t the first time you and your long term boyfriend had gotten into an argument like this. Specifically about this particular topic. It was honestly exhausting. Why did you even stick around?

Namjoon had been your on and off boyfriend for close to a decade. You two met in a little after high school. While he went off to college, you immediately started working, deciding that college wasn’t really for you. You worked a lot of odd jobs; mail carrier, retail worker, security guard and now you were a personal assistant at a company you actually really liked. It was good pay, good benefits, you even got your weekends free.

Working at a company meant company dinners. Normally, you’d decline. You’d tell your coworkers that you were tired or that you were spending time with your boyfriend and they’d take that excuse.

But the real reason you didn’t go was because your boyfriend was bat shit crazy.

Your hands waved around as you yelled back, “I’m not fucking anyone else, Namjoon! And I’m not trying to. Why the hell are you so paranoid?”

“How can I not be paranoid when my girlfriend is at a bar in a pair of jeans showing her ass?”

You ran a hand down your face, your laugh spiteful and exasperated. “I have a fat ass, Namjoon! What do you want me to do? Take it off and leave it on the dresser? Do I tell you to keep your dick at home?”

He was being completely unreasonable like always. You were a thicker girl. That would show regardless of what you wore. The fact that he almost blamed you for your body type and clothes as if they didn’t attract him in the first place was absolutely ridiculous. He could barely go 15 minutes without slapping it or telling you how sexy you were. It’s like he didn’t like you even existing outside of your apartment. Some irrational fear that you’re popping your coochie for other people. It was ridiculous.

He watched with rage filled eyes as you started walking around the room, removing your jewelry. He didn’t know why he was so upset. Just seeing you in that bar, laughing and with all those male coworkers around you.

It filled him with something more than jealousy.

Envy. Possessiveness.

You were his. No one else’s.

Honestly, seeing you so frustrated with him made his cock stir. The desire to force you back into submission was heavy on his shoulders and mind.

“Who was that guy you were talking to? I thought you didn’t date short guys.”

You were starting to get a headache. Tossing your earrings in the little dish on your vanity, you said, “his name’s Yoongi and I don’t want to date him. I’ve also never said I don’t date short guys. You’ve been my only boyfriend and it just so happens to be that you’re tall. Why are you putting words in my mouth?”

He could still remember how you laughed at whatever that guy said. Your hand pushing him because you had a tendency to hit people when you were laughing. Who the hell was this Yoongi guy to even be able to make you laugh? Namjoon should be the only one seeing you that joyous.

“It’s like you’re intentionally trying to piss me off. Do you get a kick out of making me angry?”

“If you’re pissed off at my body existing, that sounds like a you problem.” You went to your closet to start removing the bad jeans and your shirt.

“You should have known how I’d react.”

There it was. He was trying to flip it and blame you for his reaction.

Why did you even stay with him? He filled your days with unease. You weren’t the kind of person to let people control your actions. You were an adult. You’ve been handling yourself just fine. You knew deep down that you didn’t need him, the stress he brought.

But Namjoon was familiar. He was the only man you’ve been in a relationship with. He was all you knew. You couldn’t just let him go.

Liar. You could. You could pack up right now and leave him forever. Why haven’t you?

Pulling your night shirt over your head, you walked back out of the closet to see him sitting on the bed. He was manspread and staring at you with dark eyes. If you weren’t so peeved, you’d probably drop to your knees and give him a blowjob so good that it would knock him unconscious. “You know what, Namjoon? I’m so over you. When will you get it through your thick head that I’m not fucking anyone else and I don’t want to?!” You sighed. “In a minute, I won’t even want to fuck you anymore. Not while you’re acting like this.”

Just as you were about to turn around to walk to the bathroom, his hand wrapped around your wrist and yanked you down onto the bed. With a practiced quickness, he was hovering above you, his dragon like eyes staring holes into your face.

“You’re mine. Your pussy is mine. Don’t get mad at me because I don’t want you acting like you’re single.”

You tried to fight out of his hold but his huge body kept you down. Damn it, why did he have to start going to the gym? He was easier to overpower when he was still his lanky self. Now he’s beefed up and while you liked it, it really worked against you in these situations.

“How is me wearing jeans acting like I’m single? It’s not like I sucked anyone’s dick.”

His grin pissed you off even more.

“You probably wanted to. You always have been good at it.”

Fuck being on thin ice. He was in shark infested waters now.

You smirked back. “Yeah, it put your quick nutting ass to sleep everytime.”

His hand wrapped around your throat, not pressing hard enough to cut off your oxygen but enough so you could feel the pressure. You hated yourself for getting excited, pussy clenching. For all the times for your vagina to betray you, it had to be now?

“Take that back.”

“Make me. Bitch.”

His jaw clenched. “Oh. I’ll make you alright.”

That was all it took for him to lift off of you, stalking over to your bedside table. Squinting your eyes suspiciously, you tried to peek past his broad back. You only kept a few things in that drawer.

Shit.

The clink of those fuzzy blue handcuffs made both excitement and slight nervousness radiate down your body. You hardly used those since Namjoon didn’t have to do much to pin you. If he was getting them, that could only mean one thing.

“You son of a bitch!”

He had lifted the vibrator off your clit, once again denying you of your orgasm. That was number 8 and neither of you were backing down. Your brown skin was slick with sweat, as was your pussy in arousal. Your abused and overstimulated clit throbbed, begging for enough to push you over the edge but this asshole wasn’t having it.

While you were completely naked, he was still fully clothed. Something about that just got to you—the pure dominance in him still having clothes on was sexy as hell but you’d never tell him that. His own erection was painfully straining against his pants. He so badly wanted to just whip it out and fuck your gushing cunt until you were begging for him to stop. But that would be too easy. You didn’t deserve his cock nor any orgasms. Not until you said sorry.

“Apologize and I’ll let you cum.” His jaw tightened letting you know he was getting more and more irritated. Ha!

You glared at him, mentally wishing for him to burst into flames. Sadistic bastard. You’d never say it. It’s his fault for being paranoid. You weren’t about to apologize for his reaction. Your pride wouldn’t let you.

“N-never.”

He sighed before pressing the vibrator back against your clit. Your hips jerked up, hands pulling against your restraints as your orgasm rushed back to you.

This has been going on for almost an hour. Namjoon could see you were still holding strong and he hated it. He wanted you to break, wanted you to beg for his forgiveness, for you to go back to being his good girl. He didn’t understand why you couldn’t just be obedient.

Ah well. He liked putting you back in your place. He signed up for it when you two started dating anyway.

“Why do you have to be such a brat? Just say you’re sorry and we can move on.”

You were so close. So so close. Every nerve in your body was set alight with pleasure and absolute malice for your boyfriend. You were a brat? Why was he such a controlling piece of shit?

“Fuck you.” You gritted out.

He took the vibrator away again, your orgasm fading once more. You slumped back against the bed, chest heaving and stubbornness starting to fade.

Maybe you should just apologize. It’s not like you’d actually mean it. It would just stroke this sadistic motherfucker’s ego and make him feel like he has some power over you.

Turning off the vibrator, he tossed it to the side before moving to unbuckle his pants. The action itself was way sexier than it was. Was he finally about to fuck you? That would make you cum instantly.

No, he wouldn’t. He knew you came super easily from penetration. If you knew him like you think you did, you know he wasn’t giving up.

His hard cock sprung out of his pants. Your lust filled eyes locked on it. God, why did he have to be this way? You were already thirsty for him, you only wanted his cock. So why did he think you wanted to screw every man you came across?

He stroked his cock a few times, yet another action that shouldn’t be as sexy as it was.

Gripping the back of your thigh, he pushed it into your body, your other following out of instinct. He smirked at your movement and you wanted to kick him in his face.

Lining up with your hole, he began pushing inside. Your back arched at the wide intrusion, relief flooding you at finally having his cock stretch you.

But when you didn’t feel the rest of his cock inside, you lifted your head. It looked like he was struggling himself, breathing out a shaky breath at your tight walls. You were a brat but you had the best pussy he’s ever had.

“What the hell…..?”

He lifted his head to look at your desperate and confused face. Hook, line and sinker. You were too easy.

“You don’t deserve my whole cock. If you don’t want to apologize, I’m not gonna give it to you.”

“So you’re just gonna give me the tip?! You bastard!” You tried to kick your legs but he held them in place.

Best believe, he wanted nothing more than to bury his cock in your slick walls and pound you through the mattress but he had a lesson to teach. You couldn’t keep getting away with this behavior.

A few small thrusts and he already felt ready to bust.

You bucked your hips, trying to get him to sink deeper but he backed up to keep just the tip inside of you.

“You ass! What the hell is your problem?”

“Apologize. Last chance.”

Your blood boiled in your veins. You wanted to cum so badly but you refused to say you were sorry. You’ve had enough of this ass pushing you around.

But……………

His head hung low as he thrusted a few more times, one stroke going just a little bit deeper and brushing past your sweet spot.

Fuck this!

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry okay?”

That grin was back. Easy work.

He adjusted himself before ramming his entire cock into your walls. His fingers dug into your thighs hard enough to bruise.

“See? That wasn’t so hard now was it?”

You didn’t even have the nerve to retort. All you could focus on was the feeling of his cock. Your orgasm was right there once again and you were confident you’d finally reach it.

A sudden pain to your breast caused your back to arch. You lifted your head just as it happened again.

Namjoon twisted your nipple between his fingers, the sharp pain only adding to the thick haze of pleasure.

“See how good it feels when you just do what I say? Say you’re sorry again.”

He twisted your nipple again, your mouth opening to scream out an, “Sorry! I’m so sorry!!”

“Good girl.”

Picking up the vibrator again, he clicked it to its highest setting before pressing it back on your clit, his hips still delivering deep strokes to your fluttering walls.

Your throat ached from the Bloody Mary scream you let out. Tears pricked at your waterline, your chest feeling tight as the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever had slammed into you.

Your legs kicked sporadically, hips bucking as you humped against the toy. Black dots danced in front of your vision as you rode out the almost endless orgasm. The first one didn’t even have a chance to come down before you were floating into the next one.

Namjoon cursed as you squeezed him impossibly tight, little droplets of liquid hitting his pelvis.

The hand that wasn’t holding the toy went to wrap around your throat, shaking you a little and forcing you to focus on him.

“Whose pussy is this?” He needed to hear you say it.

Your mouth dropped open but no words came out. Tears streaked down your face, your mascara getting all messed up.

You were perfection to him. His perfect little toy.

His fingers pushed down over your pulse point before he asked you again, “I asked you a question.” He growled. The headboard was crashing into the wall, leaving an indent you’d complain about tomorrow but he didn’t care. He’d just fuck that out of you too.

“Yours! It’s yours! I’m sorry!” You slurred, yet another orgasm coursing through you, your toes curling hard enough to crack. You didn’t even think you were still in your body. Your mind was somewhere else. That let you know that he had effectively fucked you dumb.

“That’s right. It’s mine. Don’t you forget it. Now thank me for my cock.” He pressed the toy harder on your clit, thrusts speeding up. If not for the handcuffs and his hold on your throat, you would have been slammed through the wall.

“T-thank you, thank you, thank you! Fuhhhhhhhhh—uuuuccckkkk….”

With one last vice like squeeze of your walls, Namjoon pulled out of you, releasing your neck to pump his cock over your stomach. Hot splashes of his release painted your brown skin, your eyes falling shut at the sensation.

Your legs fell from their folded position, your body squirming away from the vibrator. Namjoon clicked it off before dropping it to the ground with a loud thud.

Both of your chests heaved from exertion, your body still twitching in the aftershocks. You felt ready to pass out.

Namjoon stared down at you—your belly covered in his cum and your skin already darkening just a little from his grip on you.

You couldn’t see his smirk but it was there.

You were his. And it would stay that way.

[livredebelle]

Four.

IT TOOK ALL I HAD to not think about what had happened. I grit my teeth in annoyance. Ugh, how embarrassing was that! Quinn totally took advantage when I was feeling confused and still half-asleep. To take advantage like that was despicable. How could I continue to hang out and smoke with him? 

Still... There was a voice in my head that told me that I was being unreasonable. This was the modern times, after all--no one would think anything of it. He was right; we were grown adults, and if it was something we decided, then that was that...

What was I thinking? I couldn't seriously be considering that guy's proposal. I shook my head, disgusted with myself. On my high school graduation day too...

I didn't really have any friends in school. Well, I did used to have one, but she had left school after our junior year to be homeschooled for our last year. She hadn't told me whether she was going to attend the ceremony. Things with her had been awkward with her due to a past grievance, but I still counted her as one of my best friends--the only one, actually. I never acquainted myself with anybody else in the school. As a result, the ceremony passed pretty by quickly. Towards the end, the principal gave some kind of bullshit speech about moving forward as adults into society and making a difference in the world. Such a generic story, blah blah blah. Sickening. 

I'm the worst critic out there. 

After the drudgery was over, I stepped out of school grounds and took in a deep breath. I had made it, all on my own. In a way, it felt good that no one from my family was here; if they were, they'd try to steal credit for my success, and undoubtedly say stuff like, It's all because we didn't abandon you. We raised you when everything in your family went to shit. Yet you moved out on your own. Ungrateful. 

Had I made the right decisions in my life up until this point? I guessed not... If I had, would I still feel this hollow inside? 

"Hey, I made it."

I looked over in the direction of the voice and made a face. 

Quinn was there, along with Maria, who I was very surprised to see. Maria was the best friend who had been gone the past year due to being homeschooled. She was a short, petite girl who had her own share of demons, who had always been pretty and popular. She and I were an odd pairing for sure; in high school, none of our peers could understand why Maria and I were friends--because we were so different. It was hard to describe our friendship, exactly. We just happened to be going through some difficult shit at the same time; apparently, when you're down and going through a storm in life, it's easy to pick out the same lifeless look in another's eyes--it's like your own reflection. Maybe that was how Maria found me. Or maybe that's the way I found her... who knows at this point. I had to admit, I had thought about inviting Maria since she was the closest girl "friend" I had, but I had assumed she would be too busy; last I'd heard, she was getting ready to start classes at a faraway liberal arts school as an Art major. 

She gave me a tight-lipped smile in recognition of the genuine surprise that must've been apparent in my eyes. It was a tender moment for the both of us, although it was unspoken--it was a reunion after a past storm. I felt my throat tighten. 

"Hi... what are you both doing here?" 

"You know, I was rather hurt that you didn't invite me. I would understand why you didn't invite this guy, but I've been with you since you were a scrawny, pre-pubescent teenager." Maria smiled, but as usual it didn't touch her eyes. Perhaps she still resented me a little...

"Sorry. I figured you'd be busy even without this. It's a silly tradition, to have your family attend and make a big fuss over something like this, anyway."

"Wrong... This is one of those traditions you should really keep. Wouldn't you agree, Quinn?"

"Oh, I have a name? I thought I was just 'this guy.'" 

"My mistake... if that's how you want to be referred to after all, then..."

"Shut up. Anyway, I just thought if I brought her here, it would make you happy," Quinn said, rolling his eyes at her. Then he looked straight at me, and my face flushed a little. It was impossible, after all, to act like nothing had happened. If Maria knew what we had talked about last night, she'd kill me--or, worse, she'd ask for all sorts of embarrassing details, so I didn't feel like discussing it with her. Plus, she had so much more experience in dating than I did; this would feel like child's play compared to her. 

"Here. For you." 

Quinn handed me a bouquet of flowers, while Maria effortlessly put a money lei over my head. It was done before I had even blinked. 

"Thanks." I felt myself blush because I was embarrassed. Is this what it felt like, to be congratulated for graduating? In secret, I was rather touched that they had come. It meant a lot more when people bothered to show up even when you didn't go out of the way to invite them. It meant that they were thinking about you. 

Right? 

"Are you all done here? If so, we should go grab some lunch. I bet you haven't eaten anything yet, have you?" Maria brushed out a knot in my natural hair that I hadn't bothered to curl or straighten for the occasion. It was too troublesome, and I hadn't thought there'd be anyone to show it off to. 

"I think so... Let me go get my diploma. I think I left it under my chair in the auditorium."

Quinn sighed, annoyed. "You left something as important as that? Didn't you bother to check you had everything before you came out?" 

I gave him a sour look. "I forgot. Why are you getting mad? Stupid." Then, I headed back to the auditorium to retrieve my diploma. Where did I sit... on the east side, close to the front bleachers, I believe. I made my way to my row and frowned; there was nothing under the chairs. Did I black out during the ceremony or something? It couldn't have moved on its own...

"Can I help you with what you're looking for, miss?" a gentle voice behind me inquired.

[yolkyeomie]

Crescendo | Kang Yeosang

summary — The beating of a heart is like a crescendo, screaming louder and louder in one's chest until it's reached maximum capacity, and you’re about ready to burst.

word count — 8.6k words

pairing — yeosang x female!reader

genre —violinist + college au, band au there if you look around a little bit, fluff with like a hint of angst in the later parts

disclaimer — SORRY THIS IS SO SHORT,,, this is more of prologue than anything tbh. also I have almost zero knowledge on college and violins so if this is horrible I’m so sorry. also typos. lots of typos.

part I | part II | part III

I.

There was just something about summer that you liked so much. You just couldn't exactly put your finger on what.

Maybe you liked the sunny days that it would bring? The giant ball of light in the sky beaming down at full power onto every human in sight. It would illuminate the world with a golden glow, bringing out the more natural and earthy colors hidden from the other seasons. The heat would call for unplanned trips to the cool waters and hot sand of the beaches or a quickly made dash to the nearest frozen ice cream shop. Perhaps it was because there was no more school, no more time needed to spend on slaving away for hours at a desk just to not retain any knowledge given.

Or maybe you liked it because it was the time you’d see children the happiest. Every time you biked along the sidewalk to and from your home you’d come across a playground almost always filled to the brim with the joyous sounds of laughter. Children scattered around the playgrounds like little ants to a picnic, grabbing whatever they found the most intriguing for the day. Some would be swinging, some would be sliding, some would even be chasing each other around without any of the equipment catching their attention at all.

However, there was a possibility that you enjoyed the summertime because of the theater your town held. It wasn't very big compared to the ones that could be found in the big cities of your country, but it was nice nonetheless.

There were white walls lined with a fake golden trim along the floors, bright lights nearly blinding one as they walked inside of the theater for the first time. There was a slightly smaller stage than normal, not too tiny but definitely smaller than you’d seen in the more famous theaters. The seats weren't in their traditional curved angles either. They were in neat straight rows leading all the way to the back of the theater where the volunteer tech crew would operate behind the scenes.

There were white walls lined with a fake golden trim along the floors, bright lights nearly blinding one as they walked inside of the theater for the first time. There was a slightly smaller stage than normal, not too tiny but definitely smaller than you’d seen in the more famous theaters. The seats weren't in their traditional curved angles either. They were in neat straight rows leading all the way to the back of the theater where the volunteer tech crew would operate behind the scenes.

Every year your high school would hold recitals for their students in that theater. They would use these performances as a way to showcase their students' growing talents in the art of music or to spotlight their shyer students who never had gotten a chance to show everyone what they were made of. You weren’t in any sort of music group nor did you know how to play any instruments, so you never participated. But you did show up to every recital you could.

When you were in tour first year the only reason you had attended the performance was because your English teacher had promised to raise their overall grade for the year if they did. You were a decent student, overall you had average grades but wasn't the most outstanding person in your class. A few extra points to curve your grades were always appreciated so you had planned on attending the performance.

You had tried to grab a couple of friends to go with you, but all of them coward out when they got the chance. Some would say they were too busy, some would outright tell you they didn't want to sit through a performance they had no interest in. So you ended up simply going with your family, more begrudged than you originally were for the recital.

You had sat through choir members and members of the school's small orchestra and band repeating nearly the same song over and over again. Each song had a different tune, maybe a different style depending on how much creative liberty the singer or player gave themselves. One song was sung a bit louder than the others, another song was played by a small thrown together orchestra than simply a soloist, but they were all the same.

It was boring, and you were growing tired of listening to the same thing constantly. The only thing willing you to stay in your seat the entire time with the arm crushing strength of your mother and your need to get extra points on your grades for the year.

Near the end of the recital was when you had gotten hooked. Your family had finally decided they were going to pack it up for the night, her father had to work early in the morning and you were going to be thrown over towards your grandparents for summer. Just before you could have risen out of your chair to leave behind your parents, you heard it. A different melody than the ones that have been rocking your brain that night.

There was a boy walking on the stage, probably no taller than you was at the time. He was tiny for a first year boy, probably one of the shortest in his class as well. His hair was like a fluffy brown bunny's tail, bouncing and tousling itself around with every step he took. There was a string instrument in his hands, from what you could see was a red-tinged wood violin. You couldn't quite see the expression on his face either though, due to the distance you were from the theater stage.

You hadn't even realized you were holding your breath until he plucked one of the strings, letting the note resonate through the theater and bounce off the walls and into their ears. He had played a note, on a different key from the other performers. He was playing a song that his fellow violinists hadn't picked. He was different.

The sound was like a siren's song that grabbed the audience's attention and placed it to the stage. His melody started out soft and somber, almost as if the violin itself was conveying its unspoken emotions. The violinist was trying to use those emotions his instrument lent him to serenade the tears in the audience's eyes to fall and hit the ground simultaneously, creating their own beat to his song.

After a moment of enticing the audience to his performance, he sped up his pace. His quiet song suddenly grew in size until it overpowered every other sound in the room. He strummed each string with a quickness you didn't even believe was possible, his bow striking each note like it was powerful enough to create an earthquake. In a sense, it was like he and the violin had become one being, his string instrument becoming an extension of his arm as he played.

The audience whispered in wonder and amazement of the boy's talents, unable to take their eyes away from his figure. It was an enchanting sound so you couldn't blame them. The violinist had brought you into a world completely different from reality, where every object and plant in sight was made out of his musical chords.

How does a boy, barely over the age of fifteen, have this much power in his hands? You would be cursing yourself if you didn't grant him the title of prodigy right then and there.

Unfortunately for you, you couldn't listen to the rest of his alluring song. Your family had dragged you out of the theater to finally retreat to their humble abode for the night. After that night you had declared to yourself that you’d find the violinist who played that song, whether you had to search all summer for him or dig around your school for him. You’d attend every recital and every performance your school's small orchestra had just to get him to play for you again.

However, you lucked out each time you tried. Your school's orchestra didn't allow students outside of their instrumentalists into the classrooms. The violinist boy was too short for you to find in a crowd at their performances either. You even tried to find someone who might be close to him, but no one seemed to step up to the plate. This went on for the rest of your high school years. The only time you could see him where those days after the school year had ended, listening to him play those high energy tunes and somber melodies for his recital before he disappeared from existence once more.

That was, until now.

Plus you made a little bit of money on the side as well, and who didn't like money? Sure most of it was going to your tuition for college but there were times where you liked to splurged on your own interests every once and awhile.

"You seem tired," a feminine voice commented, making you turn around to face her. It was a girl, around your age, walking towards you, her long sleeves rolled up against her arms to mirror the way her shorts looked. She sat down on the pavement next to you, handing you a water bottle ice cold to the touch. "I would be too if I rode around in this crazy heat. I'm surprised you haven't melted at the mere light of the sun yet."

"I almost did," you responded, taking the water from her hands gratefully. "Today was unreasonably hot... I felt like I was sitting right in the middle of hell. And the fact that my bike is made out of metal, too? It's a miracle I didn't get third degree burns or something."

The girl went quiet for a moment, her brow furrowing in thought before speaking again. "You know I can always do it for you? The delivering stuff. It's my family's business anyway, I should be helping them out, not relying on you to do all of the hard work for me."

"Are you serious?" you questioned, suppressing the unusually strong urge to laugh. "You can't even ride a bike or skate. Nor do you have a car either, it'll take you hours to get from one house to the next. And I like the money I earn from doing this for you, I can't get a job anywhere else so this is just perfect for me."

"But still!" She complained, a pouting donning her lips as you screwed open the bottle cap. "I feel bad seeing you bike along in this hot ass weather for my family! I gotta do something to give you... at least a little relief."

You laughed at her desperation, placing the water by your side to face her fully. "The relief you can give me is not playing your cello so loud in the morning. You play wonderfully, trust me, but it's so loud and I'm so tired." you clarified, reminiscing on every time she'd walk up to her house with the sound of a cello's notes wavering through the air.

The girl wasn't in their school's orchestra, she had picked up on the instrument as a hobby. She didn't have a desire to play it in a school setting or professionally no matter how much everyone would suggest otherwise. Yet she suddenly began to really start practicing more often when her next door neighbor had moved in two years ago. You remembered exactly how frustrated the girl was when she discovered that he played guitar at maximum volume in the middle of the night without any regard for anyone else.

To counteract his annoying behavior, she'd open up all the windows in her house and began to play her cello as loud as she physically could in the morning times. It became a war of the instrumentalists after that and neither of them seemed like they were going to stop any time soon.

"Oh you know I can't do that," She responded, glaring at the house to their left where the guitarist resided. "He'll take it as me surrendering to him. I don't even want to think about what he'll do in the middle of the night once I stop. Probably bass boost his guitar so that it's even louder than normal! Oh god, I won't ever get any sleep if he does that."

You found it funny really. The two had never even met each other face to face. "Right... and we don't want that happening do we?" The girl shook her head vigorously in response to your words, taking your sarcasm very seriously. "I still think you can at least tone it down a little bit... this is our last year, in a few months we'll be dragged off into a bigger city to attend colleges and universities for another four or more years. Are you really going to be playing your cello first thing in the morning in your dormitory?"

"Well..." the girl pauses, taking your words into consideration. "No... I won't really need to since I'm not bringing it with me."

"Exactly!" You exclaimed, clapping your hands together and giving the girl a mocking smile. "Now I think you should at least go over to that boy's house and settle this raging war before you move onto better things. Make amends with him, he might even become a new friend of yours for the future. If not, you're not gonna see him again. There's a very high possibility that he's not going to the same college as you, or that he might not be going to college at all!"

She rolled her eyes at your suggestion, forcing herself off of the ground reluctantly. "Fine. I'll go make amends with him or whatever. But I'll only do it if you give up on the violinist boy from the recitals."

You stiffened at the mention of your high school goal, your very unsuccessful goal of finding him and making him play a song for you. "It's like you said, this is our last year here as teenagers. You've been trying to find him longer than I've been waging this musical war on my neighbor. It's about time to lay to rest, you. Seriously, it's more painful to watch than those terribly edited movies from my parents' watch for the "nostalgia"."

"Ouch there was no need to stoop that low," you mumbled, making the girl laugh in turn. "But I guess you're right. I've failed at finding him for this long, I might as well just give up now."

The girl nodded before patting your shoulders in reassurance. "If you really want to hear someone play music so bad for you, you can always ask me. I know a cello sounds nothing like a tiny violin but I can always try?"

"Actually that doesn't sound like a bad idea," you mumbled after a moment of thinking.

"Perfect!" The girl hummed, nearly jumping with excitement to show off her talents and pleasing your several years long urge to have someone play for you. "Usually I only play for my family but I'm very willing to show off what I've been working on. There's this one song I've using to annoy the guitarist boy in the morning and—"

"Go," you reminded her, your smile growing wider at her friend geeking out about her work. "Go get your cello and actually play it for me."

She nodded at your words, skipping on her feet as if she was as light as a feather towards her house. You knew it would be a bit of a struggle in moving her instrument from her room to the outdoors but if the girl was willingly and happily doing it, she had no reason to stop her.

It was a little funny though, how much you were surrounded by people who were gifted and talented in the form of music. Your school's orchestra knew you because of how you’d always try and snatch a peek into their classroom and attended their performances. Your closest friend was a cellist, but only played for hobby and the boy next door was a guitarist. All these connections started happening because a boy you had been chasing after for four years was a violinist.

You'd think you’d pick up some sort of instrument to attract them to you, and trust and believe you tried. You attempted to start playing many instruments after that summer night in your first year. Guitar, flute, piano, trumpet, you even tried to learn the violin yourself. You just weren't musical gifted, you didn't have the patience nor the ears to learn any sort of instrument that passed your way. The best you could do was play a sad tune on the kazoo or laugh into a harmonica.

It's even funnier when other’s learn that your mother used to sing and play the piano while your father played the clarinet when they were in high school. Go ahead and laugh, you knew you were a musical disappointment. Music was practically flowing strong in your blood and you sucked at it. Don't even get started on dancing either, it was a frightening sight to see. Those who could live to tell the tale never told the tale to anyone.

A melody began to float through the air once your friend disappeared into her house, catching you off guard. It wasn't the sound of an electric guitar, shocking the hair and making your skin prickle with its overbearing and booming sound. It was soft and sweet, vibrating through the air as if it was playing with the wind that blew by every few minutes. You could immediately identify the instrument as a violin, it's slightly strained notes from the bow connecting with the strings were all too familiar to you.

You turned towards the guitarist's house where the song was the loudest. To your knowledge, the boy didn't play any other instrument than the guitar. Yet the violin's sweet yet sorrowful song was coming from his house. Without even thinking you rose off the ground, following the song's notes like it was your guide. You had heard the door of your friend's house open again, signaling that the girl had successfully brought her cello from her room to the front of her house. Unfortunately for her, you were walking a little faster than she could drag her cello case.

"Y/N?" The girl called, trying to catch your attention. "Y/N, where are you going?"

You stood in front of the guitarist boy's house, right before where the balcony was hanging. The door to the balcony was ajar, letting the cool afternoon air into the room and releasing the melody of the violin out. "Is that the guitarist boy's room?" you called out to her friend, not taking your eyes off of the balcony. Just as you spoke the violin came to a screeching stop as if the mere sound of your voice was disrupting the flow of its song.

"No," the girl responded after abandoning her cello and running to your side. She pointed to the other side of the house where the window's blinds were closed yet light still shined through them. "His room is right across from mine, I should know I get the brunt of the blow every time he strums his stupid guitar."

Your voices dropped into pure silence when you saw something moving in their direction from the balcony. The door to the outside area slowly screeched open as the figure on the other side pulled on its door handle, stepping onto the wood floor of the balcony and letting the floorboards creak under their weight. Your eyes widened at the sight of a red-tinged violin, it's body scratched from its long term usage and its color dull from the lighting the setting sun had given them.

A boy stepped into view after the violin, the brown hair bouncing on his head like a bunny's tail. His resting face looked like you were staring at a statue, unable to catch any hint of movement in most of his features unless he blinked his eyes every few seconds. Right beside his eyes was some sort of mark, more of a rosy color than the rest of rather pale skin. He must not leave his house that much. After a few moments of silence, he leaned over the balcony's hand railing and spoke, "What do you want?"

The girl beside you glanced between the boy and you frantically, trying to piece two and two together. "you... is that the—"

"I want," you yelled up to him, interrupting your friend's question to respond to the boy above them. A smile began to play on your lips as you spoke, excitement festering up in your chest. You had found him. You had found the violinist from your first year. "I want you to play for me one of your best songs yet."

II.

There was just something about mornings you hated, no matter the day of the week. They'd always leave you more exhausted than you were the night before, whether you had gone to sleep late or not.

Maybe it's because of the dorm room you stayed in, assigned the room the moment you had gotten accepted into your university. It wasn't tiny, but it was definitely much smaller than your room at home. Your belongings barely had enough legroom with your roommate's whole entire area taking up more than half of the room. Despite being rather clean, to an extent, and cool during the day it was also incredibly hot at night.

A few months back the air conditioning unit for the floor you lived on broke down due to age. The university had reassured the students that they'd be looking into the broken unit and the technicians would be coming in and out of the building to fix it. However, they were rather slow with the process. Instead of just moving toward the third floor where the problem had started, they were moving from room to room on each floor the building had.

Apparently, they were just going to fix the problem in one go, however one go suddenly turned into a few days. A few days turned into a few weeks. And a few weeks turned into two months.

Thankfully they were on the edge of the summer season, the crisp breeze of the autumn air in October beginning to blow throughout the city. However that breeze simply abandoned them every time the night fell, the hallways and the common room being filled to the brim with students trying to escape the blazing heat. One would think it would be much cooler around the nighttime, so did they.

You weren't the heaviest of sleepers either, which meant you'd wake up at even the slightest vibration of a phone. One could only imagine your reaction when your alarm clock suddenly blared its ear piercing wake up call. The irritating buzzing of the built on alarm would always shock you out of bed like a cat. Yet even when you knew you were wide awake, you constantly struggled to force yourself up and out of your room. If time would allow it, you would lay in your very warm and comfortable spot in the bed for at least an hour or more.

What's even worse for you was that your dormitory was co-ed, which meant that next door to you was a group of boys who were sharing a room for the school year. They were loud, constantly moving around in the middle of the night, and screaming at random times of the day which usually ended up being the time that you used to study. There were always noise complaints about those students. No one on their floor, or the floor above and below, like them that much. Yet they never seemed to tone down the problem, they made them worse with every noise complaint that was filled to their resident assistance.

Every time they'd get a noise complaint, they'd go and find someone else who was just a little too loud one day and pin the blame on them. It was a way to show that everyone in the building made a commotion and that they shouldn't be the only ones punished for it. You didn't really care about what they were doing until you had suddenly become a target one day.

"I'm sorry, what?" you questioned them, leaning up against the door frame with your arms crossed. In front of you stood the two boys that lived in the dorm next to you, nearly towering over you like the buildings in the city thanks to the monstrous amount of height. They appeared to be up to no good when they had randomly shown up, and you were absolutely right.

"Are you the one who has been playing that music for the past three days? What was it... classical music?" He asked, tugging at his hair as he spoke. He glanced towards his roommate for confirmation, who nodded his head vigorously in response to his question. "Are you a music major or something? Maybe in the orchestra? If not it's been blasting really loudly lately and my roommate here has a majority of his classes at eight am. Right, Jaehyun?"

The boy didn't seem like he was on board with being used as an excuse at first, raising his eyebrow and staring at his roommate in confusion before turning to you. "Right, I have to get up so early for all my classes. I'd really appreciate it if you keep the violins and cymbals and triangles to like a minimum so that it doesn't bother me anymore."

"If not we'll take it to the RA," His roommate quickly added to put their threat in full effect. "And we'll file a noise complaint for disturbing us."

You scoffed at the thought, wanting to slam the door closed and forget about their petty revenge. "Aren't you the same duo that got a noise complaint filed to them last week because of an extremely loud yet unidentifiable thud..." you began before turning on your heels and correcting yourself. "Oh, my apologies. I meant boom, extremely loud yet unidentifiable boom that came from the laundry room. Only for one of the students on the lower floors to go down there and find that one of the washers and dryers had literally malfunctioned and exploded?"

"Listen," One of the boys tried to interject, his ears burning bright red as you kept talking. "That's not... listen, we—"

"Didn't they go on the security cameras to find out who had done the damage? Because a washer and dryer going suddenly haywire on its own is extremely worrisome and dangerous for the students who may have been around during that time. And weren't you two—"

"Classical music is such an amazing genre of music!" The roommate interrupted, yelling over your voice in a panic. There was a pained smile on his face as he hooked an arm around the other boy, punching his arm to follow along as he spoke. "I mean, it has such a clean and light texture to it, simplistic but a great melody nonetheless! God, it gives me nostalgia for a time I wasn't even alive in! Isn't that right, Jaehyun?"

"Oh," the boy spoke, his eyes darting in between his roommate and you. Slowly a smile began to grow on his face to mask his growing embarrassment as he gestured towards the other boy. "Of... of course! Johnny has such nice music taste! So you know when he says a genre is really good it really means something. Seriously love classical music, man. Lulls me right to sleep!"

Needless to say, they choose to not bother you as much as they used to. The strange and loud noises that would echo through the dormitory walls had gotten significantly lower since that day. They didn't stop completely yet but it was enough for you to keep your peace of mind before waking up every day.

Your mornings had gotten relatively calmer after that incident as well. Both of those boys were usually out of the dormitory by the time you were awake to attend classes or work, so you didn't run into them much during the week. You'd have calm enough mornings to where you didn't feel the need to nearly pass out on a car or bus ride to your campus and almost miss your stop. It felt like a dream come true when you would hop out of whatever vehicle you were in and would be right on time before your classes even started.

"Y/N!" A feminine voice screamed, catching you off guard when an arm suddenly slung around your neck. You clutched onto the bag hanging off your shoulder as you nearly tumbled to the ground at the sudden addition of weight, bringing the other girl down with you as you struggled to comprehend what was going on. They got a few stares from the other students who were arriving and leaving the campus but no one said a word to them. Thankfully everyone practiced the art of minding their business. "You'll never guess what I got!"

"Do I want to guess?" You questioned, shoving the girl's arm off of you so you could regain your balance. Once you were stable enough to stand up, you turned around to see who had stumbled into your path. The girl's eyes were wide with innocence and excitement as she stood in front of you, fidgeting in place as she tried to contain herself. Most of the energy she'd originally be exerting into jumping up and down was focused into the beaming and bright smile she couldn't wipe off of her face even if she tried. "Do I have to guess?"

"Yes, you have to," She demanded, holding her hands behind her back to hide whatever got her spirits high. The girl must have ordered some sort of object online again and simply couldn't wait till after your classes to show you. "It's so worth it, I promise! Just... just guess!"

A sigh escaped your mouth as you straighten your posture, reading deep into the girl's expression to try and figure out what it was. "I'm going to guess—"

"Two front row seats to our school's very own band performance!" The girl nearly squealed, shoving two flimsy pieces of paper in your face. You took a few steps back in order to align your sight with the tickets, taking them out of the girl's hands to inspect.  Both tickets were for general admission, their names printed on it with the date they were expected to attend the performance. "Aren't you excited? I literally fought tooth and claw to get these before they sold out, and you know these sell out fast!"

"Band? Like the guys who play trumpets and bass drums during school games?" You questioned, glancing up from the tickets to face your friend. The tickets didn't have exactly who was performing written down on it, simply stating that it was a live music event. "Why would you go watch them play? I thought you were more of a... pop genre person?"

The girl rolled her eyes at your response, snatching the tickets from your hands and placing them back into your pockets. "No, not the band. Who goes out of their way to specifically watch our band team play?" She hissed. "I mean like rock bands. You know, the type of people who play the drums and guitars in one big band and perform on stage with a lead singer and everything. That type of band."

"My point with you being a pop genre person still stands," you mumbled in response.

"Yes I do like pop music, I understand that," The girl clarified. "But we're going to see Aurora. Our school's very own rock band! Do you seriously not know who they are? I know you listen to classical and orchestral music and all, but I thought you were at least in the loop with Aurora!"

You scoffed as you began to walk forward, shoving your hands into your pockets and you spoke. "Just because I don't listen to the popular music right now doesn't mean I'm out of the loop! I'll have you know that I am a very big fan of idol groups. I even participated in those farewell events when groups’ oldest members start enlisting in the military."

"Idol groups have absolutely nothing to do with Aurora and you know it," your friend grumbled. "Do you seriously not know who Aurora is? At all? Have I seriously been friends with a hermit crab this whole time?"

"Fine then," you shrugged. "Go ahead, tell me about this Aurora band since you're so obsessed and knowledgeable about this group I've never heard of."

Aurora is a much bigger thing than you had imagined. From your friend's knowledge, it was a group of boys who had gathered around the beginning of the year together, all of them having several different traits and personalities that simply meshed together all too well. They had created the band, Aurora, for fun at first as they were all instrumentalists with different crafts. They had started busking in order to make money as a side job and quickly grew in popularity with the audiences they performed to.

Their university had caught wind of their musical abilities and had asked them to perform during the annual club fairs to help attract more students. After that, they seemed to have skyrocketed in popularity within the college campus. Jung Wooyoung, the group's bassist, Song Mingi, the group's lead guitarist, Choi San, the group's drummer, and Jeong Yunho, the group's lead singer, had become some of the most well-known people on campus.

Everyone seemed to know them and wanted to listen to their music, which is why your friend was so excited to be getting front row tickets to their next performance. You thought it was funny though, Wooyoung was the guitarist boy that lived next door to the girl. 

"The past is in the past!" She exclaimed, throwing up her hands as the two entered the university's building. The indoors wasn't very crowded, all the students attending were spread throughout the area either taking a break before their classes began or nearly booking it straight up the stairs in fear of being late. "Sure I wanted to murder him with my cello beforehand, but it's okay because we put our differences aside like you said we should have. And it's good that we did because we ended up going to the same university."

"So..." you began, thinking for a few moments before turning towards your friend. "Does this mean he's your favorite member? I mean you've got the background and chemistry for a nice little love story don't you think?"

"Oh absolutely not," she immediately responded. "We may have made up that summer but I have not spoken to him since. Plus my favorite member is their drummer so if anything I'd like to start a love story with him. Do you think I should plan out of my outfit for the music event? What if I actually start a love story with him like in those tv shows my parents used to watch? We catch each other's eyes during the performance and before we're about to leave I get asked backstage to meet him in person!"

You visibly cringed at your friend's fantasizing, putting four feet of space in between the two of you. "Gross. Go to class before you contaminant me with your fantasies."

"Oh shut up." She rolled her eyes, stopping in her tracks so that you were forced to wait for her. "Everyone likes to fantasize about their love life every once and awhile. It's natural to want something grander than reality to happen to you."

"You are the most cliche woman I have ever met," you mumbled, glancing over your shoulder to look at the girl. "You just told me you want to make eye contact with him and immediately fall in love just like that! Have a fun time dreaming about that while you stand in a crowd full of people in your general direction."

"You're so mean to me!" She yelled, causing everyone in the vicinity to turn and stare at the sudden commotion. "You're just mad that the violinist boy from freshman year refused to play music for you even when you got on your knees! And you were looking for him your entire high school career!"

You sprinted towards the girl at full speed, clamping your hands over her mouth to silence her. She screamed into your hands as you dragged her away from the public eye and muffled her voice. "Heejin, are you out of your mind?" You growled, looking behind you to see if anyone had heard her. "I thought we had both agreed to pretend like that never happened?"

The girl pried your hands away from her mouth and smiled innocently up at you. "We did promise. I just never forgot."

You shoved the girl towards where her lecture hall was located, a frustrated frown growing on your face as a pinkish flush began to creep across your face. "Go to your stupid business math class. Go before I chase you all the way there!" you threatened through gritted teeth. Her friend laughed at the girl's response, skipping like a child to her class for the day.

You really did get rejected that day, it was too ingrained in your brain to forget. The boy had stood on the balcony staring down at the two with a bored and uninterested expression in his eyes, tilting his head like a dog's when you screamed your demands up at him. Honestly, you didn't know exactly what you were expecting. Did you really think that he was just going to pick up his violin and start playing whatever tune he knew just because you asked him to? You didn't even say please!

You had spent a good ten minutes arguing with the boy about how you had been searching for him for years just to make him play at least ten seconds of a song for you. Each time you'd explain your situation to him, he'd immediately give you a dry response of why he kept declining you. He didn't even say it politely! He stared at you straight in the eyes and told you," I don't want to play for you because you aren't worth it."

You swore if you could jump high enough, you would have bounced onto the balcony and strangled him for his rude behavior. It was truly a sight for sore eyes watching an angry and frustrated high school senior scream up at an innocent looking but totally uninterested boy on the balcony. The argument was always almost completely one-sided as well, which made it slightly embarrassing to watch from the sidelines.

You had forced your friend to promise you that she'd either forget the whole incident or pretend like it never happened. Either one was good with you since your friend was known to tell everyone's stories when you weren't paying attention. She had gone this far without saying anything so the urge to talk about it must have been truly bubbling up inside of her. It's been a few months since the incident occurred and the memory is still fresh in your minds.

"God, I'm never gonna live down that stupid incident am I?" you grumbled, practically stomping towards your end destination. "Just when I thought maybe I was finally growing past it, she has to go and bring it back up again. Doesn't she know I'm still healing from that embarrassment? It took a toll on pride and this is how she helps mend the wound? By opening up again?"

You stopped in place when a melody began to waver in the air, following along the cold breeze of the university's air condition. The music notes hopped from breeze to breeze as it traveled through your ears to the next. The sound continuously grabbed your attention as each note was struck no matter how many times you turned to keep walking. It was hitting you like a rock to the head as your brain immediately identified the music maker to a violin.

You slowly turned around to see a few students peering through a crack in some double doors, staring intently on what was on the other side. "They're at it again," one of the older students spoke, holding the door open for his friends to look through. "They're much earlier this time than usual, we'll only catch a little bit of the performance. Do you think something important is happening?"

"You think they're competing for first chair again?" One of the younger students asked, glancing up towards the boy who had spoken beforehand. He shrugged in response to their question, but he seemed to agree for the most part. "Whatever it is, I bet Hong is about to take the first chair again. He's always the first chair. No one can beat that boy when it comes to the violin."

"Kang is always right behind him though, don't forget that," another voice reminded, trying to get a better view of the inside. "Both of them are musical prodigies, and the conductor has always been fond of Kang's playing style. I think he'll get first chair this time."

You couldn't help but let curiosity take over, standing just a few feet away from the group of friends and trying to peer through the small windows of the door. It was rather dark near the entrance to the room, but farther back was lit up by lights that illuminated the wood floor stage where two performers stood. The doors seemed to have led towards an auditorium from the looks of it. You couldn't exactly see their faces from how far away you were, but you could make out a little bit of what was actually going on.

A boy stood in the middle of the stage, the music coming directly from him as he strummed the violin with his bow, grace and elegance oozing off of him. He seemed rather focused on playing his violin precisely, not missing a single note in the song as he allowed the rich and melodic song to ring through their ears. The opened door seemed to amplify his sound even more, ringing within your brain as if it was trying to engraved its sound into her ears. Hearing a violinist play in person was truly much different from hearing it through speakers.

In a chair behind the violinist sat another figure, holding what seemed to be a violin as well in his hands. You assumed that it was the competition who had played their song earlier before you had arrived on campus. His shoulders seemed to tense as the violinist held his final note, a plaintive sound echoing through the auditorium as he held his form to leave an everlasting effect on his listeners.

The students in front of you held their breath as he finished, staring intently at where you assumed the conductor was sitting for his reaction. There was a moment of silence after the note finally fizzled into nothingness, no longer bouncing off of the walls after finding a home in the audience's ears.

"It's Park," the younger student spoke, standing up from where they originally crouched down. "Park is the first chair once again. Honestly, was I expecting a change? No, not really. He's just that talented."

"I was really rooting for Kang this time," the other student spoke, huffing as they crossed their arms in disappointment. "I wonder what he did to not get picked again this time. Usually, Kang performs wonderfully but we weren't early enough to catch his turn."

"Whatever it is," the older student added, shutting the door to the auditorium and shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sure Kang will get over it. I mean that's always next time! But I guess I say that every time this happens..."

When the trio had disappeared from sight, you couldn't help but open the door to the auditorium and peek inside. You had been walking past this exact area how many times and you didn't even notice an event like this happening? Your either extremely stupid or completely oblivious, there's no in between.

You pulled on the heavy auditorium doors, peering in the room to take a look for yourself. The room was chilly, much colder than the breezes nature had been giving you so far. It was like you had stepped straight into the freezer, feeling the need to rub your arms for warm to make sure you didn't suddenly die from the cold. "How long has this place been here? I could have sworn this was an administration office or a classroom... literally anything but an auditorium..." you mumbled to mumbled, your eyes drifting towards the stage.

Only one violinist was at the stage, his instrument dangling in his hands as he sat in silence. The other violinist and conductor were nowhere to be seen, abandoning him to be alone with his thoughts. He must have been the one who wasn't picked by their conductor for first chair, reveling in his defeat by his peer. "Is it that serious?" you mumbled, going to close the door before you zoomed to your class, only just a few minutes late.

Though you saw the violinist rise from his seat in the corner of your eye, approaching the edge of the stage to leave the room. Of course, being the generally nice person you were, you pushed the door back open, holding it open for the violinist to pass through. "Hey, are you about to— Woah! Woah, woah, woah, don't do that!" You yelled at him.

The violinist had raised his instrument high above the ground, a bored and uninterested look in his eyes as he debated on whether he was going to let the violin drop from the height it was at and scar it. It definitely wasn't going to shatter and break, but an ugly dent would be achieved through the notion. Your yelling seemed to stop him in his tracks, preventing him from possibly making the worst decision in his life.

"Don't violins cost a lot of money?" You nagged, forgetting about the door you were holding open and marching towards him. "I know you might be frustrated over whatever just happened but is it really worth breaking your instrument? You should be satisfied with the fact that you even got the chance to be chosen as an option for, what was it, first chair? Whatever it is, I think breaking your violin might be a really bad..." you trailed off as you got closer, slowing down your pace as you got closer to the stage

The violinist stared at you through his long blonde bangs, his eyes gleaming in the dingy and dim stage lights. Despite the horrible lighting it seemed to illuminate him as if he was some sort of statue on display, every curve and sharp corner of his face being highlighted just perfectly. His impassive expression refused to let you in on any sort of emotion or thought in his head, locking you out with every chain known to man. His eyes glanced over you, reading you like an open book before he finally spoke. "Why... do you care?"

Your eyes dropped from his face to his violin, taking note of the bored expression and the red tinged violin in his hands. It seemed like it had been used frequently, it's the color worn from age and usage with scratches scattered throughout the instrument's body. "Oh...," you trailed, dropping your hands to your side in defeat.

How long had he been here? Hiding right under your nose in what seemed to be plain sight. How long were you going to go without realizing the violinist from your freshman year was attending the same university as you? "It's you again."

The boy titled his head curiously, a moment of silence expanding over them like a blanket. You felt like you were going to twitch and squirm under his gaze, the eerie silence of the auditorium and his almost blank stare making the atmosphere uncomfortable for you. All you could think about was the one sided argument you two had; how you had embarrassed yourself in front of your whole neighborhood just because you wanted him to play a song for you. The amount of humiliation that was crashing over you like angry waves could have washed you right of the auditorium if it wanted to.

The violinist crouched down on the stage to look down on you, resting his head on his hands as he began to speak. “Do I... know you?”

“Do you know me?” You repeated, disbelief prevalent in your tone of voice. “Did you really just ask that? Of course you know me! Remember from this summer? Just a few months back?”

The boy nodded his head as you spoke, absorbing all the information you were telling him and letting it process in his brain. He closed his eyes as he began to form his final thoughts, leaning back on his heels before opening them again and staring at you. “Ah... I remember now. You were Wooyoung’s fling for a couple weeks... right?”

“What?” You exclaimed, a rosy pink tint spreading across your face as you spoke. You’ve never even spoken to the guitarist boy when he lived near you, nevertheless have a fling with him. The mere thought of doing something so... dangerous like that made your skin crawl. “No... I don’t... listen, are you serious? You don’t remember who am I at all? Not a thing about me seems to trigger some sort of memory in you?”

“Not to be rude,” he responded, lifting himself out of his crouched position and beginning to walk across the stage to the stairs positioned at the side. “But you don’t look like the most memorable type. I mean if I don’t remember you are, would anyone else be able to?”

His blunt honestly was like a knife to the chest, only he was repeatedly sinking the weapon into your already open wound. Had he always been this straightforward with people? Of course he was, that’s why you never got him to play a song for you. You didn’t even know whether or not you liked the fact that he didn’t recognize who you were because he had formatted his words. You’d much rather be remembered for something embarrassing you did than be forgettable as a whole.

Though by the time you had clocked back into reality, a snarky and rude comment ready to hit the bullseye on the back of his head, he was gone. There was no sign of violinist boy anywhere in the room, as if he has quiet literally disappeared into thin air. “I should have just let him smash his violin to pieces,” you rumbled, now not only late to class but also filled with bitter rage that wasn’t even reciprocated.

[zoe-oneesama]

I'm sorry if this seems rude, but your treatment of Alya makes me very uncomfortable. This isn't something you're entirely to blame for, as a good chunk of the fandom treats her very poorly (with either ignoring her or reducing her role to "ships the lovesquare"), but the amount of comics and posts you've made about punishing Alya feels a little extreme to me at this point. I understand the salt after chameleon, but everyone was ooc in that ep. Also it's been over a month. (1/2)

I will start by saying thank you for coming to me with your complaints in honestly the nicest way you possibly could, I really appreciate you taking a very calm and critical tone in approaching me with a genuine concern.

I will also point out I can’t think of any comics I’ve made attacking Alya or punishing her, so I’m not sure what you mean by that, but maybe I’ve re blogged someone else’s comic and it’s not coming to mind right now. But I also try hard to tag stuff so people can block the rants they don’t want to see. I guess the probelm is I use the #alya salt tag instead of #anti alya.

And I can agree that Alya’s characterization has gotten out of hand in the fanon vs canon, particularly when we had that long hiatus so fanon Alya bled into the consciousness and confused what actually is canon Alya.

However I won’t apologize for being critical of Alya. I will try to explain my own reasoning for you though so maybe you can understand where I’m coming from. 

My two main criticisms of Alya are 1) She’s not a good journalist and 2) She disregards Marinette’s feelings even though she’s her best friend.

The Good Journalist is something that I personally think is a fanon idea. Her being an ethical, searches only for the truth reporter who has integrity about the facts came from the hiatus, and my position on this is supported in canon.

When Marinette’s identity, the secret she holds most dear, is in jeopardy, because it’s Alya who is making the claim, she is unconcerned. If Alya was a threat to her identity (i.e. someone who often had evidence to support their claims) she would be worried, but instead she brushes it off. Like it’s not the first time Alya’s pitched a theory from left field at her. Even Nino laughs right in her face.

Volpina backs this up with her posting an unverified video of Lila claiming to be best friends with Ladybug without getting any sources or evidence that it could be true. In doing this, not only is she reducing her blog to a gossip column, but she is directly endangering this girl by blasting her relationship with a Superhero where anyone could see it. Because her scoop is more important that truth.

There’s also her crusade to find out Ladybug’s secret identity, something that, having established she’s a huge superhero comic fan, she should know the repercussions of. Endangerment of self, friends, and family in the face of a very dangerous super villain. It continues to prove where Alya’s priorities are.

But I actually want to make something clear: Being a bad journalist is not something I hate Alya for. She’s a young, immature girl. She’s wrapped in the excitement of magic and superheroes and is riding the hype to it’s conclusion. It’s partially Ladybug’s fault for indulging in Alya and being biased towards her friend that Alya has the platform she has and the belief in her abilities. And Alya does put a lot of hard work into her journalism, she just needs to do more growing and get a better understanding of what ethical journalism is.

I’m just critical of it because of the fanon warping her into this amazing journalist when she’s just a kid with no self preservation and tenacity. 

The Bad Friend thing is what imagine you mostly came here for. And I want to make it clear here as well: I don’t think Alya is a terrible friend. Most of the time I don’t think she’s even a bad friend. But what happened in Volpina, Heroes Day, and Chameleon hit me in a bad way.

In Volpina, we see Marinette express concern about Lila hanging over Adrien and Alya dismisses her to gush over her blog.

I didn’t have a problem with this when it first came out. Marinette knows Lila is a liar only because she is Ladybug and so she knows Lila is lying in her interview. Marinette has a problem with liars AND a jealousy problem that has gone unchecked by Volpina. But from Alya’s perspective, Marinette is being unreasonably possessive and is prone to over reacting. She has no obligation to interfere with Adrien and Lila just because Marinette is feeling territorial.

This only becomes an issue in addition to the other two episodes. 

In Heroes Day we get this gem of a line, which is really irritating, esPECIALLY because as a series finale it had to come after Frozer, which proved that Marinette has made great strides in overcoming her jealousy. As her best friend, Alya should be giving Marinette the benefit of the doubt, not Lila. But instead, she doesn’t ask what Marinette’s problem is with Lila she just assumes it without opening discussion about what could be bothering her usually kind and accommodating best friend. Compound it with her dismissal of Marinette in Volpina, and I’m beginning to get weary. 

But then Chameleon. Ooooooh Chameleon. Let me count the ways Alya specifically failed as a friend:

1) Kicked Marinette out if her seat without asking

2) Replaced Marinette as her seatmate with her boyfriend without asking

3) Pushing Marinette to the back row seat alone without asking

4) When Marinette claims Lila is lying, Alya asks for Marinette to prove Lila isn’t telling the truth instead of investigating if Lila is telling the truth.

5) Pulls that not apology apology that puts the blame on Marinette for getting upset about the situation. 

(gif by @oui-ladybug)

That last on is subject to interpretation, but look at it closely, There’s no “I’m sorry for putting you in that situation without your consent.” No “I’m sorry for not taking your feelings into account.” 

This throw away line is like someone saying “I’m sorry YOU got upset.” Like you overreacted. Like it’s your fault you got hurt.

You may say I’m reaching, and I’ll admit my interpretation is probably not a universal one. I’ve made no secret of it in past posts. I have a personal issue with how Alya acts in regard to Marinette’s feelings. 

I had a best friend from the age of 5 to 20. Looking back I can find a lot of flaws in our friendship but at the time I thought it was great, mutually supportive and filled with love. Until she started dating. She had a boyfriend her last two years of high school and up to around the time we stopped being friends. She was attached at the hip to him, spending all her free time with him instead of me and bringing him to outings with us without asking me first. I tried to hide my discomfort because I had already almost lost her friendship by throwing up a fuss over her dating him - because he was my ex (first!) boyfriend. But I put my feelings aside because she was really into him and I valued our friendship more than this dumb guy. But apparently I was the only one.

Things went downhill fast when we graduated high school. She and her boyfriend stayed at home and went to a local college (no shame there) and I went to a university 3 hours away. We weren’t going to see each other near as often obviously, but we had always been very good at texting and calling each other so I wasn’t worried. But she didn’t text me anymore. She never called. All contact I had to initiate first. She never made the drive up to see me unless she needed something (she stayed at my place when she wanted to go to the Renaissance Fair nearby my college). 

But what hurt most is when I would drive down to see her. I’d drive the three hours, having made plans weeks in advance to make sure it worked around our schedules, only for her to cancel last minute on me. Because she wanted to hang out with her boyfriend instead. The same boyfriend she saw LITERALLY everyday. And it happened multiple times.

She didn’t care what I did for her. She didn’t respect my time or effort or feelings. She assumed I’d be fine with it. She assumed I wouldn’t mind or if I did I’d “get over it” like I always do (get over it as in grin and bear it). She made decisions for me and without regard to what I thought. She just wanted a cardboard cutout to call Best Friend without actually putting in any of the work.

There are plenty of other things that started to bother me about our friendship, but because this is what ultimately ended it it’s what bothers me the most. So I take personal offense with Alya making assumptions about Marinette’s feelings and justifications without asking. I have issues with Alya making decisions for Marinette without asking. And I especially have issues with Alya choosing her boyfriend over her best friend because that hits me personally.

I know Chameleon was OOc for the characters…for MOST of the characters. But Alya? This has been building up. It’s not the first time. It’s just the most egregious time.

And a bonus it’s really annoying that Alya assumes Marinette is crazy jealous when a few of Marinette’s craziest moments are a result of Alya’s insistence or pushing OR Alya tries to steer her away from making mature decisions.

Marinette stealing Adrien’s phone?

Marinette making an elaborate scheme to separate Adrien from his bodyguard to go on a date with him?

Marinette tries to be realistic and help Adrien on his date while simultaneously letting him go?

Alya was one of those cases where one event made me think back really hard about her role as Marinette’s best friend and just what kind of hand she’s had in shaping Marinette’s behavior, and honestly? She’s not the amazing friend I remembered her as in Season 1. Which sucks! Because I lOVEd Alya. A sassy mom friend who takes no shit and gets shit done? A gorgeous POC that pushed her friend to make things happen for herself?! Yes please!

So I still hate on Chameleon, not just for the episode, but for the wakeup call I DIDN’t ask for!!

p.s. the reason I’m still salting on it is because the episode totally failed to resolve Alya’s issues in this episode. i.e. being a hypocrite.