#just to hang out bc i knew i could just sit down in the breakdown in quiet

[the0ther-side0f-dawn]

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[sunnytaes]

Midnight Confessions | LJY

☆ Pairing: Lee Jooyeon x gn!reader

☆ Genre/themes: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, high school au, best friends to lovers, childhood friends to lovers

☆ Warning(s): descriptions of anxiety, mental breakdown, brief mention of a ~compromising position~ but it's nothing lol

☆ Word count: 2.7k

☆ Summary: Y/N is having some friend drama and they turn to the only person who can give them comfort, their childhood best friend and crush, Jooyeon. Little do they know, Jooyeon feels the same way.

☆ Note(s): this is based entirely off of a dream I had so if it's bad we can blame my subconscious, I literally woke up and all I had to do was transcribe it. I wasn't going to post this bc I wasn't sure how many people would read XH fic but @honeyvocalhwang inspired me to post something today since it's Lunar New Year. So enjoy this purely self-indulgent fic and have a happy Lunar New Year!

Tears streamed down my face as I knocked on Hyeongjun’s door. His parents’ cars weren’t in the driveway but I knew he was home because I could see the light coming from his window. I knocked harder and tried calling his phone again, but he wouldn’t pick up. Grumbling in frustration, I picked up my bike and got back on, the wind quickly drying my tears.

I debated going to Gunil’s house because he’d talked me out of some dark places before, but honestly I knew I needed comfort more than I needed advice right now. I found myself pedalling the familiar route to Jooyeon’s house before I knew what I was doing.

By the time I got to Jooyeon’s house it was late, and dinner time had long since passed. Dropping my bike on the lawn, I knocked on the door and prayed someone would answer. Less than a minute later, I was greeted by Jooyeon’s mom’s familiar face.

“Hi Y/N- oh sweetie, what happened?” she said, her warm facial expression shifting to one of concern when she saw my state.

I probably looked like a mess. I was still in my uniform even though school had ended hours ago, my eyes were probably red and puffy, and I could feel the dried tear tracks on my face every time I moved it.

“Is Jooyeon home?” I asked, cursing how fragile my voice sounded.

“Yeah, of course, love. Come in,” she said, waving me inside. “Would you like anything to eat or drink?”

I shook my head as I toed off my shoes, following her up the carpeted stairs. She knocked on his door but got no response. Jooyeon and his parents had a system for how they could come into his room, it was cute. If the door was ajar, as it was now, it meant they could come in, but they usually still knocked as a courtesy. The whole thing was really sweet and respectful, I had trouble believing it was a real parent-child relationship. My parents just barged into my room whenever they pleased, only knocking half a second before they opened the door.

Jooyeon’s mom pushed open the door to reveal him sitting on his bed with his back facing the door, headphones on and connected to his bass, which he was playing. No wonder he couldn’t hear the knocking. His mom left us alone as I stepped into the room, dropping my backpack by the door and walking slowly in a wide arc around his bed so as not to scare him.

My tactic failed, of course, because when Jooyeon was playing music, he got really into it. He didn’t notice me until I was practically in front of him and he jumped a mile in the air as his headphones fell around his neck and his glasses got knocked askew.

“Jesus, Y/N, you scared me! How did you get in here?” he exclaimed, putting his hand on his chest.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, scuffing my socked foot on the carpet, “your mom let me in.”

“What’s up? Why are you here so late?” he asked as he fixed his glasses and started to put his bass away. “Did we have plans that I forgot about?”

“No, nothing like that,” I rushed out, shaking my head worriedly. I didn’t want him to feel like he was obligated to hang out with me. “I just um-”

“Jooyeon!” his dad called from downstairs, interrupting me. “Can you come help me with something?”

“Sure!” he yelled, looking at me. “You’re good here, right?”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” I said, waving my hand in what I hoped was a nonchalant manner.

Jooyeon must not have given it as much thought as I did because he rushed downstairs in an instant, leaving me alone in his room. I stood there for what felt like an eternity but was only two minutes according to the clock on his nightstand before I decided to head downstairs as well.

I went into the kitchen where I could see Jooyeon’s mom sitting at the kitchen island reading a magazine, her reading glasses perched on her nose. If I looked to my left I could see Jooyeon in the garage helping his dad take down a bunch of boxes from the shelves.

“Hi, honey,” Jooyeon’s mom said, taking off her glasses to look at me. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Yes please,” I said quietly, sitting at the island as I continued to watch Jooyeon.

A few minutes later, a steaming hot bowl of ramen and a glass of water were placed in front of me. I smiled at Jooyeon’s mom gratefully and began to eat as I waited for my friend to return.

I’d just finished my bowl when Jooyeon walked in from the garage, going to the sink to wash his hands.

“There you are,” he said, taking my dishes and putting them in the dishwasher, “do you wanna go up to my room now?”

Nodding, I followed him up to his room, closing the door behind us.

“Do you wanna play a game?” he asked, setting up his console before I could even reply.

Sighing, I took the controller from him and settled myself on the floor, preparing myself to lose. I knew I was Jooyeon’s favourite person to play video games with, because even though I wasn’t as good as some of his friends, I was the only one who didn’t complain when he won several times in a row.

We played a couple of rounds, but every time I tried to talk, Jooyeon didn’t seem to be paying attention. Eventually, I got frustrated so I died on purpose early in the game so that Jooyeon would finally turn his attention to me.

“Hey, why did you-” he started to ask, stopping when he saw the tears gathering in my eyes. “Hey hey hey, what’s wrong?”

He turned off the TV and scooted closer to me, any thoughts about the game surely escaping as he saw his best friend in distress.

“It’s Mel,” I got out, my voice sounding warbly again as the tears spilled out of my eyes.

“Melanie? What did she do now?” he asked, putting his warm hands on my shoulders.

“She-” I hiccuped, gasping for air as my chest shook with the intensity of trying to contain the sobs from wracking through my body. “She got all upset because I’m moving and she said we should stop being friends now before I forget about her.”

If Jooyeon was shocked by the news of me moving, I couldn’t tell, because my eyes were screwed shut as I attempted to stop the tears from coming out.

“Oh, Y/N,” he murmured, sympathy and concern lacing his voice. “Do you need a hug?”

I nodded, my bottom lip quivering as the tears threatened to spill over again. Once Jooyeon pulled me as close as he could with our knees touching, the floodgates opened again as I began to cry into his shirt.

It was really difficult to hug while we were both sitting on the floor, but I didn’t want to say anything because I was scared he’d pull away and I really needed to be held. Luckily, I didn’t have to, because Jooyeon noticed too.

“C’mere,” he mumbled, pulling me into his lap so he could bear-hug me properly.

Wrapped around him like a koala, I buried my face in the crook of his neck as I continued to cry. We’d never been this close before, but if he was uncomfortable with our proximity, he didn’t say anything as he rubbed comforting circles on my back.

“Jooyeon, you know you’re supposed to keep your door open when you have gue-” his mother started to say as she came in, stopping when she saw her son and his best friend in what probably looked like a very compromising position on the floor. I started to scramble away but Jooyeon held me firmly in place.

“Mom, I swear it’s not what it looks like!” he explained hurriedly. “Y/N’s going through a tough time.”

“Oh honey,” she said, her eyes softening as she came further into the room to hand me a tissue box and a bottle of water from Jooyeon’s mini fridge.

“Feel free to stay the night, Y/N,” she said. “I’ll call your parents and have Jooyeon’s father put your bike in the garage so it doesn’t get stolen.”

“Thank you,” I mumbled appreciatively.

She patted my head comfortingly before leaving the room, closing the door behind her as she left. Jooyeon took a tissue from the box and pulled away slightly so that he could wipe the tears from my face.

“Melanie’s dumb anyway,” he said, opening the water bottle and giving it to me, “remember that time in second grade when she wouldn’t let me play with you guys because I spent one recess playing with Jiseok because he was new?”

I nodded, drinking half of the bottle in one breath.

“She’s always been protective of her friends, scared she’ll lose them. It’s why she cut me and Jiseok out when we switched schools. She pushed us away before we could push her away, and now she’s doing the same to you.”

“It’s not fair,” I mumbled, burying my face in his neck once again, “how does she know that I’ll push her away? I didn’t push you guys away, and I even made new friends because of it.”

“I know,” he said, patting my back, “you just have to convince her you’ll keep being her friend even if you don’t live nearby or go to the same school anymore. Now let’s get ready for bed. I think I still have a set of your emergency sweats in my drawer.”

I disentangled myself from my best friend and stood up, wiping the rest of the tears from my face as he rummaged around in his drawer for whatever clothes I’d left the last time I’d stayed over. I retrieved the toothbrush I always carried around for this exact reason from my backpack and took the clothes from him as I went into the hall bathroom to get ready for bed.

I was glad I’d had the foresight to leave a set of comfortable clothes at each of my six friends’ houses. My house was the furthest from all of theirs since we went to different schools, so I usually ended up sleeping over when our hangout sessions ran late. My only friend that lived in my neighbourhood was Mel, hence why she was so upset that I was moving both neighbourhoods and schools.

The clothes were a blessing, though, because my school uniform had to be made of the most uncomfortable material ever made. It was like they had mixed cardboard and pure static electricity and turned them into clothes. Stepping into the sweats I’d left was like coming home after a long day, which in a sense, I was. Even though the clothes were mine, they smelled like Jooyeon because he kept them in his drawer next to his. It was a comforting mix of the scents of the detergent his mom used and something else I couldn’t place but was undeniably reminiscent of Jooyeon.

When I returned to his room, much more composed after my breakdown, Jooyeon was clearing textbooks and sheets of music off of his bed. I knew he normally just slept with them pushed to one side, so it was a kind gesture that he was clearing them off for me.

When he was done, I crawled into the right side of the bed because I knew he normally took the left, and held my breath as Jooyeon placed his glasses on the bedside table and settled in next to me. It wasn’t the first time I’d shared a bed with Jooyeon, but it had been a while since all of our recent sleepovers also featured Gunil, Jungsu, Seungmin, Jiseok and Hyeongjun and consisted of the seven of us in a pile of blankets on the floor.

As Jooyeon turned off the light, plunging us into darkness, I tried to remember when the last time we’d shared a bed was. Probably before he changed schools, before… Before I realized I had feelings for him. I don’t know how I would survive this proximity now that I was in a post-breakdown state of clarity. Jooyeon’s gentle voice interrupted my train of thoughts.

“I’ll miss you when you move,” he said.

I turned to look at him but could only see the vague outline of his head in the dark.

“What do you mean?” I asked. “I’m moving closer to you. That’s why Mel’s mad.” “What?” he asked, turning to face me as well.

“Jooyeon, you know I’ve been trying to get into your school ever since you applied. The music program there is much better than the one at my current school. I finally got in, I start in September. We’re moving so that I have a shorter commute to school.”

“You mean- I get to see you at school every day?” he asked, his voice sounding breathy with wonder. “And live close to you?”

“Yes,” I said, reaching blindly for his hand and finding it resting on the covers between us. I gave his hand a comforting squeeze, which he returned. We’d been doing that for as long as I could remember. “I’m sorry I forgot to tell you, I was gonna tell you after I told Mel but as you can see that didn’t exactly go as planned.”

“I don’t care,” he said, pulling me to his chest in a crushing hug. “I know now, that’s what matters. Is it bad to say I’m happy?”

“No,” I managed out, my lungs being squeezed in his tight grip.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, easing his grip on me but not letting go.

Now that we’d been in the dark for a bit, my eyes were starting to adjust. I could see Jooyeon’s face, only inches from mine. I could feel his warm breath mixing with mine as my eyes scanned his face. He watched me carefully, letting go of my hand bringing his up to cup my face.

“I have to tell you something,” we said at the same time, each letting out a laugh at the synchronicity.

“You first,” I said, worried that I’d change my mind depending on what he said.

“Y/N,” he started, and I could feel his heart racing under the palm of the hand I’d lifted to rest on his chest, “I’ve been in love with you since second grade.”

My eyes widened and I let out a short gasp, trying to remember all the way back to second grade.

“Please say something,” he urged, his eyes staring imploringly into mine.

I silently blessed and cursed the fact that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, the only light being the streetlights outside flooding in through the windows. It was a blessing that I could see the sincerity on Jooyeon’s face, but it was almost too much for me to handle.

“You’ve got me beat,” I murmured, feeling his breath hitch at my confession, “I only figured out I loved you when you left for a different high school.”

“That’s still- That’s three years, Y/N,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

I scoffed, lightly slapping his chest. “You waited ten!”

“I thought you didn’t feel the same way,” he whined.

“If you’d told me sooner I might’ve realized I did sooner,” I whined back.

We both laughed at the ridiculousness of our situation, his head falling until his forehead was pressed against mine.

Feeling charged from our confessions, I closed the gap between us and kissed him. He reciprocated immediately, using the hand that was cupping my face to pull me closer. We kissed for what felt like an eternity until we eventually pulled away because we ran out of air.

“Do you think the rest of the guys know?” he asked, his voice low even though we were the only ones in the room.

“Oh, definitely,” I said, thinking back to all of the knowing looks I’d received from Gunil. “They’re definitely going to make fun of our obliviousness for a while.”

“We’ll get through it. Together,” he promised, kissing my forehead.

We fell asleep like that, with my head tucked into the space between his chin and his chest and his arms encircling me protectively. If his mom saw us like that when she came to wake us up the next morning, she didn’t say anything.

Masterlist.

Photo credits: 1. 2. 3.

Taglist: @felixtok @saltyone101 @burningupp @honeyvocalhwang @bittervoid

[shanitani]

Hi! May I ask Todoroki accidentally forgetting his S/O's birthday, angst time until his S/O accept his apologies and he decided to spoil them (even tho their S/O does not want him to spend so much money on them... He still don't care lol) thanks! ♥️

contains : shoto x fem reader

includes: angst -> fluff

a: hi babe, ngl this made me get a bit sad bc I feel like he would Lowkey forget ur birthday but not to this extent yk like probably for the first hour of the day- anyways I’m rambling .. here you go <3 

Feeling the crisp morning air hit your face, you smiled before even opening your eyes. Snuggled in what felt like your boyfriend, was in actuality just your throw blanket. You looked around for a sudden moment, stuck in the back of your mind that maybe, just maybe he forgot your birthday. 

‘Maybe he’s just cooking breakfast’ You shook away your thoughts stretching out of bed to smell nothing. To see nothing but a flimsy note on the kitchen counter in scribbled drawn out writing “Had something come up at the agency, be back later - shoto”

You couldn’t say that you weren’t mad or that you didn’t feel a slight pull at your heartstrings, but Shoto was like this - he doesn’t show emotions well with language, more so physical touch. And, you knew what you were getting yourself into dating a pro hero. He let you know before hand how much he had to be gone no matter the instance, and you still stuck with him because he was one of a kind that you couldn’t just let pass up - that’s what made Shoto instantly fall in love with you.

So, you stuck to your promise of unconditional love no matter if he was wrapped in your arms, or messily throwing things in a suitcase to fly out for a emergency mission. You just wished the universe had been a little nice to you today, or at the least gotten an happy birthday at the end of the note.

Despite not being with your boyfriend, Mina had instantly hit you up asking to hang out at the bar later. So instead of sulking, you spent your afternoon with Mina - waiting patiently for your boyfriend to come home.

The afternoon passed, and he still wasn’t home. dropping you a quick message saying, “taking longer than expected, be home later tonight - don’t wait up.” don’t wait up.. was he forreal? or was this just he serious? you thought over and over again taking off the heels you were supposed to wear with Shoto to your birthday dinner.

You wanted to cry, but you didn’t. “Not on your birthday Y/N” you spoke out loud trying to surpass the tears fighting to come out. Instead, jumping in the shower to clear your mind from it all and sitting down on the couch and watch movies to pass the time. 

Hours clicked by, 10pm it stated on the clock. Your birthday was over, and your boyfriend was nowhere to be found, tears fought angrily to come out - and you couldn’t do anything but let them force their way out. You choked out a sob on the couch, feeling hopeless and letting your mind get the best of you.

Was he seeing another woman? did he forget? does he even love me anymore? I wouldn’t blame him... Am I not good enough?

---

“Yeah thanks for helping me with the Mission today, I know it was last minute.” Midoriya nervously smiled rubbing the back of his neck before the bi colored boy shrugged picking up the last of his belongings. “Sorry again, I really do owe you.” the two boys walked out of the agency about to part ways as Todoroki stood confused at why Midoriya felt so sorry this week - this was usual for him to have to leave last minute.

“What for? this is what I signed up for.” Todoroki began to open his car door, shuffling his hair back into place, “Well I tried Bakugo and Kirishima but they had their own mission to fufill, and Denki wasn’t suited right for this job. Didn’t want to call you on your girlfriends birthday y’know? seemed rude.” Todoroki stopped in his tracks, trying to calculate what day it was. He fumbled with his phone trying to see the date, It can’t be today... its not, Midoriya’s just tired.. right? he silently prayed Midoriya was wrong - until he wasn’t.

“Yeah, it’s fine. I’ve gotta go Midoriya okay?” The boy didn’t wait for response from the green haired boy, rushing home. ‘How can I be so fucking stupid’ he banged on the steering wheel, pushing on the gas pedal harder as he finally got to the shared apartment.

He opened the door, cringing at the bright heels he’s never seen before laying nicely by the door. Shoto rubbed his eyes with his hands - looking at the phone one more time. 11pm. the apartment was pitch black, slightly smelling like food you had previously cooked for you and your husband - that’s when guilt finally started to rush through his body, but he needed to see you - he couldn’t just not say anything.

He walked slowly through the living room door, hesitant on opening it and seeing a furious you. In the back of his mind he hoped you wouldn’t be so mad at him for this happening, but he knew the chances were slim. He opened the door only seeing more pitch black and static on the TV screen, his eyes softened to see you tugged closely onto the couch pillow. 

He inched closer to you finally taking in your looks, you had a black silk dress that slightly rose up from you sleeping, you hair was a mess - frizzy at the top. And he could tell you’ve been crying, seeing your puffed out cheeks and calmer state. He felt terrible, trying to find out how to face you. All you’ve ever done for him was be supportive, and he couldn’t even take a day off from his hectic life to spend time with the person he loves the most. 

Without thinking, he woke you up, inching you awake slowly to see you wake up in discomfort before looking at him. He smiled at you, teary eyed - but you couldn’t quite figure out why until it hit you that it was still the same day. “Hi baby, wake up we’re going somewhere.” “huh” you rubbed your eyes, feeling Shoto tug your arm up and into his arms

He leaned to your ear, whispering a small ‘i’m sorry, let me make it up to you.’ and before you could answer he opened the door, motioning you to come outside. You complied; seeing his emotional face look at you made your heart melt. He pulled you into the car, putting his hand on your thigh and starting the car. putting the radio on for background music there was a comfortable silence in the air. 

You finally pulled into a driveway, the highest level that looked over the Japan city that you liked so much. He pulled you out urging you to come to the edge and breathe. He knew that after small breakdowns you would usually come out here to get your mind off things, so he thought this was the perfect place to bring you - at least just for tonight.

His head hung low trying to figure out the words to say to you, he didn’t know how to apologize, and he wouldn’t be surprised nor mad if you wouldn’t accept it. “I’m sorry. I’m a bad boyfriend.” he croaked out, with damp cheeks attempting to look into your eyes, he grabbed your hands subcontiously to stop his rapid heartbeat. You smiled at him, taking his head and putting it into your chest like he always liked. 

“It’s alright baby, you’re an amazing boyfriend. always will be my hero.” you hummed stroking his hair softly. you didn’t care about the date or the gifts, you cared about his presence, and it was before 12am. So technically, you got what you’ve wanted.

“It’s not, and i’ll try harder to be with you more.” he looked into your eyes finally, cupping your cheek. You smiled, “best birthday ever.” you smiled, kissing his lips that you’ve longed for all day. He was scared to at first, but soon drowned into your mouth - comfortable with your taste. You pulled back, fully relaxed and content, “baby?” he hummed in response. “You still didn’t say happy birthday to me.” you teased grinning as he playfully pushed you away from him only to bring you back into his chest closer, “happy birthday sweetheart.”

BONUS BECAUSE I NEED TO:

You awoken to the smell of pancakes and bacon, the sun shining warmly on your face making you sit up. You were awoken to food, presents, and a beautiful card placed on the left of your bed. Standing over you was your boyfriend, with messy hair and sweatpants that sat nicely in the middle of his V line making your cheeks heat - he never failed to look so adorable. 

“Good morning beautiful” he kissed your cheek, sitting on the edge of the bed near you, “Close your eyes.” you complied, feeling a small thin cold object grave over your neck, “Open.” you opened your eyes to see his phone handed to you to look at the object, it was a small gold necklace engraved to say “Todoroki” you smiled finding his eyes at yours, leaning in to kiss the boy.

“You’re already gonna have my last name, so for now this will do until I put a ring on that finger.” your cheeks grew incredibly hotter, “Thank you so much baby, it’s adorable.” you grinned placing down his phone and suffocating him once more in an endless amount of kisses to his face.

masterlist

[haikyuu-appreciation-club]

Helloo! I love reading your work, especially your comfort posts. I just wanted to make a request if you could do iwaizumi, tsukishima, ushijima, and akaashi giving comfort to the reader after they’ve had a heartbreak and have been breaking down (maybe when the character and reader are not in the same place). Thank you so much and keep up your work!

hello sweet anon!!

ty for the kind words, I’m glad to hear you enjoy my work (⌒ ‿ ⌒) 

I know heartbreak comes in all shapes and sizes but I decided to do these based on a breakup heartbreak sooooo yeah 

alsoooo I only made the second portion of characters to be in a different place as the reader bc I found it quite difficult to do them all like that so I hope that’s alright

I apologize in advance if any of this wasn't what you had in mind 

I hope you enjoy regardless <3

(after finishing this I'm low-key disappointed in how it came out buuut this is the outcome of my writers block sooo hehe) (/^-^(^ ^*)/ 

•Iwaizumi, Tsukishima, Ushijima, and Akaashi Comforting a Brokenhearted Friend•

warnings: platonic relationship (best friends), mentions of cheating, heartbreak, breakups and a few curse words

genre: comfort

characters: iwaizumi, tsukishima, ushijima, + akaashi

•Iwaizumi•

groggily opening his door at two in the morning to you sobbing was not exactly the way iwaizumi would have imagined starting his day

you and iwaizumi had been best friends since your first year of highschool, so it wasn't abnormal for you to pop up at his home unannounced from time to time

but this was a whole different story

the sleep had immediately been stripped from his mind as he pulled you inside and into a tight embrace

“Woah, woah, woah Y/N. What’s wrong?”

you wanted to answer him right there and then but you choked on your words, cries forming instead of any explanation

he was patient though, allowing you to cry until you ran out of tears to shed as he rubbed soft circles into your back

he had a feeling your trashy s/o was behind your breakdown

they had always left you falling apart in his arms at one point or another

he never minded comforting you but anger bubbled up inside him everytime he heard of another incident

he had always told you how you deserved to be treated better but everytime something like this occurred, your s/o had always sucked you back in with some half hearted apology

iwaizumi waited until your sobs had died down into whimpers before he slowly brought you to take a seat on his couch

he handed you a box of tissues that were sitting in the middle of the coffee table and waited until you were able to form a coherent sentence,

“T-they che-heated on m-me”

although it was flooded with hiccups and sharp inhales, iwaizumi understood exactly what you had said

he got the sudden urge to go beat the shit out of that prick but he knew his negative emotions weren’t what you needed in that moment

he pulled you into another hug, whispering apologizes and words of comfort into your ear as you cried into his chest once more

hearing the way your voice strained broke his heart and all he wanted to do was bring back that beautiful smile of yours

as your sobs died back down, he continued to sooth you until the room grew silent

iwaizumi didn’t want to make you relive what had happened that night anymore then you already had so he opted to do something to get your mind off of everything,

“Do you want to watch a movie?”

you looked up at him through puffy eyelids and nodded, appreciating just being in his company a while longer

iwa leaned forward, grabbed the remote from the table, and immediately leaned right back next to you, being too nervous to leave your side for even a second

you subconsciously snuggled into his side as he scrolled through the different titles, looking for one you both usually enjoyed watching

however, it wasn’t long until you began to drift off to sleep, the world around you fading in and out of view as your eyes opened and closed

iwaizumi noticed your tired state and smiled to himself, brushing the stray hairs that framed your face behind your ears,

“You can go to sleep Y/N, i don’t mind.”

you let out a soft yawn as you looked up at him,

“But this is your favorite godzilla movie, i can’t let you finish it on your own.”

“You watch it with me every time, i think i’ll be fine watching it by myself tonight,”

he smiled at you as he pushed your head down into his lap,

“Now go to sleep.”

you smiled to yourself as you curled up and closed your eyes, feeling iwaizumi lazily run his fingers through your hair

as he watched your drift of to sleep, he promised himself he’d never let you get hurt like that again

•Tsukishima•

you, tsukki, and yamaguchi had gone to the cafe down the street every saturday for as long as you could remember

tsukki adored their strawberry shortcake and yams loved the milkshakes they served

you on the other hand were mainly there for the company, and they may or may not have sold your favorite sweet

spending time there was apart of your weekly routine

even when you got into a relationship, that pattern didn’t change

so when a certain saturday rolled around you happily strolled down to the cafe

this saturday however, yamaguchi had extra practice for his float serve and was unable to attend

you were about to cancel but yamaguchi insisted that you two carried on the tradition by yourselves for the day, so you two agreed on meeting up and spending some time with yams later in the day

once you arrived at the cafe, you felt the immediate comfort of being in the presence of your friend

tsukishima had always brought you a sense of security and peace

as you both were enjoying your sweet treats, you heard the buzz of your phone as it viberated on the table

you look from your dessert, to your phone, to the blonde head of hair in front of you

tsukki quirked an eyebrow at you as you shurugged your shoulders, picking up your phone and watching as it illuminated in your hand

the first notification that met your eyes was a message from your s/o,

“hey, we need to talk..”

you felt your heart drop into the pit of your stomach

although you told yourself you shouldn’t jump to conclusions, that message didn’t settle right with you at all

you felt a lump grow in your throat as your shaky hands typed a reply,

“oh okay, let me call you then”

you looked up from your phone and made eye contact with tsukishima as he gave you a look of question mixed with concern

you shot him a half hearted smile as you excused yourself from the table and walked into the alley next to the cafe to make your call

although he wouldn’t admit it if asked, tsukishima was really worried about whatever was going on right now

the way your facial expressions had changed and your demeanor had shifted cause his chest to tighten

he knew something was wrong but he just didn’t know what

he didn’t want to pry or make it seem like he was too eager to comfort you but he couldn’t ignore what was going on

especially when you rounded the corner with tears running down your face, holding in sobs that threatened to escape your lips

he shot up out of his seat and walked over to you, throwing the amount of cash needed to pay for the food on the table as he did

“What the hell happened Y/N?”

averting your gaze away from tsukki, you began to whimper

noticing people beginning to grow nosey tsukishima wrapped his arm around your shoulder and began to walk back towards the alleyway

as you two came to a stop you wrapped your arms around tsukki, causing him to stiffen from the sudden contact, and cried into his shirt

he relaxed a bit as his arms found their way to your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing manner

once you calmed down you had explained that your s/o had broken up with you

they hadn’t given you a reason, only stating that they could no longer find it in themself to continue with your relationship

you couldn’t even wrap your head around the words that had met your ears from the other side of that line

you felt the tightness in your throat return as more tears dampened tsukishima’s shirt,

“Y/N it’s stupid to cry over this. They didn’t even have the decency to break up with you in person so why should you waste tears on them?”

“I know i’m sorry, i just can’t help it,”

you let out a shaky breath as you looked up at him,

“I really liked them Kei, i don’t know what i did wrong.”

he swiped away at the hair that clung to your face and he sighed,

“Idiot, you didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t tell you why they broke up with you but i know it had nothing to do with anything you did.”

he flicked your forehead before pulling you into a hug

hugs from tsukki were rare, so you didn’t let the feeling of his arms wrapped around your figure slip from your mind

although you were still in pain, you knew you wouldn’t have to go through this alone, and that was more then enough to bring a smile back to your face

•Ushijima•

for as long as you and ushijima had been friends, he had never been the best at comforting others

so you had no idea why your first instinct was to call him the second you got your heartbroken

as the phone rang you contemplated hanging up and letting him know that it was just an accident but honestly, you needed to hear his voice right now,

“Hello Y/N.”

you stayed silent for a minute, attempting to calm your voice before you spoke

“Y/N, are you there?” 

you took a deep breath before smiling, in hopes it would make you sound more cheerful than you were feeling in that moment

“Yeah sorry, h-hey toshi.”

“Y/N are you alright? It sounds like there’s something wrong.”

you sighed, with how observant he was it honestly wasn't a surprise that he had noticed your distress from the other side of the line

it was at this moment that you had begun to regret calling at all,

“Oh um, I guess today just hasn't been the best.”

“Would you like to talk about it?”

you smiled through the tears streaming down your face

although ushijima wasn’t exactly familiar with other people’s emotions and how to deal with them, he always tried his best to be there for you and comfort you when you were feeling down,

“T-That person I was dating b-broke up with me and I'm just sad about it. I r-really liked them and it makes me upset that things ended like this.”

ushijima went quiet hearing those words

he had heard you talk about your s/o quite a few times before and they seemed to make you very happy

it honestly hurt him that you had lost that source of happiness so suddenly and although he did not know exactly how to return the smile to your face, he knew he had to try

the radio silence on the other side of the phone gave you anxiety and you began to wonder if you had made your friend uncomfortable in any way

but before you could apologize for venting about your issues, you had been cut off,

“I apologize Y/N. I don’t really know what to say but you are a very lovely person and they are surely missing out. If you’d like, you can come over to tendou’s house and read this week’s jump with us.”

you let out a small laugh at his attempts to comfort you,

“That sounds great toshi, you sure I won't be bothering you two though?”

you heard tendou yell through the phone, letting you know not to be silly and that you’re always invited as ushijima agreed with his statement

you swiped at the tears that had stained your cheek and clutched the phone closer to your ear,

“Awesome, I’ll be there soon then.”

“Okay Y/N, we will be waiting for you.”

before your friend could end the call, you quickly spoke up,

“Toshi?”

“Yes Y/N?”

“Thank you, I feel better already.”

“You’re welcome Y/N, I care about you very much so I’m glad I can make this easier for you.”

you felt your heart swell at his words as you bid him a goodbye 

although you had lost someone important to you, it wasn't the end of the world and you knew ushijima would help you understand that

•Akaashi•

akaashi was always someone you knew you could come to when the world was against you

however, once you and your s/o made things official, you promised yourself that you wouldn’t bother him with any issues involving your relationship 

he always assured you that you could go to him for anything but you knew that you had to deal with certain problems on your own

besides, he had his dilemmas to worry about and you most certainly didn't need to add to the pile

but you didn’t know who else to turn to when the same person you had spent months with, broke your heart

so you ended up dialing up akaashi’s number and waiting anxiously as the line connected

knowing him it wasn't a huge surprise that he had answered right away, the sound of yelling and volleyball’s slamming against the floor had met your ears,

“Hey Y/N, did you need something?”

you automatically felt guilty for forgetting he had practice at this hour, interrupting him was not what you’d intended to do,

“Ah, sorry I forgot you were still at p-practice. It’s no big deal, I can call you later about it.”

akaashi noticed the distressed tone of your voice as it shook and immediately excused himself from the gym, letting his coach know that he had a personal issue to deal with,

“No, it’s okay. We were just about to finish up anyways, Bokuto just wanted to practice his spike a bit before we left. Is something the matter?”

akaashi had been bluffing about practice almost being over but he knew you called him for a reason and he didn’t mind skipping practice for a bit to help you out

“Oh, um yeah actually, I got broken up with a little while ago. I know it’s a stupid thing to call about but it just really hurts and I didn’t know what else to do other then talk to you.”

akaashi frowned as he heard you begin to softly weep on the other side of the line

he knew how much you cared about your former s/o so he couldn’t imagine how much pain you were experiencing

he wish he was there to be with you but he knew he was stuck in practice for at least another hour,

“I’m so sorry Y/N. I can’t exactly say anything to take the pain away but just know that you’ll always have me. Things may be hard right now and I'll be here to comfort you as long as you need but don’t forget I'll also be here to help you pick yourself up when you’re ready.”

you felt some of the pain lift from his words as you attempted to stop your tears,

“T-Thank you Keiji, thank you.”

“No need to thank me Y/N. If you’re okay with it, me and bokuto can stop by after practice and we can go to the park down the street that you like. I’m sure you both would have fun.”

you laughed at his comment and smiled to yourself,

“I’d like that.”

“Alright, we’ll see you later then.”

akaashi was glad to hear the newfound smile in your voice as the call came to a close

your smile was his favorite sight after all, and he’d do his best to keep it plastered on your face as long as he was around

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

[patchofsunlight]

i’m reposting bc it’s not showing up in the tags and I’m mad about it lmao!! hope you like it!!

check out my 800 followers event!

warnings: cursing because uh. this is bakugou katsuki. and this is so long. i put so much more effort into this than into any of the others i can’t do anything if i’m in love with him i’m sorry

Katsuki definitely did not think he would fall in love with an extra like you. In fact, he did not think he would fall in love at all.

Yet he did. Like an idiot.

You were friends with fucking Deku, of course, and almost as annoying as him. He always saw you around with him and the Half-and-Half Bastard and he promised himself he would never give you more than a glare because you simply did not deserve to be in his thoughts, and he succeeded at that

at first.

You decided to live rent-free in his mind after the Sports Festival. That was the first time he actually payed attention to you and it was safe to say he was slightly impressed

He was sure you would’ve ended up on the final battles if you hadn’t had to fight Icyhot before you got there

even then, you gave the idiot a run for his money and Katsuki was surprised with how long you held your own, getting a bunch of good hits and losing only because Todoroki was, well, Todoroki.

He respected you a bit after that

but he did not respect the way you were always plaguing his thoughts and dreams like a fucking virus of sorts

It was irritating as fuck and he wanted to kill someone over it.

Whenever he saw you his heart sped up to ten miles per minute and it made him see red with anger. He wasn’t sure what made you so important, anyway. Yes, you were powerful and somewhat pretty but still an idiot and Deku’s friend so how good could you actually be? Certainly not much

Still, there he was, thinking about you like a fucking stupid dumbass

He hated it, despised it, it made his blood boil. This was probably caused by some secondary quirk bullshit you had that no one knew about and he was tired of losing his damn time over it.

And you were always talking to him. For some god awful reason your seat was close to his and so you would ask about his day and about what he had for lunch and about his studies and a bunch of ridiculous shit he didn’t give a fuck about

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N, I don’t wanna talk to a fucking extra like you.”

“Why so grumpy, Explosion Boy?”

“I’LL KILL YOU”

he obviously didn’t.

It was weirdly comforting to have someone interested in his life, if he was honest about it.

But not much. It’s not like he liked you or appreciated you in anyway, of course not. That would be absolute bullshit and he was not willing to deal with it.

Getting kidnapped by the League of Villains was one of the worst things to ever happen to him.

Even though he fought his way through survival and didn’t get hurt or anything, it was still pretty terrible and, well, with everything that happened with All Might later... It’s safe to say it didn’t leave him feeling exactly good about himself

Besides, damn Deku was the one to help him escape and it pissed him off.

Specially because you were there too and how much of an idiot did you have to be to get caught up in something like that?

Did you want to die or something? Fucking extra. It made him so mad.

And worried, too, because what if you had gotten hurt? What if something bad had happened and he couldn’t help? Not that he cared, of course, but the thought of you being anything but healthy and fine made his heart jump uncomfortably in his chest and he didn’t like it one bit.

After that, you suddenly decided you wanted to be his friend or some bullshit, and it was the most annoying thing he had ever had to go through.

Talking to him randomly during class wasn’t fucking enough for you? Did you really have to walk with him to the dorms and invite him to have lunch with you? God, you were really insufferable.

But he found himself appreciating your company, sometimes. It was nice to have someone by his side like that, even if he couldn’t stand you

And maybe the fluttering of his heart whenever you smiled wasn’t all that bad.

You suddenly became a part of the Bakusquad after inviting him to have lunch with you multiple times and being rejected all of them until Mina started inviting YOU to have lunch with THEM instead and he wasn’t sure how to react to it

Kaminari was always fucking babbling with you about something and it got on his nerves

It was still better than seeing you running around with fucking Deku though. Deku did not deserve your friendship.

Sometimes, when you are too invested in conversation with someone else during lunch, he can’t help but steal glances at you and bite back a smile.

You’re cute when you’re excited.

He slowly stops complaining about you walking him to his dorm

You keep playfully saying you do it in case someone tries to kidnap him on the way and he screams at you for it everytime, but something tells you he goes easy on you for some reason.

There’s this one time when you call Kirishima “cheap ass red rock candy”

You’re only joking around and Kirishima knows this, so he only rolls his eyes and lightly punches your shoulder

but, for the first time ever, Katsuki laughs. He tries to hold it back like he does with every smile you bring to his lips, but he can’t, and the way your eyes sparkle at the sound sends his stomach in a frenzy

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh before,” you tell him quietly while you walk towards the dorms later that day, curiously avoiding his glare as you blush. He furrows his brows. It’s not like you to do that, but his heart does sommersaults in his chest at your bashfulness and he hates it.

“So fucking what?” his voice is aggressive, but there’s a hint of warmth rising to his face.

“It’s a nice sound,” you smile ever so softly and he stops breathing for a moment, “you should laugh more.”

“Whatever,” he mutters, hiding away his own red cheeks from your questioning eyes and walking a bit faster.

After that, he tries less to bite back his laughter. It’s almost subconscious and no one comments on it, but Kaminari, Kirishima, Mina, and Sero exchange knowing looks while you excitedly tell him about the last movie you watched and he grunts in acknowledgement, his full attention on you even as he avoids your eyes and stares at his lunch.

There’s this one time when you go to his room because you can’t sleep and it makes him so angry because he was already absolutely knocked out

yet he can see how much you’re fidgeting and something about the fact you came to him of all people causes his stomach to flutter, so he lets you in and listens while you tell him you’ve been having nightmares lately.

That’s the first time you ever sleep in his room, but neither of you acknowledge the way you’re holding each other when you wake up

It becomes kind of a tradition for you to go see him when you can’t sleep. He always complains about it and tells you to grow the fuck up, but lets you in anyway.

He likes to hold you while you sleep. It calms down his erratic heart and it’s nice, he figures. It’s nice to have someone to wait for, specially if that someone is you.

Katsuki tries not to think too much about what the feelings he gets when he’s next to you mean. After all, you’re still some annoying extra he couldn’t care less about, right?

Right?

It happens one cold night in the dorms’s common room.

You are just hanging out with him and the Bakusquad, watching some movie about something Katsuki doesn’t care about. He’s just looking through his social medias and ignoring all conversation going around him

You’re seated on the other couch, next to Sero, and he knows there’s a spot just on your other side, and a part of him longs to occupy it and be next to you, but he knows that’s stupid, so he stays put, even when you suddenly glance at him and smile when you notice how his eyes were already on you

He rolls his eyes and scowls, feeling his face heat up, but keeps quiet.

Then fucking Deku comes around and sits beside you. He’s obviously upset about something and Katsuki wants to kick his ass for simply being in close proximity to you

Yes, he knows you’re his friend too, but still. Deku can get fucked.

Deciding just being next to you isn’t enough, Izuku leans his head on your shoulder.

Katsuki sees fucking red. He’s ready to get up and punch his nose, but that was before you lifted your hand to play with the boy’s green hair, quietly asking him if everything was alright before you engaged in a whisper-filled conversation.

If looks could kill, Deku would’ve been dead in a second.

Kirishima is the first to notice how absolutely rageful he is.

“Hey, Bakubro, are you okay?”

“Shut the fuck up, Shitty Hair.”

He follows Katsuki’s glare and widens his eyes at the sight of you and Midoriya, smirking.

“Are you worried, Bakubro? Don’t worry, they’re just friends! She only has eyes for you!”

“I’m pretty sure I told you to shut up, didn’t I?”

“Come on, Bakubro! Your crush is definitely not in love with Midoriya, okay?”

“I don’t have a fucking crush, Shitty Hair!”

all eyes turn to his fuming figure after he screams. Izuku takes his head away from your shoulder, brows furrowing in confusion. You stare at Katsuki with concern, silently asking yourself what could have brought him to this outburst.

He groans in anger before standing up and leaving the room, unable to stay around you and fucking Deku any longer.

Mina sends you a look and you’re on your feet, telling Izuku you would be right back and running after the angry blond.

He was sitting on the stairs just outside the dorms, trying to control his own fury. You sit next to him and he scowls.

“What happened back there, Katsuki?” you question softly and his first name on your lips has him on the verge of an emotional breakdown. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he groans, looking at the ground as so to avoid your sharp eyes, “I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Did I fucking stutter?”

You smile lightly at his manners, moving your head so you could watch him more attentively.

“Well, I heard you talk about having a crush. What about that, huh?”

He blushes immediately, scowling even harder and turning away from you so you can’t see his face, “I said I don’t have a crush, you idiot.”

You hum in acknowledgement, “that’s too bad.”

Katsuki moves his neck so fast it almost gives him whiplash, and he blushes harder when he notices how close to him you are.

“What do you fucking mean by that?”

“I wouldn’t mind you having a crush if it was on me.”

He melts on the spot, heartbeat speeding so much he can barely feel it beating.

You two stare at each other and he absolutely loves the cheeky grin on your face.

You look so pretty when you smile.

He kisses you before he can overthink it, chest fluttering at the feeling of your smile against his lips. He ends up smiling too, just a bit.

Katsuki definitely did not think he would fall in love with an extra like you. In fact, he did not think he would fall in love at all.

Yet he did, and he could begrudgingly admit it wasn’t actually that bad.

[graceslavenderhaze]

fight night  (jatp crew x reader)

readers home life hasn’t been the best and they’ve been lying to their friends about it. one night it all builds up and the reader shows up to julies, distraught. ( for this the boys are alive bc it just worked out best but other than that no changes.)

this has been sitting in my drafts so i thought i’d post it

trigger warning: family fights, anxiety, depression, past talk of eating disorders.

For a long time you use to just keep everything buried down. That was your fatal flaw. It wasn’t a trust issue, you just always had this feeling that if no one knew then everything would be fine. But your family had lately been falling apart, your parents always seemed disappointed in you, you were fighting with your siblings more and it felt it a ballon that kept on expanding. you didn’t know when everything was going to explode it just kept getting worse.

Today was the exploding point. It seemed like no matter what you did, it just wasn’t good enough. You were the black sheep in your family, they made you out to be it. They complained about how you dressed, what your room looked like, the music you played, the people you hung out with, and for what? You didn’t do anything that was textbook problem child material. 

You tried your hardest in school, you never asked for much, you cleaned almost everyone’s mess at home, and after a while that became your routine. Never be seen, never be heard and never get any credit for everything you do. Meanwhile your siblings, little miss perfect and the star academic got everything you wanted. Your parents attention, their approval, and their constant reassurance. 

By the time you were in high school, you were emotionally independent. A stranger to your own family pretty much. You went to an art school along with your siblings. Even as the oldest, you quickly fell into their shadows. Your sister a musical protégé on the violin, your parents paid for the best lessons, and without a doubt she’ll probably attend some ivy league. Your brother was in the advanced academics program, with yale and harvard already offering him scholarships in his sophomore year. Then there was you. You were in the art program, and while your teacher swears that all the top art schools have you on their radar. You still felt insignificant.

You worked a weekend job at the local coffee shop, latte love , it wasn’t everything but it helped pay for art supplies for you to build your portfolio. Their you met Julie Molina and Flynn Davis. Two girls who were your age, they attended the music program at your art school. You recognized them, Julie had been like the sun at the school. In the hallways always smiling and then her mom died, the sun went away hidden behind clouds. While Flynn was unapologetically herself and didn’t backdown from telling people how things were, she was fearless. They were also probably the first two people who knew your siblings and were able to separate you from them. 

Then later on in the year the three of you met Luke, Alex and Reggie. Latte Love was hosting its monthly open mic night. It was almost a year after Julie’s mom died, so in an attempt to coax her back into music, Flynn brought her around. You offered free hot chocolate on the house as a bribe if she wanted to come. After an hour of mainly middle schoolers trying to face stage fright, soccer parents who desperately tried to hold onto their high school garage band phase and any other mediocre act who gave it their all in effort. Sunset Curve preformed. 

That night honestly sent all six of your lives’ into a full spiral but in the best way. A month after you had met sunset curve, they formed a band with Julie and became, Julie and the Phantoms. Flynn becoming the band manager and you being the artist for ticket designs, posters and anything else. It helped distract you from everything going on in your life and with your friends you didn’t feel left out or the black sheep. You were you and they loved you for all of it. 

But you could only be happy for so long. Your family always managed to make you feel horrible about yourself, this week had felt like the worst its ever been. Your sister being recruited for a summer symphony in Australia, your brother would be off at a stem camp and your summer plans were just to work, make art and hang with your friends. Your family wasted no time in telling you that you were wasting your time, or that it was just some silly childish thing. They didn’t understand how big Julie and the Phantoms were becoming. The latest gig being opening for panic at the disco at the Orpheum. 

You couldn’t take it anymore, which is how you ended up walking to Julie’s house right in the beginning of a thunderstorm. When you finally made it to Julie’s front stoop you were drenched head to toe. Julie being the one to pull you in the front door. In her oversized smiley face sweatshirt and baggy sweats. The movie night dress code.

“Did you walk here?” She exclaims looking at the outdoor storm and turning back to her best friend. Your eyes red from crying and cheeks raw from wiping your tears rapidly. She’d been expecting you for weekly movie night, especially since her dad and brother had been away for a baseball game for the weekend. Just not in this state.

“More like swam.” You replied with a dry laugh. Trying to desperately hold yourself together. Knowing your friends were all in the living room, you didn’t want to burden them with your breakdown. 

“Hey was that the chinese food! Y/n? Whats wrong bean?” Flynn stated her mood changing halfway through the sentence noticing the state of their best friend. Who looked like she’d just had the world’s worst day. You smiled fondly at the nice name she’d given you, which was a coffee pun. 

“Family shit. Like always.” You said looking down at the floor and the puddle that you were slowly dripping onto the Molina residence’s welcome mat. Both girls smiled sympathetically, they had their fair share of stories of how bad things could get at the L/n household. 

“Come on! It’s movie night, you’re getting into cozy clothes and having junk food with your friends.” Julie said taking your hand and leading you upstairs to her room. Julie handed you spare clothes due to you being completely soaked. Then a towel to dry yourself off.

“Here, once you’re ready to come downstairs, we can put your stuff into the dryer.” Julie said smiling at her friend before leaving to give her privacy. Taking the towel she gave you and trying to dry your hair. Then changing into the cozy clothes she gave you. Your phone blowing up from texts from your family. Your parents wanting to know where you were. Not caring how hurt you were. Your siblings saying half assed apologies they didn’t mean. They’d done this before and they’d do it again. 

Ignoring the messages, you walked back downstairs. The comforting smell of chinese food wafting at you. Julie, Alex and Flynn stood at the table. Meanwhile Luke and Reggie were were at the local 7/11 getting slushies. 

“Did anyone order a hot mess?” You said jokingly getting their attention. Alex standing up and instantly hugging you as if he’d never see you again. Hugging him back. Alex’s hugs always felt as if it was a cloud. 

The Molina residence house phone then rang, the caller id labeling your house. “We can just let it go to message.” Julie said turning back from the phone to you. You shook your head, “I’m so over this bullshit.” Walking over to the phone you picked it up. 

“Hello ever so loving parental unit.” You said with sarcasm dripping off every word. “Pop off!” Flynn said as she bit into a dumpling. You bit back a smile. “Where are you? You can’t run out because you’re upset.” You heard your mom say. You rolled your eye. 

“Where i am every friday night. I told you in advance i had plans so when you take your attention span off miss perfect and genius boy remember you have a third fucking child. Goodnight!” You said promptly and then hung up placing the phone back on back on its home base. “Beyoncé would approve.” Flynn said clapping for dramatic effect.

“How much trouble are you going to be in for that?” Alex said passing your usual that Julie knew to order for you, you shrugged. “Bold of you to assume they’ll remember to ground me.” 

“Wow what a rag tag group of mommy and daddy issues we are.” Reggie announced as he placed the tray of slushies down on the counter. “Excuse you!” Julie exclaimed as she took a slip of her blueberry slushie. “She’s dead, that’s an issue.” Flynn said as she grabbed her green apple one. You choked on your food for a second, “Out of pocket!” 

“She’s right babe.” Luke said hugging her from behind. “You have mommy issues too.” Julie said turning around slightly. “Only the hottest people have both mommy and daddy issues!” Alex exclaimed holding a hand of for you and Reggie to high five. 

“My back hurts from having a healthy parental relationship and carrying that standard.” Flynn said cracking open her fortune cookie. You laughed looking around at your dysfunctional friend group. 

“We are all going to hell for these jokes alone.” You said taking a sip of your slushie. Reggie scoffed, “We’re just warming up.” 

[roxa-sos]

before you go - jj maybank

jj maybank x ex-pogue!reader

tw; it’s a lil angsty (n o, it’s pretty angsty) mention of sex. sad sad. v sad.

request: “can you write an imagine with jj based on the song before you go by lewis capaldi”

a/n -- i don’t listen to lewis capaldi but this song is really good?? like i listened to it once and just. damn. i LOVE writing song fics bc i can’t write unless i have music playing, so plsplspls send more requests for songs :)

-

i fell by the wayside like everyone else i hate you, i hate you, i hate you, but i was just kidding myself our every moment, i start to replace ‘cause not that they’re gone, all i hear are the words that i needed to say

you grew up in the outer banks. an only child, the pogue’s golden girl, best friends with jj maybank since you were ten. you were the golden girl of the outer banks. cool enough to hang around the pogues and be one yourself, but hot enough to have some kook eyes on you. peaceful, funny, but you always declined when people chased after you. 

jj maybank had a shitty dad. a deadbeat mom. but he was your best friend. you had millions of memories of you two at the beach, him teaching you to surf when you were twelve, the two of you being the worst and best things that had ever happened to your side of the island.

when you were fifteen, you could’ve sworn you knew love. your love for your best friend, your love for the dumb boy that woke you up at six in the morning so he could sneak out before your parents found out he spent the night. the boy who made you a pothead. the boy who consumed all of your free time. 

but you’d always been too scared to pursue him. 

so, you fell into the hands of another guy. he was kind of an ass to your friends, but you thought he really cared about you. he brought you flowers, took you to the drive in, spent nights with you, and kissed you until your lips were swollen.

jj hated you for it. he always thought you were replacing him with your boyfriend, and he didn’t like you focusing on someone other than him. he wanted to be the guy who held you on his lap when he was driving the boat, he wanted to be the guy you clung onto at movies, he wanted to be the guy who kissed you until you were out of breath. 

but he wasn’t. 

after six months with your boyfriend, you dad delivered the worst news you’d ever heard. a relocation to upstate new york. and all of the sudden, time slipped through your hands.

when you hurt under the surface like troubled water running cold well, time can heal but this won’t

you told all of the pogues except for jj. 

he hadn’t talked to you unless he had to in months. 

he found out through john b, and he cried. cried angrily after storming out of the chateau, sitting down on the bank next to the lake. he didn’t have any more time with you. 

so, before you go was there something i could’ve said to make your heart beat better? if only i’d known you had a storm to weather

you knew you had three months left in the outer banks. you made the most of your time left with your boyfriend, but jj slowly started coming back to you for company. 

you still hadn’t told him. but he was back. 

you were spending your days and nights with your friends and your boyfriend, and every moment you spent packing was time spent crying your eyes out. 

you were leaving everything you’d ever known. 

but you had jj back, and that made everything seem a little bittersweet. he was coming back to you after all this time, and he didn’t even know you didn’t have any time left together. or so you thought. 

was there something i could’ve said to make it all stop hurting? it kills me how your mind can make you feel so worthless so, before you go

“i’m leaving in a month” was how you told jj. it was almost like he already knew, but he had to leave when you told him. and he cried again, the damn boy cried right outside the room you were standing in, breaking your heart. he muttered things to himself, talking about how he was wasting time, but you pretended like you didn’t hear. 

and then, a week before you left, you were spending the night with your boyfriend while your parents were hanging out with friends. jj was at your door, and you had to step outside to talk to him.

“i’m fucking in love with you.”

you didn’t know what to say to him. 

“i have been. for years. and you just... got with him. and i couldn’t say anything, because i want you to be happy, but i can’t keep it to myself knowing that i’m... i’m fucking losing you.” 

you never said anything to him, but you hugged him. and he left. 

when you went inside, your boyfriend broke it off with you. you both knew it was coming, seeing as neither of you could do long distance like that, and he knew you wouldn’t be able to stay committed to someone that you couldn’t have. 

and you were alone. you were alone until you had twenty four hours left in paradise on earth. 

your last night there, you got drunk as hell. you smoked, and the pogues held their little goodbye party for you. at the end of it, when kie had to go home, and pope’s dad picked him up, and john b left you and jj to have your bittersweet ending, you kissed jj. you kissed him hard, and he kissed you back.

you’d probably remember every bit of that night for the rest of your life. 

his hands started on your face, pulling yours into his, then they slid down to hold your waist to make sure you didn’t get away from him in those last hours you had. he hated himself for letting you get away from him for all of those months. he hated you for getting a boyfriend. but he couldn’t spend the rest of that time hating things.

so he loved you instead. it could be classified as a hookup, but it meant more to both of you. by the time you two were laying next to each other in his bed at the chateau, looking up at the ceiling, sweaty and with marks forming on your neck, you were crying. sobbing, you had a breakdown. you couldn’t get those months back. neither could he, but all he could do was hold you and try to make you feel better.

you agreed to stay in contact before you left. you two were going to try to make long distance stuff work. the pogues were all outside your house the day you were supposed to put your suitcase in your dad’s car and drive to the ferries. 

you leaned out the car window, watching them get smaller and smaller as the car drove. jj followed the car for a little bit until he knew it was hopeless, keeping his eyes on you until your dad told you to sit down.

was never the right time, whenever you called went little by little until there was nothing at all our every moment, i start to replay but all i can think about is seeing that look on your face

you and jj left it off on a bad note. you didn’t get your awkward morning after having sex across the hall from john b. you didn’t get a sweet first kiss. it all hurt. but you both tried to get over it as you started off with facetimes once you settled down in your new home.

it always hurt to see him, though. he agreed. you switched to phone calls, scheduled them so you could get ready to hear him.

he missed half of them. in your heart, somewhere, you knew he was moving on. 

so were you. 

back home, he was beating himself up when he flirted with other people. when he spent his time with someone that wasn’t you. but he knew he couldn’t bring himself to hear your voice, much less see your face. he was trying to replace every bad feeling thinking of you gave him, but that meant replacing every moment you two had. 

you were doing the same. finding new people. none of them would ever match jj and the pogues, but you were trying. you held onto everything you had left of jj, but you knew his time in your life was over, or coming to an end. 

would we be better off by now if i’d have let my walls come down? maybe, i guess we’ll never know you know, you know 

the last phone call you two shared ended with tears, but you both knew it was for the best. 

you confided in each other. it hurt, and you told him. he told you the same. 

“i should’ve said something.” he practically shouted, frustrated with himself.

“i should’ve said something, too.” you laughed halfheartedly, choking back another sob. it had been a few months since you’d called, but you needed to have a clean cut. not let things linger.

“i miss you.” all he ever had to say was that he regretted everything he did. all he ever had to say was that he missed you. 

“i miss you too, but you know we’re over, j. i love you.”

“i love you too.” and then the static of the connection cut, and you knew he was gone from you for good. 

a/n -- i just realized that anon probably wanted this song request to be about mental health issues but this made me just as sad as that would’ve so like asldnlanwegvbolande holy FUCK this made my heart hurt. 

[emybain]

Rainy Day

i tried posting this earlier but tumblr was a butt and deleted it so here’s a second go. there’s angst but at least there’s some nodrian. this is also part of the au where nova’s family lives:) im posting from my phone and ive never done that before so if something weird happens let me know. just some background (as i forget to explain my hcs for this au 95% of the time): the anarchists want nova to join them bc they know she’s powerful. they contact her and confront her on the streets and stuff. no one knows but nova, and since this started, she’s sickened and scared bc she sometimes agrees with some of their points against the renegades. she’s terrified bc they (*cough* Ingrid) vaguely threaten her and her loved ones. she’s also scared of what could happen if it gets out. we LOVE living in the spotlight bc we have an infamous uncle! hope y’all enjoy:D

_________

It was pouring outside, much to Nova’s luck. She only prayed that she wouldn’t crash her car in this weather; she wasn’t even sure if she had grabbed her wallet in her hurry to leave her house.

She couldn’t go back after this. Her parents were done. Disappointed. Ashamed. Angry. She had betrayed their trust once again, but this time, it went too far. This was a secret she never should have kept from them, and now they were going to kick her out onto the streets.

Thankfully, Adrian only lived a few blocks away, so she didn’t have to leave the neighborhood. Stepping out of her car, she could barely even register the fat raindrops that began to drench her entire body.

He answered on the fifth knock, looking as if he had just woken up from a nap. Nova didn’t even let herself take in his ruffled state. He blinked at her, frowning at her red eyes and wet clothes.

“Nova? What’s wr-”

“Are your parents home?”

Opening the door a bit more, he shook his head slowly, obviously confused. “No? They’re at headquarters righ-umph!”

Nova launched herself at him, burying her head into his sweatshirt. His armed immediately wrapped around her, although his body stiffened in alarm.

“Nova, hey, Nova.” He relaxed quickly. A hand made circles on her back. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. I’m here, yeah?” He held her as she sobbed, muttering incoherent gibberish into his chest. She was probably getting tears and snot all over him, but that was the least of her worries.

Struggling for air, she gasped, “I can’t go home, Adrian. They’ll kill me. They’re go-going to kill me. I...I-I-I can’t go home. I’m never going to see Evie or-or Thomas ever again because I’m a fu-fucking idiot.” She felt a hand on her head, running through her hair.

He made small shushing sounds. “Is this about another piercing? Or did you finally get a tattoo?”

Nova heard the door shut behind her and the lock. She shook her head into the sweatshirt. “Much...much worse.”

As if to remind her of her situation, a loud Bang! Bang! Bang! resonated in her skull. Suddenly she felt as if she were falling and gripped Adrian. Her entire body shook, despite the fact that she was burning up.

“Breathe in and out, Nova.” She felt him gently guide her to the floor, something he always did for her when she was having an attack. “I’m here. You’re in my house, okay? Everything’s alright. I’m not going to leave you.” He backed up a little to give her space, but she made a whimpering noise in the back of her throat and reached out for him. He pulled her head into his lap, one hand going back to tracing circles on her skin and the other holding her hand.

She didn’t know how much time had passed before she finally felt her breathing slow down. Exhaustion rolled through her body, and she fell limp against Adrian’s knee. Somewhere far away, he asked her a few questions, to which she nodded to, only partly paying attention.

Somehow, she ended up on his bed with a glass of water in her hands and his soft comforter over her legs. He sat beside her on the edge, the lines on his forehead showing just how worried he was. Only when she silently gestured did he move to sit closer to her on the bed.

She was quiet for a long time, but Adrian was patient. He always was. She had had many breakdowns in his presence, and he knew how to help her get through them every time. Even though they had drifted apart in their earlier teen years, they were now both making the effort to spend more time together. It had been about a year since they made this commitment, and while it was hard and her teammates and friends teased her about it, it was the best decision she had made in a long time.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” she mumbled, setting the still-full water glass on his nightstand. She curled her legs up to her chest, kicking back the bedspread.

“Take your time.” He reached for her hand, and she gladly accepted his.

Nova sniffled. “For a while now, the Anarchists have been contacting me.” A single tear slipped down her cheek. “They’ve been feeding me lies about the Renegades, taunting me for betraying my own blood.”

Adrian inhaled sharply. “Nova...what? I-”

“There’s more,” she snapped, but her voice shrank again. “They...they want me to join them, saying that the Renegades are liars and that they wanted my family to die that night.” She swallowed, feeling disgust wash over her. “And now, I’m afraid of what they’re going to do to me or my family.” She glanced at him, hand tightening around his. “To you. They know how close we are.”

Adrian searched her face. “You should’ve said something sooner, Nova. This is serious. How long has this been going on?”

She shrugged, looking down at the sheets. “A year and a half?” Adrian cursed under his breath. Another tear dripped down her cheek. “Adrian, you can’t tell anyone, okay? You know the shit I get every day just for being an Artino. I’ve had to prove myself since I was six, had to...had to play the part of a media darling just to stay on most people’s good side. All that could vanish if this got out. It won’t matter that I’ve ignored them. You know how the tabloids are.”

Adrian shushed her as her voice started to rise and shake again. “I can’t just do nothing, Nova. You know that.” Something flashed in his eyes. “You matter more than anything else in the world to me. I can’t stand to see you like this.” Nova blushed, only then becoming aware of how close they were sitting on his bed, how weirdly handsome he looked in his grey sweatpants and sweatshirt. Her eyes drifted to the necklace peeking out from his sweatshirt, stomach dropping at the thought of it hanging over her.

She shook her head, partly in response and partly to get her mind away from such imaginations. “My parents found out today and confronted me when I came home from headquarters.” She inhaled shakily. “I was a dumbass and left a letter out on my desk.”

Adrian’s face softened in understanding. “They were angry you didn’t tell them?”

“Furious,” she breathed. “They...they told me I wasn’t their daughter if…” her face crumpled, and he wrapped his arms around her again, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. “If I was actually thinking about joining them.”

“But you’re not,” he reassured her, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head. That only made more tears fall.

Nova leaned back, wanting to tell him more. How she had actually considered what they said. Not about joining them, but what they mentioned about the system being corrupt and unfair. Sometimes, when she really thought about it, she could see where they were right. It made her feel dirty inside and out for betraying everything she ever knew.

“You’re a good person, Nova.” He attempted to smile. “We’ll talk about what to do about them contacting you later. Everything’s going to be alright. You’re one of the best people I know. No, don’t shake your head,” he laughed, which caused the corner of her lip to lift up just slightly. She loved his laugh. “You are. They’re just upset right now. Any parent would be. Give them some time to think through things. You know my dads never mind how long you stay.” After a slight pause, he added, a bit awkwardly, “Okay?”

Nova glanced down at his lips, pinched in worry, then back up at his eyes, and she may have responded, or she may not have. But the next thing she knew, her lips were pressed firmly against his. He made a noise in surprise; Nova felt his body go stiff beside her. She pulled back, an apology already forming in her mouth. He blinked at her, the hand that had been rubbing circles on her arm now still. Then he did something that sent Nova over the edge: He kissed her back.

She gasped, allowing him to deepen the kiss and pull her closer. Nova’s entire body shook as she climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. One hand splayed at the small of her back, the other reaching up to dig into her hair. A soft moan escaped her lips at the way her skin tingled from the contact; she would’ve been mortified if Adrian didn’t act like the sound was the best thing he had ever heard.

He broke the kiss, only to murmur her name and words of affection as his lips, great skies his lips, traced a path from her jaw down to the hollow part of her neck. Nova’s head was pounding, her heart racing, her body feeling about a thousand new emotions all at once.

Nova had kissed people before, had even kissed Adrian once when they were fourteen as part of a dare and came close about a year ago. But none of those kisses were like this one. No, she had never, ever, ever been kissed like this before. As if she were the most precious thing in the world; as if she mattered and was cared for.

His lips returned to her face, kissing away the tear stains on her cheeks before returning to her mouth. An explosion of stars lit up behind Nova’s eyelids, and she welcomed his caresses fervently, pressing her body so close to his until she felt as if she might suffocate. But at that moment, she didn’t care.

For so long, she had dreamed and thought of and imagined what it might be like to kiss Adrian Everhart. Partly in shame, for he was her best friend. They had known one another for ten years; they weren’t supposed to feel this way about one another. Every time she had ever thought of a life where they were something other than friends, she chastised herself. She couldn’t ruin their friendship and reveal her true feelings for him if he didn’t feel the same. When she was younger, she had seen Adrian as something akin to a brother. That had all changed after they had first kissed as awkward, naïve fourteen year olds. But if he had been like family for her before then, surely Adrian only thought about her as a sister. Right? Now she wasn’t so sure.

Adrian’s fingers ran over the length of her thigh, then his hand came to rest in the crevice under her knee. Nova shook in his hold, her breath beginning to grow shallow. A sick, heavy brick dropped in her stomach, the exact opposite of the feeling of pleasure she had felt just minutes before. What if this wasn’t all she had wanted? What if they were just caught up in the moment, and Adrian was only kissing her because she had initiated it? He could break the embrace at any moment and push her away in disgust when realization would hit, and just like that, the best ten years of her life would go down the drain.

She needed air, but also didn’t want to let go just yet. A new wave of tears threatened to spill behind her closed eyelids. She was such an idiot. Adrian could never, would never, love her the way she loved him.

Not knowing what else to do, Nova allowed her power to roll through her, gently so as not to hurt him like she would with criminals. It had been years since she had been kind with her power; she hadn’t used it that way since Thomas was a screaming toddler. The effects were the same, though. Adrian broke the kiss as his head lolled back against the headboard. Fat tears streamed down Nova’s face. Adrian had offered her a place to stay, but after what had just happened, how could she?

Legs shaky, Nova pushed herself off of him and scooted toward the end of the bed. She wanted nothing more than to just curl up beside him and fall asleep in his arms. After all, he was one of the few people that made her feel safe enough to fall asleep. But no. She had to go. Where, she wasn’t quite sure yet. Anywhere but here. Maybe she would call up Danna or Ramona and explain the situation. Both were familiar with her home life and the occasional desire to just disappear for a while from the chaos that was the Artino household.

Thank the sky above that Hugh and Simon weren’t home, or else she would have some explaining to do. Due to her current state, just making it out of the large house was a miracle. It was pouring harder now than it was when Nova came over. She closed the front door and, finding the spare key hidden under a small statue, locked it and hid the key again.

Between the pouring rain and her blurry eyesight, seeing was very difficult for Nova while getting out of Adrian’s neighborhood. She could barely think, barely breathe, even as she called Danna through her car’s Bluetooth system because she was at the top of her contact list. In the corner of her mind, she heard her Papà’s voice telling her she needed to slow down because of the slick roads, like he always tells her to drive slowly in the rain. She can hardly process even that warning.

“Don’t be an emotional driver,” Papà would say whenever she got upset back when she was learning to drive. “Pull over somewhere safe if you’re upset or angry, va bene?” And Nova would nod her head and take deep breaths to calm down.

Images of Adrian flitted through her head, only succeeding in making her more upset than she was. How was she going to explain herself when he woke up and inevitably called her?

“Nova? Nova, are you there?” Nova fixed her eyes on the little screen in her car where it showed a call was in process. Blinking she tried to read who it was, not quite sure she remembered who she had called. It was Danna. Right.

Nova looked back up at the road just as she ran a red light, being t-boned by an incoming car.

[koocycle]

hiii i’d like to request an angst + comforting fluff, like the OC has a hard time keeping old friendship and has like many doubts and worries and feels like a bad friend. basically an overthinker + emotionally sensitive OC. who among the boys could really fit for giving good advice and some comfort to the OC. could be romantic or platonic. bc i’m basically like that irl wew. it’s my first time opening up abt that.

adore u | jhs drabble

pairing; hoseok x reader

word count; 1,6k

genre; angst, fluff.

contains; bestfriend!hoseok, roommate!hoseok, sweet stuff, sad stuff :(

note; this drabble is based on some personal experiences,, being an overthinker nd emotionally sensitive person makes two of us :( it can be pretty hard sometimes but pls don’t!!!! keep it all to yourself sweet anon!!!! talk w someone if necessary, it can even be me!!

visit; my masterlist !

send me; your imagination right here and i’ll make it come true :) 

You were never the kind of person to easily open up to new people, neither were you the kind of person to seek for any kind of social attention. Even when you were only a little child, engaging in conversations and interacting with others was something you definitely had to work on. After years of struggling with the idea of befriending new people and being an expected social butterfly, it didn’t seem to surprise you when people labeled you as ‘the quiet kid in the back of class’.

Very often, you found yourself doubting yourself from time to time, nothing much had changed since that time after all. You figured out that your ‘shy’ behavior even had a negative effect on your past friendships.

As a young adult, you had always thought that you would eventually grow past this perplexed phase of forced smiles and friendships. And now that you were actually able to call yourself a grown adult, you were even more disappointed in yourself when this ugly and toxic mindset still didn’t find it’s way out of your life. It made you angry how you were still doubting your social skills every time being surrounded by your friends.

Coming back from a day with some of your friends that was supposed to be fun, made you in reality mentally exhausted. Doubting yourself almost every day was one thing, but proving your negative thoughts to be right by hanging out with them was another thing you couldn’t quite get the grip on yet. You had no idea what was wrong with you and why you thought yourself to be such an awful friend, but you had been thinking this way for a good amount of years, and you were wondering if you would ever be able to change yourself.

So here you were, sitting in the drivers seat of your dark, cool car. Your car was already parked in the parking lot of your apartment for a little longer than ten minutes, and as to why you didn’t get inside your house already, you also didn’t have a valid reason for. The engine was turned off long ago and you had allowed your forehead to lean against the steering wheel, only for you to think in complete silence by yourself.

You had been looking forward to this moment all day long— the moment you were able to slip under your cool sheets and fill your head with even more negative thoughts.

However, you gave that idea a second thought when you had seen Hoseok’s car neatly parked in it’s usual spot, indicating that he had arrived home earlier than expected.

You took your time to pull yourself together before you would enter the building. Not wanting to ruin his time away from work with another set of your sad thoughts for him to go through. You knew that your best friend was about to ask you how your day went by, especially since you spent your day with some of your friends— something you usually try to avoid.

So when you had finally arrived in front of your door, you took one more shaky breath before you entered, only to be welcomed by your energetic best friend himself.

As usual, Hoseok’s energy was brighter than anything you’ve ever seen. Even though you had something close to a mental breakdown only a few minutes ago, you couldn’t help but smile widely at the sight of him. Your roommate was so hardworking, always waking up in the early morning, only to arrive back home in the late afternoon but still giving you the most beautiful smile whenever you needed one.

‘‘How was Jimin’s birthday party? Did you have fun?’’ he had asked you the moment you walked inside the living room. The first thing you did was plopping down the couch to sit next to him. You wanted to be comforted by his presence as you felt your happy mood shifting again upon hearing the question.

‘‘It was nice.’’ You let your temple fall against his his shoulder, the lie easily slipping from your lips as you closed your eyes at the feeling of him beside you. You tried to distract yourself, knowing how Hoseok wanted you to get into the details. ‘‘Can’t believe you can watch this without your insides doing a turn over.’’ You told him, indicating to the television in front of both of you playing some kind of American reality show.

‘‘There is not really anything else to watch at this time of the day.’‘ You heard him chuckle lightly. ‘‘You’re home early, by the way, I honestly thought you wouldn’t be home until tonight.”

‘‘Did you want me to?’’ You couldn’t help but let your insecurities get the better of you and ask such a silly question.

‘‘Hm? Of course not, I like being home with you. Just figured out you’d be home later than usual because you were spending time with your friends.’’ You felt his head resting on yours then, bringing his aura closer to yours. Hoseok was aware of your constant doubts and worries, he had always been one of the few people in the world to make you feel like it was alright to be a little shy. He told you that it was just fine to take a bit more time to open up to people than usual, it didn’t make you a bad friend at all, is what he had always tried to convince you.

And that’s one of the things that you liked most about him. He was the complete opposite of you, always getting along with everyone he met and being the bright piece of sunshine he was. Everything he did seemed to be natural to you. And yet, he still understood your worries, even though he had nothing to relate to, he was the one who was able to wipe a few of your worries away.

He was everything you ever wanted to be. You wanted to be just like him sometimes. It came to a point where you started to adore him, trying to pick up some of his habits, from talking to strangers to talking to a few of his closest friends.

‘‘Or did you not have fun?’’ Hoseok continued, smoothly trying to ask you about your day.

‘‘No It was fun, Hobi. Don’t worry about it.’’

There were a few moments of silence exchanged, the only sound coming from the television in front of you. He didn’t want to push you to open up about something you weren’t comfortable talking about, but he also didn’t want you to keep it all to yourself. ‘‘What is bothering you, then?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Another moment of silence passed by. You didn’t know if you should deny your feelings right now, but on the other hand, he could read you like an open book. There was no luck in pretending.

‘‘Do you think I’m a bad friend?’‘ You asked him softly, not wanting to hear how pathetic your voice sounded right now.

He had this idea that this was the thing bothering you. You didn’t seem as excited when you walked inside the apartment today, and he was able to recognize that sad look on your face better than anything else.

He knew that you didn’t want to talk about it because you were worried about bothering him with your bombarding words. But in all honesty, he wanted nothing else than offering you the most assuring comfort possible.

‘‘No. I think you’re an amazing friend.’’ He answered then, and you couldn’t help but plant another lump in your throat. ‘‘I would be packing my clothes and live somewhere else right now if it wasn’t for our friendship.’’

You smiled a little at that. ‘‘You’re only saying that to spare my feelings.’’ Your voice sounded hoarse as you played with your fingers, the volume of your voice going softer each time you spoke. ‘‘I know I’m troubling you with my worries, I didn’t want to bring it up again..’’

‘‘Hey,’’ he said then, disregarding his frame from yours, only to make you look at him a second later. ‘‘Your worries are not silly, they’re very reasonable. But don’t ever question our friendship to be one sided again, you know I love you. I love hearing your thoughts.’’

Hoseok gave you a somewhat stern look, wanting you to be aware of his side of your assumption. ‘‘I know you can’t help feeling this way, but you should know that you’re an amazing friend. My best friend, even.’’

‘‘Yeah I know, Hobi.’’

‘‘I don’t think you do.’’ He showed you a small smile, ‘‘come here.’’ Your friend pulled you closer to his side, going back to your previous position on the couch, but holding you tighter in his embrace this time.

‘‘Look at this beautiful friendship we’ve created the past few years. That wasn’t just because I wanted to spare your feelings. That was because I love you being my friend.’’ He told you as you drew invisible circles on his denim jacket, ‘‘Be a bit kinder to yourself, would you? You try to keep everybody satisfied with the love you give them, but what about yourself?’’

‘‘I don’t know how..?’’ you trailed off, not exactly knowing what he wanted you to do now.

‘‘I want you to show yourself a bit more respect. You can’t always satisfy everyone, it’s a part of it. You should love yourself a bit more instead of constantly worrying about your every move.’’

You hummed at his words, knowing that it sounded easier than it actually was. As if he could read your thoughts again, he spoke, ‘‘But don’t worry, we’re going through this together. As best friends should.’’

[cinnaminsvga]

fox rain | three

→ summary: When the love letter you wrote and submitted as an assignment is leaked to the entirety of your university, it becomes a race against time to dispel rumours and convince the seven suspected muses of the poem that they aren’t the subject before anyone realises that you are the author. Easy, right? Well… maybe not as easy as you think.

→ pairing: bts x reader (feat. namjoon) → genre: college!au, crack, fluff, angst → warnings: none unless you count overly graphic descriptions of how stupid namjoon is (oh and like... ant gambling rings??) → words: 15.7K → a/n: this is late by a month and my whole life is a joke. i hope this makes you laugh bc i made namjoon extra dumb for y’all (for no extra charge. suck it, chipotle.) also: check bio for other chapter links for now!

— • masterlist | prev | three | next • —

“This can’t be my fucking life. Can it?” you say to your own reflection, curtains of despair dripping from every inch of your visage. Your reflection stares back, the same dead eyes twitching imperceptibly from the lack of caffeine in your system. At this point, you wouldn’t be sane enough to be surprised if your parallel self would reply, perhaps with some scathing remark about how you were slowly losing your grip on your life. Not that it would be unwarranted, anyway.

After Hoseok’s explosion the other day, your weekend doesn’t exactly feel as exciting as it usually is. Of course, your mood is still a vast improvement from last week when you were out of commission for most it after your mental breakdown. Although, it doesn’t erase the fact that you’re still knee deep in shit and that you have no idea how you’re going to face Hoseok and Jimin the following Monday.

Damn. You could really use some coffee.

The day seems to be in much better spirits than you, and it would be a waste not to let the universe’s good mood try to make you feel better as well. There is a coffee shop just a block away, and maybe you could take a walk in the sunshine afterwards to help relax the dread consistently knocking at the back of your mind. It’s a little bit optimistic, but it’ll have to do.

Shrugging on a thin cardigan over some other semi-decent clothes, you step out of your stuffy apartment with a spring in your step. You didn’t bother with any of your usual morning ritual, seeing as how you don’t plan on meeting with anyone you know from university anyway. So what if your landlady Mrs. Park sees the bird’s nest on top of your head? Who is she going to tell? Her gang of old auntie friends all hate you already for wearing a “TRANS RIGHTS” shirt in front of them, so it’s not like you’re vying for their acceptance.

Other than your less than friendly neighborhood aunties, there are better old people to hang around anyway. Nearby the coffee shop, there is a senior home where you used to volunteer during your spare time until your other commitments forced you to give up your spot to some other benevolent soul. Since you have been meaning to visit the grandmas and grandpas there when you got some free time, you suppose it would be nice to talk to kind ol’ Ms. Kim today and listen to her recount her many youthful adventures (which is, more often than not, a euphemism for her various sexcapades in the 70s.)

The senior home is closer to your home than the coffee shop, so you choose to stop and gaze at the plain-looking white building with its neatly trimmed bushes and white picket fence. It looks out of place in the neighborhood, with its very suburban and Americana design, but you know it is only because the owner of the establishment had gotten her inspiration from Forrest Gump. She has a crush on young Tom Hanks, and you honestly can’t blame her for it; that man… he is a Man, with a capital M.

You’re in the middle of debating whether you should buy your coffee first before visiting the seniors when you hear a distant shout coming from within the house. Alarmed, you take a step back, almost falling on your ass and onto the sidewalk. You pause, tilting your head to try and peak over the fence and through the large windows that showed the reception area within. You recognize Hana, the receptionist, sitting by her desk in her usual green scrubs, her head bowed over a book as if the sound had not fazed her in the slightest.

“Am I crazy? Am I starting to hear things?” You wonder aloud, still staring at the innocent-looking home. Has the universe had enough with your lacklustre existence that it has caused you to hear nonsense? Is this only the beginning of your slow descent into madness?

You don’t have to fret over your sanity for too long because moments later, the shout repeats itself. Like the previous one, this one sounds just as pained and anguished, though you aren’t sure if it was a male or female who had screamed. For all you knew, the person might have either stubbed their toe or gotten a knife stabbed through their chest; it’s not like you spend time distinguishing the subtle nuances of tormented screams. However, you are more certain now that it had come from within the home, even though Hana has yet to react to the chilling noise. She flips to the next page, tired eyes squinting at the small text.

You are stuck at an impasse: do you go inside the home despite the possible danger of entering a secret cannabilist society of which your acquaintance has been initiated to, or do you turn around and go home where it is 100% more likely for you to survive the next 24 hours?

The choice becomes apparent to you, however, when a tall, lanky boy bursts out of one of the doors behind the receptionist, with his arms piled to the ceiling with dinner plates on the cusp of making their way to the floor. Even through the window and behind a fence, you can tell that he is in dire need of help, which Hana does not seem likely to extend. The mess of legs makes a beautiful display of himself, his lower limbs flapping about aimlessly as his body contorts to try and keep himself and the plates balanced.

Finally, after what feels like hours of torture watching the poor volunteer make a fool of himself, he manages to steady himself, his legs crossed together like he’s trying to hold in his piss. Carefully, he squats down, placing the plates on the floor in front of the receptionist desk. For a moment, you feel as though you should be applauding, for whatever reason.

Now without dishes obscuring his face, you can make out the identity of the flailing giraffe man. He turns, fingers combing through his distinctly colored hair––

Oh god. It’s him. You gotta get out of there, fast, before he recognizes you. Maybe if you run quickly enough, then maybe he won’t notice you when he looks out the window around.

“Ha,” the universe laughs, clapping their asscheeks to the rhythm of Ludacris’ Move Bitch Get Out Da Way™️ with a smirk. “Cute of you to think your life isn’t basically a 20-year long trainwreck in motion.”

Inevitably he turns around, his eyes immediately locking on your face despite being half-concealed by the fence. He looks confused for a moment, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish until he lights up, recognition flooding his features. Even though you cannot hear him clearly, you just know that he said something stupid, judging by the way Hana has finally looked up from her book to stare at him weirdly.

Please don’t come out and greet me. Please just let me wave at you awkwardly and for you to stay where you are. Please don’t go out and talk to me––

Your prayers go unanswered once more as he sidesteps the wall of plates, his hip just barely grazing it and almost causing it to tumble down. The pile sways precariously from left to right, miraculously staying put as he rushes out to greet you. You can only imagine the mess he’d have to clean up if it did, shards of cheap porcelain left behind in his awkward, fumbling wake.

Luckily (or unluckily for you), he makes it out of the senior home in one piece. He crosses the short path to the fence in two inhumanly long strides, slamming the fence door open with a wide swing. It smacks loudly against the railing, the hinges making a pained groan as it looks to be at the inch of its life––literally. You vaguely remember replacing the screws on it just before you left over six months ago… Surely you hadn’t done such a shoddy job? Although, you know that simply can’t be true. After all, you’re dealing with none other than destruction incarnate himself, Kim––

“Y/N!” Namjoon greets happily, his dimples deeper than you remember. You swallow heavily, trying your best not to sweat under his overly enthusiastic gaze. God, you should’ve gone straight to the coffee shop when you had the chance.

Nothing like facing disaster head-on, as they say. “Hey,” you reply half-heartedly, though the walking inflatable tube man doesn’t seem to mind your lacklustre mood. He grasps your hands for a shake, swinging your entire body up and down with the care of a man who does not know his own strength. You, his unfortunate victim, are left to suffer through his artery-bursting grip.

“Oh god, you have no idea how glad I am to see you! Not that I’m not normally happy to see you at university, but––” He speaks so quickly that it’s hard to keep track of the specific contents of his sentences, so you can only hope that your unenthused nods will be enough to placate the bumbling buffoon. You resign yourself to a fate similar to the bobbleheads on the dashboards of those white suburban soccer moms.

“Wait, hold on.” What on earth..? You are full on gaping at the piece of work on top of his head, not even pretending to be polite as you try to process what is in front of you. “What the hell happened to your hair?”

You know from old Facebook photos that Namjoon has natural black locks, though you can’t say that his wacky hairstyles were also inborn. Ever since you have known him, he has always dyed his hair a sandy brown color, complimenting his tan skin. Now, however…

“You mean the weird blue streaks?” Namjoon says, rubbing a few strands thoughtfully. His hair is a walking disaster, and this is coming from someone who has seen what Kim Seokjin has done to his clients. (There’s a reason his Yelp reviews are terrible… He deserves negative stars, if you’re being honest.)

“Did you lose a dare or something?”

“Uh… Kind of?” He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “I had meant to change my hair color to something more exciting, so I asked the kids at the daycare and they suggested blue. Problem is, the seniors said they preferred my brown hair but I already promised the kids so… Here we fucking are,” he says in one breath, appearing as though what he said was obvious.

“So your solution was to compromise… by coloring half your hair blue, like some botched version of Death the Kid?”

“Exactly!” He beams, glad that you understand him perfectly.

Oh my god… He’s… No words are coming to you right now, but you get the picture.

The thing about Kim Namjoon is… he’s not… bad. Or dumb, for that matter.

Okay, not the best compliment out there, but it’s true. You’ve known for as long as you’ve been a university student, and your first meeting is certainly one for the books. You wouldn’t exactly consider him a “friend,” and an acquaintance is a bit of a stretch on most days, but he’s a nice guy. He’s eccentric in the most positive way, and not at all in the same chaotic and evil way that Seokjin is (for which you are thankful for.) It has always been a bit tricky to get close with him, as his head is always so far up in his work that it almost feels like he’s being reclusive on purpose.

If you ignore the fact that he has that odd propensity to volunteer himself in any job on the face of the earth (with him being unqualified 9 times out of 10), it is easy to see why people think so highly of him.

He is a scholarship student with a 4.0 GPA, is the youngest candidate to ever receive the university president’s yearly public commendation, and has already released two reputable mixtapes with high praise from critics nationwide. He’s nothing if not a prodigy, and he’s amassed a hefty following for his accomplishments. As a music major yourself, it’s hard not to be a little starstruck with him if you’re being honest.

Most of all, you remember the first song that you had ever heard from him: Moonchild. You still can’t quite believe he let you hear one of his many masterpieces when the two of you had just been total strangers. The lyrics had been so heartfelt, so intimate, that you felt as if you were intruding on his personal space or something. But he had let you listen, let you take a peek at what goes on inside that nebulous brain of his. When he does things like that, it makes it easy to understand why people might think your love poem might be about him. He’s just so… easy to admire.

The poem isn’t about him, but. It could have been, in some other life. (Or maybe it is.)

(Was.)

(Will?)

Regardless, you still have to convince him otherwise. You just simply aren’t ready for that type of development, much less with him. Despite all his good sides.

Thus, Kim Namjoon leaves you at a standstill. Why do you feel so fucking weird about harboring this idol crush on him? How can he be so dumb and so smart at the same time? He has blue fucking hair for crying out loud! He’s causing you cognitive dissonance just by existing, and it’s giving your meagre amount of brain cells a workout.

Oh shit, have you been ignoring him? You were totally zoning out this entire time, haven’t you?

Somewhere around the time you were having your mini mental breakdown, Namjoon’s mouth had stopped moving, giving you an expectant look. Oh shit. He probably asked you something. Embarrassed and unwilling to give away that you had not processed even a single word out of his mouth, you nod and give him an approximation of what you assume is a friendly smile.

For a second, you think that you might have gotten away with it when Namjoon’s face breaks out into an enormous grin. He grabs you by the shoulder and envelops you in an chokehold-like embrace. You let out a wheeze, clawing at his biceps with your remaining strength to try and prevent your untimely death due to asphyxiation. “Namjoon..?”

He lets out a shriek at a higher octave than you thought a man of his size was capable of. Somewhere out there, a dog probably perks up at the supersonic sound. “Y/N, I knew I could count on you! Thank you so much for agreeing to help me with the elders for Zombie Tea Time!”

Now that caught your attention. You pause in your squirming to fix him with a confused expression. “I’m… I’m sorry? What did you say?”

His smile never falters. He presses his cheek against yours, rubbing it happily with a hum. In any other scenario, you might have fainted from how adorable he was being, but seeing as how all your blood is still trapped in your upper extremities from his vice hug, it is difficult enough trying to remember how to stay alive.

“Every Saturday, the senior home hosts this event called Zombie Tea Time where the old people all get to have their faces painted with fake blood and all the volunteers have to pretend to be innocent civilians trying to get away from them!”

The more Namjoon speaks, the more you feel your sanity dripping out of your ass like diarrhea. “Ex. Excuse me? Say that again?”

“Yeah, it’s a new thing the volunteers are trying out this month,” Namjoon says, finally (finally) releasing you from his hug. You don’t know if your flushed cheeks are from embarrassment or a stroke. “Like I said, we’re a bit shorthanded today, so I’ve had to wash the plates from breakfast AND pretend to get eaten by senile zombies. It’s… a lot.”

“Oh, I can tell.” You grimace, patting him on the shoulder empathetically. You freeze. “Wait. So that’s why you were screaming a while ago?”

“Huh?” Namjoon pauses, before his face does something funny where it looks like he’s either going to sneeze or take a shit. Thankfully he does neither, but instead reaches his hand around his back like he has an itch he needs to scratch. He makes a pained yelp, plucking something out from his asscheeks and pulling out what appears to be––

You stare at the object in his palm. “Are those… dentures?”

“Hmm…” Namjoon stares at it, too tired to be disgusted. He just nods his head sagely. “Must’ve been when I was too slow to dodge Mister Lee’s lunge. I was beginning to wonder why my ass felt like it was being eaten out.”

“Please, never say that sentence to me ever again.”

“Yea,” he agrees, sighing faintly. He pockets the teeth much to your horror, patting it gently like he hadn’t just placed a pair of dentures in his fucking scrubs. He dusts off his hands, his lips pursed so that his dimples stand prominently on display. You barely contain yourself from sinking your finger right into their hypnotizing abysses.

He looks at you hopefully. “So… Uh. You said you’ll help me?”

Oh right. You fucking said you’d help him fend off a hoard of virulent old people in face paint.

You look to the right, where the coffee shop is just within sight. Sweet, sweet caffeine, tantalizing you with its saccharine presence, dangling its wretchedly addictive power over your head. If you breathe deeply enough, you think you can smell the coffee beans from here.

You turn back to Namjoon, and you can physically feel the weight of his hopeful gaze on your shoulders. Your defenses have never crumbled so quickly in your life. Fuck him and his stupidly handsome ass.

You sigh, resigning your fate to eternally being whipped for a pair of pretty long legs and size B man titties. “Let’s fucking do this, I guess.” Easier said than done, but you already have one foot in elephant shit, so might as well submerge your whole body as well.

You follow Namjoon closely, having to take two extra steps for every one step that he takes. He crosses the reception area quickly, sending energetic finger guns at Hana which unsurprisingly goes unrequited. You take the more inconspicuous route and wave shyly at her, intimidated by her even after you have long since stopped working here. She levels you with one of her infamous hundred yard stares, lips turned downwards as she appraises you.

“You’ve decided to come back?” she asks, leaning back on her chair with a huff.

Namjoon is in the midst of trying to once again carry all the plates in his Play-Doh arms, so you’re a bit distracted when you shake your head in response. “Uh. N-no, Namjoon just asked me to help with the dishes, that’s all.”

“That’s a shame,” Hana says, no trace of disappointment in her voice whatsoever. She returns to her book, buzzing open the double doors to let the two of you pass. She flicks her hand lazily at the commotion happening behind her. “Better hurry back in there. The seniors are getting antsy.”

The doors open automatically, and you almost topple over when you are immediately bombarded with the terrifying symphony of old people hollering obscenities at frantic volunteers trying desperately to get away from their gnarled clutches. The hoard hasn’t noticed the two of you yet, and you fear to wonder what type of horrors that you will have to face once you step through those doors. You absolutely refuse to die on this hill, not when you haven’t even had your first kiss yet.

“I don’t think we’ll die,” Namjoon says, as if he can read your mind. You look at him skeptically.

“You think?”

He clears his throat. “I can’t promise we’ll come out of this unscathed, though.”

He takes a tentative step forward, the pile of dishes wobbling dangerously on their perch. You are quick to steady the leaning tower of Disa(ster), managing to transfer half of it into your own arms. You grunt, adjusting your stance so that you do not accidentally lose your grip. “Dude. How the hell did you get all those plates out here in the first place?”

Namjoon stands up straighter, the weight significantly easier for him to manage now. He smiles cherubically back at you, eyes crinkling cutely. “Oh, I was literally on survival mode and trying to stop lil Mrs. Sun from gnawing my leg off. The elders can smell fear you see, so they were definitely going to climb on top of me like World War Z and probably kill me.” He pauses, deep in thought. “Although, I think I dropped a plate or two while I was escaping, so watch your step!”

He says all of that with the same eagerness as man who is about to do something crazy, like jump out of a plane or walk a tightrope over a 100 ft canyon. Though, you have to admit that this entire scenario feels like it is on the same calibre.

“Is it me, or are the old people here 10 times crazier than I remember when I volunteered here?”

“You used to work here?” Namjoon says, amazed. “Oh, I didn’t know that! I only started a week ago when some other person resigned due to mental health issues or something.”

“You sure that this place isn’t the cause of their mental decline?” You say it like a joke, though you mean it seriously. Maybe the universe had been looking out for you when decided to get out of this place.

“Hmm… Maybe. Although, we only received this shipment of old people fairly recently.”

Pause. Rewind. “S-shipment?” you repeat, staring at him wildly.

Like the lovable airhead that he is, Namjoon fails to notice your astonishment and instead takes the first brave step forward through the double doors. He tilts his head towards the hallway, gesturing for you to follow him. The plates rattle dangerously from his movements. “C’mon, we gotta get these plates cleaned before the lunch crew comes to take over their shifts!”

Walking to the kitchen is easier than you thought, especially after you take into account the fact that all the old people completely ignored you and chose to only attack Namjoon, for whatever reason. You like to think that it is because the seniors still remember you back when you were still volunteering here and that they hold some semblance of endearment for you, but Namjoon begs to differ. In fact, he screams out his hypothesis as to why you have been left unharmed, all while two older women climb his back like demented crabs.

“Y/N! I think they can’t attack you because you’re in civilian clothes! They only attack scrubs!” Namjoon says, swatting away one of the women off his back with a surprisingly coordinated headbutt. She shrieks as she falls, landing on all four legs like a cat would do. She hisses lowly at you, before scuttling off to somewhere unseen.

“Let’s hope you’re right,” you wince, watching Namjoon unsuccessfully trying to spin quick enough to dislodge the remaining senior.

Namjoon perks up when he catches a glimpse of his attacker’s face, giggling and appearing as if he isn’t currently being assailed by a senior citizen. “Oh, Ms. Kim! I didn’t see you there. I love the zombie make-up you got going. Who helped you?” He looks at you, as if imploring you to compliment her as well.

“Uh. Yes. You’re looking very… yellow.”

Ms. Kim snarls, baring her teeth. “It’s the jaundice,” she says.

Not wanting to stand in that hallway any longer, you carefully place the plates back on the floor before you gently unclamp the old lady’s talons from Namjoon’s poor biceps. You wince, feeling the length of her nails and knowing that Namjoon is going to have some nasty scars.

You tell him so, but he only shakes his head. “Nah? I think they’d be pretty neat! Battle scars are cool right?”

You grimace at him. “If that’s… what you think, then sure.”

After grabbing your plates and hurrying after him before the elders make note of Namjoon’s survival, the two of you share a sigh of relief as you both slowly start piling them into the dishwasher. The task is menial and repetitive, and despite what Namjoon’s earlier chattiness might have suggested, he is quiet while he works. The silence is not as awkward as you feared, and honestly the peace is a welcome respite after all the chaos that you had to endure in such a short period of time. Although, silence has never been a good friend to your overworked mind, as it allowed you to stew inside your own head for much too long––and you have found in your 20 years of existence that it is probably for the best that you are not left without external stimulation for too long.

But here you are, forced to do exactly that. You would have engaged in some conversation with Namjoon to stop yourself from getting in over your head, but you are afraid of what sort of embarrassing topics might spew out of your mouth if you do. Heaven forbid that you start geeking out on him about your unhealthy obsession of collecting miniature glass horse figurines––that is a secret best kept between yourself and the tentacle monster under your bed.

You begin reflecting on the events from the past two weeks, replaying them second by agonizing second and ruminating on the state that your pitiful young adult life has become. The more you allow these memories to simmer, the more you slowly realize the weight of the accumulated stress that has long since made you hunch over like a goblin.

Hoseok and Jimin’s argument comes to the forefront of your mind, the unexpected heat coming from both of them confusing you to no end. You still don’t know the source of their ire towards one another, but what baffles you the most is how you could have missed it in the first place. Sure, you had thought they were at least more than acquaintances; one does not simply challenge a near stranger to a dance off in the middle of a library three times a week, for more than two months and counting. Friends might have been a stretch, though you can’t say you’re familiar with how their schedules look like outside your tutoring sessions together.

The question is though… should you interfere? Normally, you would have stayed far away from anyone else’s drama––you just aren’t the type of person to stick their noses in other people’s business. Yet somehow, you feel as if your poem was the catalyst to this violent chain reaction, that you have inadvertently caused the foundation of a precarious building to explode and bring the whole thing crashing down. To think that your silly love poem for a boy who hardly knows that you exist has become the center of so many people’s lives… the entire thing is giving you a headache.

Speaking of headaches… you should probably confront Namjoon about the poem as well. It is probably best that you plan your approach better this time, seeing as how your two previous attempts have been anything but stellar. Namjoon can’t be that difficult to convince, right? And even if he does see right through you, he doesn’t seem like the type of person who would laugh cruelly at you in the event that he figures out that you are the author. Not like Seokjin, at least. Luckily no one is like Seokjin, the fucking rat bastard that he is.

(In the distance, Seokjin has the sudden animalistic urge to slip anthrax in your milk tea the next time he sees you.)

You glance at Namjoon from the corner of your eye, definitely not ogling the way his arms flex as he loads the final couple of plates. The breath catches in your throat when you realize that some time while you were busy swimming in your junkyard of a brain, he had rolled up his sleeves up to his forearms, displaying his god-like veins for the eyes of the deplorable (you) to feast upon.

Your mouth feels dry, even though other parts of you feel more moist than you remember. Oh god, now is not the time to remember how hot this fucking nerd is.

Despite the fact that your biological clock is screaming “HORNY HOUR” at your monkey brain, Namjoon continues to be thankfully unaware of your internal panic. He closes the dishwasher door shut, clicking it on with a relieved sigh. He gives you a megawatt smile and makes your heart leap into a somersault, probably knocking around some vital organs along the way.

“Thanks so much for the help, Y/N! Couldn’t have done it without you!” he cheers, clapping you roughly on the shoulder. You wheeze under the impact, waving away his concern despite feeling like your lungs have probably slipped out of your asshole.

“It’s no problem, Namjoon…” you sigh, gazing sadly as Namjoon begins to do a final sweep of the kitchen before inevitably going to sign off for the day. You know your window of opportunity has already closed, and if you had not spent so much time staring at his beautiful man tiddies, you are sure you could have been a little more productive with him. Curse him and his damn chest.

But now, at least you’ll have more time to think of how to approach him and bring up the poem when you aren’t, like, seriously decaffeinated and on the cusp of a heart attack. You are about to bid him farewell with your tail between your legs when his hands cup your cheeks, catching you off guard.

You splutter incomprehensibly, arms flapping about like a fish out of water. “Wha––?”

“Oh, I forgot to mention! After my hours here at the senior home, I have the afternoon shift at the daycare center near our university and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me?”

If Namjoon’s cool, large hands holding your face like a delicate flower had caught you off guard, then his sudden invitation only exacerbated the furious blush blooming across your neck like a rash.

So what do you say?

“Meep,” is what you say, like the verbose poet that you are. Y/N, renowned campus poet, has the vocabulary of a five year old.

“Is that a yes?” Namjoon smiles, letting go off you in favor of looping his gangly arms around your waist. Another unflattering noise escapes your throat at his proximity and his firmness. “That’s so great! The kids love seeing new faces, and I bet they’d love to have a pretty girl around instead of plain ol’ me all the time!”

You gape at him. Did he just say…

“P-pretty?”

“Yea, sure!” Namjoon says, his stupid grin still on his stupidly handsome face. He does not appear to be embarrassed at all by his brazenness, which is starting to make you think he is either a well-seasoned flirt or just plain oblivious to the implications of his own words. Knowing him, you wouldn’t put it past him that the latter might be the reason.

Compliments and unintentional flirting aside, you really did not feel up to another harrowing experience with Namjoon at one of his other volunteering stunts. You are but a woman in clown shoes, and even the most seasoned clowns must have their rest.

“Listen, Namjoon… I don’t think I can go with you. I have to go, uh,” you pause, your hamster brain working a mile a minute. “Water… my dog? No, I mean… feed my plant.” You cringe, mentally slapping yourself.

Namjoon, the sneaky bastard, hits you with his strongest and most potent puppy dog eyes in his arsenal. It was super effective! “Please, Y/N? I won’t take too much of your time! Just play with the kids for two hours and I promise to leave you alone!”

C’mon, Y/N. Focus. Are you the type of woman to break down her defenses for the wilful fancies of any man? You’re made of stronger stuff than this. Surely you can look him in the eye and tell him straight to his face that you would prefer to go home and rest on this beautiful Saturday than go frolicking with a bunch of snot-nosed children––

“Oh, sure. Why the hell not?” you say, like the dumb fucking idiot that you are.

Namjoon’s dimples deepen even further. You glare menacingly at them, knowing full well that they were entirely the cause of your weakness.

“Thank you so much, Y/N! The kids will really appreciate your presence! C’mon, we haven’t got time to lose!”

Namjoon does not even give you the time to fully comprehend your own pitiful existence before he nearly tugs your arm out of its socket as he maneuvers you to the local daycare just a few minutes away from the senior home. You don’t get to say your farewells to any of the seniors or your old work colleagues, but it might be for the best… You will need all the sanity left in your body to survive the rest of the day with Namjoon.

On the bright side, that means you’ll have the chance to talk to him about the poem, though you’re still hesitant to do so with how badly your previous stunts had ended up. But then again, when else would you get another good opportunity to talk to your crush acquaintance about this? You suppose you’ll just have to wait and see what happens next, and hope for the best.

You have been at the daycare for almost three hours now, and there are still no signs of you ever bringing up the poem. You might as well sign your last will and testament with the macaroni art supplies currently decorating your body, making you look like a morbid pasta dish monster from hell. You hope to god that the sticky stuff all over your skin is just cheese… White, rubbery scented cheese…

“Ain’t this fun?” Namjoon calls out from somewhere, presumably under the mass of ten or so toddlers all climbing him like a tree. You are caught in a state of déjà vu as the children start feasting upon any exposed areas of skin that their kid-sized incisors can find.

You just wanted to talk about the fucking poem for fuck’s sake! Instead, you have to deal with thirty 2-foot children and one 6-foot manchild during one of your only free days in a week.

A miniature demon tugs your sleeve, forcing you to tear your eyes away from Namjoon’s slow demise. You bend down to the little gremlin’s height, mouth twitching upwards in what you hope is a somewhat decent smile. Judging by the kid’s unimpressed face, you doubt it.

“Yes?”

“Miss Y/N? Can you tell your boyfriend that Jake peed in the ballpit again? Aera slipped on the puddle and now she’s crying and disturbing the younger kids.”

Record scratch, freeze frame. Now, we don’t have time to unpack all of that. Out of all the things the kid had said, you are sure that his implication that you were Namjoon’s girlfriend should not have been on the top of your list of priorities, and yet here you are, your cheeks as flushed as a baboon’s ass.

“He’s not––We’re not––” you stammer, waving your hands as you try to explain to this unenthused six year old that what she said was entirely impossible. “Namjoon is just a friend!”

You turn to look for the man in question, desperate for him to back you up when you realize he is no longer there. Confused, you leave the huffing child in search for him. You leave the main playroom and search the nearby nurseries, the kitchen, the bathroom… all of them with no Namjoon in sight. Just so you can cover all your bases, you decide to check one of the supply closets too, not really expecting to find anything except––

“Namjoon? What the fu––fudge?” You quickly correct yourself, noticing that not only is Kim Namjoon inside the cramped broom closet, but he is also surrounded by five other children huddled around what appears to be a series of tupperwares connected together by plastic straws.

Namjoon hastens a glance at you, before refocusing his attention back onto what he deems to be more important. He nudges his shoulder against the smallest of the bunch, stage whispering into her ear. “Jihyo, did you bet the three lollipops on Ant #3?”

Jihyo shakes her head, looking mildly offended. “Oppa, do you think I’m dumb? I bet all of my chocolate bars on Ant #6.”

Namjoon whistles lowly, impressed. “All-in? You’re one smart lady.”

You clear your throat. “Namjoon.”

Namjoon has the audacity to hold a finger up to silence you. “Give me a sec… Okay, Seungcheol. You said ten hard candies for Ant #2?”

“Namjoon. Are you seriously running a gambling ring in a daycare?”

He peers up at you, smiling sheepishly. “I’m, uh… Teaching them about capitalism.” He deposits the candy bets into his pocket before starting the timer on his phone. The children begin to cheer raucously, little fists pumping up as they watch their bets race towards a slice of cake.

“I can’t believe this,” you groan, wanting nothing more than the earth to swallow you whole.

Eventually, Namjoon exits the closet, gently closing the door. The shouts of the children become muted immediately. When you gaze inquisitively at him, all he does is shrug his shoulders. “What? Secret clubs allow people to explore their interests.”

At this point, you don’t really want to argue anymore. And so, the hectic day goes by, full of running after the children and occasionally having to reel Namjoon in when he does something bordering on negligence. The parents slowly start filtering in by five in the afternoon, most of whom pat Namjoon affectionately on the back and thanking him for his stellar daycare service.

“Oh, Namjoon! My little Jihyo absolutely adores you! She hardly wants to leave whenever I come to pick her up.” Jihyo’s mother smiles, slipping a small tip into Namjoon’s waiting palm. The little shit pockets it, bowing graciously at her.

“All in a day’s work, madame. I just love children, you know?” he says, sighing dramatically.

From behind her mother, Jihyo gorges herself on her prize winnings, shoving a whole packet of M&M’s into her mouth. She swallows them quickly when her mother turns to bring her home.

“I hate this,” you say to yourself, smiling through the pain.

“Oh, before I forget!” Jihyo’s mother dashes back inside, startling you. She approaches you, grasping your hands in hers and shaking it wildly until you can hear your joints pop out of their sockets. “Your name is Y/N right? Thank you for taking care of Namjoon, too. It’s so nice to see that he’s finally snagged a girl as pretty as you.”

It is a testament to how dead inside you truly are by how nonplussed you are by their unfounded accusation. At this point, they could congratulate you on your recent engagement to Namjoon and you probably wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Thanks.” All in a day’s work of being a madman’s little bitch for the day.

After the last child is taken away, your Saturday finally ends. There had been no poem discussion and no progress made; only your respect from one of your long-time crushes being whittled away like the soaps on those ASMR channels until you are left with useless cubes of Irish Spring scented granules.

On your way home, you pass by Seokjin sitting languidly on the bench outside the coffee shop that you had originally intended to go to this morning. The closed sign greets you impetuously, and your wounds are salted further by the sheer presence of the most annoying man on the planet.

Seokjin sips on his venti iced Americano, Gucci sunglasses tipped downward on his nose. An odd, high pitched windshield wiper sound escapes his lips, and you belatedly realize that he must be his version of laughter. “Y/N. So nice to see you. I’m guessing that you just came out of a… fishy affair?”

You grind your teeth, flexing forward with the intent of hitting the rat bastard. Fish crackers fall out of your hair in clumps from your movement. “I’ll eat your toes if you say another word about this.”

You say that, but you know that there will be photos of you out on Facebook by the time your head meets your pillow for the night, as you hear the telltale sound of a camera shutter go off as you limp sadly back home.

The following Monday, you resolve to talk to Namjoon during your History of Music class together.

Now normally, you would never subject yourself to sitting near Namjoon in class. No, it is not because of your debilitating crush, nor his eccentric personality, nor something unexpected like insanely toxic body odor (which he does not have, by the way. He always smells alarmingly like cotton candy.) In fact, nobody likes to sit near Namjoon, made apparent by the two row radius of empty chairs around him. As much as everyone adores and idolizes him for his talent, no one can stand his propensity to overachieve like the infuriating know-it-all that he is. His hand is perpetually up in the air, begging to be picked for recitation, always with something profound to say.

“Sir, I don’t think your notes are correct. From my research, that type of music would not have existed until the 1600s––”

“Namjoon,” your professor seethes, Powerpoint clicker clutched tightly in his fists. His left eyebrow twitches concerningly as he tries to calm his breathing. “I would prefer it greatly if you do not question the actual expert in this area, is that okay with you?”

Yeah. He is definitely not someone you’d want to sit beside.

Though, he really makes it hard not to want to be around him. Despite all the imperfect parts of his personality, Namjoon always looks like the cover model of what a perfect college boyfriend should dress like. Terrible dyejob aside, his hair is slicked back in a fashionable way, revealing his beautiful forehead for all of humanity to behold. He is wearing a fitted graphic tee under a denim jacket, with loose brown slacks that look good on his endlessly long legs. To top it off, his signature wire-frame glasses sit daintily on his nose, making him appear as smart as he is.

You are suddenly reminded of the true scale of your crush on him as sweat begins to build on your neck and down your backside. How the hell are you going to approach him now that you are perfectly aware of how good he looks? It is people like Kim Namjoon that remind you of this universal truth: attractive people only exist to cause the less fortunate to forget how to use their basic motor skills.

Focus. Remember how much of a crackhead he was last Saturday? Okay, retain that information. Remember how fucking stupid he is, and this will be much easier on your heart and your loins.

Taking a deep breath, you make your way to where he is seated, right at the front of the class. It is a long way down the auditorium to where he is, and you can feel the stares of a few of your classmates as you make the treacherous journey right into the proverbial lion’s maw. You do your best to ignore them, quietly sliding up next to him and waiting for him to notice your presence.

From the corner of your eye, you can see that he is jotting something frantically on a notebook, a mess of words in more languages than you can speak decorating every available space on the smooth white pages. At the top of the paper, you can see what might be a tentative title for a song, perhaps? You can’t be too entirely sure, as Namjoon is part of so many clubs and organizations that he might as well be writing next week’s lunch menu for the cafeteria.

(Highly doubtful as Namjoon has a reputation for allowing inflammable things to catch on fire, but you wouldn’t put it past him to at least try and apply for a culinary position.)

It seems that Namjoon is too immersed in his writing to greet you himself, so you have to be the one to steel yourself and strike a conversation with him instead.

“Uh. Hey… Namjoon?” Smooth like butter. Seokjin would be proud.

Namjoon doesn’t reply. He keeps scribbling along, humming something indistinct under his breath.

You clear your throat. “Namjoon?”

No response. Again, “Hello?” You wave a hand in front of his face. His blinking slows for a second, but he continues to ignore you.

Starting to get pissed off, you huff quietly to yourself before bringing your palm backwards and slapping him upside the head. “HEY PANINI HEAD! YOU FUCKING IN THERE OR WHAT?”

That manages to bring him out of his headspace, thankfully. “Huzzat?” Namjoon jumps, cradling the back of his neck gingerly as he stares at you, confused. Recognition filters through his eyes as he realizes belatedly what had just happened. He blushes slightly. “Oops.”

“Oops is right. Were you really going to ignore me for the rest of the class if I hadn’t slapped you?”

Namjoon shrugs, grinning in that cute goofy way that he does. “Sorry. ‘M not used to people sitting beside me, is all. Glad to have a friend in this class though! Have you always been in this class?”

“Yea, but I usually sit in the back.”

Namjoon nods, turning back to his notebook. “Sorry for ignoring you. I really didn’t mean it. When I’m in the middle of writing, it’s kind of hard to get me out of my own brain. Plus, this draft is due in two weeks and I’ve scrapped three pages worth of lyrics already… I’m kind of in a panic right now.”

You peek over his arm, trying your best to decipher some of his words. Your interest is piqued, always having wanted to see his draft notebook ever since that first time he showed you Moonchild almost a year ago. “Lungs have capsized… I am drowning in my own body… Wow, those are some dark stuff.”

“You think so?” Namjoon squints at his own messy handwriting. “I got inspired by the fish in the aquarium I volunteer in. I’m actually excited to go back there, because I want to play it for the fish and see if they like it.”

“Isn’t it better to play it at the daycare of senior home so you can actually get… human feedback?”

Namjoon gasps, hand to his heart, offended. “How dare you assume that fish can’t give quality feedback!”

“Right,” you cough, raising your hands in defeat. How dare you, indeed. “Sorry.”

Namjoon sniffs, closing his notebook just as the professor walks in to start the class. “You better be. The fishies get really offended when people say stuff like that.”

The professor begins the moment he sets down his things, so you know you won’t have time to bring up the poem, not when Namjoon is already starting to fall into his overachieving know-it-all student persona. You tap him lightly on the shoulder, gaining his attention.

“Hey, I have to ask you something later after class. Will you stay behind for a few moments?”

“Sure,” Namjoon replies cheerily, flipping on his laptop to start taking down notes. He stops in his tracks before gazing warily at you. “Hold on. If this is about the fishies again…”

You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes, so you sigh instead. “No, Namjoon. This isn’t about the fishies.”

Appeased, Namjoon returns to listening attentively to the professor drone on about dead musicians and their impact on musical culture. You hardly take any notes, still nervous about talking to Namjoon about the poem. What would be the best way to approach the subject, you wonder? Your previous attempts with Seokjin and Hoseok had featured a lot of yelling and arguing, and you would prefer not to leave a bad impression on Namjoon of all people. Additionally, you don’t want to know what arguing with Namjoon would entail, because you have a strong feeling that any debate with him will only leave you second guessing your entire existence with how good he is at flipping the subject. Or, you could always kick him in the knees, but that would be like overpowering a baby––you’d be a monster for taking advantage of him.

The short one hour lecture flies by quicker than you would like. To your surprise, Namjoon only interrupts the professor twice, so you suppose that’s a win for everyone else.

“Alright class. Please remember that the research paper regarding 17th century music is due on the Friday before your break,” your professor says. He points a stern look at all of you, and maybe you’re imagining it, but somehow you feel like he pauses just a second longer when he passes his gaze over you. “And please, try not to send your paper to the entire student body to air your secret little crushes like a bunch of lovestruck idiots.”

Your ears turn an unflattering shade of red as most of the students chuckle at his little joke, all of them probably not knowing that the lovestruck idiot was just a few seats away.

“C’mon, Namjoon.” You sigh, shrugging on your backpack as you wait for him to finish packing up. Namjoon watches you curiously, brows furrowed.

“You seem dejected. Are you having trouble with class? Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“N-not… not really,” you say, shaking your head. “Can we talk about this outside? People for the next class are starting to come in.”

Namjoon follows you dutifully from behind, and you can hear him bid his farewells to a few giggling freshmen as the two of you exit the lecture hall. They coo openly in his presence, with one of them bold enough to compliment his fairly generous bosom, her fingers twitching as if she is only one push away from grabbing them by the fistful.

You walk towards the small cafe near the entrance of the building, grabbing one of the empty chairs and gesturing for Namjoon to sit across from you. He does as you say, confusion still gracing his handsome features.

“So, will you tell me why you’ve called me out here now?” Namjoon asks. Before you can respond, however, he reaches into his backpack and pulls out a half squished sandwich. He offers you the less crushed half, like the gentleman that he is, but you find it hard to accept when you feel like your stomach is turning inside out with nerves.

“Umm… How do I say this…” You groan, leg bouncing so incessantly that the poor table begins to shake. Namjoon doesn’t even try to stop his other sandwich half from sliding over, instead giving you a concerned glance.

Fuck it. Better to rip the band-aid off in one swoop, right?

“Y/N––?”

“Namjoon, are you aware that people think someone wrote a stupid love poem about you?”

His previously open mouth clamps shut, then. He stares at you in confusion, a dollop of mayonnaise hanging off his jutting chin. “What?”

Panicking slightly, you’re quick to continue your train of thought, probably to your own detriment. “NOT that the poem is about you, by the way. Well, it could be? No? I DIDN’T WRITE IT!” Pause for heavy breathing. “A-anyway, that’s not the point… I just wanted to ask if you were… umm… aware of it. Yeah. That’s it.”

Ohhhh my god. You stupid idiot. Fuck fuck fuck fuck you fucking stupid piece of shit ass tit fuck what other swear words are there oh yeah FUCK!!!

In the midst of your personal mental beatdown, you fail to see Namjoon’s genuine look of confusion, his head tilted to the side as he watches your face turn red. He chews on his sandwich thoughtfully. “Uh? No? I’m not aware? I really have no idea what you are talking about, Y/N.”

You finally stop swearing at yourself. “Wait, really?”

Namjoon nods his head. “Really. What poem are you talking about?”

“Please tell me you’re joking. I don’t really like being teased; I get enough of that from Seokjin.”

“No, I’m serious!” Namjoon raises his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t joke about something that is clearly giving you distress.”

“It’s not causing me distress!” You screech back, voice cracking from your tone going up a pitch. You clear your throat. “Um. Wait. So that means you haven’t heard about the huge rumor going around about a love poem being about you?”

He shrugs his shoulders, lips pursed. “Not a clue. Am I supposed to?”

Huh. You stare at the imbecile before you, his previously handsome looks starting to look less appealing by the minute. Is this shithead for real? Did you really spend hours worrying over how you would approach him about the poem, only to find out that he has no clue what you’re talking about? Like, how is it even possible for him not to know? You can’t even spend a minute doing anything without someone bringing up that stupid mistake of a poem. How the hell did you ever have a crush on him?

“Pardon? Did you say crush something?”

“Oh shit,” you curse, slapping a palm to your mouth. Did you fucking say that out loud?  

“Sorry,” Namjoon swallows thickly, a large bite of his sandwich visibly going down his gullet. “I was chewing too loudly so I didn’t hear you properly.”

You heave a sigh of relief. Okay, maybe being an idiot has its benefits.

“It’s fine. It wasn’t anything important,” you say, already arranging your things to get up and leave. If Namjoon is oblivious to all the poem shenanigans that have been circling campus, then who are you to inform him? All you can hope now is that he remains ignorant of the poem at all, and chalk it up as a success in your book. It’s not like he’s going to be curious to find out more anyway––

“Wait! Don’t go! You’ve piqued my interest now. I wanna know what you were talking about,” Namjoon pipes up, leaning his lanky body sidewards so as to block you from leaving. You halt in your movements, surprised by his sudden inquiry.

Sweat starts to form in the middle of your back at his earnest curiosity. “I––it’s nothing, Namjoon. I was just messing with you. Don’t worry about it.” You laugh nervously.

“I don’t think you were?” Namjoon rubs his chin thoughtfully. “You wouldn’t have been so adamant to call me out here just to be joking.”

“Listen, I really have to go. I have another class soon and I wanna grab lunch before I––”

“You said something about a poem.” He remains undeterred, pulling out his phone. “And it’s about me? Well, not about me, if that’s what you’re saying…”

“Hold up!” You snatch his phone out of his hands, holding it behind you to keep it from his reach. Even though you know his inquisitiveness is not his fault, it doesn’t stop you from wanting to punch him square in his cute little nose. Hell, you don’t recall wanting to fight anyone as much as you do right now.

(Seokjin sneezes somewhere in the distance, feeling offended for whatever reason. “Y/N should only be punching me,” he thinks to himself as he dumps way too much purple dye on this poor lady’s head.)

“Why are you being so weird right now? Give me back my phone!” He pouts at you, not at all knowing that your resolve is already quickly crumbling before him.

“I…” You gulp, foot tapping restlessly as you try to think of what to do. “Okay. Fine, I’ll show you the poem. Just… don’t read too deeply into it, okay? It’s just a stupid thing that got too many people excited over nothing.”

“Sure,” Namjoon nods his head, acquiescing quickly. “I don’t really like paying attention to much of the rumors and trends that happen on campus. I just want to see what this poem is all about.”

“Just… don’t let it get to your head,” you mutter, returning his phone to him. You direct him to the university confessions group page, watching as his fingers fumbled with his keyboard. Eventually, he gets to the post (pinned to the top, forever mocking you for your stupidity) and reads the short piece in record time.

There is a pause where neither of you speak. You know he has finished reading it from the way he has started to scroll down to the comments, though he quickly jumps back to the top when you glare at him to stop. He leans back into his chair, closing his phone and stares at you expressionlessly.

You click your nails across the coffee shop table as you observe him suspiciously, his lack of response making you more nervous. “Well?”

The left side of his mouth quirks up––but not in a way that might suggest glee or satisfaction––and he stays frozen like that for a bit. You have the sudden urge to wave your hand in front of him to check if he’s fine, and being the type of person to submit to your urges, you do as you please.

Thankfully, he snaps out of it, blinking quickly as if he’s forgotten that you were there. He scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Oh, yeah. The poem, uh… How do I put it…”

“What?” What on earth could he have a problem with? Does he genuinely think the poem might be about him? “If you’re starting to think that the poem may be about you––”

“No, no, that’s not it.” Namjoon opens his phone again, peering at the poem questioningly. “I was just going to say that this poem is a lot less impressive than you were hyping it up to be.”

Excuse me??????? He did not fucking just say that.

“You did not just fucking say that,” you verbalize, glowering at him. You can feel the fumes start to steam out of your ears, but Namjoon remains oblivious (as per usual) to your emotions. He just hums, shrugging his shoulders with his nose upturned in the air, as if he had just smelled something horrible.

“It’s just… the meter is all messed up… Like, I’m all about free verse or whatever, but I can tell the author is trying waaaay too hard to keep whatever rhythm they had going on in the first verse.” He scrolls through the poem some more, before stopping somewhere in the middle. He shows you one of your favorite verses with a look of something akin to disdain. “And what’s up with all the moon references? That theme is so overused.”

“YOUR MIXTAPE LITERALLY HAS A SONG CALLED MOONCHILD! THAT’S WHY PEOPLE THINK THE POEM IS ABOUT YOU!” You explode, spittle flying everywhere from the force of your shout. A group of freshmen sitting nearby jump up in surprise, though most of the older, more dead-eyed college students do not even bat an eye at your spectacle. This university is full of cuckoos, is what they are probably thinking.

The biggest cuckoo of them all looks at you defensively, frowning somewhat irritably. Namjoon continues, “Yeah, but I used the moon in my song in a classy way! I would be offended if someone would write this poem for me after being inspired by my song.”

Is it possible for blood to boil inside your veins? Because you’re really starting to feel heat trail up your back up to your neck, causing you to see nothing but red and the tantalizing vision of your hands around his neck. Easy, Y/N. You can’t afford anger management therapy; you have a tuition to pay.

In all seriousness though, you cannot take this any longer. You have suffered long enough while having to follow Namjoon around like a bitch for two days, and if karma still wants to use the strap on you, then she’s going to have to do it some other day because you cannot physically stand being around Namjoon for another ten seconds if you can help it. And this is coming from someone who is around Kim Seokjin at least twice a week, so it is obvious that your patience and sanity is truly at its limit.

“I’m done.” You are barely able to keep yourself from slamming your head against the table. Instead, you stand up hastily, chair legs screeching against the tiled floor. You shoulder your bag quickly, waving at him without even turning to face him. The sooner you get away from him, the better. “You can think what you want. Just live your life, man. I’m done.”

“Okay? Well, have a nice day, Y/N!” Namjoon calls out a cheery goodbye, though his tone obviously still sounds confused even as you walk further and further away from him, a trainwreck of a human being. You resolve to yourself to call Hana the next morning to ask her to slip some opened sweets into his jean pocket so the ants at the daycare might climb out of their shelter to bite him in the balls.

How did you ever have a crush on that bastard? I guess that mystery will have to remain… unsolved.

Unluckily, your mood does not improve after lunch, nor do you calm down after your next class either. In fact, you are still steaming when you arrive to your tutoring session with Hoseok, so much so that you have completely forgotten to be worried about him after the events of last Friday.

(Record scratch, freeze frame. Pause. What the hell happened last Friday again? Your overworked brain cells can only handle one stressful event at a time, so you suppose that problem with Hoseok and Jimin will have to be solved another day.)

Hoseok, the caring boy that he is, also forgets to retain his moodiness from Friday’s argument when he spots you looking like you were about to pop a blood vessel at any moment.

Hoseok sits hesitantly in front of you, even placing his textbooks gently onto the table as if any sudden sounds might cause you to self-combust and splatter your guts all over the library floor. The only thing really keeping you from doing exactly that is because you wouldn’t want poor Jungkook the library assistant to have to clean up your mess.

“Umm… Hey, Y/N. You okay? You look kind of… red.” Hoseok says carefully, smile twitching on his face.

The suddenness at which you slam your hands on the table causes not only Hoseok, but also Jungkook who is three whole bookshelves away, to jump up in surprise. The former makes a terrified scream to accompany his leap into the air, staring at your frantically with his fists held up in defense.

“AHH? Y/N, what’s going on––”

“SHUT UP!” You point a finger menacingly at him, making him shriek once more. Your jaw is clenched, teeth grinding audibly. “YOU FUCKING KNOW WHAT, HOSEOK? I’LL WRITE THE NICEST POEM IN THE ENTIRE WORLD FOR YOU, OKAY? YOU DESERVE IT! FUCK WHAT ANYONE ELSE THINKS! I’M A GOOD WRITER AND NOTHING KIM NAMJOON SAYS WILL CHANGE THAT!”

Hoseok’s mouth opens, agape. He doesn’t know how to respond, not quite understanding what you were saying in the first place. A lot of angry words spilled from your lips in such a short amount of time, and Hoseok was more impressed with your flow than anything. Were you a rapper, by any chance?

Unaware of Hoseok’s musings, you huff loudly to yourself, slamming open your lecture notes and shoving them aggressively towards him. “ALSO, I TOOK THE LIBERTY OF WRITING A REVIEWER FOR YOUR MIDTERM! PLEASE READ THROUGH THEM IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS!”

“Umm… Thanks?” Hoseok says, not really sure which part of your loud declarations he is specifically thanking you for. He sneaks a glance at the front desk, thankful that it is only meek little Jungkook in charge today and not the cranky older librarian who already has a personal vendetta against you and your tutoring group for being public nuisances (not that she was unjustly pointing fingers, of course).

Your mental collapse aside, the rest of his tutoring session goes smoothly, with Hoseok still walking on eggshells around you just in case you might feel like exploding again. You know, for fun or something. Although, he does end up asking if he can leave a few minutes early, saying something about a paper due at the end of the week. The excuse doesn’t make you bat an eye until Jimin arrives for his own session, his grin faltering when he sees his hyung not there to greet him with their usual dance battle in the library.

“Ah… Guess Hoseok-hyung really is still mad over what happened…” Jimin sighs, slumping into his chair. He thumbs his textbook thoughtfully, tongue sticking out like a puppy.

“I’m sure it’ll blow over soon,” you say hopefully, though your heart isn’t quite in it either. Coughing awkwardly, you pluck his textbook out of his hands, desperate to talk about something else other than your crumbling interpersonal relationships. You pause at the page, however, before staring incredulously back at Jimin.

“Jimin.”

“Hmm?” Jimin is still listless, head pillowed by his arms on the table. “What?”

“This is a book on differential calculus. I’m supposed to teach you about writing academic essays.”

“Oh yeah,” Jimin sighs, closing his eyes. “I stole that book from some freshman on the way here. The English textbook I usually bring is with Taehyung right now.”

You pause. Actually, now that you think about it… “Jimin, do you actually even go to this university? What the hell is your major, even?”

“Wha-?” Jimin yawns, fanning his mouth with his hand. He blinks sleepily at you with a big, doofy grin. “Sorry, I played MapleStory for hours last night and I haven’t gotten much sleep. Can I just sleep during this session? I’ll still pay you or whatever…” he trails off, stretching like a cat under a patch of sunlight. Before you know it, the soft sound of Jimin’s snoring fills the silence.

Thankfully, Monday ends without much more commotion. You may have come out of this experience a little bit more broken inside, but hey! That’s what character development is all about, babey. You are just glad that Tuesdays are usually your quietest days, as you only have two classes to worry about. It is also one of the days when you have Creative Writing with Sera, who usually manages to rope you in to get greasy fast food after class. Despite the traumatic experience that particular class has indirectly inflicted upon you, your usual zeal and excitement does not diminish in the slightest. After all, writing will always be your first love, so there isn’t any way some silly poem mishap will make you detest it.

Hopefully nothing else will go wrong, because you aren’t so sure your sanity can take much more of a pounding.

(Fwip. Do you hear that? That’s the sound of karma putting on her strap.)

“Alright class, see you guys on Thursday. Don’t forget that we have a quiz at the beginning of class on Thursday, so please don’t be late.” Professor Puth says, his eyelids blinking out of sync. You hate to be someone who assumes what other people do during their off days as it is none of your business, though the perpetual cloud of marijuana that clings around him can only do so much to mask what his recreational activities might be.

“Dude, I think Prof Puth is finding Nirvana soon,” Sera says loudly, earning the giggles of a few classmates nearby.

“I’d be surprised if he could even find the exit of this building,” you snort, just as the man in question trips over air and nearly faceplants on the ground. Like the model students that you are, you both pretend to be busy doing something else, leaving some other poor soul to help your professor.

Two girls that you vaguely remember from somewhere approach Professor Puth. They are quick to help him straighten up, if his groaning and gasping are anything to go by. He thanks them gruffly and waves them off, but the girls seem adamant to stay put.

“Professor, I have a question…” One of the girls asks, nervously tugging on her ponytail. Her friend giggles surreptitiously beside her, urging her to continue. Their odd demeanor causes signals to go off in your brain, telling you to stop and listen. You tug on Sera’s hand, halting her from leaving.

“Wait. I wanna hear what they’re gonna ask,” you mutter, ignoring Sera’s complaints about being hungry. She can wait for her McNuggets for another five minutes, no matter how much she pretends that she’s starving. You had seen her eat two whole burritos before coming into class today.

Professor Puth raises his brow. “Yes? What do you need?”

“We were just wondering if you could… tell us anything about the identity of the author from that poem?” The girl manages to get all of it out in a rush, cheeks flushed as her friend nods fervently beside her.

“Yea, Prof! We’ve been dying to know! The suspense is killing us, knowing that the mystery author is in one of your classes!” The other girl continues, glittery excitement practically exuding out of her in waves.

Professor Puth sighs, leaning heavily on his desk. He appears about as done as you feel. “Listen… You can badger me all you want, but there’s no way I can tell you. Privacy laws prevent us from sharing information like that without prior consent, even though that student in question might have accidentally sent her assignment to the entire school.” You might be imagining it, but you think Professor Puth points you with a knowing look. You gulp, hastily bowing your head and pretending to fiddle with your phone.

“Aww, Prof! It’s been days and the university hasn’t shut up about it! Surely one of the theories on who the author and muse are must be true, right? You can tell us that, at least.”

You can’t bear to keep listening any longer, though Sera has started to become more interested in the conversation as it progressed. “Wait, wait… I wanna hear the Prof’s opinion,” she says, grinning despite your nails digging crescents into her arm as you try to pull her away.

“No can do! Remember, I have your freshman Halloween pictures saved on a harddrive, and you wouldn’t want me to accidentally send that to the entire student body as well, would you?”

That manages to snap her out of it. Quickly, the two of you leave the lecture hall and away from possible discovery by your poem-frenzied classmates. You are also relieved to be able to breathe in fresh air once more, after being stuck in that class surrounded by liberal art students for two hours. You always do feel a little bit more relaxed after class with Puth, although that might just be from all the secondhand drug use.

Perhaps the fumes really did dull your reflexes, as it takes a while before you realize that Sera has been nudging your shoulder.

When you finally glanced at her, there is a sneaky grin on her face: never a good sign. “So,” she begins, a singsong quality in her voice

After having been her friend for long enough, you have become adept at telling what Sera is going to say next. Call it intuition or whatever, but you like to think of it is a self-defense mechanism. As much as she is your friend, she does love digging into your personal life like it is the cover story of some shitty tabloid. You have to prepare yourself to be interrogated.

“You’re going to ask about the poem, aren’t you?”

Sera rolls her eyes, like you shouldn’t have even asked. “Duh, of course I am. What else would I want to talk about?”

You shrug your shoulders, pretending to think. “I don’t know. Maybe you could have asked ‘Hey, Y/N! How’s your mom been? Have you been eating and drinking well?’ You know, like a normal person.”

“Well, firstable, your mom is literally my friend on Facebook and I saw her go out to that bougie high tea place with Jennie’s mom the other day, so I know she’s fine,” Sera says as the two of you round a corner, heading closer to the parking lot where her car is. “And secondable, you don’t fucking drink water, because you like pretending to be a dehydrated piece of jerky.”

“I just like drinking apple juice, okay? Water is weird,” you say defensively, kicking a pebble as you walk.

“Nah, you’re weird,” Sera counters, ever the creative debater. She remains undeterred, however. “So. Any updates on the poem situation or am I going to have tickle the details out of you?”

You groan, pushing her away from your sensitive sides. “Please don’t… I have no upper body strength and I won’t be able to push you off!”

“That’s the point.” Sera laughs, pinching your cheek. She snatches her hand away, only narrowly escapes getting bitten by you. “Why don’t we skip my torture methods then and go straight to the juicy bits? It’s been ages since I’ve seen you!”

“What if nothing has happened since I last saw you?” You grumble, miffed that she really isn’t letting it go. You just want to have one relaxing day, is that too much to ask?

Apparently, it is. Relaxation is a rare commodity these days. Sera snorts, patting you condescendingly on the back. “Nonsense. You’ve got that post-mental breakdown glow around you. You look absolutely radiant with stress!”

The conversations pauses for a bit when you make it to the parking lot. You don’t have to walk too far, as her car is parked relatively close to the exit, which is just another display of how lucky Sera often is in comparison to you. While your unfortunate plebeian ass is busy drowning in shit, Sera is off somewhere aboard a yacht, getting a massage from some Instagram thot.

She hops into the driver’s seat, waiting for you to put your seatbelt on before backing out with one hand on the wheel. “McDonalds?” she asks, though it is pretty much a given that is where you are going. The last time you both tried diverging from your usual hang out spot, you got intense food poisoning from eating at Chipotle. Sera came out completely fine though, that lucky bitch.

She continues her questions on the drive there, and you relent by telling her most of what has happened to you over the past few days. You gloss over the argument between Hoseok and Jimin, not really wanting their spat to suddenly go viral on Facebook as well. Everything else, however––

“Wait, so you talked to Kim Namjoon? The Kim Namjoon? The Namjoon that you had an embarrassing crush on during our first year?” Sera laughs maniacally, almost driving off into the wrong lane. Luckily, you are quick to latch onto the wheel, saving the two of you from becoming roadkill.

“Watch where you’re going!”

“No, but Y/N! That’s literally so fucking funny!” Sera’s laughter has simmered to a giggle, despite the fact that she is still trying (and failing) to furtively glance your way when you hit a stoplight. “Is he like how you remember? God, do you remember how you were after you first met him? All starstruck because your senpai showed you a draft of his single? ‘Oh, Sera! He has the most amaaaazing flow! I’m going to suck his di––’”

“Shut up!” You whine, slapping her in embarrassment. “Believe me, that crush has died, along with any respect I may have had for him. Men are scum, and I’m going to only date girls from now on.”

“Fine by me! More dick to suck for me, I guess.” Sera teases, whistling innocently. Bold of her to assume that there is any innocent or pure bone in her body; you’ve seen her thirst tweets and no amount of holy water can cure the disease that your vision must have sustained.

“I just want the rumors to die down… It would make my life way more bearable.” You murmur to yourself, sliding down your seat.

Sera is silent for a while. The McDonalds is just within sight, so Sera waits until she has finished parking before she turns to face you fully, uncanny sincerity in her expression. It unnerves you how serious she is, not when you know that this is the same girl who would snort sugar packets if you bet her $5. She places her hands on your shoulder, fixing you with a meaningful look.

“Listen, Y/N. I know all of this is tough right now, but I’m sure it’s going to be alright, okay? The rumor is going to die down soon enough, and everything will be back to normal. Stay strong for now.” Her voice is soothing, sympathy dripping from every word. As mortifying as it is to admit, the tears flow down your cheek effortlessly; perhaps it is the consequence of having to bear this burden on your own for so long without anyone actually telling you that it’s going to be alright.

“Thanks… I think I needed that,” you say after a while, sniffling just a bit. Sera grins fondly at you, wiping your tears.

“No need to thank me. I may be a chaotic shithead, but I’m also your friend.” She unbuckles her seatbelt, gesturing for you to do the same. “C’mon, let’s go in. I’ll even share my nuggets with you.”

Despite her best efforts at comfort, you still feel a little bummed. You allow yourself to wallow in your self-pity for a bit, as McDonalds is a prime location to feel shitty about your life choices anyway. The heart attack inducing food, the barely hygienic facilities, the minimum wage high school employees… Nothing else screamed “I’d rather be dead but it could also be worse” quite like Mickey D’s often did.

You wait by one of the booths while Sera goes off to order for the both of you, leaving you with her phone and other belongings. She promises to let you eat four out of the twenty nugget pieces, which is asking a lot considering who you are dealing with. Sera could probably eat sixty nuggets if she so desired, but only stops herself so she can be physically well enough to continue being a thot. Chasing men all day requires physical fitness, or so she says.

When you go to place her things on the other side of the booth, you notice that Sera had accidentally left her phone unlocked. You can see that she had been previously looking at one of those popular forum sites for your university, where most of her repertoire of gossip is usually sourced from. You aren’t usually the type to frequent those types of pages, with good reason too. That exact forum is the reason of your current stress, where your most private thoughts and feelings were revealed for all to see. Any sort of positive opinion you might have had for that site was immediately dashed the moment that cursed poem was released into the wild.

It kind of pisses you off that Sera still uses that forum despite knowing how much anxiety it has caused you, but then again, there is only so much you can expect from her. Her appetite for drama and chaos is her way of life, her only other hobby aside from writing. You also vaguely recall her saying that she gathers inspiration for her short stories from some of the more outrageous posts made by your fellow schoolmates.

In the end, curiosity gets the best of you as you stare at the open webpage, tantalizing despite the murkiness that lies within. Oh, lighten up. It’s just a confessions page… Besides, you also kind of want to see what people are saying about your poem, and whether the commotion might have died even slightly over time. (Unlikely, but you remain hopeful.)

“Let’s see,” you murmur to yourself, sneaking glances at the counter to see if Sera is close to ordering. She appears to still be next in line to order, so that might give you enough time to read a few of the comments on the post. It doesn’t take you long to find the original post either, since Sera seems to have been perusing the same thing just beforehand.

“Typical Sera...  Sympathetic in the streets, a nosey bitch in the sheets.” You snort, scrolling quickly through the comment section. Nothing seems to be out of the ordinary, except for a few overenthusiastic responses from a couple of people who have bombarded the forum so much that it takes you a few moments to navigate past their thread. You catch a few words here and there, mostly the names of the seven possible muses and not so much the names of any of the possible authors. Honestly, you are more than happy with these turn of events, perfectly content as long as your identity never sees the day where it becomes associated with that disaster piece.

You sort the comments by popularity, wanting to know what everyone’s biggest guesses are. You want to remain hopeful, but as the results start to load, the wave of nausea that suddenly hits you may have been the first warning signal that you should probably stop before you read something that you will regret.

posted by u/SeokjinGod [3d ago]:

[+103, -4] i’m really hoping that kim seokjin is the muse of the poem!! has anyone seen the ads for the new play he’s staring in? he totally looks like the lead actor in a romantic comedy ^^

➾ [+54, -69] psh. that idiot, the muse? PLEASE anyone who has ever worked for kim seokjin KNOWS that it’s physically impossible to form a human connection with that man

➾ [+2, -1] lol seconded

posted by u/namuwuchild [1d ago]:

[+88, -3] WAIT why am i not seeing kim namjoon’s name more often T_T he deserves more love!! stream moonchild or else i’ll bite your ankles

➾ [+1, -6] lol i miss when namjoon used to do actual hiphop… fucking hippie dippie go fuck a tree and some crabs while you’re at it

You sneak a look over your shoulder. Sera is at the front of the line, reciting her orders while the harried employee has to quickly punch in the inordinate amount of food items. Okay… While no one’s looking, time to downvote a couple of these and maybe report some of these assholes… No way in hell are you letting anyone think Moonlight Sonata is about either of those Kim idiots. You would honestly rather out yourself than let anyone think they are worthy of such public displays of love and humiliation.

You are just about to close Sera’s phone and vow never to set foot on social media ever again when the next post catches your eye––the first one where you actually see your name. In fact, your name is generously sprinkled a number of times in this one specific thread.

“Wait a second…” You squint at the top of the thread, reading out the username of the original poster. Is that… Is that your name?!

“User Y/NKook… Oh my god!” You shriek loudly, almost dropping the phone from your sweaty palms. It must be the same person who had organized that merchandise booth in the cafeteria the other week! The number of upvotes on the post isn’t making you feel any better.

posted by u/Y/NKook [3h ago]:

[+98, -5] idk why you noobs are even trying… intellectuals KNOW that y/nkook is real and i won’t take no for an answer… give me my childhood friends to lovers fic RIGHT NOW because this slowburn has been going on for years now and i can’t stand it!!!

➾ [+11, -0] omg op do you know them personally?? how’d you know that they were childhood friends?? i go to the same drama class as y/n and jungkook but they never sit together… are you sure it’s them??

➾ [+20, -1] of course!! they’re even neighbors… besides, haven’t you heard what his nickname is? his friends call him moon eyes for a reason! they say that y/n is the one who gave him that name ^^

You feel your eye twitch, disbelief flooding your senses. Why is this weirdo shipping you with Jungkook? You guys haven’t even spoken properly since elementary school… How does this dude know who you are? Are you being stalked? You whirl your head around, scanning the restaurant for any suspicious people who may or may not be following you. Is this what celebrities feel like when they get shipped with their friends? You feel a sudden surge of respect for them, unable to grasp the situation that you are in. God, you really hope Jungkook hasn’t read any of these.

You go to switch Sera’s phone off, feeling less accomplished than ever before. Maybe it is best to save yourself the anxiety of seeing your world fall apart and try to delude yourself into thinking that the past two weeks have never happened at all. However, there is a certain appeal to reading things that you know you should not, like watching a car crash and unable to look away. The urge to keep scrolling and gaze upon your own personal hell is hard to stop when you have already gained momentum.

“One last post, then I’m done…” You are hard set on that promise, not wanting your apprehension to destroy your peaceful afternoon completely. The next post on the forum greets you with a high upvote number, sending a lick of fear to run down your spine at what you might find. Please don’t be about Y/NKook, you pray helplessly. Little did you know, there are worse things to worry about other than being shipped with your friends.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [1h ago]:

[+154, -5] hey guys i’m back again with another update! so i’ve managed to shorten the list a bit since last time i posted, and i’m 100% certain that kim seokjin is not the muse! sorry, gamers… our prince is in another castle it seems. worry not, though! that only helps our search better and shortens the list. on the other hand, the authors list has also been edited! turns out that neither jodi nor melody is the author, as they both submitted poems about something else. if you are interested to see the updated lists for both muse and author, please head to my profile and look for the original post titled “Mystery Moon Author & Their Mystery Muse” :-)

You have never clicked on a profile as quickly as you did in that moment. Not even a notification from UberEats could make you move that fast.

Lo and behold, the post that started it all is right at the top of the user’s profile, with the significantly shorter list that they had promised. Sweat begins to build on your temples when you realize that the authors list has decreased to seven names, with your name still obstinately sitting at the end of the lines. When will your suffering end?

There is still something that doesn’t sit right with you, however. As you peruse this user’s profile some more, you feel as if there is something weird about it that you can’t quite place. You never did like using this forum, so maybe you are just not used to the layout of the website? What is it about this user’s profile that is making your stomach coil with nerves?

Wait a second… Why is there an edit button beside their profile picture?

“Y/N! I’m back! Sorry for taking so long; I think I ordered too much again. You’re fine with BBQ sauce on your nuggs, right? That’s all I asked for––” Sera had been happily chirping away, sliding into the bench across from you before finally noticing your stoney face. She pats her face, rubbing her cheeks in confusion. “What? Do I have something on me?”

“How fucking dare you!” You hiss, slamming her phone on the table. Unfortunately, you had accidentally locked the phone in your anger, showing only a black screen.

Sera flinches backwards, bewildered. Her eyes flick to the screen and then to you. “Huh? I thought you liked BBQ sauce on your nuggs? I mean, I can ask for sweet and sour sauce if you want…”

“Unlock your phone right now and explain to me why you have triceratops’ profile logged in.”

Your words begin to click in Sera’s mind. Her face grows pale, her body unconsciously sliding further into the booth to hide from your glare. “U-uh… Haha, what on earth are you talking about..?”

“Don’t even try to lie, Sera. I saw everything, and I honestly don’t know if I’m madder that you betrayed me or that I was stupid enough to believe that you were my friend.”

Sera splutters incomprehensibly at first, waving her arms in panic as she tries to save her ass. “I––! You––! It wasn’t like I––”

You lean forward, peering at her coldly. “Oh yeah? What wasn’t it like? It wasn’t like we were friends?”

“No, of course not! I mean,” she backtracks, tongue-tied. “We are friends! It’s just… I made that post before I knew you were the author and I originally sent the poem to just a couple of people because I was so impressed, and I just wanted to––”

“Hold on,” you interrupt, holding up a finger. She squeaks, staring at you fearfully as you slowly get up to your feet. You cry out, “You were also the one who released my fucking poem to the world?!”

“Anna ou––” Sera whimpers, slapping her palm to her mouth. She lowers it, whispering ruefully. “I… didn’t mean to say that…”

“Oh, so you were meaning to lie to me even more?” You seethe, ready to burst into flames.

The poor McDonalds employee who had come to deliver your order to your table seems too frightened to approach the two of you, her arms shaking both with fear and the weight of five orders of 20 piece chicken nuggets. “Uh, is this a bad time?” The girl asks, eyes darting away from your heated glare.

Instead of answering, you grab the tray from her hands and dump the contents on the table. Sera squawks pitifully when a few of the nuggets fall to the ground, though she absolutely yells when you start chucking them at her head like tiny oily cannonballs.

“What the fuck––Dude stop!” Sera has her arms up in defense, shielding her face from your fiery attack. The sound of you ripping open a BBQ sauce packet has her straightening up, however. “No, not the BBQ sauce! Anything but that!”

“Give me one reason why I should show you mercy.” Your hand is poised to pour the sticky sauce all over her white Valentino bag, ready at a moment’s notice.

“Please, Y/N! I’m really sorry!” Sera jumps out of the booth, and goes on her knees. She clasps her hands together, shaking them frantically. “I really didn’t know it was you at first!”

“Well then, why didn’t you fucking take the post down the moment you did know it was me? I thought you were my friend!” You clench your fist around the BBQ sauce packet, causing some of it to spill onto her bag. She makes a desperate noise.

“I just… I like the attention?” She knows this is the wrong answer, judging by your unimpressed expression. She sighs heavily, head bowed in shame. “Look, I’ll fix this, alright? I genuinely didn’t do this wanting to hurt you… I just got so caught up in the clout that I didn’t really think about what would happen if you found out!”

“‘If’ I found out, huh…” You echo, more disappointed than angry now. You slump back into your chair, taking care to grab the napkins and cleaning the sticky mess on your skin as best as you can. “You really were going to continue doing this for as long as it took, huh?”

“I’m really sorry, Y/N.” Her voice is soft, repentant. It doesn’t do much for your sympathy, however.

“Fuck you, honestly. If you really are sorry, you’ll fix this mess as soon as possible.”

You reach for your bag, your movements jostling a few more nuggets to tumble to the floor. You don’t bother saying goodbye, not wanting to see if Sera is doing her Crying Face Emoji impression to try and soften you up. Not this time. This time… you don’t think your feelings can recover after this.

You have read enough stories about heartbreak and longing, but you don’t think any of them top the experience of losing a friend you realize you never even had.

The next morning, there is a new post on the forum from user triceratops.

posted by u/triceratops 👤 [0s ago]:

[+0, -0] Hello, friends. I think I’ve found the author.

It’s Lee Sera.

[spellbound-banshee]

Don’t Cry - Peter Parker

Request: can you write a peter parker x reader imagine where the reader has an emotionally abusive family situation where she doesn’t feel like she’s good enough and he doesn’t know until he finds out one night when dropping in her room and hearing her cry and it’s all soft and fluffy bc he comforts her? sorry for the specifics thank u!

this sounds sooooooooo cute! and don’t worry i love specifics, it really helps me write!

Summary: explained above!

Warnings: fluff, swearing, angst, mentions of abuse/violence

Pairing: Peter Parker (TH) x reader

You and your Mom had gotten into yet another screaming match in the afternoon. She would always tell you how you’re a horrible person, how you never do anything for other people, and how you treat her and everyone else like shit. Of course, none of that was true, but the fights would get to your head all too easily, and before you knew it you were sobbing in your bedroom, thinking it was. You felt so stupid when you would do this, knowing your Mom was a horrible person and treated you like you were dirt all the time. Still, she was your mother, and it stung to hear these things from a parental figure in your life.

So - as usual - you sat in your bed, crying silently into your pillow and hugging the blankets to your chest, desperately trying to get some sleep.

Peter had been on his night patrol as Spider-Man, sitting on a rooftop buildings and listening close to the police radios Karen had intercepted for him. There wasn’t much activity tonight, so he decided to swing by your house and check up on you, usually you would text him and ask how his commute was going, checking to see if he was safe. When he hadn’t gotten the text, he was a bit concerned but figured you were just busy, but he wanted to make sure you were alright.

A soft knocking at your window interrupted your pity party. You shot up immediately, wiping your eyes as you knew exactly who it was. You saw Spider-Man hanging upside down, giving you a small wave as you walked over to open your window. Normally, you would smile, but you couldn’t even muster up enough strength to give him a fake one. Once you opened the window, he took off his mask and shook his head a bit so his hair fluffed out, he knew you liked that. Still, he received no smile.

His smile dropped and his face softened as soon as he saw your glistening cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. “Hey...” He said in a soft voice, slowly flipping himself around so he was in a crouching position outside your window. “Are you okay?” His voice was so soft you could barely here it, but you shook your head ‘no’ and stepped to the side so he could come in.

He immediately took the chance and jumped in with careful feet as to not wake your drunk mother downstairs. There was a moment of awkward silence before he put his mask down and took a cautious step towards you. He could tell you’d been crying for a long time, as you sniffled and you felt another wave of tears begin to creep up on you. “What’s wrong?” And that’s when you lost it.

You practically threw yourself at him, clinging onto him like he was the last stable thing in your life, and to be honest, he was. He was quick to spring into action, wrapping his arms around your mid back and pulling you close enough to feel your heartbeat. Peter didn’t know why you were crying, he didn’t even know about your whole family situation, but nevertheless he tried to comfort you. You tried to forget everything, just letting yourself fall into Peter. His soft hair, the rough-ish material of his Spider-Man suit, his cheap cologne and though you couldn’t see them, you could tell his brows were furrowed in concerned confusion.

Once the storm had passed and your sobs had been reduced to soft whimpers, Peter had wrapped a blanket around you and wiped your sticky cheeks. “Hey, it’s okay.” He whispered, placing a kiss on the top of your head and giving you a soft smile. “What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

So you exploded. You explained everything, the abuse mostly, but the stress of worrying about him also contributed to your breakdown. He listened and nodded his head to make sure you knew he was engaged, squeezing your hand gently when you talked about something particularly harsh. He felt horrible, especially because he didn’t know this had been going on, he just wanted to be there for you. Peter didn’t know what to say, you two just sat there in silence, waiting for the other person to make a move.

“I-I’m so sorry...” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair, his tight suit being the least of his problems at this point. “(Y/n)... we need to get you out of this house.” He said, always immediately trying to find solutions to problems rather than letting them play out. When you didn’t say anything, he took both of your hands in his and looked right into your eyes. “I’m serious. You can’t stay here, your mother is a horrible person and doesn’t deserve someone as amazing as you. You’re also a minor, and if we call the right people we can get you to stay somewhere else.” You nodded, too tired to agree or disagree, but you knew you had to seriously consider the option.

Aunt May was always happy to have you in their home, and especially with this kind of situation, you would be welcomed with open arms. You knew that, but the thought of leaving everything you knew scared you, but you weren’t happy where you were. “Okay...” You whispered, your voice weak and small; Peter immediately knew that you shouldn’t be making decisions when you’re in this state.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We can stay here if you want, watch some TV and I can stay with you, whatever you want.” You nodded, looking down at your hands as his thumbs stroked along the back of your palms.

“I-I don’t feel safe here... can I just stay with you for one night?”

Peter didn’t waste time in swinging you home, but he was careful not to go too fast to not overwhelm you. You kind of enjoyed the easy swing, especially since you only lived a couple of blocks from him, so it was nice and short. May was sleeping by the time he opened his window and put you inside, smiling a bit as he took his mask off once more and placed it in the laundry basket. Without much thought, Peter pressed the spider in the middle of his suit, letting his suit fall to the floor. Your eyes widened a bit, and he turned around with a light blush on his cheek. “Sorry, shit. Force of habit.” He quickly ran to cover himself with a pajama shirt he found on the floor.

You smiled slightly and nodded, noticing he was still in his boxers and with that realization you blushed and turned around, giving him his privacy. Peter smiled sheepishly and put some pants on, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

After you got comfortable, wearing a pair of his boxers and one of his hoodies, you yawned and lied down on his bed, immediately sinking into the mattress. When Peter smiled down at you, you couldn’t help but smile back up at him, moving to the side to allow him to snuggle next to you. “Thank you.” You whispered, pressing your back against his chest and feeling the warmth spread throughout you.

“Of course, (Y/n).” He whispered back, placing a hesitant hand on your waist before pulling you closer to him. “Anytime. And again, I’m really sorry-”

“It’s okay, I don’t really want to think about it anymore...” He nodded understandably and tried to pull you even closer, wanting nothing more to protect you for the rest of his life. You smiled slightly, almost reading his mind and you placed your hand over his.

For the first time, you slept soundly. Not wracked with anxiety, not with tears staining your pillow, but in Peter Parker’s arms; warm, soothing and... safe. You felt safer than you ever had. You could get used to this.

-

[kpopshitposter]

“Come cuddle.”

Writing Prompt Meme

YAS THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS

I think this got a lil long (I love chan so much) but basically Chan comes into the coffee shop you work in (bc coffee shop AUs will never be overdone) and you fall in love with him instantly because who wouldn’t and then he makes your life better because what else would he do

Potential warning: This contains mention of a parent remarrying and getting a lil drunk at their wedding

If someone were to ask you to describe what happened in one sentence, you’d say a volcano erupted in your heart and destroyed everything in its path. That’s what it was like to fall for him. It was a violent, sudden hot mess.

You had met him by chance and were instantly smitten. He smiled so brightly and made you feel so at ease, so calm. He had this vibrant energy about him that, even when he was simply asking for coffee, you felt beautiful despite the apron wrapped around you.

You found yourself wanting desperately for him to come in. You started trying to look your best and thinking about him all day long. He’d only talk to you in short bursts, but they were always the highlight of your day. You found yourself asking for more shifts just in case he was going to come in. It was so wonderful to have some form of consistency, something to rely on. It was so wonderful to have something become familiar to you, finally, since you moved here and started university.

One morning he made a joke about you seeing each other so often that you’re basically best friends. You tried to not seem too happy about that.

He learned your name.

You learned his. Chris. You treasured this new knowledge like it was an incredibly precious secret.

He starts to ask about you - how long have you been working here? What do you do when you’re not here? It makes you feel so special, like someone cares about you, is interested in you. At first, you’re ashamed of yourself for being so taken by him, but when your world comes crashing down around you and he’s the only one there for you, your heart whispers a very gentle I told you so.

The news comes like a slap in the face. Your father is remarrying.

You’ve never even met his new partner. How could he be doing this? How could he bring a stranger into your life in such a permanent way? To make things worse, he didn’t tell you in person. Oh, no. The coward simply sent an invitation in the post. The only type of communication you’ve received from literally anyone about anything is some weird unknown number trying to call you. Since moving, not even your old friends have kept in touch with you.

When you ring him, he didn’t answer. That wouldn’t be the last time he avoids your call.

It’s barely been six months. You thought you understood him not visiting you since you moved out of the city, but the wedding is going to be near where you live, so he must have visited the venue and didn’t even think to tell you... You’ve never felt so unimportant.

Just thinking about it makes you angry, and it’s not until Chris is in front of you and looking concerned that you realise you’ve been wallowing in your thoughts. Your sniffle comes as a surprise to you. You quickly try to wipe away the tears begging to reveal themselves.

He doesn’t ask if you’re okay, because that would be a pointless question. Instead, he directs his request to your colleague. He doesn’t want to bring attention to you. You smile at him gratefully but it doesn’t reach your eyes. You find your chance to slip out the back and crumble to the floor of the car park.

You’re not sure why you’re crying. Maybe too much has changed at once. Maybe you feel betrayed. Maybe you thought out of everyone, you were a priority to your family. The last thought is the one that sticks with you. You’ve never been a priority for anyone, have you? Your father never cared about what view you might have on this, he never cared enough to introduce you two. If he doesn’t, who would?

The tears aren’t just half-there anymore. Your cries are coming out loudly. Why can’t you camouflage into this wall? Why, why, why? Why do you even bother?

The sound of your name startles you. You gasp, red eyes landing on the sweet-looking boy standing over you. You quickly try to rectify your image, fix your face, fix your hair, fix your clothes. Smile. Laugh. Be strong, for once.

He slowly kneels down in front of you. “What happened?” he looks like he really cares. You look back with distrust. “You might feel better if you talk to someone.” You continue to stare at him. “Oh-” he shifts and reaches into his pocket to bring out some tissues for you.

When you clean your face and wipe your nose with them you decide this couldn’t be more embarrassing.

“Please don’t keep it in, that will only hurt more.”

You want to ask him why he’s so nice to you, but you’re afraid you won’t like the answer.

“My dad is remarrying.” he tilts his head like he’s expecting more of an explanation than that. “I… that’s not the issue, that’s fine.” you don’t want him to think you’re selfish. You explain the full situation. How long does your rant go on for? You’re not even sure. You let it all out. You let everything out. How alone you feel.  How unimportant you must be. “I don’t even think I want to go to the wedding at this point.”

“Why not?”

“It will be so awkward and I’ll probably just end up having a mental breakdown in the middle of the ceremony.”

He’s somehow ended up sitting on the ground beside you. “Wouldn’t you regret not going? The way you feel won’t last forever.”

“Yeah, well, I might regret going, too.”

“But at least you can say you tried. You should still go. If you really can’t handle it you can leave early, but if you don’t even try you’ll always wonder. You shouldn’t assume the worst without knowing anything, maybe he cares so much about you which is why he’s scared to talk to you.”

That rings a little too true. You feel bad for jumping to conclusions and that kind of makes you want to start crying again.

“Even if it’s not awkward I’ll end up spending the entire time alone. I…” you take a deep breath and rub your face. Unless ... “Would you… go with me?”

“What?”

“I know I’ll chicken out without someone to force me.” you also might be finding an excuse to spend some time with him. “Plus, if it ends up being the worst mistake of my life it will be your fault that I went. It’s only fair you go, too.”

Chris looks like he’s thinking it over and you expect to hear don’t be weird, we barely know each other, but instead, he says “Deal. I’ll go with you, and if you end up regretting going I’ll treat you to whatever you want.”

“Yeah? Promise?” He scoops up your pinky with his own and presses his thumb to yours. You feel your whole body ignite with life.

“Yaaaay!” he cutely cheers, wiggling your hand. “It will be fun.”

So, that was that.

You exchanged numbers and smiles before you went back in to finish your shift.

That night, and every night, and every morning, and every afternoon, you spend time staring at your phone. You want to message him so much, but you had no excuses (at least, none that wouldn’t come across as totally creepy). You’d think about funny ways to continue conversations you might have had when he came into the shop, but nothing came to mind.

By the time it came to planning for the wedding you had stared at his number so much that you knew it by heart. So, when it popped up, you almost smashed your phone screen by dropped it down the stairs. It was a picture.

You hesitate before opening it and the moment you do you squeal. Oh. Wow. Is this a dream?? It has to be a dream right?!

You don’t know how to process this.

A second picture comes through shortly after - of him in a white suit.

You sit on a step and try to calm yourself down. He looks so cute it’s painful. You kind of want to cry (but you won’t, because that would be weird).

The pictures make this all feel so much more real. He’s taking you to a wedding. Shit. What are you going to wear??

Okay. It’s been 20 minutes and you haven’t replied yet.

[Text:] I love both omg!!!!!!!!!

Yeah. Way too creepy. You’re quick to delete that.

[Text:] You look good in both of them!

Uhhhh slightly too creepy. Delete!

[Text:] Whichever one you want.

Too aloof. You’re getting annoyed at yourself now.

[Text:] I like both of them, but probably the white one.

Nice. Send!

[Text from Chris:] I was worried I messaged the wrong number for a while.

He responded so quickly that you barely even had a chance to stand up.

[Text:] Sorry, was kinda busy :)

[Text from Chris:] What are you going to wear?

That sends you scrambling up the stairs and into your bedroom. Excellent question, Christopher! You start to rummage through things, finding the sexiest thing you own which fills you with the most confidence. You tidy up and sort yourself out as much as possible before sitting on the edge of the bed and positioning yourself to get a picture. You take as many as you need until you get the perfect one. You get a call from an unknown number and hang up. You don’t have time for people trying to sell you stuff or telling you that you’ve been in an accident recently.

[Text:] Maybe this? Not sure, it’s kinda old and I have a few better things…

You smile proudly at yourself. That was so smooth you can’t believe you - wait. You zoom in. You groan loudly. Underwear flung over your chair that you forgot to move! How could you not realise that?! You face plant into your pillow.

When your phone buzzes, you kind of hope it’s the grim reaper texting to tell you it’s time.

[Text from Chris:] You look amazing - you’ll be turning heads! :)

Maybe he didn’t notice or maybe he’s way too gentlemanly and sweet to comment on it. Either way, you feel yourself fall for him even harder.

After that, it’s a lot easier to message him whenever you feel like it. You send him cute dogs you say look like him. He sends you kittens he says look like you. You tell him about all the crazy customers you had and he soothes your soul with every words he sends you in response.

The day of the wedding comes and he’s waiting outside for you in the cab. You check yourself nervously 1,000 times and consider bailing 10,000 times. Your dad still hasn’t responded to any of your calls - all you’ve been getting is a bunch of random spam. Did he sell your number or something?! You don’t know whether you’re meant to be angry or hurt at this point.

Chris eventually lures you out of the house. When he sees you he smiles.

“Wow… you…” he clears his throat.

“Oh-” you play with the material by your sides, “you look really n- good!”

He seems to blush a little and covers his face slightly with his hands. You can barely even appreciate his cuteness because of how anxious you are.

He opens the car door for you and helps you slide in. You get another call from the unknown number, which leaves a voice message for the 20th time. You delete it instantly. You’re so fed up with being pestered.

The journey to the venue is filled with little glances and attempted smiles. You pat your chest to tell your heart to calm the hell down. He must be able to read your mind because he gently touches your arm.

The car stops at the venue and Chris insists on paying the driver. He even helps you out of the car. Under any other circumstances you’d probably get flustered by this, but you’re too afraid of what’s about to happen to really take it in.

You go in slowly, afraid that around any corner might be your father. You don’t see him until you enter the reception hall itself. He’s standing at the end of the aisle, wringing his hands. When his gaze finds you, he breaks out into a large smile and rushes over.

Okay. You weren’t expecting that.

He pulls you into a big hug and Chris smiles, stepping back to allow you space.

“I thought you weren’t coming!”

You’re so confused.

“I texted you that I was…” your response comes out struggled from the tight hug.

“I didn’t get anything.” your father frowns, releasing you and bringing out his phone.

“I called you a billion times, too.”

“You did? Let me see.”

You show him your call history and he blinks.

“That’s not my number anymore.”

“What?!”

“I tried calling you to let you know that I changed my number. I even left you voice messages. Didn’t you get them?”

“Oh…” you glance at Chris, “I thought it was spam so I didn’t answer any or bother with… why didn’t you text me?!”

“I couldn’t figure out how to, and since you moved out of the city it wasn’t like I could just come see you easily! When we came to see this hotel I tried to meet up with you but you kept hanging up the phone.”

You laugh at yourself, a bitter, miserable laugh. Chris was right. You shouldn’t have anticipated the worst. You shouldn’t have been so paranoid about answering the phone.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he says, and you bite your lip to distract yourself from your watering eyes.

“I am, too.” you sniffle.

“Who’s this?” he leans around you and offers his hand to Chris.

“Hi, I’m Chris. It’s nice to meet you.” Chris smiles, taking his hand in both of his and lowering his head politely.

“Nice to meet you too.” he looks between you both. His name gets called and he glances away. “I have to go, it’s about to start. Take a seat at the front-” he ushered a couple of apparently less important out of their seats to make room for the two of you.

You wonder how much Chris is holding back from gloating that he was right. He doesn’t seem like he is. He just seems happy and proud.

The music starts and you’re back to being nervous. You’re going to see her. For the first time. You’re going to see her.

You’re wrinkling your clothes by how tightly you’re squeezing the material over your thighs. Chris takes your hand and shuffles closer to you.

The further into the ceremony it gets, the more you squeeze him. Your father cries. That’s how happy he is. That’s how glad he was to say I do. To this woman. Whom you’ve never met.

Your family is now only going to be half-familiar to you.

You feel so guilty. You can’t be happy for him the way he deserves. Chris would remind you that regardless of the evil feelings festering inside of you, you’re still there. You showed up. You endure the entire ceremony, and now it’s time for the after-party.

You take your seats and a deep breath. Oh. Alcohol. Nice. You pick up a bottle and pour yourself some. When you offer it to Chris, he shakes his head. You’re not aware, but he wants to stay sober out of worry for you. He’s watching you in concern as you swallow gulp after gulp. You’re trying to drown your guilt.

The newly married couple make their grand entrance and you drink and drink. Their first dance. You take more sips.

You haven’t even said two words to your new mother-in-law… and you’re starting to think that was your own fault. Maybe you’ve just been ignoring signs. Maybe you’ve been too self-absorbed. Maybe the problem here is you, not your father. He deserves so much better.

“I think you should slow down.” Chris tries to take your cup away, “Eat someth-”

“Don’t. Don’t bother.” you might not regret reconciling with your dad, but you sure as hell regret coming and you definitely are starting to regret coming with Chris. You’ve probably misunderstood him, too. You’re probably thinking he’s your friend and he just feels sorry for you.

“There’s bread h-”

“Look, can you stop?!” it’s a good thing the music is so loud. “You got me here. You’re done with your end of the deal. You can leave now.”

He looks hurt and confused but you’re only seeing red.

“It’s great that he’s happy but I don’t know who that woman is. Now she’s part of my family and she’ll have to put up with me like everyone else. You don’t have to worry, you’re excused from pretending to like me.”

“I… haven’t been pretending.”

You grab your bag and stand up. The world sways. You stumble your way past the tables. You need to get out. You’re sure nobody in that room wants to see you. You get out of the hall and into the lobby, you’re determined to get outside while ignoring the strange looks. Even when you lose your balance and fall you still are only focused on escaping.

Hands on your arm are trying to help you to your feet.

You can hear your name.

Everything is so off-kilter. It’s all so wonky and impossible to see. You fall again as soon as you’re standing just by attempting to take one step.

Soon your feet are leaving the ground. You’re being scooped up in the arms of someone you can’t really make out. You’re mumbling to be put down, trying to scramble away from the arms which are cradling you. You’re too weak and apparently too quiet, so you start to shout louder. Put me down, put me down!

But some sort of exchange where you’re being shifted about is happening and soon you’re vaguely aware of being carried into the lift.

You’re able to focus a bit better when you’re still. You start to smile and giggle.

“Are you an angel?” you ask.

The beautiful man doesn’t reply. He just watches the floor number in the lift go up.

He shouldn’t have let you drink so much.

You end up falling asleep against the lovely warm chest you’re being held against. You drift in when your weight is being tilted this way and that so that a door can be opened. You’re laid down on a bed.

A wet towel is being put on your forehead and you’re being guided up into a sitting position and handed a cup of water. It’s then that you realise it’s Chris.

Ugh.

“Why are you here?” you snap.

He sighs. “Drink this. I’ll order some food to the room.”

“I said I don’t want it!” you swat and accidentally knock the cup back against Chris, wetting his suit.

“Stop it.” he sternly says, putting the cup down on the bedside table. “You’re acting childish. Don’t fold your arms at me like that. You already figured out that your dad was trying to call you so why are you still so upset?”

“That’s why! It’s my fault that he couldn’t tell me. He probably tried to get me to meet her a hundred times and I’m sure I found a way to avoid it! It’s my fault that all of this happened! It’s my fault that I felt that way and it’s my fault that I don’t know her. He probably doesn’t want a waste of space like me in his life anyway - I’m sure he was really happy to get rid of me. On top of that you’re still pretending to care!” Your phone is ringing. It’s the same unknown number as before, which must mean it’s your dad trying to find out where you are. That makes you feel even more guilty, which makes you feel worse about who you are. You hang up, which makes you feel worse on top of already feeling worse. It’s a swirling mess of emotions.

“I told you I’m not pretending.”

“Whatever! I get that you’re a nice guy, that’s really great. But it’s not fair! You’re making me like you and you probably don’t even realise! You made me feel special for all of five minutes but your work is done. It’s fine if you don’t want to be around me-” that goes on for a while. You rant about how you’ve fallen for him and how he doesn’t even care and how he’d be dumb to like you back anyway and you rant and rant and rant and Chris doesn’t interrupt you. He allows you to get it all out. He listens to you patiently, refilling the cup of water for you each time you drink it, taking off your shoes, making sure you’re comfortable. He finds some snacks which were already in the room.

By the time you’re done complaining he’s leaning over you. One hand on the headboard and the other on the bedside table.

“Do you think you’ll remember this tomorrow?” he whispers.

You’re tense and confused. You still your body and look into his eyes. He doesn’t mind the smell of alcohol on your breath as you attempt to bitterly reply “I’m sure I will.” Jackass. What is that supposed to mea-

He leans in closer and parts your lips with his own. He steals your breath.

When you start to kiss him back he places fingers under your chin.

Chris gets on the bed and straddles your lap.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

“You won’t believe my words, so I’m showing you. Is that okay?”

You’re definitely sobering up now.

“I’m thirsty.” when you say that he raises the cup to your lips. When you’re done drinking he sets it aside. “I just… I really…”

“What?” he asks when you don’t finish your sentence. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I really hate myself, you know?” you can’t believe how much Chris has seen you cry.

Chris nods. “I know.”

“What do you know? Everyone loves you.”

He shakes his head, “I’ve had really bad anxiety. I know what it’s like to feel like you don’t want to be with yourself.” he dabs the towel against your forehead. He’s still in your lap.

“Oh.” You keep managing to make yourself feel guilty today.

“Eat some of this.” he picks up the biscuits he found and opens the packet. He feeds you. Your heart is beating wildly as you take it in your mouth.

“Do we have to go back downstairs?” you ask.

“I think the wedding is over now. You can talk to your dad tomorrow if you don’t want to let him know you’re okay now. I think you should sleep this off before seeing him again.” Chris is right - your dad would kill you for getting drunk and ending up in this position.

“... You think I should sleep... here?”

“Yeah. The room has already been paid for. I’ll leave.”

“N-no.” How do you say this without sounding too desperate? “Don’t go. I don’t want to be alone.” Chris nods and brushes dried tears from your cheeks.

“Let’s go to sleep.”

You can barely believe that this is happening. You feel the butterflies in your stomach grow into shy dragons as he gets up and removes his blazer. He’s getting comfortable to spend the night with you. You nervously get under the covers, taking deep breaths with every movement.

You’re so shy at first, and so is he. He smiles at you when you’re both all bundled up. He takes your hand and moves it to his lips.

“This wasn’t how I imagined telling you how I felt but… I didn’t want you to be upset for no reason.”

“How long have you liked me for?”

“I’ve always kind of liked you, that’s why I kept coming back for the gross coffee you make.”

“Hey!” you both laugh.

You seem to fall asleep smiling, because when you wake up the next morning it’s still there.

There’s a moment of unfamiliarity until it all comes back to you.

Chris is still sleeping and he looks so perfect.

You try as silently as possible to get up and creep into the bathroom. You’re shocked by your own reflection. You look like a mess. As quickly as possible you start to try and clean yourself up, adjusting your clothes and your, uh, whole face, basically.

When you’re as satisfied as you can be you try to slide back into bed to pretend you just naturally always look like that, but the mattress shifting wakes him up.

He groans and stretches. He rubs his eyes and squints out at you. He smiles lazily and holds out his arms.

“Come cuddle.” he says tiredly.

You can’t believe you’re hearing this. You can’t believe last night wasn’t a dream. You can’t believe you’re actually lowering down onto him. You can’t believe this is your life now.

[noheroes-allowed]

10/22

I’m hoping that I’m actually doing ok and not bottling anything in. I’m thinking about the last time I liked someone and how I made really stupid decisions trying to get over him that were unhealthy and made everything worse. and I was so emotional back then too and so insecure and naive, and to be fair to my younger self, I still am. but I hope I’ve matured enough to just handle this situation better than I have in the past. I’m really hoping the way that I’m feeling right now isn’t just a part of me lying to myself bc I can’t deal with an emotional breakdown later down the line. overall though, I can’t believe I actually did it. and I think I was probably able to bc it came in bits and pieces, like our conversation last thursday just made me more aware of how he would probably respond and, it was truly just me needing to admit it and get it off my chest rather than getting anxious over the anticipation of his answer. which I’m hoping is better than if I told him earlier without knowing these things about him already bc maybe I can reassure myself that it’s bc he’s not looking for anything with anyone really and he gets really excited about the time before anyone admits anything rather than something being wrong about me. like him saying that before I had to say anything makes me believe him more bc if I admitted it and then he said that stuff I would’ve thought we was just trying to soften the blow. anyways I hope I’m ok. I was so close again to not saying it but I was like no, if I put it off again I’m gonna hate myself and regret not doing it again. so I told him in front of his house after our walk. 

(side note, the walk was super nice. we talked for like ~1.5 hours and went down this dark trail that was not lit at all, and once we got to the end, he wanted to keep going bc I think he wanted us to keep talking. but we had to turn back for safety/road visibility reasons. like he told me about what he wants to do in life and I really like him for pursuing something that isn’t traditionally successful and he comes from a place of privilege to be able to do that, but also the thing that he wants to do with his life would’ve sent me swooning (if I hadn’t already started getting over him). but still, like I love him for that, and I love his passions and what he wants to achieve, and just talking to him bc he understands how I feel about not just wanting to work for some company and it doesn’t seem like more people in segc do even though theoretically we all should. and I told him how I really liked the work this one company was doing in dc with data science consulting for nonprofits and the public sector and he was like maybe we’ll cross paths someday. (I hope they do. I hope I run into him and he tells me about how he took his kids canoeing last weekend or how his work is going at whatever agency he’s running or how his master’s is going.) he talked about the last time he felt this way was high school senior year when he didn’t know where his life is going. like, it just felt nice to be able to converse with someone who understands how I’m feeling and to hear someone else’s worries or uncertainty too. idk, it was just a really good conversation, and he said it was nice too. I had suggested us to play overcooked bc I didn’t want him to think that all I ever did was talk about deep things? bc like yeah I love that stuff and connecting with people but sometimes I can just chill too. but the walk was the best part. also I brought those little jelly cups with me bc I wanted to share something with him. I am cute.)

anyways yeah I told him. like I just had to do it and get it over with and stop sitting on it for my sake. and I do regret some of the things I didn’t say or didn’t phrase in the way I could’ve, but I think I said enough of what was necessary. like I asked him if I could ask him something and then he suspected after I looked at him and didn’t saying anything and then laughed nervously. but yeah, the gist was I told him I wanted us to still be friends but I needed to get it off my chest and just move past it and reframe our dynamic in my head. and I didn’t really expect anything from him based on our conversation last week. and that the thing that scared me the most was him distancing himself from me and not rejecting me. but he reassured me that he wouldn’t treat me any differently. and I told him I still wanted to talk about the things we talked about before. to make me believe him he was like what should we do next. but yeah we’re going to the cat cafe next week lol

to be very honest though, I obviously wish he liked me back. but ultimately this is better for me bc I don’t need it to build up more intensely the more time I spend with him or misinterpret things bc I know I’ll just end up more hurt later on. but I feel like it’s weird bc he’s the person I’ve liked for awhile now, and the person before that was complicated, and the other person during that was complicated, and the person before that was high school. and I can’t tell if it’s part of me maturing or if I’m bottling things up and not dealing with it, or if it’s bc I kind of got my answer indirectly last week already, but I feel ok. I did like him a lot though, and I feel like I got to know him at a level I haven’t with other people I’ve liked. bc with *****, so much of it was the novelty and all the new experiences I was going through and having to leave people and just not being ready to start over. like he was a good friend and we had deep talks too, but we didn’t have that much time together to know each other in other respects. and with ****, I still can’t comprehend what was going on between us. like I knew her the most for sure, but it’s difficult to compare in this situation. keith is still confusing sometimes, but the keith I know, there are things I admire about him, and things that annoy me about him lol I know he’s not perfect, and things I like hearing from him. idk I just feel like I know this person, or at least the sides he shows me, and not just my idea of this person. so I think that’s why I wish he liked me back. but I’m also relatively ok he doesn’t bc I will (hopefully) still be spending and enjoying that time with him. I think the most I can compare him to is ****, who I got over and still hung out with and helped him pick out a valentine’s day card for another girl lol.

I think also, to be very honest here, I wish like the thought could’ve crossed his mind. like removing everything he said last week about relationships and commitment, he still has crushed on other girls. and I just can’t help but be insecure and wish that maybe if I was prettier or more attractive, the thought would’ve crossed his mind. it sucks, I wish I didn’t feel that way.

also I have this newfound respect for people who have ever admitted anything to me bc wow I couldn’t even say the words. arguably though, one of them was at the end of a program and we weren’t gonna see each other so he had like nothing to lose. and the other one, I think I was giving mixed signals to which I felt bad about, but I really wanted friends and I didn’t want to be labeled as *****’s gf in the org, and I wanted to be my own person that people got to know. yeah I think that was bad timing bc I might’ve ended up liking him. and he told me relatively early before anything intensified. anyway. I have more respect. I do think I had more to lose though bc keith is my lifeline in ithaca unfortunately and I would make some poor decisions if I didn’t have him to hang out with. 

I think that’s all I have for now. reminder to my future self, there will be ups and downs and please be nice to yourself. 

[nickmuch]

c.z.k. - high school (part 3)

PART 1 / PART 2

Note: Honestly, I have nothing to do at work atm, so I might update this daily. Can’t wait for Part 4! Bc I have finally some more Zion action planned.

Also: It might be prom season there, but you didn’t hear it from me. My favorite part to write was probably the one that took place after prom.

Aaand: mobile tumblr seems to ignore all the paragraphing I put into the text to indicate the end of a scene???? So it’s probably easier to read on the desktop version.

A week had passed since my outburst. If you thought that everything magically turned upside down and we lived a happy life riding into the sunset on our white horse, then you thought wrong. Absolutely nothing happened. I returned back to class that day, not even flinching from his words. And he came back a couple minutes later, both of us acting as if we didn’t just kiss. He went back to her and I went back to feeling like shit. The usual story.

I acted like it didn’t faze me when he approached my locker at the end of the school day. “So …” he began. “You and Edwin?”. His voice sounded nervous when he asked me. Scrunching up my face, I fully turned towards him. “Me and Edwin what?”. Sighing, he grabbed my arm making me look him dead in the eyes. “You guys together now? You both seem oddly close these days”. Wow, I couldn’t believe the words that left his mouth. “Congrats! You have officially lost your mind, Caleb” I started picking up my pace. The front door wasn’t too far from here, so I hoped he would just let it go and let me drive home in peace. I hoped for nothing because clearly, he and his long legs caught up to me rather quickly, opening the door to my passenger seat before sitting down. “Look, I’m sorry for everything. But honestly, I just wanna put this all behind us. I miss my friends and I feel like I can’t hang out with the group while you’re still mad at me” “I’m not mad at you, in fact I give zero shits about you. But if you have something to talk about with the boys, then do so. I’m not keeping you from seeing them. They were your friends first, so you have every right to chill with them. I just don’t wanna be included, s’all”. A tap on the window made us look up. There she stood, tight smile on her face and eyes cold like ice. “Aw shit” he said, hurriedly opening the door to get out and explain why in the name of God he was sitting in his Ex’s car talking. Since I seriously didn’t need to hear their arguing – which was bound to happen any second now – I quickly drove off.

“Prom is right around the corner. What do you mean you’re not going?! Yes, you are! Don’t leave me alone with these fools!”. Edwin was close to having a breakdown. All because I didn’t plan on going to prom. There was no reason to go, really. I had no date, it was way too cold In New York to walk around in a dress the whole evening, and I wasn’t in the mood anyways. “Eddie, I love you, but please don’t make me go. I would only destroy the fun” I begged, thinking that would change his mind. Wrong! Because Edwin was – well – Edwin. My excuses were exactly that: just excuses. And he knew. “Okay bebecita, I knooooow you don’t feel like going”. He was convinced that easily? Wow, okay. “But!”. Ah there it was. “We will have fun. Trust me! When have I ever lied to you?”. I mean, he was right. Whenever he said something was going to be fun, it actually turned out to be. “Fine, we’ll go! But make sure that Zion leaves me alone. He thinks we’re dating and I don’t feel like dealing with his headassery again”. Edwin’s eyes nearly fell out of his face. “What?! Oh my god, is he serious?”. A hearty laugh filled up the whole living room. “Mijo, not so loud!” his mom shouted from the kitchen, making him quit immediately. “Anyways” he plopped down next to me on the couch. “No offense, but even if you’d be the last girl in the world and we had to reproduce in order to save the human civilization, I still wouldn’t touch you” Edwin finished. “No offense taken. You’re not my type anyway” I casually said while not breaking my eyes off of the tv screen. Gasp! “I- what? I meant because you’re my twin sister! Not because of your looks!” he cried. “Uhm … oh y-yeah, that’s what I meant too …?”. No way I could save my ass out of this. He looked hurt for a second but didn’t seem to dwell on it when he used my lap as a pillow to watch the show. “Don’t be fooled, you still suck ass”.

The night of the prom, Edwin had officially turned into a bridezilla. Minus the bride, of course. His steps could be heard from everywhere in the house, like a ticking clock you couldn’t dismiss. It was driving me insane. It was driving us all insane. “Edwin, you need to calm down” I tried. “There’s no way! No. Way.” he frantically walked from one room to the other. “My clothes need to be ironed, you still aren’t in your dress- “. “It’s 2 p.m.!” my voice sounded squeakier than expected. “- … your hair’s a mess, face not beat, my hair is acting up, and the damn rental car is running late” he finished with one last breath before collapsing on my bed. “We won’t be on time. Just cancel on the boys for me, the stress isn’t good for the baby”. “What baby?!”. “Me. I’m baby”. I couldn’t believe my ears. This boy lost his mind. Narrowing my eyes at him, he challenged me back to a stare-down. “Listen here, egghead” An offended gasp left his lips. “You’ve been talking about this night for weeks. There’s no backing out now. Move your ass up and get your to-do-list, so I can help you with everything. We still have four hours left before the boys are supposed to be here. So, let’s start!”.

The white Range Rover came to a halt right in front of the school building. Loud music could be heard already, some new rap song playing in the background. “This is gonna be so lit!” Edwin bounced on his seat excitedly before jumping out and dragging the rest of us with him into the gym. The motto for this year’s prom was “neon festival”.The wall decoration was painted in a mix of fluorescent colors, which reflected every time the lights hit them. Bright yellow stars adorned the ceiling, some white smoke even coming out of a smoke machine. Everything was arranged so nicely, I couldn’t help but admire the great effort of the students who probably worked hard for this to come true. Now I understood why Edwin wanted to go so badly. Back home, our prom nights were pretty basic. No one could be bothered to put so much effort into an event, just for it to be over on the same night.

“Here, for you” Nick handed me a red solo cup, which was filled with some pink drink, accompanied by a cocktail umbrella. “Thank you” I said, turning my gaze towards the shining stars again. “I’m so sorry about what I’m gonna say next” he looked slightly uneasy, so I tried to calm him down by laying my hand on his shoulder. “Z and Asya will be joining our table. I mean, only if it’s alright with you”. As if on cue, my eyes wandered over to where I last saw the boys, seeing that – in fact – they were surrounded by the couple. All of them looked so happy, laughing and joking with each other. No matter what I felt towards Caleb, I had to set my pride aside and act nice from now on. The boys were longing to hang out with their friend again and I didn’t want to be the reason for a strain in their friendship.

“It’s alright with me” I replied. His hand cautiously wrapped around my hips, like he was scared of making me uncomfortable. “Lead the way, Mara”. He grinned at me. “Say no more, Honoret”. I rolled my eyes at the name. He knew I wasn’t really a Honoret, and yet everyone just called me that, totally ignoring all my attempts at correcting them.

Luckily, I got the seat between Edwin and Brandon. I didn’t know how to greet Zion and his girlfriend. She was too busy typing away on her phone to notice my arrival, anyways. So, I just gave him a short wave and a shy smile. “Looking nice” he said, motioning to my baby blue velvet bodycon dress. His girl was so busy, she didn’t even notice him complimenting another female. Either that, or she didn’t care. “Thanks Caleb, you too”. Coincidentally, he wore a dark grey suit with a baby blue pocket square. To not give awkward silence any room, Austin suggested to me to dance. Gladly taking his offer, we made our way to the dance floor. Soon enough, Edwin and Nick joined us, their dance moves putting me and him to shame. “You guys enjoying yourselves?” Brandon shouted over the music. I pulled him closer by his forearm to join us. “Very”. My grin however didn’t last. When I looked back to our table, I saw Zion all by himself. He looked bored, occasionally scrolling through his phone. “I’ll be right back” I told no one in particular before making my way over to the lone boy.

“Why so lonely, Kuwonu?” I nudged his arm. With a weak smile on his plump lips, he answered “Asya is preoccupied with her group of friends. I don’t really vibe with ‘em”. Nodding understandingly, I offered him to accompany me back to the others. “As long as you don’t hit the folks, we’re good” I playfully teased him. “Ha ha, very funny” Caleb sarcastically remarked. It was nice to talk to him without an attitude or tension building up. Maybe I overreacted a little bit in the last weeks. Having him around felt good, if you ignored the butterflies that erupted deep down in my stomach every time he looked at me or smiled his goofy grin. But we had our chance and it didn’t work out, that’s why I had to get over it. Better to have him as a friend than anything else. Right now, though, was about having fun and enjoying the company of good friends in a night that seemed to be endless.

The thing is, everything has an end. And so, I found myself in the booth of an old diner. The fake leather of the seats was peeling off and little bolts of cloth got stuck to our clothes. One of my legs was pressed against the window side, my other leg was touching Brandon’s involuntarily. Edwin thought a corner booth would totally suffice for all seven of us. Well, he thought wrong because now we were all huddled up, trying to get as comfortable as humanly possible with not much space between us left. Asya decided to not tag along, saying she was too tired from dancing with her friends all night.

“I hope they hurry up with our order, I’m starving!” Ansley sighed dramatically. Turns out, Austin was talking to her for weeks now, he just couldn’t build up the courage to ask her out yet. So, Edwin being Edwin, persuaded her to join our trip for a midnight-snack, claiming that “this pizza is going to be the best you’ve ever had!”. Judging from the interior design and the slack expression we were getting from the waiter, I highly doubted he was right. But then again, never underestimate Edwin.

“Okay, you were right. This is the best pizza I’ve ever had. Kudos to you, Ed” Ansley munched happily on her slice. Suspiciously examining the pieces in the center of the table, I couldn’t really put too much trust into her words. For some odd reason, the pizza had more grease on it than my face in the morning before washing it. “Just try it, she isn’t lying” Zion slid me a slice over. “If I die, tell Mama, Papa and the babies that I love ‘em” I told Ed before taking a bite. This was actually pretty good. Maybe not the best I’ve had, but it came close. “What makes this the best pizza in all of New York, though? It doesn’t taste that special”. The boys smirked knowingly, all eyes looking down trying to avoid my gaze. “It’s not necessarily the taste but rather the memories this place holds, you know? Back when we were younger, we’d spend our evenings after school here since our parents were working and we had no one to watch us in the meantime” Brandon nodded along to Edwin’s words, clearly remembering it all as if it had happened yesterday. “Can you imagine the mess we’d make?! Five little boys, full of energy rushing in to buy themselves some junk food, not a single care in the world” he paused for a moment, giving the others a short smile. The moment was filled with a melancholic retrospective feeling. “We literally grew up in this place. T’was safer to play and wait for our parents in here than at home or on the streets. I guess that’s what makes this so special to us” he shrugged. Sensing that he had finished the story, I nodded slowly, comprehending everything he just told me. “I like it here. Has charm to it”. Grinning widely, I took another bite to further prove my point.

People think of New York as this cool and hip city, with expensive luxurious apartments and such, but they seem to forget that not everyone is fortunate enough to live that life. Some of us have to learn from an early age that this world is full of bad people. Not everyone is going to wish you the best or give a helping hand. “We kinda are like OMB if you really think about it. Sure, no one is forcing us to join a gang or sum, but we do live a similar life” Zion threw in. “Actually, the weedhead might be onto something” B exclaimed. “You moving here out of nowhere” he said, pointing towards me. “Ed having to give up his room for you. A weird crackhead as a friend like Jamal” Now it was Edwin’s turn to be pointed at. “Hey! That’s rude! Besides, don’t do my bro Jamal like dat. He’s a great friend, always got their backs and shit” Ed tried to argue. “You’re a great friend, too. And an even better twin brother” I genuinely told him. A chorus of “Awwee”’s followed the round. “Now this is how you talk to friends! Take notes, ladies”. When he said ladies, he definitely wasn’t referring to me or Ansley.

The night itself turned out being amazing and I was glad that Edwin had convinced me to go to prom. We were talking about everything and nothing, really. Moments turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours, and soon it was already time to leave. Ansley had to be home soon, so Austin took it upon himself to make sure she would arrive there safely. Edwin was craving donuts from the corner shop across the street, but since he couldn’t be trusted on his own, Brandon decided to follow him. “Is B really the right fit to watch him not do any shenanigans?” Nick asked warily. “… honestly, talking from experience, I should probably go with ‘em before their sugar high kicks in”. With that, I was left alone with Zion in the booth of a run-down diner in the middle of New York. Despite being in one of the biggest cities, the world suddenly felt so small around me.

“So …” Zion said, looking around the place. “So …” I mimicked. Shaking his head, he just laughed. “This is low key awkward, not gonna lie”. It was true. In a group we no longer had trouble talking, however when alone it was a whole another story.

“I’m sorry”.

“You say sorry way too much”.

“Maybe. But this time I wanna apologize for attacking you with that kiss last week”.

“It’s all forgotten”.

His mouth opened and closed, scared to say something but I knew there still was something he wanted to get off his chest.

The bell above the door frame signaled the arrival of someone. “Guess what I gotchu guys?!” Edwin trotted over, taking a seat on the table, so that he had both me and Z on each of his sides. A small brown paper bag rested on his lap. With one swift movement, he pulled out some twizzlers, and shoved them in our hands. “And we also bought you make up wipes!” happily Brandon said in a sing-song voice. Fishing out the pack, he handed them over to me. “I love you guys!”. Nick walked in last. “Yo, I’m slowly getting tired. Can we drive home now?” sleepily he rubbed his eyes, already pulling on Zion’s sleeve. Reluctantly, Edwin followed behind, even though all he wanted was to eat his candy. His sugar high was still going in full force. Therefore, he didn’t feel an ounce of sleep.

“Why the fuck is he so bouncy?!”Austin asked. We had called him earlier to ask for his location, so that we could pick him up and drive home as well. He climbed up the Jeep, sitting next to an energetic Ed. “Twizzlers?” he offered to his friend. “No, thanks. Also, please stop smiling so creepily, you’re scaring me”. This was going to be a long drive.

Note: Part 4 will have more Zion moments. The plan is to have only one or two settings, so hopefully it’ll work out as planned.

I’d love to get some feedback, good or bad doesn’t matter!! What direction would you want this to go? How would you like this to end? Let me know!

Cami

[macbookpro-hard-drive]

control [jeremy h. x squipped!reader] pt.3

did you know that tumblr no longer has those lil.. lines that i liked to separate my notes from my fic with? i didnt. until now. unbelievable.

SO NOW I HAVE TO SUPPLY MY OWN and hopefully this is fine

anyway. ive been... dead for a while. summer destroyed all motivation to do Anything, but ive been forcing myself to write on and off and this part feels... shorter than it should be, but

anyway! i am alive! i have plans! i have things to write! some of them are never going to be on this blog bc theyre original works, but im always open to talk abt them skdfhdsfh

warnings: uhhhhhhh vague manipulation, and i think thats it? just general. squip. yea.

         The last time you had seen Michael Mell as a friend had been the beginning of sophomore year. He and Jeremy sat on either side of you in his basement, clutching controllers and halfheartedly playing video games. Soda went untouched and unopened, snacks left alone, and too many times had Jeremy lost on games he knew like the back of his hand. The air had been stiff and uncomfortable, and the feeling had seeped into your nerves and bones to make your stomach turn at the thought of staying longer. Jeremy wasn’t quite there, and Michael was trying too hard to be extra present to make up for it. He became doting on the two of you - quick to refill a snack bowl that had barely been touched with Jeremy following him out of the basement. That was when you found your phone and called your parents, asking if they could come pick you up - bullshitting some excuse about how you felt sick. When Michael came down, he saw you packing up your things with a half-assed apology and a shitty acting job before you tore up the stairs and nearly rammed into Jeremy in the process. Your chest had tightened as you pushed past him with a quick apology and went to wait on the front steps outside for your mom to come get you.

          That had been the beginning of the end. After that day, Jeremy had slowly stopped talking to you almost completely. Michael had tried to patch things up, to keep things going, and then he just stopped abruptly. To make things worse, you had broken down at school a few weeks after everything went silent, because you’d been alone. You wiped at your face roughly with the sleeve of your hoodie, and left the bathroom. Barely seconds after you had turned the corner to head to class, you ran straight into him - headphones on and head down - only for his gaze to find yours the moment you stumbled back. He opened his mouth to speak, and you stumbled through a rough, shitty apology before you pushed past him and onward to your class. And then you avoided him purposefully, not wanting to address that little moment of weakness you had.

          And now you were sitting in front of him, eyes red and tears streaming down your cheeks as you struggled to find your voice. Your back pressed into cold metal, the lockers clanging behind you as you pulled away and tried to say something, anything to explain yourself. But Michael just stared at you, uncertain about what to say to you. Your legs were like stone, almost as if something was keeping you from darting away, from finding a safer place to land and cry and get over the tears forced from your body.

          “[y/n]?” Michael finally said, still staring at you. The lights overhead gleamed off his glasses and headphones as he pulled them down and around his neck, music loud enough for you to hear. He gave you a quick once-over, his attention now fully on you. “You okay?”

          You went to nod only for another sob to overtake you instead. “I don’t know why I’m crying,” you admitted after a moment, voice shaking and broken. And it was sort-of true.

          “Are you sure?” He said, “hey, I, uh, I know I sorta stopped talking to you and that was kinda shitty but... I’m still here if you need someone to talk to, alright?” After a moment, he tacked on another thought, “do you need a ride home?”

         Immediately, you didn’t want to say yes. It didn’t feel right to. But you’re already nodding before you can debate anything further. “Yeah,” you said slowly at first, reaching up and wiping at your eyes. Realization hit you quick. Your bag. “Shit.”

         “What’s wrong?”

         “I, uh, kinda left my bag in the auditorium.” You hesitated to step away - you didn’t really want to go back and make an excuse to leave, to let anyone see you with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. “Michael... can you-”

         “On it,” he gave you a small, two-finger salute, “I’ll be back in a sec!”

         As Michael took off down the hallway, you felt a pit develop in your stomach while he disappeared around the corner. Nothing felt right. You looked around for a moment, acutely aware of how silent everything had gone. When your SQUIP materialized in front of you, you avoided its gaze as you wrapped your arms tighter around yourself for a moment. The world felt a little colder, a little dimmer, and everything was off. The sound of Michael’s approaching footsteps minutes later played the steady beat for your incoming guilt-induced breakdown, and yet the boy smiled at you - as if nothing was wrong. Maybe that was because it looked like nothing was wrong. The strap of your bag was tossed over his shoulder, bouncing against his own backpack, and yet he looked at you like you were still friends.

        “Thanks,” you finally said as you reached for your bag.

        Michael stepped back, “I’ve got it,” he said with a smile, “don’t worry.”

       You let your arm fall back to your side, only to then shove your hands into your pockets. “Thanks,” you said, avoiding eye contact for a moment.

       The walk to Michael’s car was mostly quiet, with concerned glances thrown your way every now and then - that, when you caught then, were met with insecure smiles at the situation he’d been pulled into. Which.... frankly, threw you off a bit. Michael had always been the one who was better with all this feelings shit - you and Jeremy had the unhealthy habit of bottling everything up. And now Michael walked in step with you, still warm as ever - and still wearing that damn red hoodie you swore he showered in, but it still made you smile because of course Michael still took good care of it. When you hesitated for half a step upon seeing his P.T. Cruiser, he looked back at you before you shot him an uneasy smile and continued towards the passenger side. One of his moms must have given it to him - whether for his birthday or as a gift for passing his driver’s test, you weren’t sure. But the seats were still well-worn, a Pac-Man sticker stuck on the head-rest of the driver’s seat that Michael had stuck there when bored out of his mind. It was worn with age, like you’d expect it to be, but you suppressed a small smile at the fact it was still there.

      If the walk to Michael’s car had been quiet (with the occasional snippit of Michael saying something about how he still feels bad about what happened between the three of you, or about how he’s kinda sorry about the walk to the back of the parking lot) then the ride to your house was dead silent. Music flooded through the car speakers, Michael’s phone resting in your lap due to him pushing it in your direction and telling you to play whatever you want, and his attention was fully on the road - the sound of his phone’s GPS spitting out directions every so often to guide him. You watched out the window, a small sense of dread resting in your stomach the entire way, and for some reason... you felt sick.

      When the car started to roll to a stop, Michael reached up and turned the music down. “Hey, uh, you still have my number, right?”

      You blinked at him for a moment, before pulling out your phone. “I, uh, think so?” You opened your contacts, flipping through them, “I don’t think I deleted it or anything-”

      “Good,” he smiled at you, “if you ever wanna hang out, I’m, uh, pretty free since Jeremy’s busy with this whole.. play... thing.” He paused for a moment, only to follow it up quickly with “I mean if you aren’t doing anything, since - I dunno, you aren’t apart of the cast so-”

      “Okay,” you cut him off, “yeah, sure - I’m only painting the set for it, so... I’ll probably try to do that during lunch.”

      “I, uh,” he began, nodding towards your jacket, “I like your pin. Have you ever played the old shit?” When you shook your head, he was filled with excitement. “Dude. You have to come over then. I’ve got the classic Zelda stuff if you wanna play.”

      Running a hand through your hair, you just sort-of nodded in response as you opened the car door, swinging your bag over your shoulder. “Thanks for the ride, Michael.”

      You closed the car door, taking a few steps back as he pulled off and drove away, before you turned and head up to your house - pausing to notice your parent’s cars were missing. Right. Letting your bag fall down to your elbow, you began to fish through it to find your keys tucked away in the bottom of your bag, and you nearly sent the contents of your bag spilling when you went to pull it back to your shoulder. But with lightning reflexes that weren’t your own, you managed to snap into action and pull it shut before anything could spill - and when you looked up, your SQUIP was standing before you.

      Huh. “... Thank you?” You zipped your bag back up, letting yourself into your house.

      “You should stick to hanging out with Michael,” your SQUIP said, watching you head into your bedroom

      Dropping your backpack onto your bed, you shrugged at the idea as you began to search for your homework. “I mean, sure, he’s still a cool guy-”

      “Michael is close to Jeremy,” it said, as if the fact wasn’t obvious, “therefore, if you get closer to Michael, you’ll get closer to Jeremy.”

      You stopped. “Isn’t that using Michael?”

      “You were friends with him before. It’s rekindling your friendship that just so happens to mean you’ll rekindle something with Jeremy.” It said, “you aren’t manipulating him.”

      You shook your head, setting one binder down and searching for another. “I don’t really like this,” you said, “I don’t want do hurt Michael or anything-”

      “Why would you be hurting him by being friends with him?”

      Thinking it over, you finally nod a little. “... I guess you’re right,” you looked down at the textbook in your hands. “It just feels wrong-”

      “Don’t feel, [y/n],” it stepped beside you, turning your head to meet it’s steely gaze. “Just listen. I’m here to help you.”

      Reluctantly, you nod. “... Right.”

      So you did. The next day, Rich fell into step beside you - inviting you to stop acting like a loner and to sit with him and Jake and the rest of his friends. You debated taking him up on the offer for a moment, only to spot Michael sitting alone in a corner of the cafeteria. You declined immediately, not looking back as you crossed the room to join Michael. That became your routine - sliding into a seat near Michael, talking about video games and whatnot, and occasionally letting the topic slip to Jeremy as Michael had the habit of occasionally venting about the boy.

       “I mean,” he started one day, pointing a fork in your direction, “you remember how he is. He’s just... so in love with her,” he shook his head, “and, I mean, yeah, it’s Christine, but he could, y’know... not abandon me every day.”

      You nodded, “I’m sure he’s just blinded by his crush, Michael.”

      He nodded, stabbing into his burrito bowl, “I know...” He trailed off, looking away for a moment, “I just... he’s excited about this and - and that’s great! He’s actually sort-of talking to Christine!” He smiled back at you, “every time he talks about her, he gets that stupid look on his face. He practically has heart eyes, [y/n].” He paused for half a beat, “but... y’know, I can’t blame him. He keeps talking about how she’s been helping him with his lines, and that she’s so passionate about theatre...”

      You couldn’t help but smile a little at that. From your limited interactions with Christine, she seemed to be a complete sweetheart. No wonder Jeremy liked her.

      “In time, he’ll like you more.” It nudged it’s way in between your thoughts, “as long as you do what I tell you to. I’ve got a plan-”

      Resisting the urge to roll your eyes, you busied yourself with your lunch. “Sure, buddy.”

      The stern silence that responded to your tone spoke volumes. But like a knife through butter, Michael’s voice washed away the slight tension you’d begun to feel: “hey, do you still draw?”

      You perked up at the question, turning your full attention back to Michael, answering with a far-too chipper “yes!” You immediately forced yourself to calm down, “yeah, I, uh, I still do. My art’s changed a lot, though,” you kind-of smiled, “I have a, uh, pretty decent following online now. I’m just glad I get to do what I love.”

      Snagging his phone from his pocket, Michael went silent for a moment as he opened up his tumblr app. “There’s this artist that Jeremy and I discovered - they seem really fucking cool, dude, and they seem like someone you’d like-”

      And then you were met with your own artwork, tagged with your online alias, and you had to resist the urge to immediately spill that he’d found you online after you remade your account. You could feel your SQUIP’s fingers gripping your shoulder, and you bit your tongue as you nodded, giving some half-hearted answer about how they seem cool, sure, before wondering why it had stopped you from saying anything.

      You didn’t address it until later. Halfway through your homework, you looked up and pushed yourself away from your desk. “Hey.” You spoke aloud. 

      Within seconds, your SQUIP proceeded to materialize in front of you. “You’re speaking aloud-”

      “I know,” you said with a hand wave, “my parents are still out. What was up with that earlier?”

      “You shouldn’t go around saying things-”

      “But it’s Michael,” you refuted, “I trust him. Besides - wouldn’t telling him that get me closer to Jeremy?”

      It’s cold gaze made you shrink under pressure. “I have a plan. [y/n]. If you want to get Jeremy, you have to obey.”

      “What about what I want?” You forced yourself to stand your ground, staring at the figure before you, “what if I want to do things differently?”

      “You bought me for a reason.” It crossed its arms, watching you, “this is what you want, though. That’s why I’m here: to help you get what you want. And what you want is Jeremy. I’m going to help you get Jeremy, but I can’t do that if you don’t trust me, [y/n].”

      Pressing your lips together, you mustered up a weak nod. Right. “Sorry,” you finally said, “I just - I’m scared it’s not going to work.”

       “It will.” 

        When Michael invited you over the next day, you were more than happy to take him up on the offer. He began to reason it as well, Jeremy’s at play practice, before he ended up dropping the facade and admitting he still kind-of missed you and that it’d been a while since he’d kicked your ass at video games (and, fuck, the glimmer in his eyes when he said that was enough to make you agree, and you realized in that moment just how much you actually missed Michael). So he drove you to his house, letting you take complete control of the music, and then he left you in the basement to find any games you’d be interested in while he grabbed some snacks from the kitchen.

       While the two of you played, you talked idly when the situation would allow it. About anything. About everything. About trips Michael had taken with his moms, about his and Jeremy’s brand new Halloween tradition of watching horror movies - usually the shittier ones - and gorging on candy, about how your parents always seemed so busy (and almost immediately Michael offered up his house for whenever you didn’t want to be alone, and you melted a little at the offer). The entire time, the room felt too quiet, even among the conversation and the music of each game. At first, you thought it was because Jeremy was missing. Things didn’t feel right without him. But it hit you, right as you were laughing at something Michael said.

       “Hey!” Michael brightened up at his idea, “you should join us.” When you looked over, slightly confused, he continued, “the, uh, Halloween thing? You should join our marathon.” 

       You faltered for a moment, looking down at your controller. Your voice isn’t your own as you speak, saying some sort of confirmation that felt too distant for it to be you. The guilt built within you, as you pushed yourself to hide the feeling while turning your attention back to the game, back to beating Michael this round. But the thought lingered.

       You were using Michael Mell.

[mothercetrion]

Truest Apologies (Repost)

Summary: Sektor had never felt so guilty.

Characters: Sub-Zero (Kuai Liang), Sektor, Cyrax, Smoke (Tomas Vrbada), Bi-Han and Saibot

Word Count: 1940

i wanted to write a fic about sektor and his mind after being human again… it’s sad. he feels mega guilty and kinda breaks down over it. be warned! but enjoy [crossposted to AO3] reposting bc this didnt show up in the tags the first time and im mad

———

None of the Lin Kuei boys were able to live well at first.

Kuai Liang had settled all of them—Bi-Han (and Saibot), Tomas, Cyrax, and Sektor—in his bedroom from the moment they arrived at the temple. All of them had their own cots to sleep on right near Kuai Liang’s bed; if they were unable to sleep, had a nightmare, or began to break down, then he would be right there for them. He knew that he often needed someone by his side to be at ease when he was revived. He wanted to be the most supportive that he could possibly be.

And he was.

Bi-Han was rarely able to get to sleep without assistance. He tried to keep his anguish to himself, but he frequently failed. Kuai Liang often let him vent his worries and fears and nightmarish thoughts to him until he was exhausted. He slept then, and only then, on most nights. He would wake in a fright, and Kuai Liang would wake up immediately. He had a sense, a vague feeling, that told him whenever his brother woke up. He would ease his panicking mind with firm words—“You are Bi-Han. Noob is gone. You’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.”—and a comforting hug. Bi-Han was usually quick to calm, but he was always clearly frazzled and was unable to go back to sleep quickly.

Tomas was often just working to convince himself that he did not need any assistance. He slept decently and rarely woke up, but when he did, he simply could not stop crying. Quiet, pained, agonizing sobs escaped him as Kuai Liang held him close. He dreamt of his torture in the Netherrealm, mostly, but he also dreamt of his narrow escape from cyberization. He dreamt of his best friends being forced into cyberization and living a hellish life with seemingly no escape or happiness. The thought of his best friends in danger scared him the most. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he would mumble into Kuai Liang’s chest. He felt guilty that he could not save them from cyberization; it haunted him. Kuai Liang always assured him that it was not his fault. It wasn’t. He was always left on edge the next morning, but he was quick to find himself in a good state. It was his coping mechanism, acting as if things weren’t awful, Kuai Liang assumed.

Cyrax did not sleep. At all. Not at first. Kuai Liang would wake with the others and see him awake and looking out the window. Kuai Liang saw fear in his eyes, all the time. He would help one of the others and sit next to him and offer him an ear to listen to. He just looked at him and would get teary-eyed, but he never let them fall. He would describe his life as a cyborg and the agony that came with it. He would say that his yellow, metal body haunted him when he closed his eyes for too long. He couldn’t bear to sleep. Kuai Liang would sit with him and talk through his feelings with him. It was easy for them to connect; they were both cyborgs and experienced the same thing. Cyrax never felt alone with Kuai Liang there.

But one of them refused to ask for help and never acted as he needed it… Sektor.

He acted okay when they all hung out. Never seemed to let his thoughts about being a cyborg get to him. He comforted others when they needed it, namely Cyrax, who was close with him and was a cyborg alongside him, but he always looked vaguely uncomfortable. He was on edge, always ready for something to jump out at him, to the most trained eyes. But his voice and his actions never reflected that. He acted as if his mind was in pristine condition.

Kuai Liang knew it wasn’t the case. He had to be, at some level or another, traumatized. Only the most heartless of people could be revived or saved and not be traumatized. Sektor wasn’t heartless. Not even close.

Nearly two weeks went by. One evening, when the others were all training outside the temple and Sektor remained inside, Kuai Liang sat next to him and watched the others outside. It was hardly considered a serious training session; Tomas and Cyrax were trying to convince Saibot to trip Bi-Han at any given moment. They were all laughing and smiling. It was great fun.

“Not want to join them?” Kuai Liang asked with a small smile.

Sektor shook his head, his long hair swaying. He hadn’t worn it up since his restoration. “I wanted to sit out this time.”

“Next time, we both join?”

“For sure. I’m off my game.”

Kuai Liang chuckled to himself, but he then realized why he even sat down next to him in the first place.

Tomas was the first to come to him in fear for Sektor’s mental state. He was well aware that he and the others were not the best mentally, and he knew that no one who had ever been revived was perfect minded immediately. He knew that Sektor wasn’t in his prime. It was impossible. He refused to train, refused to hang out with the others like they insisted he did. He was not himself, and Tomas knew that. “He was one of my best friends. I don’t even know who he is now,” he had said.

Cyrax was the next to come to him. He said that he had seen Sektor alone in a corridor of the temple very late one eve, when he left the room to use the bathroom. He was sitting on the floor of the corridor and having a nervous breakdown into his palms. The second that he heard Cyrax’s footsteps, he jumped up and ran outside the temple, refusing to let him get close. Cyrax knew that his mind was not as good as he let on. He was scared for him.

The most concerned, by far, was Bi-Han. While Sektor washed up before dinner one evening, he came to his younger brother with worry all over his face. He was very close with Sektor before the tournament took place, and he was nothing like he was before the tournament. The Sektor he knew and cared about was very serious about training and staying in shape, and he was always there to encourage the other Lin Kuei to do the same. But upon their revival, Sektor was distant from the others. He wasn’t himself, not even close. Sektor refused to speak with Bi-Han like they had in the past; it felt as though they were strangers. Bi-Han believed that Kuai Liang was the only one that could reach him.

“Are you doing well, Sektor?” he asked after a few minutes of silence.

Sektor kept looking outside the temple. His shoulders went stiff. “Getting by,” he mumbled.

“Please don’t lie to me, Sektor.” Kuai Liang frowned at him. “I know your mind is racing. You are not unbreakable like you want to believe.”

“I’m fine, Kuai Liang.” Sektor looked away from the outside of the temple, hiding his face from the Grandmaster. “Please do not push it anymore.”

Kuai Liang remembered back to his own revival. Sometimes, being alone with his thoughts was just what he needed. So he dropped the topic and changed it to something else.

The rest of the evening went by smoothly. The others had been able to sleep better, and Kuai Liang went to sleep alongside them without a worry in the world.

But then he woke up when someone shook him awake. He was met with the sight of Sektor standing above him, shaking like a leaf in a storm. He was crying. Hard.

“Sektor?” Kuai Liang sat up in a flash, concern all over his face. “Sektor, what’s wrong?”

He couldn’t speak. Sektor attempted to, but a strained sob forced itself out instead. Kuai Liang immediately climbed out of bed and grabbed one of his hands, pulling him towards the exit of the room. “Let’s go outside so the others don’t wake up. Come on.”

The two hurried out of the room and outside the temple. Snow fell in gentle flakes, despite it being springtime. The two sat on the concrete steps outside the temple, and Sektor raised his free hand to his eyes and hid them from sight. He let out another sob, his shoulders jerking.

“Sektor, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong,” Kuai Liang said gently, leaning towards him and squeezing his hand. “You’re worrying me.”

Sektor forced in a breath and looked Kuai Liang in the eye. “I’m so sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“I—” Sektor choked back another sob, taking another deep breath. “I pushed for cyberization. I said it would be a-a good thing, a-and it wasn’t at all. It hurt you and it hurt Cyrax and—”

“You had no way of knowing that it would end like that, Sektor,” Kuai Liang assured.

“I should’ve.” Sektor released Kuai Liang’s hand and turned himself away in shame. “I never imagined that it would be so awful… I-I let my best friends get traumatized over my own selfish needs. I can’t even think about it without wanting to break, and I can’t because it was my idea and I deserve to feel that pain. Cyrax doesn’t deserve to feel that. Seeing him break down… it hurts me so deeply.” He wiped fresh tears off of his cheeks. “I know it traumatized you too. You are one of my closest friends, and I hurt you.”

“Do you live with bad memories, Sektor?”

Sektor nodded. “Every day. It’s a nightmare every night, fear of technology and growth and the people who let me do that… It was so far from good, Kuai Liang.” He looked him in the eye then. He looked scared. “I feel so guilty. I can’t even be near my friends without feeling so horribly guilty.”

Kuai Liang lifted a hand and put it on his upper arm. “You never would have done that if you did not feel like it was for the better. Don’t feel guilty.”

“…You must hate me, surely. Cyrax too.”

“Neither of us do. Not even a little.” Kuai Liang rubbed his hand along his arm in a comforting fashion. “We worry about you. All of us. You are still one of our best friends. We know you would never put us through that on purpose.” He smiled softly. “We want you to come to us about your feelings, Sektor. We know you’re not coping well. No one is.”

Sektor looked down at his lap in shame. “I am already part of the reason that you experienced trauma… I do not want to be a burden. You have so much to deal with right now anyway.”

“You can always come to me. No matter what.” Kuai Liang squeezed his bicep, causing Sektor to look up. “Promise you’ll come to me in the future? And not let your guilt consume you? We care about you and love you, Sektor.”

Sektor smiled softly and nodded. “I promise. Thank you, Kuai Liang. I… I feel a lot better.”

Without another word, the two men hugged on the concrete steps of the temple. Kuai Liang rubbed his back in a comforting fashion when Sektor leaned all of his weight against his shoulder. He desperately needed that hug.

One day at a time, Kuai Liang knew. It would take one day at a time for things to be normal again.

But that was a good enough start for him.