#like a lot of the mimics interaction with her presses her into doing things without thinking

[fazeruined]

@curseofbreadbear

" It's okay. It's not your fault. " Cassie reassures, sounding a little weary, but it's more so at her overall situation than Freddy's capacity to help her (or lack thereof.) In fact, he's arguably been the most help she's gotten so far even if mostly moral-- well there's Helpi, but a lot of his help has felt... backhanded, to say the least.

But first things first: her flashlight predicament.

Granted, it's likely the least of her problems in the grand scheme of things, but it's still a necessity; Visibility has become a great issue with the PizzaPlex in the dilapidated state it has gotten. Walking around blindly is a good way to, for example, fall through a hole she'd otherwise notice with a light source.

Not to mention the flashlight helped make things a bit less scary for a little kid, and Cassie could use all the peace of mind she can get.

Wait, "be back"? Before she can inquiry what Freddy had in 'mind', the damaged Glamrock was backtracking, soon only his heavy steps echoing through the ruined attraction being what Cassie could make out in the darkness (her view range was much shorter without the flashlight.) Good thing she could hear him to get a general idea of his location. Still she felt pretty lost as she remained in place, antsy; like being stranded on a raft in the open ocean.

She nearly misses Freddy being right down the platform, but the flashlight was still on, so she could notice the light moving in the darkness when he held it back over the edge.

" Oh. Oh, you found it! Thank you! " Cassie bends down to take the flashlight back. " Great job, superstar. " ... it felt an appropriate praise for his help. She spares a moment to look the flashlight over in her hand: She's mild surprised that it didn't break upon being dropped... half the time, Fazbear Entertainment-branded things are so cheaply-made, that breaking them just by staring a little too hard wasn't fully out of the realm of possibility.

" Huh? Help getting down? " Cassie lays out, again to make sure she got Freddy right. " Wait, let me see... " She points the flashlight down over the edge to assess the bottom and height a little more clearly, aside from seeing him standing down there as well. She lightly bites the inside of her cheek.

" Umm... I... I think I might need the help, yes. I'm kinda scared of jumping down myself and breaking a leg or something... "

Which might not be an actual risk, but badly spraining an ankle instead or sustaining some kind of injury due to landing 'wrong' had a pretty good chance of happening.

[Yet again, the girl's wording perplexed Freddy; she thought she had "lost Gregory, too?" From context, he assumed she meant that she thought he'd died...which meant that somebody else in her life had either passed or gone missing before him. That theory might have been correct, as not long after, she confirmed that Gregory was "all she had left." Perhaps...she had lost her family. The implication was there; it seemed that she was relying on her friend, which did not inspire Freddy with confidence about her home life.]

[Freddy was programmed to contact security or social services when it came to abandoned children; guards would look after them until their families came back, and in a worst-case, he might have to watch as the foster care system took over. He wasn't sure if he could commit to either method now, in his condition. Some intrinsic part of his programming wanted to look after her himself, knowing that she had a lack of guardianship...but he did not know if he would be a good fit. He was broken, and he was not sure if he could be fixed. He was at a complete and utter loss, and it devastated him.]

I̶̛̻̼̳͊͛ ̸̖̫̝̈̓A̴̜͍̬͐̈́͛M̴͌̑͘ͅ ̷͙̱̒̓S̶̛̥̟Ò̷̢̰͖Ŕ̷̬̰R̴̍͠ͅY̴͇̊.̷͚̑̏͠ (I AM SORRY.)

[That was as much as he could say, at least without overloading his voice box. He was in no condition to care for her. What a sorry excuse for a Fazbear.]

[Regardless, she continued, informing Freddy of the details surrounding Gregory's situation; apparently, he had been caught beneath Roxy Raceway. Something had "grabbed him," and refused to let him go. Perhaps Freddy was being overly skeptical, but that did not sound like a trustworthy account of events...if the animatronics here were being hostile, and he doubted that, then they would have hurt or killed him by now. He would be in no condition to communicate. There was also little chance that he had been kidnapped, as the animatronics would never keep a child from their parent or guardian. It might be that Gregory had gotten himself stuck in part of the sinkhole, but still...Freddy was wary of this explanation.]

[The girl also had an explanation for how Gregory had eluded Freddy's proximity sensors; he was apparently very sneaky, and was experienced with evading the animatronics. Freddy could believe this -- as effective as his sensors were, they were not foolproof. If something was far enough away, then he would not register it as an obstacle or a disturbance. Still...this "Gregory" character, at least the one Cassie was describing, struck him as odd.]

[Was he overthinking things?]

[Freddy didn't have the opportunity to voice his doubts -- besides, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to. Before he could say anything, the girl had an abrupt realization about the loss of her flashlight; his sensors indicated that she was again hovering over the edge of the platform. Had she dropped it? That was a simple enough fix. Freddy should be able to head down there, no problem...though he needed a roundabout route. He could not make that jump, either.]

I̸͓̞̅̊ ̷̙̋̉͝Ẇ̷̭I̵̩̓L̶̥̦̘͘L̸̢͚̈̉ ̵̝̌͗̂B̶̻͊̓̒É̵͍̝̹͌̐ ̴̢̮̈̑B̵͇̠̟͆͐Ḁ̷̳̙͋̒C̸̺̈̉͝Ḱ̶̛͚̇.̶̱̋ (I WILL BE BACK.)

[Hopefully, that was understandable enough to reassure her. Freddy walked away from the platform, guiding himself through the debris until he was on the opposite side -- the same one as her flashlight. He felt around for it on the ground, picked it up, and handed it back over the edge to her.]

D̷̝̬̎ͅO̶̢̖̗̓̍ ̴̗͖͂̿Y̷͍̫̍Õ̶̳͎̃̅Ŭ̵̹ ̵̭̹͝N̸̡̞͗͝ͅÈ̷̺̾̕E̶̗̩̿͜Ḑ̵̲̰̔ ̶͉̎H̶̛̛̹̉Ẻ̴̯̝̉Ḷ̵̨̢̊P̷͇̻͍̍ ̵̃̏͜Ĝ̵̟͋̓͜E̷̝͔̫͘Ṭ̸̓T̷̟̩͍̿I̵̪͛͠N̵͖̜̋͋Ġ̷̹ ̷̫̪͍͛̐̾D̴͈̤͇̒͗͝Ó̶̝̓W̵̖̊̈́N̸̥̊͑?̴̛̦͔̜̊ (DO YOU NEED HELP GETTING DOWN?)

[plush-rabbit]

Straightforward Confessions

Request: Oh ok then maybe when you have time can you do dabi, Bakugo, Tomura and Toga himiko with female s/o who's very straightforward about liking them? Recently I saw a similar request somewhere but unfortunately it looks like it was deleted :( I hope this isn’t too much for you.

A/N: I did this as more of a confession type rather than an established relationship because i feel like they would know if you like them if youre in a relationship with them, so yeah. Sorry if its not what you wanted:P (also i dont know enough about canon bakugo so yeah?)

-

Bakugo Katsuki:

Katsuki is a bit rough around the edges but he’s growing. He’s maturing and trying to be more of a team player rather than facing everything by himself and trying to prove himself to others. He doesn’t have a secret soft side, but he is kind in his own way. He looks out for his allies and includes them in his plan. He’s admirable, having such a strong goal in mind. But, he’s still one who has focused his entire goal towards becoming a hero, not having time for any romantic relationships.

Telling him your feelings isn’t exactly the best idea. You can never be sure where you stand with him- he isn’t some flirt or tries to attract his classmates in any way so you aren’t even sure if he will return your feelings. The only thing that you can actually rely on is that he won’t spread around the fact that you like him and that he’ll be in his room before the clock even strikes ten. You knock on his door and just like every day and night before, his room is empty, and he’s already dressed in his pajamas.

Your words blurt out before you can even subtly make the conversation about feelings. It’s silent for a minute, his expression is neutral and somehow that makes it harder for you to read, unable to know what he feels- even if it were to be something negative, you just wish you could gauge his reaction. He clears his throat, telling you to leave his room. He’s anything but sweet in your moment of confession and somehow that makes you feel relieved- knowing that what you said doesn’t change anything out of the ordinary, at least that you hope.

He isn’t entirely sure about how to feel towards you or his reaction. He has a restless night, tossing and turning and when he wakes up, he still feels exhausted.The next day, he’s unable to go on about his day like he usually does- he stutters in his insults, his attention drifting back towards you and he’s less than pleased with it all. He’s never used to actually developing feelings for someone and when you came to confess to him, it caught him off guard. He’s unable to tell whether he actually has romantic feelings for you or not.

The next few days consist of Katsuki in his own mind, trying to figure out the feelings that he does have for you. He would rather not leave you in the dark especially when you had the courage to actually confess to him. He walks up to you, calling for your attention and when you meet his eyes, he tells you that he’ll take you out on a date- something simple- enough for him to gauge his feelings for you.

Dabi:

Dabi is a hard individual to read and interact with. He puts on a stoic demeanor, trying to act as if he’s unbothered by the people around him, but he isn’t. He’s crude with his words, not bothering to mince them, self-assured despite how his quirk hurts him, passive-aggressive, making snide comments and grinning widely at the misfortune of others. He’s a being who tries so hard to appear to not care, but the truth is, he cares deeply about those around him, but his views and passions are brighter than his emotions.

Confessing to the cremation villain is easy. He likes being alone for most of the time, retreating to his room and if you were to follow him and request entry, he’d more than likely allow you. When you do so, he only shouts back with an “it’s open” and the door squeaks as you push it open. He raises his hand in a greeting and returns his attention to a magine, the thin pages pressed between his fingertips. When you call his name, he gives you his full attention, arms spread and legs extended, the magazine closed without a bookmark to return him.

It’s surprisingly easy to confess when there are no distractions around. He takes your confession with consideration. His eyes wide and head tilting, only for his features to morph into a wicked grin. He’ll humor you, tell you okay and when you can huff with a disappointed look, he waves his hand away. Once you’re gone, his smile quickly falls, his hand dragging down his face and his head knocking against the wall behind him.

You like him- that’s certainly something new. He isn’t entirely sure of the feelings he has towards you. He rubs his thumb and index finger together, trying to figure out what he does feel about you. He doesn’t want to string you along and give you any false sense of hope. Yet, he’s hardly aware of his own feelings towards you. While he prefers to be alone, he does enjoy spending his time with you and has the habit of trying to impress you when you two are out on mission together. Perhaps it is something akin to a crush or an emotion that mimics yours.

Time passes for him to actually gather his thoughts and feelings into something cohesive. However, during that, he has to avoid you and while that is less than pleasant, he needs to sort out his own feelings first. You were straightforward with him, it’s only right that Dabi confesses to you as you confessed the way to him. He goes to your room, sits beside you and tells you that he also has feelings for you.His eyes are on yours, his hand on his knee with his ring and pinky finger outstretched as if trying to grab your hand.

Shigaraki Tomura:

Tomura isn’t able to gauge feelings well considering he hasn’t had interaction with people other than what All For One allowed near him. He’s a born leader, focused and planning ahead, desperate to be on top. He has a strong will that he set out for himself that makes you believe that he actually has a chance at winning despite the odds. His personality is something painted in gold and you can’t help but want to admire him and want to be with him.

You speak to him in private, hoping that no one else will hear your confession to him. The only thing you can hope for in case of rejection is that he’ll treat you the same. You manage to get him when he’s alone, the door to his closed behind you and you sit beside him, asking him to just listen to what you have to say without interruptions. You tell him that you like him, plain and simple, that you have romantic feelings for him and while he doesn't have to return them, you also wanted to tell him. You don’t mention how you can’t seem to control your beating heart when around him.

New to these types of feelings- especially those that involve something more than friendship or hatred- he’s unsure of how to respond. The silence is enough for you to recognize that he needs to be alone with his thoughts. You pat his knee, telling him that he doesn’t have to respond, but you just wanted to tell him. You give his knee a squeeze and give him a soft smile, standing up and exiting his room, closing the door behind you, leaving a villain alone to fester with their thoughts.

The following days are odd. He’s in a mix between wanting to talk to you and be around you, desperate to figure out what should happen next, but he also wants to avoid you. You left him to fester with his thoughts and he has. It’s a mess of emotions that go on inside of him. He doesn’t know how he feels about you. This group is as close as he’s ever got to friendship and freedom, romance was something completely off the table, discarded and told it was worthless. He’s unsure how to feel about you.

He knows that he likes you, but he isn’t sure if he likes you simply because you’re one of the few who treated him as a person rather than a villain first or if he actually likes you in a romantic sense. Tomura figures he must like you back- he thinks about you constantly, but confessing to you is difficult. But, he doesn’t want you to think of him anything less for being inexperienced with relationships. He comes up to you, his gaze on you, trying not to look away while doing so. He clears his throat, his hand against his neck as he tells you that he does have some sort of feelings for you but that he’s new to anything romantic.

Toga Himiko:

Himiko is an energetic one. She wears her heart on her sleeve, falling for those who have strong hearts and love struck once she does. There’s a lot to like about her- her energy, her excitement, her personality and how she laughs and seems to constantly move when just standing. You were drawn to her, your heart pounding in your chest, and you could only take so much of it before you confessed to her.

Once you confess to her, she is a bit dumbfounded at first. She’ll stare blankly at you for a minute, her head tilted and hands are relaxed as she processes your words. After a moment of silence, she's smiling wide and wrapping her arms around you, her face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. She pulls away, her hands never leaving your body as she comments how happy she is to hear that, and that she returns your feelings. Her lips peck at the corner of your lips, a pink tint dusting across her face as she confirms that you do have feelings for her. She accepts your feelings for her with an open heart, holding your hand tightly and wanting to show off that you two are something more than friends.

After the initial day of feelings being confessed, she’ll avoid you the next day. The night before, she was fine, chatting with you the night before, holding your hand and painting your nails to match hers. The next day, she avoids you. You don't see her in the morning, and nor does anyone else- or at least they merely shrug and mention that she was feeling sick and locked herself in her room.

As a villain, her options for romance are limited and having you confess to her is almost too good to be true. She’s unsure of what to say, of how to even act other than the girl who’s in love. She’ll call for you, shoot you a quick message for you to meet her in her room where she confesses her fears. For once, you see a more serious side of her, her eyes downcast and grin gone, replaced with only a slight frown.

It’s obvious that she likes you as well, returning your feelings, but she’s just so nervous about the relationship- the woulds and the ifs. She wants to be close to you but she also fears that she’ll be too much during it. A reassurance about the relationship moving at a pace comfortable for her calms her worries, her smile gentle and her cheeks tinting with a pink hue. She hugs you tight, her perfume light and sweet like candy as she nuzzles her face into your neck.

[justimajin]

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.10 [M]

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

↳ (4.2k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating: unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (female receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, body insecurity (result of physical markings), slight body worship, hints of sexual tension

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

➟ Last Update: Friday, February 19

The moment your eyes catch onto a patch of black hair within the crowd, you freeze in place. 

Jung Hoseok appears just as you remember him. Lips tugged up into a playful smile, mischief dancing in his eyes and adorned in a black suit that easily conceals away any weaponry he stows away. Despite his traits, the sleek material fails to hide the circles lining his twinkling eyes, his posture sunken and suit appearing oversized as if he had lost some weight with time. 

You decipher his appearance within seconds, and when your observant eyes snap over to Namjoon, you already know he’s done the same. 

The two of you stay stationed in the corner, afar from the crowd. Jimin stands off to the corner opposite you as Seokjin darts his eyes around, taking careful steps towards the shareholder before he decides to engage with him. 

There’s a whimsical expression on Seokjin’s features that mimics Hoseok, hands curved around a glass of champagne that he raises. 

“Jung Hoseok.” He counters, “I haven’t seen you around in quite some time.” 

Hoseok turns, a crease in between the brows from the sudden call of his name, but once his eyes come into contact with Seokjin’s, his regular demeanor shifts back. 

“Since you know my name along with my record, why don’t you tell me where you know me from?” 

Seokjin smiles, “You’re one of Kim Namjoon’s shareholders, right?” 

There’s a glint in Hoseok’s eyes and his grin immediately falls, something that has Seokjin’s eyes narrowing, before it abruptly returns. 

“I am.” 

Seokjin hums, “It was just a question, no need to get so surprised.” He leans forward, eyes hardening as his voice drops into a whisper, “Unless, there is some reason for you to be….” 

Hoseok grits his teeth, looking away for a moment. His disdain is heavy and he glares at Seokjin, who slyly smiles back. 

“What do you know?” 

A light chuckle leaves Seokjin, “I think the question you should be asking is, what do I not know?” 

He reaches into the inner pocket of his suit, revealing a creased piece of paper that he hands to Hoseok. The latter tilts his head, unfolding the sheet that reveals a photograph.

Hoseok’s eyes widen, “If you need to recall the memory, his name is Kim Minhyuk.” Seokjin sips his champagne as he whispers, eyeing the shareholder, “Strange for someone of your status to be interacting with someone that has been known to get his hands dirty for the right price, don’t you think?” 

The paper is instantly crumbled within his hands, and Hoseok snarls at him, “How much?” 

Seokjin glances at him intrigued, “What? Money?” He snorts, “Oh, it’s going to take much more to silence me.” 

Hoseok fists up his jacket, “Listen here‒” 

“I wouldn’t ruin the suit, it was fairly costly for what it was worth.” Seokjin gestures to his hold and Hoseok let's go in annoyance. 

“Who are you working for?” 

A smirk spreads across Seokjin’s features. 

“Turn around.” 

The sound of a deep voice from behind Hoseok startles him, and as he does as he’s told, all the colour instantly drains from his features. 

Namjoon tilts his head to the side, piercing eyes scrutinizing the shareholder. 

Immediately, an excuse tumbles out. “N-Namjoon! I-I didn’t think you would be here….” 

“Of course you didn’t,” He smirks, “I’m alive after all.” 

If Hoseok was scared before, he was downright terrified now. 

Namjoon steps forward, and Hoseok bolts. 

Seokjin whips his head around and Jimin immediately leaves his corner, running after him. Hoseok pushes past protesting guests without any qualms, sprinting into one of the hallways as Jimin pursues him. 

“This way!” Jimin hastily shouts. His brows suddenly contort with surprise, but then he curses underneath his breath as Hoseok slips from his sight, completely disappearing. 

Namjoon hurriedly rushes forward a bit late, peering in both directions. 

“Where is he?” Seokjin wonders and Jimin rubs his temples, squinting in the direction. 

“There was a woman.” He abruptly whispers, glancing at the two, “I saw them together before her and Hoseok split apart into different paths.”

“A woman?” Seokjin wonders. 

“I know.” Jimin muses, “She looked young, but I wasn’t too sure.” 

“So he wasn’t choosing to run away, but instead ran to someone…” Seokjin slowly utters, shaking his head, “Whatever it is, we have to find him.” 

“Don’t worry.” Namjoon states, a twinkle in his dark eyes, “He won’t get too far.”

***

Hoseok runs as fast as he can, sweat beginning to trickle down his features. He peers behind himself, acclaiming himself of at least getting away in time. 

Abruptly, he’s sent flying towards the ground. His hands barely break his fall, harshly slamming right against it. 

The sound of a trigger cocking alerts him, and right as he glances up, the sight of a gun pointed towards his head. 

You stare down at him with a triumphant expression. 

Hoseok grits his teeth, a sound of dismay leaving him. You reach down, grabbing onto his hands before securing them behind his back. 

You soon catch sight of Seokjin from afar and you usher towards him as Namjoon and Jimin follow behind. 

As Seokjin helps you lift him from the ground, his eyes are frantically darting around, as if searching for something. 

“What wrong?” Seokjin wonders, “Lose something?” 

Hoseok sneers, “Like I’ll tell you anything.” 

Seokjin smiles, tightening his hold, “We’ll see how long you can keep that up.” 

Night falls as Namjoon paces back and forth in the hallway, fiddling around with the hem of his sleeve. The door to his right abruptly widens, a tired Seokjin emerging out. 

He instantly steps forward and Seokjin sighs, “He kept true to his word.” 

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, “He’s not talking?” 

Seokjin hums, “A lot more stubborn than I gave him credit for.” He gestures towards the door, “Jimin’s still there with hopes of getting something out, but he’s holding onto everything as if his life is on the line.” 

“That’s odd,” He whispers, “If being threatened to force out information isn’t horrible enough, I wonder what is…” 

“I agree, it seemed like he had a lot to tell me before, but now…” Seokjin shakes his head, “Maybe he thinks we’ll hesitate in killing him.” 

There’s a sharp glint in Namjoon’s eyes, “Have you told him otherwise?” 

Seokjin snorts, “No, but he isn’t wrong.” He adds, “We do need him to tell us about his connections.” 

Namjoon hums and the door cranks open again as Jimin emerges out. Both him and Seokjin turn at the same time, glancing at the man’s distressed appearance. 

“Nothing so far,” He huffs for a moment, before staring at the two of them peculiarly, “But he said one thing that’s been bothering me a lot.” 

“What?” Seokjin wonders. 

Jimin stands up straighter, bafflement crossing him. 

“He said we’re fools for thinking that he’s the one pulling the strings.”

Seokjin scrunches up his nose and Namjoon cocks his head to the side, clearly as perplexed as Jimin from the saying. 

“That’s it?” Namjoon asks. 

Jimin sighs, “That’s it.” 

“Well, this just got a lot more damn complicated.” Seokjin shakes his head, before gesturing to Jimin, “Take a break, I’ll have to spend a couple more hours with him to get something else out.” 

Jimin nods, fatigued from the demanding interactions. 

Once Jimin leaves, Namjoon’s voice drops into a whisper, “We’re fools for thinking he’s the one pulling the strings….” 

Seokjin narrows his eyes and lets out a sigh, mind still swimming with the response. “As if suggesting that he’s innocent….” 

“Maybe it's the woman.” Namjoon’s eyes snap up as Seokjin reminds him, “Hoseok’s first instinct was to run to her.” 

He nods, “Though I don’t think we can trust him on this, he could be trying to cover himself up. Or someone else, for that matter.” 

Namjoon hums, fingers pressed against his lips as he dwells deeper into thought. Seokjin leans over, patting his back and his eyes peer up at him.  

“Why don’t you go get some rest? This whole fiasco won’t be figured out until he talks and that...might take a while.” 

He gestures to the gun sticking out from his jacket and Namjoon lets out a frustrated sigh from the notion. 

“Are you sure you don’t need any help?” He wonders. 

Seokjin softly shakes his head, “He’ll talk with the right persuasion, trust me. And besides….” 

There’s a small smirk lingering on Seokjin’s lips, playfulness practically twinkling in his eyes. He points upward, gesturing to the upper floor. 

“Y/N actually left a couple of minutes ago.” 

At the mere mention of your name, there’s a flush that scatters over Namjoon, skin nearly akin to being feverish. Seokjin’s smile widens, restraining a small laugh that seeks to slip out of his mouth. 

“I-Is that so?” Namjoon mumbles, his eyes darting everywhere. When they connect with Seokjin’s, he sheepishly laughs, “I, uh‒ suppose you’re right.” 

Seokjin hums, but he can’t conceal the amused smile that crosses him. 

Bidding his friend good luck, Namjoon gyrates around, promptly heading to his room as fast as he can. 

***

Namjoon’s eyes are glued to the sight of the door. 

He’s reached his room, pupils having traced the outlines and shape of the wood, handle practically right in front of him ‒ but he remains planted in place, as if someone had poured lead into his shoes. 

His hand reaches up, rubbing against his temples as a sigh leaves him.

The last time you were in a room together he could barely control himself. And this time, standing right in front of your shared room’s door, he knows that control is on the edge of completely shattering. 

Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he peers at the door again and takes a deep breath. 

His hand reaches out for the handle. 

He quietly walks in, hastily ensuring the door is fully closed before saying anything. Turning around, there’s a soft smile on his lips, warmth brimming in his eyes. 

“Y/N, I‒” 

His breath instantly hitches, form completely freezing. 

Your startled eyes snap up in an instant. There’s drops of water falling from the strands of your hair onto the damp carpet, one of your hands resting against the wall next to a small door to your left. Your other hand is tightly fisting the material of the long towel that covers your form, struggling to keep it in place. 

At the sight of Namjoon gawking, you fumble with your words, “N-Namjoon….I-I didn’t think you would be back s-so soon…” 

A light chuckle leaves you, a fevernet shade of scarlet taking over your features. He continues to stare at you, and you break into a fit of rambles to explain the situation. 

“I-I’ve been having a hard time bathing!” You laugh again, “So I tried to quickly wash up before bed, but it’s been difficult….moving around and whatnot…” 

Your eyes are fixated on the ground, barely able to meet his own through your explanation. It feels like an eternity until Namjoon finally clears his throat, the sound of his footsteps growing louder. 

He’s a mere inches away from you, outstretching his arm, “Let me help you.” 

Nothing seems to leave your lips at the suggestion. You hastily nod, still unable to make eye contact as you reach out and grasp onto his sleeve. However the moment you do so, you unfortunately can’t stop to take notice of the way one of his hands slips behind you to steady your back. 

A sudden rush of heat is brought upon on you and you internally curse yourself for being so flustered in his presence. On the other hand, Namjoon tenses when you lean against him, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. 

He gently guides you towards the bathroom again, carefully waiting as you struggle with the occasional steps and fumble around with the towel clinging to your body. Not paying enough attention to your surroundings results in you taking one step too close, nearly toppling down until a weight stops you. 

Your eyes glance up in surprise at Namjoon, who managed to shift himself before you were sent smacking against the ground. You wouldn’t normally hesitate to thank him for the gesture, but his eyes immediately connect with yours and the words can’t seem to form anymore. 

The warmth in his eyes disappears within seconds and is replaced with the carnal gaze you’ve become far too familiar with. You’re only a handful of inches away from him, his breath intermingling with yours the longer you stare at each other. 

Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to close the gap between you this time, arms looping around your waist in an instant. 

A burst of electricity tingles through your skin, his soft lips molding ravenously against your own. You push back with just as much desire, fiercely kissing him as your hands fist the material of his jacket. 

It’s not long before that jacket is being pushed off his shoulders completely and your back hits against the wall, a gasp escaping from your lips until his mouth crashes against yours, tongue slipping in within seconds. 

A deep moan leaves Namjoon when you loop your arms around his neck, fingers weaving into the soft strands before tugging against them. You’re abruptly being lifted up from the waist, lips still connected to his until you’re suddenly falling down, hands finding purchase within the soft material of your bed. 

Namjoon remains underneath you when you lean down to kiss him again, strands of your damp hair ticking his features and soaking through the fabric of his shirt. Your hands eagerly fumble around with his tie, growing exasperated within minutes when it refuses to come undone despite all your tugging. You can feel Namjoon smiling into your kiss, knowing that he’s holding back a laugh from your efforts. 

A desperate whine leaves you and that’s when he makes the decision to halt his teasing, spinning you around so that he hovers above you. He roughly tugs at the material and the sound of a harsh snap leaves your eyes widening, before he leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips. 

He aids you in hastily undoing his buttons, letting a chuckle slip out when an exhale of relief leaves you from the last one. The material easily slips off his shoulders and although you’re eager to finally have flesh, you have to try your hardest to control your gawking eyes. 

To your complete surprise, your hands come into contact with muscle when you run your hands against him, noticing the bulkiness of his arms and chest. As if he knows he’s rendered you speechless, Namjoon coaxes your surprise by briefly connecting your lips, before descending to the juncture of your neck. 

A mewl nearly leaves you at the hot open mouthed kisses he leaves behind, serving to stroke the heat that pools between your legs. When his thumbs begin to move against the rough material of your towel, his carnal eyes snap up to meet yours, silently asking for your wishes to continue. 

Although you nervously bite down on your lip, you ultimately decide to answer him with a nod. With one flick of his wrist, the cloth is tossed onto the ground, leaving you completely bare beneath him. 

At the sight of confusion spurring in Namjoon’s eyes, you sheepishly look away. You’re not completely sure of what he was expecting, but from the way his brows are drawn together and there’s a pang of hurt in his eyes, you can tell he’s at a loss for words. 

Even though you know you’ve been through a lot, your body takes it sweet time to heal. There’s still a wound healing from the time you were shot from Taehyung and obscene injuries littering the entirety of your legs from the time you were kidnapped. It’s coupled with a handful of clumsily sewn together old bullet wounds, long having engraved themselves into your skin from the past. 

Namjoon takes it in for a moment, but when you fidget underneath his gaze, he leans closer to you. 

“No, don’t.” He stops your hand from sliding over, attempting to cover up a piece of reality you had become uncomfortably close to, “Please, don’t, I‒” 

He softly smiles, leaning down to whisper to you, “You’re beautiful. You’re so, so beautiful.” 

A smile cracks onto your lips and although you’re aware that he’s called you beautiful before, there’s something about the way he says it now that has your vision fogging. He presses his forehead against yours with a smile as you lightly laugh, pecking your lips hastily. Your body suddenly jolts in retaliation, eyes flickering over at him in astonishment. 

He kisses against your legs, right where your prominent ones have recently surfaced, before he shifts to press his lips against all the other ones. It makes you squirmish within his hold, his touch bringing shivers down your spine. 

Abruptly a sear of pleasure thrums through your body, vision going hazy. Namjoon’s hands roam around the swell of your breasts, before his fingers fondle the skin again and pinch against the eroding buds. You wither from his ministrations, sucking in a sharp inhale when he envelopes one of them within the heat of his mouth. 

Bliss fills your veins, the gratifying sensation coiling need within the pit of your stomach and dampening your aching core. You shift against him, desperately needing some relief from the agonizing heat that only seems to grow. 

“N-Namjoon...” 

As if he already knows, his lips halt their ministrations before drawing all his attention to your seeping centre. His fingers are quick to swirl against the muscle, and when he notices you immediately shudder, he doesn’t hesitate to latch his mouth onto your clit. 

“Oh my god‒” Your hands fervently grasp onto the bed sheets, eyes squeezing shut as he continues to circle his tongue against your sex. Moans are slipping out from your lips, your chest heaving as a sheen of sweat begins to cover you. 

A sharp cry escapes you when he slips a finger into your heat, joining in with the rhythms of his mouth. Your thighs quiver against him as he adds another, abruptly curling up his digits in a way that completely blurs your vision and has his name tumbling from your lips. 

The friction builds up until it’s too much, barely having the chance to tell him that you’re close to the brink of losing it all. The chord within you snaps before a wave of euphoria is washing over you, core pulsating and clenching around Namjoon’s fingers. Exhales are leaving you as your eyes focus back, your chest rising and falling. 

You grimace as he slips his hand out, raising his head to softly brush his lips against yours. A content sigh leaves you, the taste of your residue lingering on his mouth. 

Namjoon shifts for a moment, and from the corner of your eye you see him beginning to unbutton his trousers. He kicks the flimsy material away and settles himself between your thighs, his throbbing length pressing against your skin. 

He rests his elbows on either side of you, his gaze intent as he pants, “Do you....do you want this?” 

“Yes,” You breathe out, and Namjoon nods, before reaching down to align himself with your centre. His head probes at your opening for a moment, until he begins to push inside. 

You immediately grip onto his shoulders, nails digging right in. Namjoon peers up at you in hesitation, but you shake your head and encourage him to continue. 

He goes as slow as possible, the stretch eliciting beads of pain to shoot through you. When he bottoms out, you’re surprised you haven’t been split at the seams. He lets out a groan, eyes screwing shut as he rests his head against your neck. 

Small huffs are leaving you as the pain contorts into something else, a scorching heat that only intensifies as your core clenches. 

Your hands tighten around his shoulders, “Namjoon, move.” 

He glances up in surprise, but doesn’t take long to fulfill your request. A sharp thrust has you gasping, grasping onto him as it contorts into a wanton moan. Your reaction urges him on more as he thrusts into you again, earning a breathy call of his name to slip from your lips. 

Namjoon quickens his pace, before he’s slamming into you with as much vigor as he can. Your back is arching, attempting to meet the strong jerk is his hips half-way. His thrusts are a mixture of deep and aggressive, feverishly quenching the insatiable hunger that consumes you. 

Your name falls from his lips when you begin to clench against him, and he instantly reaches towards where your bodies are connected, circling against the sensitive bud that draws tears to your eyes. 

“Namjoon.” You choke out, pleasure threatening to eat you alive. Your pleas of his name are muffled by his lips, his thrusts and ministrations growing his strength. In the midst of this, he whispers against your mouth, your hazy eyes instantly connecting. 

If it weren’t for the proximity, you would have easily missed it.  

I love you. 

“I-I love you, too.” You pant, his brows contorting as he lets out a groan. 

Your release rips through you, legs wrapping against him and battered core clenching against Namjoon’s hasty thrusts. Your vision blurs out, electricity humming through your form until it fizzles out. 

Namjoon roughly thrusts against you one last time before he’s coming, his seed coating your damp walls and dripping out of your opening. He collapses against your gasping form, his breaths intermingling with yours through the silence. 

You reach out, softly running a hand against his soaked back before tangling your fingers within his dampened locks. He tilts his head to the side, pressing a soft kiss against your cheek and then leaning back. 

He carefully slips out of you, a mixture of your combined releases leaking out of your core. He rises from the bed as you lay there, returning with a moist cloth that he gently taps against your swollen core. 

The blanket is tugged up as Namjoon settles in, warmth already surrounding you from his embrace alone. A lazy smile curves on his lips, his features mirroring your content expression as you welcome sleep with open arms. 

Namjoon is awoken with a gentle shake to his shoulder. 

His eyes briefly flutter, refusing to open as a sound of protest leaves him. His shoulder is shaken again, but this time it’s rougher. 

“Namjoon…” Your voice whispers from behind him, “Namjoon, please wake up.” 

There’s a sense of urgency in your words and it’s the single thing that causes Namjoon to roll over, his eyes squinting through the lack of lighting. You hover above him, hair still tousled and the blanket covering you slipping from your shoulders, but your eyes frantically search his features. 

“Y/N…” He croaks, voice husky from sleep, “What is it...?” 

You bite down nervously on your lip and Namjoon’s confusion only deepens. 

“I-I….I think I saw someone.” You profess, “Outside.” 

At that, Namjoon’s eyes flash open. He bolts upright, leaning towards you and directing his gaze towards the window. 

“Through there?” He points and you immediately nod, watching him scramble out of the sheets and pacing over to the glass. 

You closely follow behind, peering over his shoulder, “It was almost like a shadow...I thought I was hearing things at first but then I just saw‒”

As if on cue, his eyes catch onto it. Like a faint blur in the darkness of the night sky, his pupils narrow onto the faint movement. 

He spins around, orbs coming into contact with yours. “We need to know who that is.” 

You nod, swiveling around and then walking towards the bedroom cupboards for some clothes. By the time you manage to find a nightgown, Namjoon already has his trousers on, hands rummaging around for his shirt. 

He slips his arms through it as you adjust your straps, concerned eyes peering at you as he hurriedly does the buttons. You glance up, meeting his gaze with a firm nod. 

The door quietly creaks open as Namjoon gazes around, gesturing with his hand for you to follow him. The pair of you descend down the stairs carefully, eyes racking around for any sight of movement. 

There’s absolutely nothing ‒ an eerie silence reigning over the house instead. It’s truthfully unsettling, and you find yourself unconsciously drifting over to Namjoon’s side, slipping your fingers within his. 

Once you reach the front door, Namjoon tightens his grip on you. He slowly pushes against it, attempting not to wince at the gush of wind that spills in. As silent as it is inside the house, being outside doesn’t seem to help. 

You and Namjoon instantly separate, searching around the area with the notion that either of you will alert the other from finding something. But no matter how much you peer around, even specifically searching in the region where your window was, there seems to be no one in sight. 

The two of you return inside when it feels like your fingers and toes are prepared to fall off from the icy cold, confusion evident in your shared glance.

[hiraemy]

dear dream

“After spending half of your life with your crackhead friends, the last year of highschool finally pounds on your door. At first, you’re more than eager to finally finish school without regrets, but as the year comes to an end, you realize that you’re running out of time.”

tags:  fluff, comedy, a bit of angst, 7dream assemble, highschool!au, bestfriends!au, a lot of references to HSM, Camp Rock, MCU, disney animations, and Naruto (you don't have to know all of them, those are just extras)

warnings: a lot of swearing, drinking, shitty past relationships, mentions of mental problems, implied parents issues

word count: 25,5k

10 Months Until Graduation

“I’m sad and lonely, can someone please—  “ 

“No.” Renjun interrupts you, not even letting you finish your sentence. You pout, showing him your best puppy face and your cringiest aegyo, but he doesn’t bat an eyelash, already used with your bullshit “For fucks’ sake, what is it?” 

“I need human contact. 'had a sad, depressing thought last night.” You whine, dramatically leaning your head on his shoulder and making a scene. Renjun doesn’t waste a second before pushing you off him, and you just sulk around for the sake of drama. "I'm going to die as a single cat-lady"

“And? I like being single, and I also like cats, so I don't see the problem here” Jeno pops his tongue out, trying really hard to open the kimchi jar his mom packed for him. You blink twice at that, but you decide to not question why the fuck Jeno has a big jar of kimchi to eat at 9 fucking am, preferring to focus on your issue. "There's more important things to think than getting laid. Exams and Basketball, for example,"

"I disagree, but do your best" Donghyuck mocks him, fake saluting as he takes a bite of meat in his mouth.

"I don't see why you're making a scene" Renjun groans, also taking the time between bites of food to voice his opinion "It's just high school. You'll have an awfully long time to find your destined one later on life. They say that high school relationships never last long anyway,"

“First of all, fuck you Renjun,” You narrow your eyes at him, the male snickering amusedly at you, making you roll your eyes. “C’mon, guys. It’s senior year, there’s prom! I just realized no guy in this school will have the guts to invite me because of my fuckin’ ex and all of you"

"Why are you blaming us?" Jaemin asks, quite bewildered. You shrug at him.

"Dunno. Why don't you tell me? I don't understand how the male species work!" You roll your eyes, poking your vegetables with your chopsticks, but not making any move to take them to your mouth. "Just heard some guys in the tennis club sayin' that the expectation bar was too high because I hang out with you. It doesn't even make sense, what the fuck?!"

"I still don't see how your love life problems involves us—" Renjun chips, drinking his juice.

"You guys do know that you have to invite someone, right?” You wriggle your eyebrows at them, grinning like a mad woman. 

“Not going to invite you.” Hyuck immediately deadpans and you roll your eyes at him

“Ew! Are you insane? I’m not going with you— That’s, like, incest!” You pretend to vomit, scrunching your face. "I'm not asking any of you to invite me. I'm just saying that, if I don't get a date to prom, I'm going to concentrate all of my efforts on getting y'all a date!"

"Ten bucks says you'll forget about this plan in less than two months" Jisung raises his eyebrows and you gasp dramatically at him

"I'll give her five weeks" Chenle grins and you also give him your best betrayal look. “Well, Jisung and I are going together anyway, since we're not actually seniors—” Chenle announces, exchanging looks with the younger one and crossing their arms in the most bro-way possible. "By the way, how are we going to sneak in?"

You try to ignore them for the sake of your sanity and you narrow your eyes at the rest of the group, half-expecting them to say something.

“Chill, we have more than half of the year to get a pair.” Mark says with his mouth full of watermelon, making you crunch your face in disgust at him. 

“Why are you so obsessed with prom anyways? It's not, let's say, mandatory to every girl to have someone to escort them to the party. It won't be a big deal if you go alone” Jaemin shrugs and you glare at him

"It's not about having a date to prom. The point is, we're graduating! We have to make it special, right? A night to remember, the night of all nights and everything! We're ending highschool—"

“If we pass, which is not easy as you sound—” Mark shivers, but you ignore him for sake of your speech

"...and we have to make it special! So, I'm getting y'all dates to prom!"

“Can I quit?”

“Shut up Injunnie. And no, you can’t”

9 Months Until Graduation

It’s a sunny, tiring day. You’d gone through two tests today, one in chemistry and another in physics, and you were sure you’d failed both of them. You and the rest of the squad go to a nearby coffee shop, your mind still working non-stop in a foolproof plan for setting up your friends with someone, lowkey feeling bitter about Chenle, who was right saying you were almost giving up in less than five weeks.

You realized too late that your friends were hopeless when it came to their love lives. You tried playing cupid, but no one was successful, except for Donghyuck, who had a notorious reputation of being a fuckboy. Jisung was too shy to even talk to the girl. Chenle had absolutely no chill, treating the girl in a bro way. Jaemin was lowkey rumored to be gay because of the way he interacted with Jeno, and those rumors made no one take you seriously when you asked to go on a date with him. Jeno’s love was clearly limited to his three cats, Bongshik, Seol and Lal. Renjun didn’t even try. 

So, in summary, Mark was your last hope.

"Go ahead, she’s single" You said, pointing to a pretty girl that was in the waiting line for her iced tea. Mark awkwardly stood up from your table, moving almost like a robot to talk to her.

“So… Sooyoung, right?” His face is a mix of embarrassment, cringiness and fake confidence as he leans on the wall awkwardly, trying for the cool guy image but doing poorly on it. The girl is confused and takes a few steps back, slightly creeped out.

“Hmnn, no? I’m actually Soyeon, but nice try, I guess...”

Donghyuck had his fist stuffed into his mouth trying to conceal his snorts. Jeno and Renjun had curled into themselves, heads buried in their arms, hiding behind the backs of two unsuspecting girls on the table ahead of them. Jaemin was smiling openly, whispering new ideas, while you try to suppress a giggle behind your hand. Chenle’s rich ass is recording everything in his iPhone 11 Pro Max with 512GB, making sure he captures everything in the highest quality possible— even if all of you know it will be blurry in the end, because he keeps giggling and his hand is shaking—  and Jisung is half amused, half cringing at all the judging stares they’re receiving from everyone else in the store.

“Oh, yeah, right, Soyeon, totally knew that, hahah!” Mark’s glare turns back to your table and sends a middle finger behind his back, and everyone loses their mind. He messes with his hair, trying really hard to not cringe as he speaks the next sentence. “So...  I’velostmyphonenumbercanIhaveyours— ”

“What?” Soyeon frowns and Mark turns so red that Jeno chokes on his own saliva and Donghyuck has to muffle his laughter on his hoodie. Renjun pokes you and points towards his phone, who has Jaemin’s contact on it. The other boy is messing with his settings, changing his ring tone and putting on the loudest volume possible. He gives Renjun a thumbs up, exchanging a smirk with him.

“I’ve lost my phone number, can I have yours instead?” The poor boy manages to say, regretting all of his life choices. In that exact moment, Renjun presses the call button,

“Hey, I just met you, and this is crazy~ But here’s my number— ”

Call Me Maybe blasts off as Jaemin’s ringtone making everyone crack up, even Soyeon, who seems to understand the situation in the moment your squad— aka, mainly you, Donghyuck, Chenle and Renjun, — falls to the ground howling. She glances at your group and gives a peace sign to Chenle's camera(that now was in Jisung's hold), amused as fuck. She gives Mark a pity pat on the back and leaves him behind with slumped shoulders.

“I hate y’all” He says as he comes back to your table, sitting next to you and burying his head between his arms. You give him a pat on the head, smiling slightly.

“Well, at least that was funny” You tease, sipping on your iced cappuccino. “Never thought I would see someone being more awkward than Jisungie when it comes to speaking with girls, what the fuck”

“Sooyoung, right?” Renjun mocks, not bothering to hide his cackles. Jaemin mimics a disgusted expression, putting his hand on his chest 

“My name is Soyeon! How dare you?!” He overreacts, slapping Renjun’s shoulder sassily. You laugh as Mark’s nose scrunches painfully

“It’s not my fault!” Mark whines, cheeks red. You sigh, shaking your head. Again, your friends were hopeless after all.

“I give up,” You admit bitterly, pouting when Chenle smirks. He extends his hands to both you and Jisung, wriggling his fingers quite cocklily. Both of you groan as you give him a ten dollars bill each. 

8 Months Until Graduation

You don’t know how the fuck things turned out this way. At first glance, it was one of those days where you’d think that nothing could go wrong— and that’s exactly when everything went to shit. 

You were okay until now, it had been a long time since one of your ex-friends wasted their time spreading rumors about you. But today, at least half of the entire school was somehow convinced that you were some kind of child problem who raided innocent convenience stores? 

Donghyuck was also in deep shit. He had this fling going on with some girl you didn’t know personally, and he was really interested in making things serious with her, something that wasn’t very common to happen in his fuckboy life. Then, karma came kicking his butt, the girl saying she didn‘t want to have any serious relationship right now.

Jisung was lowkey in one of his bad days, when he’d let mean comments get into him. This time, he was feeling bad about the boys in his and Chenle’s class, the assholes ones. In general, Jisung was a shy kid, so the other kids took that as an advantage to make fun of him behind his back, and today, they messed with his lunch box when he wasn’t looking. 

You don’t know who suggested it, but at the end of the day, all eight of you were buried under the blankets in your house. You pushed the sofas to the wall, leaving enough space between the couches and tv to lay down mattresses in the floor. Chenle bought enough snacks for all of you, including McDonalds fries for Jisung, and Haribo gummy bears for you. 

Avengers Endgame was playing on the big screen, a classic that you’d watched and cried a million times before, being a great fan of the MCU and the greatest Iron Man agenda between your friends, who were all Captain America supporters, except for Donghyuck, who was your only ally in this war. 

Talking about Donghyuck, the boy was feeling especially cuddly tonight. He convinced Renjun to lay down on the couch with him, but both of them were fighting constantly to see who was going to be the big spoon (Renjun won). Jisung and Chenle were sitting down on the mattress, with their backs also on the couch, taking their sweet time with the food Chenle had bought. They weren’t paying that much attention to the movie, but rather, making fun of Renjun and Donghyuck arguing. Jaemin and Jeno took over another couch, and the pink haired boy had his legs all spread over Jeno’s lap without a care in the world. Jeno didn’t seem to mind that, tapping rhythmically on Jaemin’s knee while paying attention to the movie. You and Mark were laying on the mattress, at some point, you had asked him to cuddle as you were lowkey feeling needy for human contact. 

Welp, no one can be a cold hearted bitch for too long, you thought amusedly.

The mess of limbs was strangely comforting. You had your back pressed against his chest, his arms wrapping around you firmly, keeping you close enough for you to feel his muscles moving when he took a deep breath. For a moment you wondered if his arm that was under you didn’t feel numb because of your weight, but you didn’t ask, as Mark never voiced a complaint about that.

"Y'know, I lowkey feel like you're the Black Widow of our group," Mark whispers as the camera zooms on the red haired woman's worn out state in the Vormir planet. You blink slowly, confused, turning your entire body to face him, adjusting your position, so now you can snuggle into his warmth, your hands slowly finding a good spot to rest in his back.

"But she’s the one that dies in the end? Are you implying that I’m gonna die?" You tease, smiling at how Mark quickly becomes flustered. 

"That’s not what I meant!" He whines, playfully pinching a bit of your skin. "It's just that you share a lot of things. Like, she dies for the sake of her family—"

"Yeah, she still dies. Am I supposed to be flattered by that?"

"Oh god, shut up and let me finish" He groans, the muscles on his neck moving with the deep sound he lets out of his throat. You try to not focus too much on that, concentrated at how his face muscles move at each unique expression he makes. "Natasha is one hell of a woman, no one can deny that. She's strong and badass, and sometimes, her humor actually reminds me of you? The part when she dies, she is sacrificing herself for the soul stone and for all of her friends-slash-family, because she wants all of them back, even if she doesn't know if the plan is going to work out in the end"

"Hmm, that's true" You hum in agreement, raising your eyebrow questiongly. "But I still don't get how you think we look alike. Except for being the only female in a group full of testosterone, of course,"

"You're pretty, strong and badass." Mark says, as if stating the obvious. You feel your heart beating faster, being your turn to feel flustered with his straightforwardness. "And I think you would be a team player too, the type of person to go to that extent to save everyone else, to put a hundred percent of faith in your family just like that" 

"Wow," You chuckle nervously, looking away for a moment to recover your posture. You fake a cough on your fist, staring at the screen— That’s the exact scene where Natasha's sacrifice happens, the beautiful scenario and its color palette stunning you for a single second. Then, you remember that you’re still talking to Mark in hushed whispers to not annoy anyone else, and he half-expected you to continue the debate. "Hmmm, If I’m Natasha Romanoff, I guess you would be Peter Parker, then?" 

"Why?" His eyes shine with curiosity at your words, and you can't help but to feel lured in his gaze, almost as if he was some time of magnet you couldn’t take your eyes off.

"You're almost the real life version of him," You let out a tiny chuckle, impressed with your own analogy. "You're both nerds, awkward as fuck, but still a sweet and pretty good looking bastard— Like, how the hell can you get the best of the two worlds? Being handsome and smart at the same time, that's like, cheating, but in real life" You complain pettily, pretending to be upset just for the sake of drama. 

Mark smiles, and you’re shy enough to let the topic die just like that. You turn around  again, thanking the gods that the room was dark, so no one could see the color difference in your heated cheeks. His hands never leave your waist, and you feel safer than ever in his arms. 

"Are the babies asleep?" Jaemin asks after the post credits scene finishes, the black screen of the tv staring back at them.

"Chenle and Jisung passed out before the Battle of Earth, pussies" Renjun teases, taking the opportunity to jab freely at the unsuspecting boys. He looks at you and Mark, both of you in deep slumber in each other's arms. "Awww, how cute. I'm going to puke, but it's worth it"

"Indeed" Jeno nods, smirking at your peaceful expression. Mark moves around his head and groans, making the four awake boys tense up, afraid of the older waking up. He mutters something incomprehensible under his breath, but quickly settles in burying his nose on your hair, making everyone let out relieved sighs.

"Well, now that the babies are all asleep, it's time for us to watch some real grown man stuff" Donghyuck states, taking the tv remote on his hand.

"Are we going to watch Frozen or Tangled?"

"Tangled, what type of guy do you think I am?"

7 Months Until Graduation

“I’m going to die!” Donghyuck cries dramatically, shaking you by your shoulders and you just let him do whatever he wants, your head bouncing to every direction possible without resistance, soul almost dead at this point. “I’m going to be crushed— Oh dear lord, please, save me from being stomped by giants on court—”

“Oh shut the fuck up, no one has ever died playing basketball” Renjun sasses him. Renjun would never admit, not even on his deathbed, but he was also scared shitless of the players of Busan High.

He was pretty sure he had a clear reason to be intimidated, after all. One of the players was almost 2m, and at least four of their team had over 185cm. As if that wasn’t enough, they were built like titans, not resembling high schoolers at slightest.

“Is this fucking anime?” You couldn’t help but hiss, making people laugh at the bitter tone you had. While Busan’s players were all damn trees, Jeno, Donghyuck and Chenle were at the average height for teenagers— something between 170 and 175. The only member on their team that was above 180 was Yukhei and some another freshman that was almost 190 or something, but that freshman wasn't exactly on the good side of the ability spectrum, so he was pretty useless.

“Think positive” Everyone turned to Mark, waiting for him to finish his sentence. He scrunched his nose and seemed to think hard, trying to come up with an excuse “If everything goes to shit, you can sub Renjun in. A great strategy if you were to ask me, because they won’t notice him running between their long ass legs!” He grins proudly at the reactions, being successful at helping their friends to relax before the game. His bliss barely lasted three seconds before Renjun had him in a chokehold, making everyone burst out laughing again.

“Being serious, now,” Jeno’s face morphed to an early defeat with a heavy sigh “I doubt we’ll be able to do something against them. Height is a big advantage in basket. They also say that Busan are the favourites to win the championship, so we're in deep shit”

The changing room was in a tense silence at his words, everyone silently agreeing with him and not quite knowing what to say as comfort. 

"You could say this is a championshit— Ah, Park Jisung, why did you hit me?!"

"That was absolutely horrible, even for you" The younger one grimaces, while Chenle rubs his shoulder, the grin on his face unwavering despite the disapproval of the pun. You were in deep thought, until you suddenly gasp and clap your hands, expression lighting up as having a great idea.

“Let’s dye our hair!”

“Suddenly?” Donghyuck raises his eyebrows, but you just smile at him

“No, no! I’m being serious!” You say proudly, closed fist hitting your open palm “Let’s make a bet! If you guys win, I’ll let you do whatever you want with my hair— dye it the most ridiculous color to ever exist, make me bald or shave one of the sides— you can choose, I don't really care!”

"You already want to do it, there is no point in betting on that" Renjun deadpans. You prompily ignore him.

“Actually, I think that’s a good idea—”

“Great! Jaemin will also do it with me!”

“What?! I never said anything—” He protests indignantly. You give him a smug peace sign

“Ya, hyung is screwed~!”

“Oh, am I hearing right? Our Jisungie will also do it for the sake of the team? What a cutie!” You tease him in aegyo, making it extremely cringy as your fingertips poke him from the sides.

“Cutie? Ha, never in a million years—”

“Ah, Injunnie, no need to be shy! We all know you also want to do this~!”

“Ah, shit—”

Before you could trap Mark into dying his hair, the manager from the basket team came into the room searching for the three missing players. Donghyuck, Chenle and Jeno stood up from the bench and were about to leave, before Mark called up to them, silently pleading with the girl to give him more time. She sighs heavily and nods, lifting three fingers to wordlessly say that you had three minutes.

“Hey, come here for a second~” He said cheekly, forcing everyone to form a circle and join hands in the middle “Let’s cheer up, will ya? Nothing is lost until the very end as long you have hope. You guys can win, believe it"

"Is this Naruto or something?" You joke, raising your eyebrow and high pitching your voice "I'm gOiNg tO bE hOkaGe, BeLieVe it!" The boys laugh at your impersonation as you made a hand sign for the sake of anime weeb antics

“Stop that, I’m being serious!” Mark whines, nudging you slightly on the shoulder.

“Hyung, are you daydreaming?” Chenle deadpans and everyone bursts into laughs again 

“Maybe? Dreaming or not, I still believe in you—” He sighs in defeat "...dattebayo."

“That’s cheesy” Donghyuck teases, his face reveals how touched he actually is. 

“That’s cringy as hell, but lowkey heartwarming. How the fuck?” Jeno is exasperated. “Fuck it. Our dear Lee Markie took the precious time of day to bless us with this amazing and inspiring Naruto speech, so, daydreaming or not, let's win this shit, dattebayo!” Jeno laughs with his whole chest and we all cheer.

"By the way, if we actually win, you're going bald" Donghyuck nudges you, making you whine dramatically. “A bet is a bet. No backing down, pussy”

“Ha, as if!”

"Hm— Three minutes are up, can you please, wrap this up?" You tilt your head to see the manager, awkwardly standing on the door. She seems uncomfortable interrupting your group moment, so you take pity on her and gather everyone’s attention on you again.

"Alright~ Let's do a cheer" You say you stand up, closing your fist and motioning to everyone to form a circle. "What are we going to say? Team 7? Konoha Ninjas? Ninja Alliance? Or maybe we can do something like Wildcats? Like, from High School Musical—"

"Hell no!" They groan and you giggle satisfied with their reactions. Chenle mutters his suggestion quite hesitantly "Well, if we're aiming to win, let's do this properly. So, how about Dream? Because we're being highly illusional, or whatever—"

"I like that" Jeno encourages him, putting his arm around Chenle's shoulders reassuringly. He sends a look to Mark, eyes turning into crescent moons “Hyung, you can do the honors~”

“Alright, let's wreck this shit. Yo, Dream!”

“Jjeoreo! Juja! Fighting!”

“Am I allowed to reference High School Musical 3 now?” You ask no one in particular, although Mark, Jisung and Renjun all let out a groan at your antics. Jaemin just chuckles, amused. "This is just too perfect to let it pass without any references. Senior year, tense basketball game and everything. We just need someone to dramatically shout some encouragement out of nowhere"

"Are you going to suddenly sing Now or Never?" Jaemin teases, but he instantly regrets when he sees the look on your eyes. "Wait, shit, don't do that!"

"Why? It's a great idea!" You whine, smiling. Your voice is drowned by the screams and cheers, but you still hum to yourself as you watch the fast-speed plays in court “This is the last time to get it right, this is the last time to make it all night—”

“First of all, you got it wrong. It’s this is the last time to make it or not, not all night. If you’re going to sing this shit, at least do it right” Jaemin scolds lightheartedly and you pout at him, sticking your tongue childishly

“Whatever— Oh, NICEEEE CHENLE!" You suddenly scream at the top of your lungs, also hearing the boys screaming excitedly with his successful basket. After that, Jeno made an awesome steal that made the crowd roar again, passing it to Hyuck, who scored a 3-pointer. Everything was great until Chenle was knocked back harshly by the 2 meters guy, falling on his back into the ground.

You swore loudly, worry consuming you, but Chenle was okay. He got up with Yukhei offering him his hand and the referee gave the team two free throws, which were the points you needed to tie with Busan High.

"Quick, Jisung, you have to stand up and shout Troooooooy!” You nudge his side, teasing him now that you were reassured that Chenle was fine. Jisung looks at you startled, caught off guard. "C'mon, think of that as public demonstration of love for your bestest friend in the entire world—"

"No way" He shook his head, cheeks burning. You chuckle, deciding to take that task for yourself.

“Chenleeee!” You scream in a singing tone, making everyone around you turn their heads. You see the boy squeezing his eyes through the benchers, trying to find where that came from, until he found you and let out a snort of amusement. You’re satisfied when he gives you a thumbs up, even more when Renjun hides his face behind Mark’s back, extremely ashamed of being friends with you.

Even if you made your friends want to lowkey kill you on the spot, you still sang loudly Gabriella’s part everytime Jeno, Chenle or Donghyuck got a free throw in game, which gladly weren't that much. It didn’t matter if your friends had second-hand embarrassment, because in the end, everyone else was extremely amused for your antics. Also, they crushed the Busan team. 106 - 94.

Ps: you were almost sure the school’s cheerleaders also sang with you a few times, chanting WILDCATS as a joke, but Renjun refuses to believe in you. 

6 Months Until Graduation

“We’re really doing this, huh” Jisung cringed at the volume of bleach sitting on the pot, sniffing it and scrunching his nose at the horrible scent. “Hey, Chenle, smell this”

“Why— OH GOD! Park Jisung what is that—”

“I didn’t think you would keep the bet, if I’m being honest” Jeno admitted and you just laughed, taking the coloured dyes out of their boxes

“Nah~ This was a win-win situation for me. I always wanted to dye my hair, and now I have an excuse to do it without anyone coming for my ass!” You say smugly, smirking satisfied as you put all the bottles on the table. 

“By the way, where are your parents?” Mark worries and you try very hard to not grimace, heading into the bathroom to properly prepare the dyes and hiding your expression from view for a few seconds. Your eyes are fully concentrated on the task, so you don’t notice that Mark can see your expression by the mirror.

“They’re out, again. Some meeting in Kyoto or something— I don’t know. But we have the house to ourselves, so it’s okay.” You say it nonchalantly, even if it’s fairly obvious that you actually care about not having your parents here. Before Mark or Jeno can say anything about it, you give them a big smile, passing by them and returning to your bedroom, where everyone is messing around “The bleach is ready! Who wants to go first?”

“Me!” Chenle shouts, jumping in a plastic chair you placed in the middle of the room, with a journal already covering the floor and a towel on his shoulders. You smile tenderly at him, running your gloved hands through his hair and imagining yourself washing his scalp— except for the fact that you had bleach, not shampoo on your hands. You were really counting on the youtube tutorials for this one

“I bought every single color I could find on the shop” You giggle, trying really hard to not forget any step, but also paying attention to Renjun and Donghyuck bickering to decide what game they were going to play on your tv. “What color do you want, Lele?”

“Injun-ah, we’re all tired of playing Overwatch~ Let’s play Just Dance for once~!”

“Are you out of your mind? How can we put that if you all will dye your hair—! The dye will just fly around!”

“Green” Chenle replies with a shit eating grin, ignoring all the noise that the duo were producing “They say, go big or go home, right?”

“Well, technically, we’re in my home already, so—”

“You know what I meant!” You snicker at him, smiling like a proud parent for some random reason. 

“I’m going for pink!” Jaemin decides all of sudden, taking the pink bottle in his hand and messing with it. You gasp dramatically and hit his hand, forgetting that you have bleach on your gloves and making a small splash on his skin

“No, no, crap, you’ll drop it—!” You scold him, scarred for life, and you take the open bottle from his hands, seeing that the few seconds were enough to make a big pink stain on Jaemin’s hands. You sigh like a tired mother

“I know I don’t need to, but now I also want to dye my hair!” Donghyuck pouts, eyeing the bleach on Chenle’s hair as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. Chenle sends the older boy finger guns, winking smugly.

“Do we have enough bleach for extras?” Jeno asks and you nod, already wrapping aluminum paper on Chenle “This is dumb, and I’m propably going to regret it tomorrow— but screw it, I want blonde.”

“Okay, okay.” You agree, internally screaming, because your hands were going to suffer bleaching everyone’s hair, including yours. “Mark, put something on your phone?” 

“What kind of vibe do you want?” He asks in return. You hum, distracted by the sounds of Call of Duty on the tv, the controller in Renjun and Jaemin’s hands. 

“Dunno. Your call,” Is your response. Since you’re not facing him, you don’t see Mark sending you a shit eating grin before he decides on a playlist.

It’s not long before We’re All In This Together is blasting on your room, the most iconic and cheesy song possible, and you can’t say that you hate it. As Jisung and Donghyuck try to remember the original choreo, accidentally slapping each other in the process, the rest of you scream the lyrics on the top of your lungs, and for a moment, it seems like the world’s problems don't exist inside of your house.

For once in a long time, your house finally feels like home.

 (Chenle and Jisung decide later to try to make a cover of Breaking Free— Jisung as Gabriella, of course, and the charming Chenle Bolton with aluminum paper on his hair. It went viral on your Instagram, thanks, Chenji!)

5 Months Until Graduation

“Would you rather have no ears or no fingers?”

“Totally no ears!” Jaemin giggles, his fingers itching in the air and pinching Jeno’s cheeks with affection “If I didn’t have my fingers~~~I! Wouldn’t! Do! This!”

You choke on your spit, laughing your ass off at the state of Jaemin, his messy pink hair shining a different tone with every light of the party. He was long ago drunk and you and Jeno had to take care of him while everyone else wandered around some random guy’s party. Jung Taehyun? Jeon Taeyeon? You didn’t know exactly his name, but you knew that he was an older friend of Mark.

“Nono~~ y/n~~ You guys know I love you~~ right?” Jaemin whined, giving up on standing still and plopping down on top of Jeno. The sober male sighed and gave a few pats on Jaemin’s back, already tired. You couldn’t stop your laughter and he flipped you off, continuing to sip your drink giddily. You were careful to not be completely drunk, tho.

“Wait a second, it’s that Renjun?” Jeno asks, pointing to a spot far from you three. You squint your eyes and you confirm that yes, it was Huang Renjunnie making out with some girl you didn’t recognise in the middle of the dance floor.

“Junnie? Whaaaat. Where? I can’t see himmmm~”

“Holy fucking shit” You grin like a madwoman, ignoring Jaemin’s frustrated whines and you cup your hands around your mouth “Yo! Renjunnie! Let's! Get! It!” You scream, even if you know no one will hear you because of the heavy bass. You laugh and take a sip of your drink, extremely amused with yourself.

“I’m going to puke…” Jaemin chokes out and you blink in alarm. Jeno sighs and puts Jaemin’s arms around his shoulders, supporting almost all of his weight and standing from the bar with a bit of difficulty.

“I think it’s time to go home, Jaemin-ah” He states, already moving. You follow both of them, catching Jaemin’s phone that he almost forgot behind and putting it in your jeans’ pocket. 

“No! But I’m having fun here~~ I don’t want to go home” He whines, pouting, and you chuckle at his aegyo, making funny faces at the back of his head just for the fun of it

“Chenle and Jisung texted me, they already went home” You speak, cringing at the brightness of your phone when you unlock it. “Mark and Hyuck said before that they were going to crash somewhere, I just don’t remember where. And Renjunnie is having fun~ Not going to interrupt that!”

“Just text him. He’s sober, so it won’t be a problem” Jeno says and you agree “Jaemin, do you think you can hold it for a while? The puke, I mean,”

“Maybe. Maybe yes, maybe no—” Jaemin almost crashes with a random stranger, and you cringe, saying sorry before rushing both of them to the exit

“Very helpful” Jeno deadpans and Jaemin chuckles dreamily. You smile and open your mouth to say something, just to be suddenly startled by a hand on your shoulder

“y/n? Is that you?” You freeze at the voice, grin vanishing off your face. You turn around with a blank expression to meet Hyunjin, his eyes glinting with so much hope that your heart was crushed in a single second.

Jeno notices that you’ve stopped moving, turning around and grimacing at the sight of the other boy. All of the previous cheerfulness disappears from his face in milliseconds, and you can’t say that you don’t share the sentiment. 

“Wow— You look really good tonight” Hyunjin says, eyeing your exposed legs, and you roll your eyes, suppressing the urge to slap his beautiful face

“Yeah, I know” You fire back sassily, glaring at him and trying really hard to not let your real emotions show on your expression. Your chest squeezes painfully at the sight of your ex-boyfriend, and all you want to do at this moment is to cry and shout all your pent-up frustrations at him, but your voice is lost somewhere deep in your throat.

“Blue hair looks good on you” Hyunjin compliments after a few awkward seconds of silence, not even intimidated by Jeno’s glare and your clear discomfort, never ceasing eye-contact. His hand comes closer and cups a lock of your hair, admiring the blue, almost purple shade, and you falter slightly as he pushes it behind your ear.

Deep down, you hope that Hyunjin can see what he has done to you. You hope that he can see the mix of anger, betrayal, heartbreak, disappointment and pain in your eyes. You hope that he knows every seed self-doubt he has planted in your chest since the two of you broke up last year, and that he feels guilty for every painful word thrown on you.

But you also hope for things that you know aren’t right. You search in his dark eyes for something— anything that could convince yourself he still loved you, that he knew what went wrong last time. Even if you passed half of last year crying and moping around the corridors, forcing your friends to give a long pep talk to assure your self-worth every two weeks, ten seconds of eye contact with your ex were enough to break down long eight months of healing, resurfacing old wounds in your heart. 

“Y/n, let’s go” Jeno calls you, breaking the magic between you and Hyunjin. You sigh, reality crashing on you like a heavy, unforgivable truck. You push his hand away quite harshly and bite your lips, already feeling the familiar burn of tears in the back of your eyes. 

“Yeah, right. Sorry.” You mumble under your breath, not sparing Hyunjin a second glance and turning around to the exit, following Jeno with a heavy heart. 

You find a sealed can of beer on top of a coffee table and you scoff, taking it without second thoughts.  

“Fuck, I’m not drunk enough to deal with this shit”

You open the backdoor of Jeno’s car and you help him set Jaemin in the backseat, both of you ignoring the pink haired boy’s drunk whines and protests as you let him lay down with his head on your lap. You also ignore the lightheadedness caused by the alcohol that you consumed and the worried glances Jeno throws you every fifteen seconds. You know that he has good intentions, but you can’t help but to feel overwhelmed with everything— it’s not like you were going to break down any second now!

Okay, forget it. You don’t know if you can hold your tears until you arrive at home.

“Jaem, is auntie at home?” You ask, stroking the pink strands softly. He groans, burying his face on your belly

“Nooo… Don’t take me home… Mom will kill meeeee! She said last time that… if she catches me drunk again, she’s gonna...” He whines and closes his eyes. You wait for him to continue speaking, but it takes a few seconds for you to notice that Jaemin had fallen asleep on your lap.

“Can Jaemin crash into your house for tonight?” Jeno asks, looking at both of you through the mirror. You know that he is hesitant about bringing Jaemin to his own house because his parents are quite strict with drinking.

“Yeah, but I don’t know if I can carry him” You say without making eye contact, looking at the world outside the window. Your fingers make loops in Jaemin’s hair, almost like a nervous tick to ground you in reality. 

“Don’t worry about that, I’m helping you” He states, eyes focused on the road. You don’t notice his eyes looking at you every once in a while checking your facial expression, as your mind keeps backtracking to Hyunjin and your past relationship, along with all the hurtful words both of you exchanged when it ended.

Jeno lets out a sigh, adjusting his grip on the steering wheel and forcing himself to stop looking.

“No one is looking. You can cry now.”

4 Months Until Graduation

“y/n, the smartest and beautifulest person I have ever met—” Donghyuck speeds down the corridor, tacking you and grabbing your shoulders as if there is no tomorrow

“...what did you do?” You deadpan, not taking any of his bullshit. The boy straightens up and moves his neck to search something in the crowd of students that are in the corridor, sweating bullets

“You know Kang Mina, right? Pretty, cute, same biology class as you—”

“And Mark’s crush since middle school?” You add, raising an eyebrow and not really caring for the skinship, since it was usual between you and Hyuck.

“Yes, that one!” He whisper-shouts. “I heard from Seulgi, who heard from Joohyun, who was in the bathroom when Eunwoo and Nayeon were talking about Sejeong, who said—”

“What—”

“Kang Mina is going to confess to me!” You blink, trying to process the information.

“ ‘the fu— Wait, I thought Mina liked Mark back?” You’re open mouthed, the surprise showing clearly on your eyes. Hyuck nods, wanting to pull his hair off his scalp “Did you tell Mark?”

“No! What do you think I am?” He is almost offended, but you just shrug it off. “I don’t know what to do! I didn’t do anything, but Mark will kill me and—”

“Just dump her nicely, it’s not that hard” Donghyuck whines and shakes you again, making you dizzy

“But I don’t want her to confess!” He argues, saying as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “If she confesses, everyone will hear about the rumors— so, the solution it’s quite simple! If we can stop her before she finds me, we can—” Hyuck pauses, his eyes widening and seeing something above your head. “Oh my fucking god, Mina’s coming in this direction!” 

“Ah, Donghyuck, can I talk to you—” You hear her voice, a bit far, and you sigh as you feel a pair of eyes burning on your back. She’s pretty and a really good person in general, but you can’t help but pity her in this moment.

“Put your hands on my waist.” You whisper quickly under your breath and he nods. 

You raise yourself on your toe tips and catch Hyuck’s cheeks on your hands, trying to not cringe outwardly. You place a peck almost on the corner of his mouth, hearing a shocked gasp behind you, and you know that your plan worked. Based on the angle Mina was, she probably thought you were kissing him on the lips.

You’re quick to distance your body from his, disentangling your shoulders from his grasp and you sigh, lowkey feeling bad for the other girl. 

“Is she gone?” Just for the sake of the drama, you pretend to clean your lips from all traces of Hyuck, sticking your tongue out “Disgusting— Really, I thought I was kissing my grandma, what the fuck—”

“C’mon, I don’t kiss that badly~” Donghyuck whines and you narrow your eyes at him, noticing a bit of your lipstick on his face. 

“Shut up!” You made a move to slap him on the shoulder, but he barely moves out of the way, making you huff. “You’re owing me lunch”

“WHAT? But you’re loaded! Why do I have to pay~?”

“Jesus fucking christ—” Renjun plops down on your usual lunch table, dumping his bag on the bench without ceremony. 

“Injunnie, you’re not even christian” Donghyuck snickers, not bothering to swallow before talking. You make a face at that, but you don’t comment on his horrible manners

“Fuck that too. Why the hell is everyone saying that you two kissed in the corridors? And Mina’s name is on the rumors too, but I don’t get how the hell is she involved?” Hyuck chokes at Renjun’s words and you chuckle, deciding just to sip your tea peacefully and watch the drama unfold.

“Well, you see—” In that moment, Mark arrives, a puzzled and slightly annoyed expression on his face. Donghyuck panics even more at the sight of the older male, already planning his testament on his mind. You guess Mark heard what happened too.

“So, you two a thing now?” The canadian boy raises his eyebrow and you double over, fake puking with the absurdity of his suggestion.

“Oh god, please no. I may be single since last year, but I still have standards!” You whine, putting your hands on your chest feigning hurt. You notice Mark’s face changing and he’s not annoyed anymore, just confused. You don’t even know what caused that— It was almost as if he was relieved...?

“So why is everyone saying that you’re together?”

“That’s what I was asking too,” Renjun adds. You and Donghyuck exchange glances, and you shrug it off, silently saying that he should settle this mess on his own.

“Uh— I just needed help to solve something”

“Hi, I’m something~” You can’t help but tease, laughing obnoxiously loud. Hyuck shoves you slightly, but you don’t stop cackling “Relax, we didn’t kiss. I just took one for the team and did a self-sacrifice of my public reputation— By the way I’m a great actress, aint I?”

“No one thinks that,” Renjun deadpans and you pout. “Why the trouble, tho?” Hyuck sighs and you focus on him on the corner of your eye, wondering what he was going to say

“I’m sorry, bro” He decides to be fully honest with the oldest, who is confused as fuck. “Mina likes me and was going to confess. I panicked.”

Renjun is just surprised as you were when you first heard that. You carefully observe Mark’s reaction, expecting him to be angry or hurt, but he isn’t. He has an unreadable expression and just shrugs, shaking his head.

“Ah. It’s okay, I already knew.” You’re dumbfounded, eyes wide and mouth wide open. The other two have similar reactions to yours, and Mark chuckles at that. “I found out last year. Not gonna lie, it hurt like a bitch— But it’s okay now, I moved on” 

“Wow.” Hyuck looks half surprised, half pissed. “So all of the suffering I passed just to make sure you wouldn’t be mad was useless?”

“Yes?” You chuckle, amused. Donghyuck lets out a groan, dramatically falling on the table and Renjun smirks

“You’re a dumbass.” He snorts, making Hyuck whine. You cross eyes with Mark for a millisecond and you send him a smile, which is returned immediately.

“It’s not my fault that Mark fucking Lee doesn’t tell me things!” He cries out, sniffling. “Everything would be a lot easier if I didn’t have to run away from Kang Mina for the entire fucking day!”

“Well, in my defense, my pride was really hurt—” The canadian tries to defend himself, scowling 

“In your defense, I think you should shut up or I swear to god I’m gonna fucking kill you—” 

3 Months Until Graduation

It’s 11:27pm. You should be asleep at this time— or at least, ready to go to bed, but you don’t think you can sleep any time soon. Your gaze is fixed on the ceiling of the bedroom when you hear your phone ringing under your pillow. You stretch your hand blindly under the covers until you find it, not checking the caller before accepting it.

“Noona?” Jisung’s voice breaks the quiet of your house, and you’re immediately alarmed by his tone. It’s almost as if he’s tired, throat hoarse after crying for a long time. You know that tone very well.

“Hi…” You trail off softly, not knowing what to say. You hear a sniff form the other side, making your worry increase ten times.

“Can I come over? ...please?” He asks and you’re already out of your bed, the socks on your feet protecting the skin from the cold floor as you soflty agree.

Exactly seven minutes and forty three seconds after, Jisung arrives at your home. You furrow your eyebrows as you take in his light clothes and the cold weather outside. His nose is red and his eyes are puffy, the usually neat hair reduced to a bird nest. 

“What happened?” You urge him in, catching a fluffy blanket from the sofa to throw on his shoulders and forcing him to sit on your couch. “Where is your car? Where were you? Your house is too far to come here on foot, Jisung-ah!”

“I was at a park nearby, not at home” He mutters, head down. 

You purse your lips, deciding to shut up for now and give him space to think seeing as he doesn’t seem very comfortable to say anything for now. You go to the kitchen and come back quickly with a mug of warm milk and chocolate in your hands, which you give to him. You sit down beside him on the couch, turning on the tv and searching something on Netflix to put as background, while you wait patiently for him to open up. The film starts, and the soft piano music that plays in the start of Inside Out successfully manages to make Jisung relax a little bit.

“Do you look at someone and wonder,” You say simultaneously with the woman’s voice, wiggling your eyebrows playfully at Jisung.

“What’s going on inside their head?” The corner of his lips lift and he completes the sentence, his whole posture softer and slightly happier. You’re proud of his mood change, humming satisfied.

Three minutes into the movie and you hear a sigh escaping from Jisung’s lips. It’s a subtle gesture, but when he moves closer to lean his head on your shoulder, you know that he’s ready to talk. You lower the tv’s volume a bit, just enough to have it as background, but not disturbing your conversation.

“Are you going to forget me?” His voice is small as he speaks with hesitation, as if he fears saying out loud would make it become true.

“What do you mean, Jisungie?” You face him, not daring to point his childish choice of words. 

“In three months, you and the hyungs are all going to college. The next year, it will be Chenle and me, and then—” He chokes, tears staining down his face, and all of sudden you feel your heart break in a million pieces. “Are things going to change? Between us, I mean”

You fall silent at his words. As you think hard about what to say, you rub circles on Jisung’s back, as it is the only thing you can do to provide comfort for now.

“I don’t know, Jisungie…” You admit, sighing heavily as you feel the emotions growing on you. You don’t dare to actually cry, feeling that it would be extremely selfish of you to not be the stable one right now.

“You guys are all I have…” Jisung breaks down, sobbing, and you pull him in a tight hug, hiding your own face on top of his head. “I’m afraid— Noona, what’s gonna happen? Our paths are too different, are we going to depart?”

“I don’t know,” You start, the tap of your fingers creating a rhythm on the back of his head “We all have different dreams— for starters, Mark wants to pursue music. Renjun is going to do art. Jeno? Probably something along the lines of profissional basket. Hyuck is trying for Journalism, I think, and Jaemin is going to be a physician. I don’t think all of us can go to the same college, but that’s okay.” Jisung hiccups “No matter the distance, we’re under the same sea of stars every night. If someday, you feel lost, we’ll be here to guide you. We’ll be your compass and your lighthouse.”

He stays silent, and you make a lot of circles on his hair, tangling the blonde locks between your fingertips.

“There is a saying that I really treasure... Ohana means family. And family means—”

“...no one gets left behind or forgotten” 

“Yeah, that’s right” You let out a weak chuckle, “You’re my family, Jisung. I—, no, we won’t ever leave you behind or forget your name.” You let go of him to stare directly at his eyes. When Jisung looks at you, he’s surprised to encounter a small smile on your lips, despite the light tears making their path through your cheeks. “Time may pass, we may go different ways— But we’re always going to be each other’s home.”

2 Months Until Graduation

Girls and boys are separated during P.E, everyone knows that (it was a pity, because surely you would’ve loved an free-opportunity to throw a ball at Donghyuck’s face), but one day, when the teachers decide to merge the class, you’re dumbfounded. All of the seniors are in the gym, separated into girls and boys on opposite sides of the benches. There are big speakers connected to an old and beatdown radio, making you shudder, lowkey knowing what is going to happen.

“So, as all students already know, the date of your prom is coming soon!” Mrs.Park claps her hands loudly to shush a bunch of girls that couldn't stop giggling, sending a dirty look at the girl's side of the students. 

You pretend you don’t notice Hyunjin staring at you from across the gym, praying internally for every single god you know to save you from this situation. You accidentally make eye contact with Mark and you mouth “save me” to him, forcing a panicked expression, trying to use your eyes, then your chin, and soon you’re shaking your head like a mad-woman to point at your ex, while not actually pointing to him. However, Mark was far from understanding your failed (and pitiful) attempt to use telepathy.

“It’s a tradition of more than fifty years in our school that we vote on a king and a queen for prom. The fortunate pair are the ones to open the dance floor, so, it’s quite mandatory that all students learn how to properly dance, as everyone has a chance of becoming king or queen!” You don’t miss how Hyunjin’s eyes spark with hope at Mrs. Park’s words and you shudder, groaning.

“If you already have a pair, please, go towards them and help yourselves to an empty spot. We have the entire sport court for us, so feel free to use the space, as long as you don’t leave the gym, of course.” Mr. Jung, the Male P.E teacher says. “If you haven't invited anyone yet, you can practice with a friend, that’s okay too.”

“Shit” You whisper dreadfully, your fingertips trembling on the side of your body. As the first students break out from the groups to join their pairs, you try to conceal yourself between the bodies in the crowd, your eyes traveling to anything that could possibly help you.

You could hide under the bleachers and pray that no one catches you. Or you could make a run into the locker rooms. Or you could beg to a random stranger to pretend to be your pair— no, that wouldn’t work, knowing Hyunjin, he wouldn’t stop even if you were engaged to someone.

Okay. Lockers it is, you decide, already turning in that direction with adrenaline in your veins. That didn’t last long, as you feel a cold hand grabbing your wrist before you can make a run for it. You freeze on your track, cursing every single divinity above. You’re certain that they were mocking you in this exact moment, saying something like “oh, look at that dumb, stupid kid!” ang giggling as they watch you suffer.

“y/n. Can we talk?” You slowly turn back, meeting Hyunjin’s dark eyes with your own. They held so much sincerity and fondiness that almost made you believe that maybe, the two of you could be happy. Almost.

“No—” You try to free yourself from him, but his hold on your wrist is firm. You give up and look away, but you can’t force your body to reject his touches. It’s been a long time since Hyunjin last touched you like this, without anger or resentment. For a single second, you’re caught up in the past again, dreaming awake of when you and Hyunjin were the perfect couple.

“Please… I just want to make things right this time.” He pleads softly. When he notices that you refuse to meet his gaze, his hand cups your cheek with all the care in the world, gently turning your head to look at him. You want to scream and cry, but surprisingly, you also don’t feel the need to. 

“How so? Are you finally going to apologise?” You can’t help whispering those harsh words, surprising even yourself by your boldness. Hyunjin has a surprised look, eyes wide and lips parted, but you don’t feel as bad as you’d have felt if it was last year. 

“What—” He mutters, but quickly composes himself, sighing. “Look, y/n, I know you were hurt when we broke up—”

“That’s an understatement.” You interrupt him pettily. He glares at that and you surprisingly feel nothing. If anything, you were lowkey satisfied that you were giving him a hard time.

 “...but I regret that. Everything.” He continues, ignoring your words. You inhale sharply, already feeling the annoyance build up. “I had a long time to process things. Nothing is the same without you— We were the best things that happened to each other. You’re the piece that was missing in my puzzle.”

“Wow. Nice speech.” You force your expression to be blank, your words being filled with all the sarcasm you could reunite. “But you had almost one year to think about things and you only realize that now? That’s impressive, even for you. Einstein would be impressed, ha!”

“It was at that party, two months ago. I tried everything, but nothing could fill the empty space on my chest. On the start of the year, I tried leaving a letter on your locker, but you never answered, so I thought that was it. But seeing you again made me understand what I had lost.” He takes a deep breath and moves his body to come closer to yours, still ignoring every word that you said. “I still love you. Please, y/n…”

“Don’t do that.” 

In a second, you’re out of his arms. Hyunjin blinks, seeming lost, and you scoff. His hand that previously was on your face now is hanging in the air, as you slapped it away. You see from the corner of your eye people hushing around both of you, trying to peep, but you ignore them easily.

“A year passed, and you still don’t understand anything, Hyunjin!” You almost spit the words, glaring at him. “You were the one who broke up with me. You were the one who said you deserve someone better than me, who said that I wasn’t enough for you. You also were the one who thought that I had sex with my childhood friends— oh god, that makes me sick just remembering it— and forced me to choose between them and you!”

“I’m sorry—”

“No, you’re not.” You hiss lowly, self-conscious of the fact that you were still in the gym. “Did you know? Since last year, I have been trying to understand what went wrong with us. I cried, every fucking night for two months after we broke up. I thought the problem was me— Hell, you made sure to highlight in your speech that day—, and for a long time, I hated myself for not being enough! Then, when I thought I was getting better, you come out of nowhere to suddenly say you regret everything? Fuckin’ shit—!”

You’re crying. You realize that too late, aggressively wiping your tears with your blazer. A quick turn of neck and you also realize that, gladly, people didn’t make a crowd around you. However some of the students noticed the argument and were stealing sneaky glances. 

“But in the end, I have to thank you.” You don’t see around any of your friends, and you’re lowkey glad for that. “If you weren’t such a shithead and said all those things now— I think I would’ve never really understood what everyone always says about you, Hyunjin. Hell, you don’t even care about me, you just want someone to kiss your fucking feet!”

You take a deep breath and you’re more than ready to continue your monologue, exposing yourself emotionally after everything, but a hand on your shoulder breaks you from the rush of adrenaline, bringing you down from the adrenaline in your blood.

“That’s enough, y/n…” Mark whispers, squeezing your shoulder as a reassurance, and you’re startled by his sudden appearance. You inhale and let out another sigh, wiping your face again, trying to remove all traces of the previous breakdown. “You made your point, hm? By now, I think Hyunjin understands that things won’t end well if he tries to approach you again.”

You let out a chuckle unintentionally with his slightly threatening tone and both of you walk away from Hyunjin, Mark’s arm wrapped around your shoulders to carefully guide you between the students, knowing that you weren’t paying attention to anything right now. 

You’re lightheaded and a mess of emotions inside. You feel like you’ve said too much, that you exposed ugly parts of yourself that you’d rather no one knowing about it, but you also feel like you didn’t rant enough to be satisfied. Many words are stuck in your throat, feelings that you would’ve preferred to be thrown on Hyunjin’s face like a petty revenge, just to see him flinch, instead of being bottled up inside.

But you’re okay. It hurts, but your heart is slowly healing. You’ll be okay.

“By the way, I already asked, but Mrs. Park won’t let us skip off the slow dance practice… And almost everyone already has a pair, so…” Mark says sheepishly and you let a small smile appear on your face. He shyly offers you his hand, the other one behind his back like a gentleman. You carefully put your hands on top of his, finding amusement on how his doe eyes widen, as if he didn’t expect you to actually take him. 

“I guess we’re stuck together” You complete his sentence shyly

You would kill yourself if anyone else had seen you in this vulnerable state, but when it’s Mark, you guess that you don’t mind his company.

1 Month Until Graduation

It’s been a while since you last used the school’s music room. Senior year and exams were taking a toll on you, even if you tried to deny it, and you almost had no time to properly have fun. 

But exams were over. All you had to do now was wait for the results— and find someone to take you to prom, but you didn’t want to think about that.

“Hi, sweetie-pie!” You say, in a honey-filled tone that would make yourself gag if it were in another situation

“What the fuck, y/n—”

“Shut up, I wasn’t talking to you!” You snap at Renjun, looking at the piano again changing back your expression to the loving one. You lean on the black, elegant, and probably expensive instrument that the school had, giving it a full peck on the lid. “Oh, my love, I missed you too much~ I’m really sorry for not visiting you soon”

Renjun furrows his eyebrows and pretends to puke with your antics and you let out a big laugh by that. He has a paper on his hands with a big logo full of mandarin characters on behind and he stares intensely at it, as if he wished it could bring itself to life and give him the answers he needed. You sit on the piano stool silently, your hands moving swiftly through the keys in a warm-up, without actually playing any song.

“I actually feel like Kelsi” You hum, your voice taking him out of his concentration on the paper. 

“Who?” He raises his eyebrows, confused

“High School Musical. The pianist, shy girl.” Renjun sighs heavily and you giggle at his tired eye roll

“After all these years, you still reference High School Musical at every fucking opportunity you get” He complains, making you grin

“Of course!” You beam, your hands producing a soothing and calm background noise. “We like music. Also, we’re in high school. And, the cherry on top: some of our squad are on the school’s Basketball team, the most cliche thing to ever happen. It’s almost a sign from the gods, saying ‘Do it!’. It’s only natural that I should be following the legends’ example, right?”

“No” He deadpans

“Ah, okay then,” You say, pouting. You shift your attention to the piano again, “I won’t sing or play to you anymore!— You’re also banned from this room. Yeah, yeah, that sounds right— Leave, you’re not allowed to listen what I’m going to play!”

“If you sing any of High School’s discography again, I swear to god—” he ignores your childsh remarks, scoffing and mumbling quite bitterly, also appearing on your peripheral vision and sitting beside you on the bench. You drop the brat attitude and stop playing for a second, making a comfortable silence fill the room. 

“No, it’s not that” Your tone is uncharacteristically soft. You watch as recognition flares in Renjun’s eyes right in the firsts notes you play, and you look away. “It’s been a long day, without you my friend.”

“And I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again” He joins in, the harmonization of both of your voices not failing to make a chill run down your spine. The good kind of chill. You let him continue the song, bobbing your head and smiling slightly. “We’ve come a long way from where we began. Oh I’ll tell you all about it when I see you again. When I see you again”

“Damn. Who knew? All the planes we flew, good things we've been through. That I'll be standing right here, talking to you about another path. I know we loved to hit the road and laugh. But something told me that it wouldn't last, had to switch up, look at things different, see the bigger picture. Those were the days, hard work forever pays. Now I see you in a better place” He raps, but his voice lacks the edge that a rapper normally displays. Instead, his tone is soft, almost singing rather than rapping. That style suits him, you think.

“How could we not talk about family, when family is all we got? Everything I went through you were standing there by my side. And now you gonna be with me for the last ride” You join him, even if your voice is on the weaker side as you’d have liked to let him have this moment solo. He notices this and nudges you, signalling to take the next part.

“So let the light guide your way, yeah… Hold every memory as you go” You sing with confidence and emotion, your voice vibrating, but not cracking. You lock eyes with Renjun, hoping that he could understand all of your feelings. “And every road you take, will always lead you home… Home”

“It’s been a long day, without my friend. And I’ll tell you all about when I see you again… When I see you again.”

Your hands leave the piano and fall limp at your sides. You purse your lips, feeling your eyes starting to water and you suddenly can’t bear to maintain eye contact. Renjun has his neck upwards, looking to the ceiling.

“What’re you doing...? You look stupid...” You mutter, still mocking his position despite your own emotions. You watch him from the corner of your eyes, as a single stray tear escapes and he gulps. You feel yourself breaking apart with him, the pain in your chest being ten times more intense than when you broke up with Hyunjin last year.

“...nothing” He manages to say, his hand searching in the air for a few seconds before he catches your own, intertwining your fingers for reassurance. You also feel your throat closing and you finally let yourself cry, lowering your head and making your hair cover your face from the sides.

“...did you tell anyone yet?” You whisper, afraid that if you say the words out loud, they’ll be even more frightening. 

“...no.” He sobs, covering his face with his other hand. You whip your head back, throwing all your hair behind your neck and rubbing your own palms harshly through your face as if punishing them for breaking down would solve anything. “I don’t even know what to do yet… I don’t want to leave, but—” 

Renjun leans his head on your shoulder, crying freely. You wonder, if the pain on your chest was already insufferable, how was he feeling? You didn't want him to leave, and neither did he wanted to do so, but if things were to this point… How could you ask him to stay? How could you be selfish?

Reality was cruel. Renjun was an exchange student. Deep down, you already knew since the beginning that things weren’t set to be permanent. You knew that he wasn’t like Chenle, whose parents came to live in Korea. Unlike you, Renjun had his own father, mother, sister and grandfather waiting for him to come back to home. Knowing that, how could you hope for him to stay?

You bring him to a tight hug, burying your head on his shoulder and crying your eyes out. You didn’t want to, but you started to fear the future. You wanted time to stop, to never graduate, to never go to college, so you all of you could be together without worries. You were being selfish and you also knew that, but you couldn’t find in yourself the willpower to stop that ugly feeling.

“I’m sorry… I’m sorry… I’m sorry…” Renjun chants like a mantra, and you feel a wet patch on the fabric of your shoulder. You don’t mind, as your tears had already formed a bigger stain on his blazer.

“This is not a goodbye” You choke, swallowing with difficulty “We’ll see each other again”

3 Weeks Until Graduation

“Mrs. Park asked me if we could do something to perform in prom” You say as you enter the music room, counting the presence of all seven heads before nodding satisfied to yourself.

“And why should we do that?” Hyuck whines, laying down on the couch and facing you upside down “School is almost over, she can’t bribe us with extra points!”

“Well, I think we all forgot that Chenle and Jisung aren’t seniors, and theoretically, can’t attend prom—” You giggle nervously, tucking a stray lock of hair behind your ear “But Mrs. Park said that if the music club performs, she can let it slide”

“It’s not that bad” Jaemin arches his eyebrow, glancing at the two youngsters and shrugging it off “We were planning on sneaking them from the kitchens, but this works too— It also prevents anyone from getting to jail from food poisoning”

“What the fuck Jaemin” You deadpan, the boy just sending you a peace sign. For the sake of your mental health, you decide to ignore that for a while.

“But it’s still such a bitch” Donghyuck sighs, rolling his body so he is now with his belly on the sofa. He supports his hands on his elbows in the classic flower position, which, may you add, makes him appear more innocent than he’ll ever be. “We have 3 weeks to come up with something original? Are you kidding me?”

“She said it’s alright if we cover something, as long we perform it live” You explain, breathing deeply to not lose your patience

“But it’s no fun if we do it like that~~!”

“Then why are you complaining in first place?!” You bicker, glaring when Donghyuck smirks, fluttering his eyelashes innocently. You roll your eyes and flip him off, making him snort.

“What are you? Five?” Renjun deadpans, shoving the other male on the side. Hyuck pouts, sending finger hearts at him(Renjun ignores all of it.)

“Guys, I think I have something—”

“We all know Lee Haechan has a single-digit IQ” Jeno mocks, earning another whine from Hyuck.

“Don’t use my artistic name like that!”

“Artistic my ass” You pretend to cough, “It’s more like a nickname you made when you were in middle school because you thought it was cool, but backfired badly when you grew up"

“Who even calls themselves Full Sun?” Renjun teases. Donghyuck gasps dramatically, fully sitting up so he can put his hand on his chest.

“Excuse me, Haechan is a fucking amazing name!” He pouts, his reaction making you snort ungracefully

“Guys—”

“Hey, children, let’s stop bullying your friend~” Jaemin speaks in his aegyo tone, taking Donghyuck’s cheeks in his hands and making kissing faces at him “Let’s spread love~”

“No, fuck! Mooooooooom! Save me!” Hyuck screams, terrified. You smirk amusedly and finally turn to Mark, who had already given up on trying to speak. 

“Sorry, what was it?” You tilt your head, noticing the papers in his hand. You take a seat on the office chair beside him, sneaking a glance through the computer and the music files in it. You don’t understand anything about producing, but Mark was good at it, so all of you could record songs even if you were just highschoolers. 

“I have something in my drafts that could help us” He says, giving you the paper with the lyrics on it. Both of you ignore the chaos rising behind you, already being used to the loudness that came up with your group. 

You raise your legs into the chair, sitting cross legged, leaning slightly forward. You don’t even notice yourself resting the back of your hand on Mark’s thigh, fingers playfully wiggling around as a silent request for him to take his hands in yours. He takes your demand in no time, tangling his fingers smoothly with yours in a firm, but gentle grip. You smile at that, a warm feeling consuming your body entirely.

“Puzzle piece? That sounds cute” You giggle, watching as Mark clicks in a file that you see that hasn’t been edited in more than a month. He stretches out for a headphone, putting it on your ears carefully before starting the track. The entire time your eyes are glued to his face, observing each feature in him as he’s distracted. Suddenly, you’re afraid of being caught staring for more time than it should be considered okay for friends, so you quickly turn your eyes to the computer, feeling your chest bubble with something you quite don’t know what it is.

“I started working on it before finals, but I didn’t do much because I had to study” He explains as you squint your eyes through the multiple layers and notes that you didn’t understand. Your eyes travel again to the lyrics sheet, a smile spreading in your lips unconsciously.

“You’re my missing puzzle piece~ Finally I solved it. You filled every piece of my heart, even the scarred part of it to the fullest. And somehow, you’ve become my everything, my missing puzzle piece” You test, the lyrics leaving your mouth quite smoothly with the incomplete song melody. “I liked it” You say, spinning your chair to face the dreamies again, noticing that they had calmed down and were quietly enjoying your voice. You feel shy with the sudden attention and you clear your throat with your fist in front of your mouth to hide it, passing the lyrics sheet to Jisung, who’s the closest. You lowkey miss the feeling of Mark’s hand trapped in yours, and that realization makes you even more shy. You take a deep breath, calming yourself down.

“Jaemin and I to wrote the lyrics” Jeno announced proudly, Jaemin nodding with him

“You did a good job” You smile proudly, raising a high five to both of them. Jaemin came to hit his hand with yours, but you troll him in the last second, changing your fingers to scissors. 

“You’re impossible” He deadpans and you roar with uncontrollable laughter. Jeno smirks, giving Jaemin sympathetic pats on the back

"I did something just for the overall feeling, but it's pretty nothing yet" Mark says, not seeming to be affected by the general chaos. "But I think we can finish it in less than a week? So there will be time to practice,"

“So, what were you thinking about? The melody, I mean” Chenle asked and you gave space for him to come closer, moving your chair. Mark pulled out his guitar supporting it on his thigh.

“Mostly C, E, A minor, G and F” He says the accords as he plays, switching the order to get other verses, but not playing any note besides those. The difference between stroking up and down the strings, along with the occasional change of chords are enough to bring a simple and aesthetic feeling. “Since it’s more in the heartwarming side, I think we could try for an acoustic vibe, y’know?”

“It’s good” Renjun nods, holding the sheets. “”Hello, it’s been so long, isn’t it?” The small piece that I put in my pocket and carry around everywhere, please be with me so it can be fuller and prettier. Na Jaemin, what the fuck are these—”

“Hey!” He protests, pouting “What’s wrong with my lyrics?”

“It’s cringy as fuck”

“The whole song is cringy as fuck, I don’t see your point here, hyung” Jisung mocks, and you giggle, agreeing with him

“But it’s cute” Chenle shakes his head, smiling slightly. “More than having everything, not losing that one thing is more important.” He reads the lyrics, nodding along

“Whoop whoop— Who were you thinking about when you wrote it, hm,~~? Was it me?” Hyuck leans down to support his weight on Jeno’s back, much to the other boy's dismay. 

“Ah. I won’t say, you’ll tease me to the end of the world” He sighs, earning a giggle.

“I knew it!” He exclaims, deep down already knowing the answer without even asking. 

"Ah, shut it, will ya?" Jeno grunts, rolling his eyes. "It's not about just one single person. It's more about us. There's eight of us, a pretty big group, might I say, but it somehow feels empty if a single person is missing. That's why, Missing Puzzle Piece"

"Wow." You say, caught off guard. Your lips curve upwards and there is a soft look in your eyes as you take in Jeno's flustered face by his own confession. "Why are you so good at writing lyrics?" You tease him lightheartedly.

"Maybe it's because Lee Jeno is the most awkward person I have ever seen" Renjun ponders, smirking.

"Nah, that's just Mark. Jeno comes in a second close, he's more like, the type that doesn't know how the fuck are you supposed to express yourself" You argue, Renjun having no choice but to agree with you.

"He's one of those talented composers that uses music to confess their feelings!" Chenle giggles like a teenager girl, poking Jeno's biceps. The latter has a suffering expression, apparently, giving up on having a peaceful environment.

"I can totally see Jeno using music to confess to someone" Jisung ponders out loud, making you cackle. "Imagine this: it's two am, Jeno has a guitar on his lap and is sitting on the couch. In front of him, on the center table, are Seol, Lal and Bongshik. They're the only ones he loves anyway, so he's serenading them!"

You think you're having an aneurysm from the intensity you laugh and shake your shoulders, feeling your belly burn with every snort you let out. Your eyes travel across the room and they stop at Mark’s expression, admiring how his muscle faces contort with every laugh that escapes from his lips. 

“Ah, fuck, why am I being so attacked right now?” Jeno curses, slightly pissed but his body completely still against the couch.

“Don’t worry, Jeno-ah, everyone has their moments” Donghyuck teases. Jeno narrows his eyes at him, gripping his shoulder in a tight grip and applying force enough to make the other boy whine, while giggling happily “Ah, ah, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Please, don’t— Ack!”

“We’re getting off track” Mark warns, although his smile reveals that he’s having fun watching Hyuck suffer. “Guys, let’s focus right now, right? We can mess later”

You’re scared of what this fuzzy feeling in your chest means. But at the same time, you feel safe, as nothing in the world could hurt you. It’s a giant mess of feelings that you didn’t want to tackle right now, so you just let it be.

2 Weeks Until Graduation

All of you were reunited in Chenle's backyard. His house was big enough for you to decide suddenly that you wanted to do a sleepover— More exactly, you wanted to sleep outside. The first option was to go to a beach, but you still had school to attend, so camping on the grass with multiple tents set up seemed fair enough. (Also, Chenle’s parents were the only ones that had a house big enough for eight teenegers and didn’t care if those eight teenagers were screaming and being hormonal kids)

Three tents were set up. You didn’t mind sharing with one of the boys, but Mrs. Zhong was really worried, so you decided to at least give her some peace of mind. You had the smallest tent to yourself, while Chenle and Jisung shared another small one and the others shared the large one. Mark brought his guitar from home and was mindlessly playing with the strings, producing a soothing background music to fulfill the silence. The rest of you were sprawled on the grass, looking at each other, or in your case, the starry sky. There were some lamps on the outside of the house, but you guys chose to put a cheap yellow lantern in the middle of the circle just to set up a sappy mood, almost like a city-version of camping. 

“Did you guys get your exam results?”

For almost a month, all eight of you made a silent deal to never mention college and exam results. It was painful to even consider that you weren’t going to see each other every day, so it was easier to pretend that it wasn’t going to happen any soon. That, and you were silently trying to not upset Jisung. The episode of three months ago was still clear in your head— you hated yourself for it, but his words messed with your emotions. It was hypocritical as fuck of you to assure him that everything was going to be okay when even you didn’t know if it was true or not. You didn’t spill the tea directly to Mark, Renjun, Jeno, Donghyuck or Jaemin, but they already knew that Jisung and Chenle were highkey worried about all of you graduating. 

So, when Jisung finally addressed the elephant in the room— To say that you were tense was an understatement.

“I passed. Seoul National.” Jaemin breaks the silence, a grin on his face. 

“What?!” You exclaim, immediately rolling around so you were on your belly and you could face him. You had the biggest and proudest smile on your cheeks. 

“SNU? Wow” Jeno exclaims, punching him on the shoulder, being joined by both Renjun and Donghyuck. Jaemin whines, but his smile never leaves his lips even once.

“That’s amazing!” You feel your shoulder relax a bit at the news, beaming at him. 

“Yeah. And it’s not that far either” Jaemin adds, you notice that Renjun’s expression falters a bit. You don’t dare to mention his change out loud. At least not for now.

“It’s not a big one like Jaemin, but I passed too. Hanyang University. I tried for Architecture, actually. Changed my mind at the last second.” Jeno giggles shyly and you also beam at him.

“What do you mean ‘it’s not big’?” You whine, being your turn to slap his thighs. “It’s seventh in South Korea! Be more proud of it!”

“I thought you were going to go after basketball” Mark wonders, tipping his head

“I was.” Jeno shrugs at him. “But there are a lot of things to take into consideration when you choose a sports career. The most obvious of them is height, and well— I have 1.77. It’s pretty good for the average korean man, but I don’t think I would’ve made it into a basket team.”

“Ah, true. That sucks, tho” Chenle groans, tucking his leg into himself. “I have 1.78. It’s not a lot either.”

“It happens.” Jeno finishes “I’m not upset about it, actually. I’m really looking forward to study architecture— I have an uncle that works at a construction company and if I do well, he said that he can take me under his wing”

“Well, as long you’re satisfied—” Hyuck pats his back, also using the situation to snuggle into him. “We’re happy for you”

“Thanks” He smiles, his eyes turning into small moons. 

“Music, Sungkyunkwan University. ” You take the cue, announcing proudly with a peace sign. “It’s not the closest, but still is around Seoul, so it’ll be okay. At most i’ll have to take long rides on the train to meet you guys, so it still works”

“Sungkyunkwan is awesome” Jisung’s eyes sparkle and you let out a shy chuckle, nodding “I want to try for them next year, but I’m not really sure”

“Whoa, imagine that? Park Jisung as my super duper cute junior?” You tease, poking his leg. Jisung makes a face at you and you laugh.

“Well, for me, I’m at Kwangwoon. I’m going for Journalism and communications” Donghyuck announces, pulling you closer and forcing you to sit up for him to sneak his arm around your shoulders. “It’s far as fuck from the other Universities here in Seoul, but at least, we’re close.” He says that last part directed at you, making you nod.

“I passed in Music in Chung-ang” You widen your eyes at Mark, but not in the good way

“You’re going to Anseong?” Your voice wavers, but he just chuckles.

“Nope. They have a Seoul campus.” He explains, chuckling “If you guys think Kwangwoon is far, just wait until you see on the map where it’s located—”

“I’m going back to China.”

Mark’s voice dies and you almost break your neck with the speed you turn to look at Renjun. His gaze is fixed on the grass, not daring to maintain eye-contact with anyone.

“Sorry...” He mumbles. Before you can say anything, he sniffles and wipes a stray tear. “I— My parents—” Jaemin engulfed him in a tight hug. Renjun buries his head on Jaemin’s shoulders, sobbing. You don’t even notice when the tears start to flow down your own cheeks.

“It’s okay… We aren’t mad, Injunnie…” Jaemin soothes, tapping the other male’s back.

“It’s just that... I miss them… Too much”

Renjun was an exchange student, you remember again for the nth time this month. His parents still are in China. He was living almost three years on his own, going home only on holidays. You can’t even imagine what he’s thinking or feeling, being conflicted between his biological family and his heart family.

“I got into Sichuan Conservatory of Music. They’re great and have an interdisciplinary background in music and art, so I was really conflicted, but—” He chokes. Chenle and Jisung also come closer to comfort him as he talks. ”I spoke with my mom. She said I could choose to stay in Korea if I really wanted to, but I miss her and my dad too much”

“Oh, Injunnie, that’s amazing…I’m proud of you”  Jeno encourages and you lift yourself from the ground, immediately tackling Renjun, hugging him from behind. After a few seconds, everyone is in a big and messy group hug. You hope that Renjun doesn’t care about tear stains on his shirt the next day.

“When are you leaving?” Jisung’s questions break your heart in countless pieces, making you bury your face even more in Renjun’s back.

“Three weeks after graduation.” He mumbles almost incoherently and you sniff.

The hug lasts a good ten minutes before Jisung complains that his back was hurting from bending it to reach Renjun’s height, making everyone let out a good laugh. Renjun wipes his face and you follow his example. His face is slightly swollen and his eyes are red. You notice that Donghyuck also has reddish eyes, but you don’t comment on that because you’re also certain that you look worse. Jeno was trying to hold it together, but even he couldn’t hide the sorrow in his eyes. Jaemin was consoling Jisung, who was still sobbing despite the earlier joke, rubbing the younger one’s shoulder. Chenle had an arm loosely above Renjun’s shoulders, not crying, but obviously affected by the news. Mark sighs loudly and takes back his guitar, back to playing some random tune on it, trying to make the atmosphere less depressed and awkward.

“There isn’t a campfire here, but…”

You recognize the first strums, as your lips quirk up.

“Camp rock? Really?” You laugh, but your chest starts to grow warm with the choice of music “That’s, like, the cheesiest thing in the story of cheesy things.”

“I hate to admit, but it fits the moment.” Jaemin mutters, a teasing tone. 

“Shut it, both of you” Mark scolds slightly, but you just widen your smile.

“So let’s sing na, nanananana, hey~, yah” Donghyuck starts. He makes eye contact with Mark, and both grin. Mark joins him, their voices blending softly in the night “C’mon and sing na, nananana, hey, ya.”

You sigh, pretending to be annoyed, but the smile on your face can’t fool anyone.

“This is our song, that’s all it matters, cause we all belong, right here together, there’s nothing better than singing along~ This is our summer” You grin, maintaining eye contact with Mark and Donghyuck at all times. “This is our song”

“And this is our song~” When all of your voices join, you can’t help but to feel emotional. All of your hands (except Mark’s) maintain a nice rhythm, clapping as your voices fill up the backyard. Hyuck takes charge of the adlibs, his honey-tone enhancing everyone and perfectly synergizing with all the voices.

You take a look at everyone’s faces. There’s a kind of understanding, even if no one said anything out loud. The song is happy, but it holds an emotional baggage to it as each one of you already knows that you won’t be able to sit down and sing carelessly like this in the future. 

You all sang multiple times together. None of you were professionals yet, but you liked to think that music had an important role in holding your friendship together. You couldn’t count the amount of random moments when one of you was humming a song, and out of nowhere, there was a full choral singing, even if it was the silliest song humankind has ever produced.

“This is our song…” Mark finishes, his hand falling limp on his lap. 

“Wow. Out a whole list of emotional, happy, but sad songs to choose from, you take one from Camp Rock.” Jisung sasses, even if it’s clear that his words don’t hold a real bite. “Real shitty taste, if I must say, even more for someone who’s going to take music”

“Excuse me? Camp Rock is great!” He defends, offended. You giggle at that.

“You’re going to be a professional musician one day. You’ll write your own songs, right? If you don’t do anything else inspired by us, I swear to god, I’m ending this friendship” You joke, nudging his side. 

“I’ll think about it” He smiles at you, making your chest fill up with warmth. His fingers suddenly pause the music and you watch as he gulps nervously and looks directly at the eyes of everyone “Even if we’re physically distant from one another, let’s try to be in touch, right?”

“Yeah…” You mutter along the boys and you lift your head so you’re staring at the stars. They twinkle and shine at you, almost as if they understand the bittersweet situation you have on your hands.

“Markie-poo” The older boy is startled as Hyuck brings back the old nickname he had given him when they were children. “Why don’t you do a chant for all of us?” 

“What— Why me?” He whines and you chuckle.

“You’re the oldest. It only feels right.” Jeno interferes, half teasing, half touched. 

“C’mon, Markie-hyung~~” Jaemin shakes his shoulders, forcing aegyo with a full pout that makes you cringe. Mark groans, shaking his head,

“Ah, you guys—” He scolds, but there is a fond smile on his cheeks. You smile, taking your time to admire your friends.

When you first met Mark, you thought that he was a goody two-shoes. You were ten, and at that time, you were constantly upset with him because he was the type of student that would remind the teacher that she had passed homework last week(and you also weren’t the type that would actually do your work sheet). You don’t even remember when you two started to be actually friends, and you don’t even know where you would be right now if you didn’t have him in your life. 

Jaemin and Jeno kind of came like a package. You’d known them since you were children— since you were five, actually. You remember playing with them sometimes in the playground, bickering because you thought insects were gross, while they loved to hunt for butterflies and bugs. Sadly, you’d moved from the neighborhood when you were eight, and your parents decided that the tiny house wasn’t enough for them. Despite that, five years after that, you find them in the same school and class as you— Also, same class as Mark and Donghyuck. 

Although they were inseparable, they were different on their own. Jeno was more laid back, the chill kind of guy. His humor was underrated— but that was expected, considering that you had a lot of pranksters and screamers on your group—, his jokes sometimes passed over your heads as not everyone had enough braincells to actually understand.

Jaemin had some crazy mood swings. One day, he was the calmest person to ever exist, and another, he spoke as if he was high on drugs and would say questionable things. He was either a patient and loving guy, or he would nag you until you rip your ears off. It was slightly unsettling how good he was at reading you and giving advice, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

You hated Donghyuck at first. He was a cool guy that made everyone laugh, but you couldn’t stand his teasing jokes at some moments. You and him formed a friendship only when he dropped his carefree mask. You found him crying behind the bushes of the garden because of a mean comment some kid made when they thought he wasn’t listening. In fifteen minutes of real, heart-to-heart conversation, you’d finally seen that he wasn’t just a jokester, and he wasn’t always happy, like everyone else assumed.

Chenle came when you were 13. He was a cute junior, but he had slightly language barrier problems because he didn’t know how to speak korean well. As a canadian kid himself(but living in Korea since he was a child), Mark took upon himself to help Chenle adapt to school, even if their languages weren’t the same. You thought that Chenle was cute— and that didn’t change even now, almost in adulthood—, and you did all you could to help him. He was thrilled and hyped for everything, making your heart melt for him like ice cream on a sunny day.

Jisung came almost at the same time as Chenle. Both of them were in the same class, and Chenle took the other boy to meet his older friends when he realised that Jisung hadn’t any friends in school. Your mother instincts were activated almost instantly. He looked up at you as an example (you were a mess at studying and procrastinated to do every single assignment, but he still idolized you) and you pushed yourself to not disappoint him. You and Jaemin also bickered, trying to compete for Jisung’s love, but at some point you had achieved a mutual agreement of sharing his heart—much to Jisung’s dismay.

Renjun came much later, in freshman year of high school. He first met Chenle, as both of them were chinese, but he had more practice in speaking korean then the other boy at the time he had arrived. He was the one you clicked with the quickest. You thought that he was a shy, innocent boy at first, but his witty remarks matched perfectly your group dynamics, and everyone warmed up to him in no time. 

For three years, the group was complete. You took them for granted— You thought you were going to be each other’s anchor for the rest of your lives, and you’d never separate even if you had the biggest fight. You didn’t consider that you didn’t need a fight to go on different paths. 

The sound of bickering and teasing was so familiar to your ears that you were afraid of the future, when you wouldn’t hear Chenle’s high pitched laugh, or Jaemin’s whines and aegyo everyday. Or Donghyuck’s teasing, Renjun’s sass and Jeno’s deep chuckles. You wouldn’t witness Jisung’s nose crunching when he cringes, or Mark’s entire face blushing when he was embarrassed. You would lose that.

Maybe you were being dramatic. It’s not like any of you were dying— You just were going to college, for fucks’ sake. But you couldn’t help the painful squeeze of your chest, as you were missing something that was still here.Renjun was staying in Korea for 3 weeks after graduation. That gave you exactly a month until you’d have to say goodbyes. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll do it.” Mark gave in. He straightened his posture. “Yo dream!”

A single tear made his path down your cheek, but you didn’t bother to wipe it off.

“Jjeoreo! Juja! Fighting!”

You still had time

Five Days Until Graduation

“Hm, hi—”

“It’s three am,” You state groggily, “Why the fuck are you calling me at three fucking am, Mark Lee?”

You hear a gulp and the line stays silent for a whole minute. You close your eyes for a few seconds, dazed, not even registering the time passing as you’re half asleep. Mark finally speaks after two minutes

“—an we meet up?”

“...what?”

“I said, can we meet up?” He repeats, slightly exasperated. You yawn and he sighs. “It’s important, I swear,”

“...how important…?” Your voice is muffled by the pillows and Mark can’t help but to release a deep chuckle. You swear you’re in dreamland again, as you think that his laugh had some kind of spell that made your entire body relax at the same instant.

“I’m at the front of your home” Your eyes are wide and you immediately jump out of the bed, kicking the warm covers to the floor and rushing to your window. You push the curtains, looking through the glass

“What the fuck— Mark, why are you outside? What in the world—”

“It’s okay. Just come down, please…”

Your eyes soften and you sigh. You have known Mark Lee for more than nine years by now. You were sure you could recognize every emotion that passed in his eyes— That’s why you believe that he holds some kind of emotion that you’re not even aware of, and he desperately wants to hide it from the world. It’s almost like you’re in middle school again, when he lied about being fine, and insisted on being the perfect student, overworking himself to the limit and refusing to admit that he was human too and was likely to fail sometimes.

But it’s also different this time. His chuckle is bittersweet, most likely not sincere, but it’s not a hundred percent fake. The only thing is you can’t point out why you think that.

“Also, it’s cold outside, so wear something warm, okay?” He adds, interpreting your silence as agreement. You catch a hoodie that was thrown on your chair and you wear it over your pajamas, putting your fluffy slippers on your feet. 

You quickly go downstairs, not really caring if you made any noise. Your parents weren’t home anyways, so you didn’t have to worry about that. You unlock your door, only to see Mark in your yard, staring at the road. He’s not looking at the cars, you realise, he’s looking at the stars. Mark has only a white t-shirt, jeans and a black blazer that you guess that doesn’t do wonders, considering the way he hugs himself searching for warmth.

“Wear something warm, that’s what he said” You mock him, but deep down, you’re slightly concerned.  “What are you doing? Come inside, quick!”

“Sorry” He apologises, but you give a light slap on the shoulder as he passes by, muttering something about he shouldn’t apologise under your breath. He makes a beeline for your couch, hiding his face in his hands that were supported on his thighs.

“What’s up with you and Jisung, coming at my home late at night for pep talks?” You try to joke, failing as your voice cracks. Your chest is squeezing and you feel like you can’t breathe properly even if Mark hasn’t said anything yet

“I’m sorry” He mumbles again. You bit your lower lip, frowning.

“It’s all right, you know I don’t mind if you guys decide to raid my home at random times—”

“It’s not that... I’m going back to Vancouver.”

You go blank. Mark raises his head, doe eyes wavering. He’s not crying, but all the pain and despair are clear in his gaze.

“W-what…” Your own eyes are wide. You feel your throat dry and you can’t think of any words that made sense to be spoken out loud, the living room suddenly spinning and closing on you. “As a travel…?” You know it’s not, but you still hoped that, somehow, you had overanalyzed and misunderstood all of his red flags.

“No… I’m moving”

You suddenly can’t breathe. You stumble back to the table room, your knees giving up and forcing you to sit on the glass. The first tears drop from the corner of your eyes, but you barely register them.

“Fuck, I’m sorry—” Mark pleads again, standing up and walking around the room nervously. “I wanted to go to college with you guys— or at least be here in Korea, but—” He massages his forehead, hands dropping down to his lower face to drown a scream.

You force your legs to stand up, slightly wobbling in your steps as you walk to him. You launch yourself at him, circling your arms in his waist and clutching him as if your life depended on that, drowning yourself in the sensation of being squeezed between his own embrace while you had the chance to.

“It’s my grandma,” He talks after recovering his composure, burying his chin on your shoulders. You lay your forehead on his collarbone, afraid of letting him see your own despair “She has alzheimer. We thought she was doing okay, but last night, my auntie called… She said that grandma had an episode. She wasn’t eating, and was almost forgetting how to breathe during her sleep, so she was rushed to the hospital” You finally feel his tears dripping down your hoodie and you raise your hands to his upper back, drawing circles on his skin. “Mum and auntie agreed that granny probably doesn’t have much time… So we’re going back.”

“W-when—” You choke on your saliva, moving away for a second so you could cough and wipe your ugly tears. Mark catches your hands in his, not wanting to completely cease contact “W-when you’re going?”

“...wednesday.”

“But that is—”

“Five— No, actually, four days from now.” His hold gets tighter and you slowly process the information.

“So… You won’t attend prom, right…?” You want to slap yourself for that question, shaking your head. His grandma is passing away and the first thing you say it’s about some stupid party. Wow, way to go, you thought bitterly. “Sorry, ya’ don’t need to answer that.”

“I’m sorry” he shakes his head

“Stop apologising!” You scold, breaking down in tears once more. You feel your shoulders shaking and you try to wipe your face again, but you can’t win against the flow down your cheeks. “It isn’t your fault, so stop being so sweet and caring and everything! Shit, why the fuck am I the one crying—?! I should be the one supporting you, not the other way around…I’m so stupid, why—”

“Don’t say that, you’re not stupid...” Mark brings you again to his chest and you sob, your fingers gripping the fabric of his t-shirt fearing for the future. His left hand snakes up to your neck, making you lean your head on his shoulder again as he plays with his fingers through your hair strands. “Prom is important, I know that… If I could choose, I’d stay one more day, just to wrap things up properly, but…”

He doesn’t finish his speech, his voice dying a bit. You feel a gentle tap on your shoulder, and the next thing, you’re staring directly at Mark’s eyes. Despite the overall depressing situation, he still gazes at you fondly, wearing his heart on his sleeve without any second thoughts. His hand is nothing but caring as he moves the hairs on your face behind your ear, leaving traces of warmth in your skin in the trail. He withdraws a bit, only enough to tinker with his phone quickly.

“Y’know… We were partners at that dance lesson a month ago... And since neither of us has gotten ourselves a date to prom, I guess we’re still in game, right?”

You recognize the first notes of Perfect easily. A little laugher escapes from your mouth, your lips curving themselves to match Mark’s own smile. He drops his phone somewhere on the couch and casually messes up his black hair, somehow managing to make himself twenty times more attractive than the usual, also making exaggerated motions of fixing his blazer before curving down to an elegant bow from the 90’s.

“It’s not exactly what I had in my plans, but…” He reaches out, his hand open right in front of you. “y/n...Can I have this dance?”

You wipe the corners of your eyes one more time before nodding quite shyly, which is a feeling so foreign that you suddenly don’t know how you’re supposed to act. Mark seems to notice that as he takes upon himself to connect your hands, his fingers intertwined with yours and his touch burning through your skin. He lets out a content hum, slowly taking some steps back to reach a free space, far from both the couch and the table. You watch mesmerized as he confidently guides your hands to his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your waist with ease, almost as if your bodies were meant to complete each other. 

You’re dumbfounded, to say, at least. It was almost as if the roles were reversed. Since you were children, you had always been the confident one, while Mark assumed the more awkward type of boy— You’d made fun of him more times than you could count, repeating the iconic quotes he spilled when he was pressured and nervous (“this is so high, it’s like my grades!”). Suddenly, he’s not horribly awkward with skinship anymore, and you don’t know what exactly to think. Did you like it? Yes. Did you hate it? Also, yes.

“Cause we were just kids when we fell in love, not knowing what it was.I will not give you up, this time” You whisper the lyrics, swinging side-to-side. You don’t dare to sing the next verse, though. Mark nods, looking at you as if you were the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in his whole life. His hands are nothing but gentle as he spins you around, something that was never taught in Mrs. Park’s class last month. 

You hate the things he makes you feel. Your heart is full, but at the same time, it crushes within itself painfully every single time you’re reminded that Mark is going back to Canada. His hands made your skin tickle— in the good way. It brings chills, because it’s cold, but it also is extremely warm. You’re hyper aware of his arms circling your waist tenderly, your fingertips squeezing his shoulder with tenderness. Deep down, you already know that this isn’t how friends would interact with each other, but you’re too afraid to acknowledge that, and eventually make things even more difficult.

“We are still kids, but we're so in love, fightin' against all odds… I know we'll be alright this time” He sings, his raspy voice echoing in the walls. You feel the tears coming back to your eyes, “Darling, just hold my hand, be my girl and I’ll be your man. I see the future in your eyes”

You’re tired of crying. You’re afraid that you were being overdramatic with all of this graduation thing, and for a second, you started to question if you were being annoying, all of your self-confidence dropping for a swift moment. You bring your arms upwards from Mark’s shoulders, wrapping them around his neck in a deep embrace, taking the opportunity to hide your face in his collarbones again. Mark lets out a tired sigh, unspoken words flowing around you with a deep melancholy. 

You’re tired of people leaving you behind, you finally realize. Some old memory comes flying in your mind, one time that Jeno mentioned that you might have some abandonment issues, and you had denied it back then with all your might. However, if he said the same thing to you today, you would have no choice but to agree with him.

First were your parents, who had never cared for you in the first place, leaving you behind while they went on long business trips since you were eight. Then your girl friends at middle school, who ganged up on you one day and said that you weren’t cool enough to hang out with them. Hyunjin, your ex, who made sure to blame you for all mistakes made in your relationship. Maybe all of that justified your anxiety of losing your friends, the only ones who had stayed until now. You knew that people could easily keep being friends, even if they were in different countries, because they had the internet to chat even if they were miles apart. A part of you screamed inside, extremely dull as you couldn’t help but to think that you wouldn’t talk to any of your friends if you weren’t in the same classroom everyday.

“We’ll be okay” Mark whispers in your ear, as if he could sense your thoughts going spiral. 

You close your eyes tightly, letting yourself imagine you and Mark, in prom, with fancy clothes. You imagine him wearing a tuxedo, leading you into the dance floor, the fabric of your dress swaying in the air as if you were in some kind of Hollywood movie. Your friends would be cheering you on, and everyone else from school would be looking at you dreamly, as if they wanted to be in yours or Mark’s place. 

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listenin' to our favorite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

Zero days until graduation

“Yah, if you don’t stop crying, your eyes will get so puffed that not even the best foundation in the world will help you” 

“What you’re talking about, Jaemin, I’m not crying—”

“Yeah, sure, everyone believes that—”

Your last week has passed in a blink of an eye. Before you could even process what was happening, you and the rest of your friends were in your house, drinking and spending your last hours with Mark before he had to leave for Canada.

It was dramatic. Since his flight was at 2 am (who the fuck thought that flights at 2 in the morning were a good idea?), you decided to spend the whole day together. Once every three hours, one of you would burst into tears, mainly you, Donghyuck and Jisung, the crybabies of the group. 

You didn’t go to the airport to see him off. In fact, Mark didn’t let any of you see him— He said it would be more painful that way. That didn’t prevent you from crying your eyes out anyway, and at this point, you think you actually dehydrated yourself from the alarming amount of tears you spent in the last 48 hours. 

“Fuck you then,” You hiss, hearing the laughters of Jaemin and Chenle from your computer. You were on discord, in a server that had all of you, including Mark. Just seeing his name appear on the members’ list made a jab straight into your chest, your eyes watering effortlessly. “—not gonna cry tonight. My tear ducts are dry already”

“I smell bullshit” Jisung pops out of nowhere and you sigh. 

“Anyway, not gonna happen. Not crying tonight, nuh-uh” You shake your head, slightly pissed “First, it’s extremely humiliating to cry on prom— Even more if you’re alone, that’s just… Sad.”

“And who the fuck said that?” Jisung roasts, making you sigh. Ah, so much for raising him, you think.

“I did” You counter, extremely concentrated on your current task: putting on your makeup. The boys were playing PUBG, not bothering to prepare themselves, for now. You still had more than four hours until prom, but you were anxious and couldn’t help yourself. “Whatever, what I’m trying to say here is that I won’t cry tonight. I don’t need to make everything more depressing than it already is, so I’ll just dance my worries away. It sounds like a good plan to me”

“Wow,” Chenle gasps suddenly, and you pause your artwork to briefly look at his icon flashing on your screen— A childhood picture of him holding a giant gun, smiling brightly as if nothing was happening. “Your levels of bullshit just hit the fan”

“Ah, you’re both so mean to me~” You whine, pouting even if they can’t see it. You’re unconsciously trying to deflect the situation, even if you’re not aware. “Both of you are younger than me, but why am I being so disrespected like that?”

“Because you’re lame” Jisung fires and you let out another whine. Chenle yells something about Jisung’s poop hands almost killing them on the game, but you’re not paying enough attention to understand whatever they’re arguing about.

“Okay, now, back to the topic,” Jaemin cleans his throat and you feel your shoulder tensing up. “I’m worried”

“You don’t need to, I’m fine” You’re a bit defensive. Jisung opens his mouth to say something sassy, but you don’t understand what he said, as Jaemin’s voice drowns him.

“I think we know each other long enough to know that’s completely, utterly, totally, entirely, absolutely full of bullshit”

“Wait, doesn’t all of that mean the exact same thing?” Chenle pipes up, confused. Jisung, Jaemin and you let out a synchronized sigh. Right, foreign problems.

“Like I said, you don’t need to worry, Jae” You spoke in a soft tone, halting your hand that was blending the foundation. “I will be fine, I guess. There’s not much to do about Renjunnie and Mark leaving anyway, so it’s no use to waste your time worrying about me.”

“Don’t put yourself down like that,” He scolds, but his words didn’t hold a real bite. It kinda reminds you of how a mother scolds her child— You didn’t actually experience that, but you suppose that’s how it’s meant to be. “It’s okay to feel hurt, even if there’s nothing to do about. I’m just saying that you shouldn’t bottle it up. Renjunnie was really worried these days, because you wouldn’t say anything about your feelings.”

“Yeah” Jisung butts in, only because he didn’t know what to speak, but he felt the need to be verbal. You can almost see Jaemin rolling his eyes in his house, but that thought doesn’t humor you like it should.

“Well, it’s just that...” You start, but you can’t find the exact words to express the mess in your head. “All of us are passing for the same thing, so I feel like it’s unfair of me to be complaining and crying at all times while you guys are not”

“And why the fuck do you think we don’t complain and cry at all times?” Jaemin is quick to counter, making you sigh for the nth time. “Hyuckie didn’t answer anyone yesterday because he was busy crying and eating ice cream while he watched Toy Story 3 and 4”

“Toy Story is sad, it’s normal” Chenle defends, as he cries every time single time too. 

“Yeah, he also cried over Spiderman: Far From Home and the last episode of ICarly. You know, the one when Carly goes to live with her dad and everything” Jaemin shrugs, but you don’t actually see it, you just imagine him doing that. 

“That’s tough, buddy” Jisung mutters

“Well, do you see a pattern there?” Jaemin continues, ever patient “That’s Hyuck’s way to cope with Mark leaving. He’s not that good either, but at least he lets himself feel bad and he talks to someone about what he’s thinking. That’s way more healthier than closing yourself and not talking at all, if you ask me.”

“So, do you want me to spill all my inner insecurities and ugly cry again?”

“Basically, yes”

“What the fuck Jaemin” All four of you chuckle at that, even if it wasn’t the best moment to actually be funny. Somehow, you feel a bit less overwhelmed with everything, as Jaemin’s words helped you understand that you weren’t being annoying, as your low self esteem suggested. You fall silent for some seconds, taking your time to process everything— Chenle shouts again at Jisung for dropping the wrong item and you take a deep breath, their casual bickering grounding you to reality. “... and thank you, I guess…”

“It would make me ten times happier if you kept on talking, but that’s also okay, I guess. Can’t have everything we want,” He jokes, using your own words and a light hearted nagging tone, making you smile a bit. “We can have more deep talk some other time, when you feel like you’re ready. Just, please, don’t cry again. You’re going to have giant dark circles and puffy eyes on prom night,”

“Fuck you, they’re not that bad” You pout, returning to your task of preparing your skin.

“By the way, do you want a ride? Jeno’s mum offered us,” Jaemin changes the topic and you can also hear shuffling and muffled voices in the back “Hey, auntie, I’m talking right now with y/n, can you say hi?”

“Oh, hi my dear!” Mrs. Lee says, giggling. Your heart warms up at the woman’s voice, her sweet image being always kept on your brain as a comforting one. “It’s been a long time since you last came to visit, right?”

“Yeah, since the beginning of the year” You nod, not registering that this was a call and no one could see you. “How are you, auntie? Are you good these days?”

 “Yes!” She shouted, her voice distant from the microphone. You heard water running, so you presumed she was washing something—Maybe the dishes? “I’m proud and very emotional today, you see. I remember taking watch over you, Jaemin-ah and Jeno when you were just children playing in the park, and today, you’re going to prom”

“Ah, yeah, auntie! About that, I was just convincing her to go to prom with us” Jaemin adds, and you can see his scheming face from miles away

“Oh, that’s right, dear!” Mrs. Lee agrees, the water dying down and her voice much closer this time. “Jeno told me your parents were in Japan this week, so we can take you and the boys. I will take a lot of photos, don’t worry!” She giggles and you smile

“Are you sure I won’t be a problem? I don’t want to intrude” You say shyly 

“Nonsense!” Mrs. Lee assures, her tone indicating there was no other option “It’s always good to see you, honey. Don’t tell Jeno, but I love you more than I love my own son~”

“What about me~~?” Jaemin whines, making you both chuckle. 

“At this point, I think you’re like our adopted son” Mrs. Lee muses out loud “Well, anyways, it’s been good to talk to you. I need to iron Jeno’s clothes, so we can speak later~ Ah, Jaemin, can you go bang on the bathroom’s door? Jeno’s taking too long on the shower!”

You chuckle as Mrs. Lee’s voice starts to fade in the background, the male probably walking off to the bathroom. Chenle and Jisung continue to bicker about PUBG, and right now, your heart is unexpectedly warm and fuzzy, unlike the feeling of emptiness you had until some hours ago.

“Yah, Park Jisung, how could you miss that shot?!”

“He was moving!”

“HE WAS RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU!”

You and Jaemin snicker, amused with the duo’s antics. At some point, Chenle’s words became slurred enough for you to not understand his chinese accent, while Jisung kept making strange and confused noises. You hear some shuffling on Jaemin’s end, background voices, and something that seems like Jaemin taking off his headphones.

“Are you on the server?” You recognize Jeno’s voice and you suppress the urge to scream in everyone’s ears just to annoy him.

“Yeah? Why?” You doze off for a bit, staring at the wall in front of you expressionless. You don’t understand what Jeno says next, only waking up from your daydream when the Jaemin says “Hey, I’ll have to go now, and it’s better if the kids also start to get ready for prom too.”

“I’m not a kid anymore” Jisung mutters, and you can imagine the pout on his lips even if you don’t actually see it.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that—” Jaemin snorts, “Anyways, y/n, I’ll text you later whenever we’re picking you up or if it’s better to come here to Jeno’s house”

“Tell them I said hi!” You hear Jeno scream and a smile pops up on your face without even realizing it.

“Jeno said he hates all of you” Jaemin lies shamelessly, and you hear the other boy screaming at him while he laughs his ass off. “Whatever, bye!”

The party was mesmerizing. 

You weren’t going to lie, you’d thought the school wouldn’t spend this much effort on prom, judging by the ex-students that graduated last year, who said the school barely paid any effort on decorating the hall. But his year, they seemed to be redeeming themselves for their previous mistake.

There was an elegant chandelier hanging from the ceiling right in the entrance, each shard reflecting a different light in the walls that made you mesmerized. The hall was decorated in golden tones, giving the ambient a luxurious vibe that really made everything feel like you were finally entering adulthood. Each table had a delicate flower arrangement with candles, which honestly, made you flabbergasted. 

The moment your eyes laid on the dancing floor, you felt an inexplicable unease deep down in your stomach. The lights were perfect, the DJ contracted by the school had only played good songs in the short five minutes you were in the party, and everything was absolutely flawless, so why were you upset?

“Do you miss him too?” Donghyuck’s quiet voice snaps you out of your trance, only then that both of you were frozen right in the entrance, where everyone was taking their pictures. You eye Chenle and Jisung, both going ahead, already saving a table for all of you. Their fancy tuxedo contrasted with their green and pink hair, making a funny sight overall.

“Stop talking like Mark is dead” Jeno laughs weakly, elbowing him. Renjun had his eyes lost in the view, obviously, head flying over the skies. It didn’t need a genius to guess what was going on inside his head.

“It feels incomplete” Renjun mutters, and you swear you saw his eyes watering. You purse your lips and look away, already feeling the emotions wanting to pour out. “I mean, we started as eight. Why are we ending with only seven?”

“Actually, we started with six— Chenle and Jisung are younger, even if we forget that sometimes” Jaemin shrugs off and Renjun rolls his eyes.

“You know what I meant, don’t try to be funny!” Renjun snarls, making grabby hands at Jaemin, wanting to choke him. 

“Well, let’s stop this depressing conversation. I miss Mark, but it’s really lame if we end in ugly tears right on prom night.” You finally say, taking a deep breath. To try to lighten up the mood, you smile teasingly “Ah, by the way, my mascara is waterproof, but I’m not sure about the rest of my makeup, so you fuckers better behave!”

“Won’t promise anything,” Donghyuck chuckles and you slightly slap him. He runs his hand through his hair, making a mess on top of his head, but you had to admit that he looked good that way “We have a show to do, right? Let’s do this, so we’re free to drink”

“They have drinks here?” Jeno raises his eyebrow, surprised. Hyuck smirks knowingly, a shit eating grin that you knew too well.

“Nah, I brought them” He snorted, and you couldn’t help but to laugh along. Chenle and Jisung came back, the latter without his blazer, as he used it to mark the table you were taking as occupied. At the sight of them, Hyuck smiles and raises his fist to the center, nudging everyone to form a circle. “Let’s do a cheer, hm?”

“Who will lead this time?” You can’t help but ask, a bittersweet feeling taking over your emotions. You observe quietly as they gaze at each other’s faces, silently debating who was the most proper one to take the honor. 

“You should take this one, noona,” Jisung says after seconds of silence, making you widen your eyes in surprise. 

“What?” 

“I agree,” Jeno nods approvingly, a proud smile on his face that you don’t quite understand. He exchanges glances with Jaemin, who has a similar expression on his face, and you can’t help but to feel left out of some hidden information both of them have. “It’s only right. The one to lead the cheer has to be some type of leader, and you fit that profile.”

“Ah, fuck” You raise your face suddenly, looking up to the ceiling and wiping tiny tears from the corner of your eyes. Your voice wavers a bit and you hear the boys laugh fondly, a tiny smile also appearing on your lips. “I said I wasn’t going to cry now, why the fuck are you guys making it so difficult for me?” You whine, sounding more like a crybaby than teenager-slash-adult.

“C’mon, let’s end this properly, right?” Renjun laughs and you feel his hand resting on your shoulder, squeezing it softly. You gulp, taking another deep breath and extending your fist alongside the other ones. Your hand is slightly smaller than theirs, but the image of them forming a circle is something you’ll certainly hold deep in your heart for a long time.

“Yo, Dream!”

“Jjeoreo! Juja! Fighting!”

“1, 2, 3… Testing, 1, 2, 3” You send Chenle a pointed look, but the boy just giggles cheekily. You shake your head, smiling with his antics, and you take your sweet time to adjust the microphone stand to your height. 

The lights dim slowly, until nothing could be seen upstage. You sigh, closing your eyes for a second and allowing yourself to take in all the things. Every student’s expectant gaze, some school staff and buffet staff who were also enjoying the moment and the weight of the future on your shoulders. All the uncertainty and fears you held deep inside your chest, along with the unsaid feelings for someone who was out of reach.

For three minutes and forty seven seconds, you let go of all of that. 

“As the world I’m heading towards and matching up to is getting bigger, it makes me feel an emptiness somehow”

“As if solving up the scattered pieces, we are matching up our stories. Inside the empty spot in my heart, there’s a piece called you taking place”

“You’re my missing puzzle piece, finally I solved it. You filled every piece of my heart even the scarred part of it to the fullest and somehow, you’ve become my everything. My missing puzzle piece”

“The fact that I have a flaw, the truth that I am imperfect. All of it makes me feel small. But in between those gaps, we can fill one another with it, so I don’t even realized that it was empty”

“More than having everything, not losing that one thing is more important. Through you, I came to know that”

“You’re my missing puzzle piece, very dazzling, it becomes one scene inside the world that I’ve been trying to put together alone. Like the hands that are interlocking tight together, because without you, it can’t be completed, so that we won’t lose each other, my missing puzzle piece”

The performance runs smoothly, your voices complementing each other in beautiful harmonies. You pour all of your emotions into each part, feeling like you’re letting go of a burden. When the music ends, you feel slightly lost, but at the same time, as if you’d never lose your direction in the future. 

"Thank you, the music club, for this heartwarming performance." The principal says as you leave the stage with a bow. He clears his throat to continue with his speech "Friendships like yours are beautiful and incredibly rare, so I advise you, young ones, to treasure all the tiny moments you spend with each of your friends. High School is the first time you came in contact with a bit of the adult world. And sadly, High School probably is the last time you're still able to be a kid freely, to live without worrying about responsibilities. From now on, you're adults. You're responsible for every action and every decision you take, being them wrong or rightful ones. You're free to choose whatever path you want to pursue in your life, and which ones you will want to have with you in your journey. Hard times will come— but don't forget everything you lived until now. It's okay to lean on your family and friends when things become too heavy to handle alone. Hold each other close, and I'll assure you, you're going to be fine"

You can't help but to feel touched by the principal's words. The corners of your lips curve upwards and you take a quick glance through the faces of your friends, memorizing them in your mind. 

"Okay, now I'm skipping the cheesy part. I'm sure no one wants to hear the long speech I prepared about college and responsibilities anyway" The principal fumbles with his papers comically, erupting a roar from the crowd. He smiles satisfied. "Now, for the interesting part you all waited for! For years now, our school keeps the tradition of choosing a king and a queen to prom. Now, I'm inviting our dear Mrs. Park to come up to the stage to help me announce who is the charming couple who will receive the title of king and queen!"

"Hello, our dear graduates!" Mrs. Park cheered, the happiest you have ever seen her in your life. "As you know, the voting took place one week ago in the end of day at school, and today, we will have the pleasure of meeting our most loved couple—"

You tune her out, the principal’s speech still lingering in your head and making your thoughts run a hundred miles per second. The party’s walls felt too suffocating, almost as if they were closing on you, and you knew you couldn’t stay there for much longer.

“Are you okay?” Jaemin whispered, his hand squeezing your shoulder comfortably. You sighed, shaking your head

“Yeah,” You said, your voice wavering and clearly stating that even you weren’t sure “I just need some fresh air” 

“Alright” He nods, tapping lazily on your head. You take that as a good sign and you flee your group discreetly. You pass the golden arch by the side entrance, admiring silently the shiny decoration that made the hall look ten times more illuminated than it really was. 

When you finally cross security and find somewhere more private, you’re at some kind of garden. It’s not fully in the open, as you can see the tall walls that limit the building, but it’s a nice spot to admire the night sky. The first thing you notice is the chilly air— You clearly remember the weather being warmer when you were outside, so you guess that the sun fully setting was enough to make the temperature drop.

The stars are bright in the sky. They twinkle at you, and for a second, you think that they’re trying to pass a hidden message to you. Strangely, you feel your shoulders relax, releasing all the tension you built for the past minutes just by being with the comforting presence of stars. You close your eyes, breathing deeply and taking a few seconds to calm down the flood of anxious thoughts that invaded your mind. 

“Oh, you’re here”

You go blank. You feel frozen in place, your entire body refusing to move a single muscle. Your eyes are wide open and you feel like you’re not physically able to turn your neck, almost as if there was something on it preventing you from looking behind you. That something was anxiety, you soon realize, ready to cry on the spot.

Your lower lip starts to tremble and you feel thousands of different emotions burning in your chest, ready to burst at any moment. Taking a deep inhale, you shyly turn your head, afraid that the voice was just a cruel prank of destiny.

“Mark” His name leaves your lips along with all the air in the lungs. You don’t cry— You were shocked enough to make all brain power short circuit completely.

Mark Lee stood in all his glory, right here, right now. Less than three steps of distance. In Seoul, not in Vancouver, like you were thinking until a minute ago. You were sure this was an image you would be able to see only in your dreams, but somehow, you were living the real thing, seeing Mark Lee attend the school’s prom. His dark hair was styled handsomely, parted exactly in the middle and showing his forehead for the entire world to see. He wore a black suit, his blazer left open lazily showing off the navy tie and the white blouse under it.

“What— Mark—” You gasp, the words losing themselves in your throat, “Weren’t you supposed to be in Canada right now? What the—”

“Hm?” He raises his eyebrows in surprise, and you’re more confused than ever “Didn’t Jaemin and Jeno tell you?”

“Tell me what?” You shriek, almost screaming on the spot. Mark chuckles at your reaction, making that annoying, warm feeling bubble up again. He takes a timid step forward, so you’re face to face, an arm's distance from him. You hear a tiny voice in the back saying that you were dreaming— Maybe you were still in bed, probably in deep slumber, that was the only fucking way—

“There was a problem in our plane,” He starts explaining, doe eyes never leaving yours. His stare slightly overwhelms you. It’s full of unsaid feelings and memories, and you’re afraid of what will change if you admit your own feelings. “I got one more day until the next flight, so here I am"

"Wow…" You say, not being able to think of anything else to express yourself out loud while trying to understand what the fuck was happening. Mark smirks, amused with your shocked expression and lack of words. "Why didn't you say that sooner? Oh fuck, wait, you said that Jaemin and Jeno already knew? What the actual fuck— Why did you get late? Well, I'm not complaining, since you're here when I actually thought that I would never see you again because you were going to stay with your family and there was no guarantee that you would actually come back, and if you even came back to Korea how was I supposed to deal with— Oof"

Mark efficiently shuts you up by bringing you to his chest by the shoulders, your face hitting his body gently in a hug. He is chuckling fondly, and you note (quite embarrassingly, if you were to add) that you can feel the way his heart beating fast because you were leaning directly on his chest. 

"Calm down, you're hyperventilating" He whispers in your ear, making a chill run down your spine. Again, you have to actively remind yourself to breathe properly. You take in his scent, burying your nose in his collarbone, and you feel his fingers tracing random patterns over the fabric of your dress. "Well, for starters, I was in the airport since midnight— The flight was supposed to be at 2am, but it was delayed to 4am. After that, they delayed again to 6am, and then to 8am. At that point, my parents were pissed and decided to speak with some manager, and he said he was sorry and that he could reschedule us into a first class that was going to leave tomorrow, so boom! Here we are," 

"That's great—" You choke out. Mark's face softens and he removes one of his hands in your waist to carefully wipe something in your face. Shit, were you crying? "Ah, shit, I had a bet with Jisung that I wouldn't cry today. You're making it really hard for me, Mark Lee!" You whine, and the boy just chuckles.

"I guess I'm sorry?" He smiled sheepishly. "By the way, I called Jeno and Jaemin his afternoon after a good nap and told them. Didn't they tell you?" 

"No!" A pout appears on your face. You sigh, wrapping your hands in Mark's waist and burying your head again in his collarbone. For some reason, you really liked the smell of his cologne. "Can I murder them?"

"Nah, at least hear their reasons first. Then you can do whatever you want" He shrugs off. You hear the music booming inside the hall and you don't even notice when Mark starts swinging around lazily. "By the way, you don't have to worry too much, okay? It sounds bad if I word it like this, but I'll be back from Canada in no time"

"Are you implying that your grandma—"

"Damn, I already said that it isn't like that!" He whines, making you chuckle. He sighs deeply, leaning his chin on the top of your head. "I mean, I don't plan on staying in Canada for too long. Even if my parents decide to stay back there, I'm still coming to Korea after all the mess finally gets finished. My whole life is here, after all"

"...whole life…?" You repeat, leaning your head back so you can stare at Mark's dark eyes directly. He blushes, a shy smile appearing on his lips

"Yeah," You smile at him, your chest covered in warmth despite the chill weather "I grew up here in South Korea. I might be born in Canada, but what Vancouver has to offer is absolutely no match for what I already have in Seoul. You and the other kids"

You don't say anything, although it is more like, you can't think of anything good enough to express what you're feeling right now. Mark breathes deeply and his face changes to something more serious. He breaks the hug gently, instead, going for your hands and taking them in his own.

"Y'know, five nights ago, when I told you I was going to go back, I said that I wasn't going to say anything," He shakes his head, as if reviving a memory "I told myself that it would be too selfish to burden you with my feelings and to go away for months or years, with no predictions of when I was going to come back."

"I already knew, tho" You reveal shyly, staring at your connected hands. "Your feelings, I mean"

"Yeah, I'm not the best when it comes to hiding them—" Mark laughs and you chuckle, raising your head to look directly at him again. "Anyway, that night, when I left your house, I felt horrible. You know, those anxious thoughts? I didn't know anymore if I was sure of what I was doing. For one part, I want to see you happy, more than anything in the world. Even if that happiness lies with another person, that would be okay for me as long you were happy and satisfied. But the other half of me is selfish— What if I had lost my chance? What if I messed things up? What if the long time really tears us apart?"

"It won't" You assure weakly, gripping his hands more firmly. He nods, agreeing with you.

"Those were like, 3 am insecure thoughts." He clarifies, "I was going to leave without saying anything, I swear. But this plane problem came up, and fuck, call me stupid or any shit like that, but I feel like it's a sign? Like, really, what are the chances that something happens exactly like this?" 

"Maybe the airport manager is some kind of angel?" You joke, making him chuckle with you.

"Yeah, maybe" He takes a deep breath before returning to his monologue "So, fuck everything I thought was right until like, a night ago. I'm going to be really selfish, and I'm really sorry for it, but... I love you. I don't know how, or when it happened, but I love every part of you, no matter how much you dislike them."

"Mark—"

"No, please, let me say everything at once, okay?" He pleads. You nod, letting him have his moment "I realized it too late. All the protectiveness over the whole Hyunjin thing, I thought it was a normal thing to feel as friends, because the other kids also hated him— But there was a moment that everything clicked, and I was like, fuck, I really like her, and then, it was like a switch being activated. I started seeing everything from a different point of view and slowly it came to me why I wasn't upset about Kang Mina back then. It was never her, y'know? There is such a big difference between the things I thought I felt for her and the things I actually feel for you— Wait, why are you crying again?"

Mark pauses his speech, looking at you bewildered. You sniff loudly, the tears pooling on the corner of your eyes, and you shake your head.

"It's just—" You look upwards overwhelmed, trying to reduce your tears "Sorry, this feels too much like a dream and a nightmare at the same time. I'm scared of what I feel about you— I'm scared that I'll love you too much, and then you'll end up leaving"

"I'm sorry" Mark's face falls and he has guilt written all over his eyes. "I'm being extremely selfish right now"

"No, no, it's okay" You reassure quickly, shaking your head, "I'm just a crybaby, as usual.. Ah, is my makeup fucked up right now?" You chuckle nervously, trying to change the tense mood.

“It’s a bit smudgy here, but you’re still pretty” He says, his thumb wiping the corner of your eyes with so much care that you feel like you’re going to melt under his touch. You take a deep breath, locking your own eyes with his and forcing yourself to maintain them there

“Look, I don’t know if I made it clear enough, but…I do like you—” You shake your head at your own words “No, wait, I think it’s safe to say that I love you at this point. I feel like I’m about to combust every single time, and I lowkey hate it, because at the same time you make me feel funny inside and also trigger a lot of anxious thoughts— Those aren’t your fault, of course, but they still happen every once in a while”

“What are you worried about?” His voice is quiet, almost as if he was stepping on eggshells. You’re again, reminded that Mark Lee was one of the sweetest and most caring boys you’ve ever met, and that he was worried about you.

“I feel like I’m not enough. Like, hell, you’re fucking Mark Lee and I’m just same, old, me” Your voice cracks painfully “Jeno was right— I think I have some abandonment issues, and lowkey speaking, I think I’m a big burden to carry around, even more if you’re going to the other side of the globe in less than one day”

“You’re not a burden” He is quick to counter, his grip on your hand making a good job on grounding you to reality. “Having abandonment issues or not, you’re still you at the end of the day. I think I already said this before, but I love every single part of you, even the bad ones that come around. I’m not going to leave you behind for anything in this world— Fuck, I don’t think I would be able to live with myself if I did that”

“...” You’re speechless, feeling the urge to cry, but also not wanting to ruin what was left of your makeup. Your nose scrunches into a cute pout and Mark lets out a soft chuckle at your funny expression.

“If you’re up to it… I think we could try something?” His voice wavers, slightly hesitant. “You don’t have to feel pressured to agree, of course! It’s just that— I want you to know that I’m willing to wait until we can be together properly. That I won’t meet anyone else, because you’re the one that—”

“Yeah, it’s a good idea.” You cut Mark’s ramblings, a small smile appearing on your lips. His shoulders relax immediately, relieved that he didn’t make a fool of himself. You stood in a comfortable silence, taking your time to process all of the information that was dumped on you in the last fifteen minutes. Mark suddenly gasps and looks at you with wide eyes

“Holy shit, does that mean that now we’re boyfriend and girlfriend?” He squeaks, making you raise your eyebrows at him amusedly

“You were the one who asked!” You can’t help but to tease him, finding extremely cute how his cheekbones moved around in his many expressions

“Oh yeah, right,” He mutters to himself. “Does that mean that I can kiss you? I mean, now that we’re boyfriend and—”

You raise yourself on your toe tips, your hands cupping Mark's cheeks and bringing his face closer, connecting your lips and efficiently shutting him up. It feels strangely like a bunch of fireworks being set off in your chest, with sparks of electricity running in your body by every second. Mark's lips are soft, perfect against your own. All of his previous awkwardness disappears in question of seconds, as he pulls you by your hips against him, your own hand moving from his cheeks to the back of his head, messing with his hair mindlessly. His tongue is the first to ask entrance in your mouth, and you part your lips without second thoughts just to feel his tongue clashing directly against yours in sync. 

The kiss breaks off with your lungs burning, both of your breaths heavy, but that doesn't stop you from giving one last affectionate peck on his lips before backing down with your feet fully on the ground. You give him a bright smile, not paying any attention to how you feel your entire face and neck burning, focused only on Mark Lee and how your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your rib cage soon.

"That was… great," His smile makes his entire cheekbones go upwards, exposing some cute dimples on their way. He looks at you like you're his entire world, and for a second, you're lost in the way his eyes twinkle, almost if they are lost brothers of the shiny stars in the night sky. He leans his head towards you again, his forehead against yours and eyes staring at your soul. His left hand goes to his blazer pocket, taking a red pendrive from it and offering to you.

"What is this?" You take it, fingers carefully touching the device as if they were some kind of lost treasure. Mark grins at you.

"It's called Dear Dream, actually—"

“MARK FUCKING LEE, HOW DARE YOU”

You let out a high pitched scream, feeling someone throw all their weight on top of you, almost making you lose your balance and fall down if it wasn't for Mark and his spidey-sense reflex, supporting you with his arm behind you. 

"LEE DONGHYUCK, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" 

You finally come down to earth after near death experience— Is your heart still beating? Just to be sure, you put your palm on your chest, feeling the unsteady beats combine with the deep breaths. Donghyuck has one arm around you, and another in Mark's shoulders, crocodile tears on his face. You see Renjun running through the entrance, screaming something at the other boy, Chenle and Jisung after him with some big smiles and Jaemin and Jeno at the back, grinning like some twisted version of proud parents™

"You absolutely fucking bastard! How dare you?!" Hyuck shrieks, and you take a step back just to make sure you're not caught in the crossfire, however, you don't let go of Mark's right hand. "I come to make sure y/n hasn’t killed herself and suddenly you appear out of nowhere?! What the fuck— I'm feeling extremely betrayed right now what the hell"

"Hyung!" Jisung exclaims, wide eyed "What are you doing here?" 

"None of you actually know?" Mark gasps, glaring at Jeno and Jaemin, both of them shrugging off "What— I thought I asked you two to deliver the news?"

"Nah, too much work." Jaemin smirks innocently, making his best to show puppy eyes to be let off the hook. "We were like, debating if we should let the crybabies know, because it would be really cool if we were drowning in tears in one moment and in the next— boom! Mark Lee is fucking back! Oh, no, not actually back, but you got the hang of it"

"What do you mean crybaby?" Hyuck whines, still clutching Mark as if he was afraid of letting him go. "I'm not a crybaby, what are you saying? I’m suing you for spreading wrong rumors about my cold, totally devoid of emotions—"

"You're crying" Chenle deadpans, an amused smile decorating his face. 

"Besides, it was a nice surprise, wasn't it?" Jeno grins sheepishly, his hands buried deep in his pockets. "The plan worked— Hyuck is crying, y/n is crying, Jisung is trying to disguise his tears but we all saw it anyway and Injunnie is crying somewhere deep inside!"

"I cried a lot and ruined all of my makeup, I hope you're proud," You sniff bitterly, making everyone laugh at your miss fortune. You feel Mark's thumb caressing the back of your hand fondly.

"Donghyuck has the worst timing ever, I swear to god—" Renjun rolls his eyes, glaring at said boy who whines again in response. You feel the heat going back to your cheeks, suddenly shy under the knowing gazes of your friends

"I dunno what you're talking about?" You pout childishly, hoping that they save you from all the teasing and embarrassment, but of course they won't.

"Good try, our dear y/nnie!" Renjun smirks at you, finding amusement on how your cheeks redden up, along with Mark's neck turning a slight pink colour. "But well, you see, Mark has his lips tinted in red, and he hasn't let go of your hand since we found you two— So tell me, are you finally together after all this time of simping for each other like some kind of dumb Disney movie?"

"Fuck you Renjun," Mark sighs, earning another laugh from the dreamies. He raises your connected hands in the air, showing them to the world, and you watch with a dumb smile as your friends' faces lighten up one by one until all of them have that same genuine smile. 

"It happened?" Jisung mutters rhetorically, awestruck. You feel your eyes water with all those overwhelming emotions, but you limit yourself to a simple nod, curving your lips upward. Mark smiles shyly, not answering the youngest with words, but rather with actions. He gives you a light peck on the top of your head, proud with how their faces soften.

"I'm happy for you. You deserve someone good, hm? Not that our Markie is the bestest example, but c'mon, he's at least decent!" Donghyuck says teasingly, letting go of Mark to envelop you in a bear hug with a little laugh, his hand messing with your hair. You nod against him, not trusting yourself to come up with a verbal response, "I still hate Mark for not telling us earlier that he was coming to prom, but I guess that everything ended well, so perhaps we can forgive him, right?"

"Yeah," You chuckle, amused with Hyuck's antics and your boyfriend's absolutely done expression. 

Boyfriend, hm? That sounded good in your ears.

"Hey, now that we sorted this mess, let's go inside" Jeno pleads, sighing. "We're kinda losing the whole point of prom being outside like this—"

You hum in agreement and all of you set off to go back inside, your hand finding Mark's one naturally as you match each other's pace. He suddenly stops, clearing his throat and successfully gaining the attention of everyone.

"Hey guys, let's do this" His voice is firm, confident. You send him a confused look, but he just smiles proudly at all of you. "Yo, dream!"

it's all flooding back, this is only one part

this is just a bit, believe this is our bookmark

we were swept away by the current so naturally

but i don't want this to sound like

we're about to depart

 if i ever get lost

i won't turn to dust

i'mma call back,

don't forget my tone

whenever you shout out like we used to

hope we always feel like,

“Let´s do it! Fighting!”

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

Speaking about disability in fiction, would you say Toph from a:tla is one of the best written disabled character? Is there anything that could've been improved about her character?

DEAR FUCKING GOD do I love Toph.  I would humbly submit to have Lady Toph “The Blind Bandit” “The Runaway” “Greatest Earthbender of All Time” “Inventor of Metalbending” Beifong harvest my organs to achieve eternal life if such a thing were possible.  There are a ton of things that Avatar: the Last Airbender does really well when characterizing Toph, and a few I wish they’d done differently.  [PLEASE NOTE: I am nondisabled, so if I err, please tell me so.]

Is she one of the best-written disabled characters?

She’s certainly a damn cool character whose disability informs but does not define her.  I can’t really say if she’s “the best” or one of, because I haven’t read everything, but I can say that I really like her.

First of all, her story is intersectional AS FUCK.  Toph’s gender, her disability, and her social class are so inextricably linked that there’s no analyzing any single element in a vacuum.  She’s all about being tough and independent.  Partially that’s about being underestimated because of her disability.  Partially that’s about being commodified because of her gender.  Partially that’s about being privileged due to her upper-class upbringing.  All three interact to inform her identity.

“Tales of Ba Sing Se” shows that blindness bars Toph from certain aspects of femininity — she can’t perform the traditional motions of making herself up, attracting young men, being pretty and delicate — which causes her to embrace a more accessible masculine identity.  “The Runaway” shows that Toph enjoys femininity as well as masculinity, but that she struggles to build nurturing relationships when she’s concerned with appearing weak, and that that sometimes leads her to cross ethical boundaries.  “The Chase” and “Bitter Work” are all about how Toph values her independence above all else — because she’s had to struggle against her gender and disability influencing others’ perceptions, but also because she’s had the privilege to avoid helping others due to her social class.  In “The Ember Island Players” she loves being represented by a big tough strong man, but she also clearly associates masculinity with power in a way that becomes troubling when contrasted with Aang’s horror at being played by a woman.  Etcetera.

Even the whole Earth Kingdom’s role as a sort of middle rung of imperialism – less powerful than the Fire Nation, more powerful than the Water Tribes and Air Nomads — informs both the relative strictness of its gender roles and the ability of individual Earth citizens to subvert those roles.  Toph’s identity, like the identities of the other Avatar characters, is inextricably linked to her position in society.

Secondly, Toph has a lot of the features of a complex and agentic character, and her disability is neither ignored nor centralized.  She’s often right, as when she becomes the first person to trust Zuko and the only person capable of making Aang an earthbender.  She’s often wrong, as when she tries to justify theft with a “they started it” argument or belittles Sokka for being a non-bender.  She’s often somewhere in between, as when she chooses to let Appa get taken by sandbenders in order to protect her friends or gets into screaming matches with Katara over matters of procedure.

There’s also the fact that Toph interacts with certain environments differently based on her blindness, drawing attention to (in)accessible aspects of those environments the others wouldn’t have necessarily noticed.  She finds sand and wood flooring inconvenient, she hates navigating water and ice, and she initially avoids walking on metal.  Although she’s not a big fan of flying, she mostly adapts as long as her friends actually remember that she can’t navigate when they’re on Appa’s saddle.

When conflicts do occur with the environment, Toph puts the onus on the environments and on other people to adapt or help her to adapt.  She’s amused and annoyed when Sokka tries to fake correspondence between her and Katara, or stupidly asks why she doesn’t like libraries.  She rips the bottoms off of her shoes.  She calls attention to her inability to do things like scan the ground while flying when her friends are at risk of forgetting.  She plays into others’ assumptions to try and get onto ferries or get away with breaking the law.

Another thing I like: the art style for Toph avoids the trap of “draw sighted person, change eye color, call it a day.”  She doesn’t turn to face people most of the time when she’s talking to them, but also doesn’t seem totally clueless as to their relative locations.  She gets the lay of the land by stomping her feet or pressing a hand against the ground, not turning to “look” in various directions.  She doesn’t bother to keep her hair from blocking her eyes, because her bangs don’t interrupt any sight lines.  She’s neither a comically blind character who apparently can’t navigate at all with sound or touch, nor a dramatic “blind” character whose every action comes off as those of a sighted character.  Toph repeatedly mentions that she doesn’t get the value in sight, clapping back at the assumption that of course she’d want to be nondisabled.

[Image description: A screenshot from “The Chase,” which shows Toph shouting at Katara, with her face turned away from Katara.  Toph is pointing in anger, making it clear that she’s addressing Katara and that she knows Katara’s location relative to herself based on Katara’s voice.]

One last small but important victory for Avatar: it passes the Fries Test.  It has two or more disabled characters — I can explain why Zuko counts as disabled if anyone’s not sure — who survive to the end of the story without being cured, and who have their own narratives rather than existing primarily to educate nondisabled characters.  As a bonus, they have at least one conversation with each other about something that isn’t disability-related.  The Fries Test is meant to be a minimum standard for representation, much like the Bechdel Test, but it’s still nice to know that Avatar passes.

[Image description: A screenshot from “The Ember Island Players,” which shows Zuko and Toph sitting on the floor in a hallway of the theater, talking about the play and about Zuko’s uncle.]

Is there anything that could’ve been improved about her character?

If I ruled the world, or at least the Avatar writers’ room, I’d start with two changes.  One’s small-ish, one’s big and controversial.

The small-ish change: tweak Toph’s narrative to make her earthbending super-abilities less directly counter to her blindness.  As it is, she has shades of a superpowered supercrip: a disabled character from SF whose superpower primarily acts to nullify their disability, thereby giving them the lived experience of a nondisabled person for most or all of the narrative.  Toph is definitely not an egregious example — she’s not Daredevil, who can use his superpowers to read handwritten papers, navigate unfamiliar environments, “feel” colors, detect tiny gestures, and shoot guns.  She does embody experiences with blindness like disorientation when flying and frustration with hanging posters.  She just also has several instances of not experiencing blindness when she (as she puts it) “sees with earthbending.”  I’m not sure what that tweak would look like, precisely, but I’d like to see one all the same.

The bigger change: I’d cast a different voice actor.  Jessie Flower is, based on what little I can find on Wikipedia or IMDB, not blind or visually disabled.  Disability rights activists are right now fighting hard against the trend of “cripping up,” wherein nondisabled actors use mimicry or makeup to pretend to have disabilities on TV and in the movies.  Avatar doesn’t go that far, because it doesn’t have Jessie Flower onscreen in (for instance) contacts that mimic blindness.  However, it nevertheless does not cast a blind actor for the role.  The issue here is that disabled actors are almost never allowed to play nondisabled roles… and disabled actors are also almost never allowed to play disabled roles either.  By failing to find a blind voice actor, the show denied that opportunity to a less-privileged talent.

The Guardian compares the issue to the way that cis actors of the wrong gender are too-often cast in trans roles, men used to play female characters onstage, and white actors used to play black characters in American movies.  I never know how much those comparisons make sense, because among other things they completely ignore intersections of those identities.  But I also think that it’s sometimes the best way to help people understand why excuses like “but it’s haaaaaaarrd to find blind female actors of Asian descent” don’t hold water.

And here’s where I go from “slightly controversial” to “extremely controversial” and might have to enter Witness Protection.  Avatar is getting a live-action adaptation in a few months.  I predict that it will cast a nondisabled actor to play Toph.  And I predict that the same voices which (rightly!) raised such a cry against “racebent” white actors playing Aang and Katara will be completely silent on the topic of “abilitybent” actors playing Zuko and Toph.  I’m saying this on Tumblr partially to get this statement out there:

I am an Avatar: the Last Airbender fan who will ONLY support the live-action show if it casts disabled actors to play disabled characters.

I’m saying it partially because I hope to be proven wrong, either because a blind actress will be cast as live-action Toph or at the very least because Avatar fans will object when a sighted actress is cast.  I’m also saying it because I think that fans can and should protest responsibly when marginalized voices are erased by beloved works of fiction.  Will casting a blind actress require more “work” to make the set accessible?  Probably.  Will casting a blind actress perhaps necessitate more CGI for fight scenes than using a sighted one?  Maybe.  Will it be worth it to cast a blind actress anyway, so that a girl with the lived experience of Toph can portray her on screen and actually get the chance to break into an industry that bars most blind girls from participating?  YES.

[beca-mitchell]

wish i could pretend i didn't need you (2/?)

Summary: Beca Mitchell is born into a life of organized crime, directionless and despondent. Then she meets Chloe Beale.

Chapter Summary: One week later, Beca and Chloe go on their "first" date.

Word Count: 3,564

Chapter title from "What Am I" by Why Don't We.

Read below. AO3 Link under the cut.

“Beca, piano is about precision, of course. But also...a delicate touch. Precision and gentleness all at once. Watch.”

Beca watches carefully, eyes trained on the keys her mother presses. Very intently, she tracks each motion, making sure to memorize the melody.

“Understand?” her mother asks, lifting a hand to sweep a strand of Beca’s hair behind her ear.

Beca furrows her brow in concentration before she places her hands on the keys and mimics exactly what her mother had down, copying the melody precisely. When she finishes, she beams up at her mother who smiles at her with pride and a little bit of another, then-unidentifiable emotion.

* * * * *

 Beca glances at her phone for the tenth time since she reached the corner of the block she had agreed to meet Chloe at.

Radio silence from her father. He must be in a good mood. Better for Beca if he is. She has been riding a wave of being nervous over her first date with Chloe. Chloe Beale, a twenty-seven year-old vet with a heart of gold and a devastating smile.

The whole date thing—that pretty much came out of nowhere, smashing into Beca with the force of a thousand sledgehammers. Any ensuing breathlessness, however, turned out to be breathless excitement and anticipation. She wasn’t...opposed to going on a date. She wasn’t opposed to seeing Chloe again, despite telling herself that she was just attracted to Chloe on a physical level and only that.

After that first night—that first morning—they had exchanged numbers, content on simply staying in touch—at least Beca is sure that was how she had phrased it. She had caught the lingering dash of disappointment on Chloe’s face as she had slowly slid from the bed. Whatever had caused her to partake in her next actions, well she totally blamed her lingering hangover (nonexistent hangover), but she had kissed Chloe again.

It was just...that time of year, she told herself. Continues to tell herself.

“Stupid,” she mutters to herself, now absentmindedly tapping through her phone. Her last text from Chloe—a cheerful On my way!—stares innocently back at her. Is she dating this woman now? Are they girlfriends? Is there—should Beca have brought flowers?

Huge oversights everywhere. Red flags everywhere. Beca runs through all the possible options in her mind, thoughts of her father so far out of her mind.

Ultimately, worst case scenario: Beca had, quite simply put, been unable to resist Chloe Beale that night and she had found that she needed the company more than anything. She rarely found connections with other people, let alone strangers. It was something ingrained in her from the beginning—something that had been impressed upon her as a child, then as a teenager, and continuously as an adult.

Don’t become attached.

“I hope I’m not late.”

Beca startles, quickly putting her phone away as she turns to greet Chloe. She stops—freezes—and for once, finds her mind going blank. No thoughts about her calendar. No thoughts about missed phone calls. No thoughts about missed shipments. No thoughts about her father, obligations, or meetings.

Just one thought: “Chloe, hi. Wow. Hi.”

Chloe’s hair, carefully curled and flowing over her shoulders, ruffles in the wind. She is wearing a denim jacket over a black shirt and black jeans which Beca can tell hug her hips and thighs beautifully. Somehow, despite the simplicity, Beca feels underdressed in her own nice sweater and jeans.

“That’s a good wow, right?” Chloe’s voice holds a teasing lilt to it, like she knows exactly why Beca is so flustered. She probably does, Beca muses. Beca wonders if they can kiss—wonders why she has all kinds of knowledge about various weapons, business transactions, and how to get the deal she wants, but none—well, hardly any knowledge—about how to handle a normal first date with a beautiful woman.

She goes with the first thing on her mind.

“You’re…” Beca swallows, eyes tracking down Chloe’s body. “You’re beautiful.”

“I…” Chloe blushes, shy for once under Beca’s gaze. “Thank you.” Beca holds her breath, wondering if Chloe will kiss her; wondering if that would be odd. Chloe smiles, leaning in to press a kiss against her lips, allowing a brief moment of indulgence when Beca’s tongue sweeps across her lower lip, almost politely. It makes Chloe giggle, causing her to draw back to Beca’s disappointment.

“What?” Beca asks. She licks her lips unconsciously, taking a step back. It is so different seeing Chloe like this in the drifting sunset and on a public walkway, without the shadow of night and alcohol, all tangled up in their bedsheets. “Did I do something?”

“Nothing,” Chloe promises, reaching out to gently tuck a curl behind Beca’s ear. “You’re just a lot more shy today, considering what we did last week.”

Beca laughs, a breathless sound, tilting her body slightly so she can face away from Chloe just enough to hide the blush rising on her face. She can hardly compartmentalize the sensation that flows through her then. The ease she feels with this interaction—Chloe is hardly somebody she would consider a confidante. More likely to be a liability if anything. A danger to herself if she were to ever get too wrapped up in Beca’s life.

The thought makes Beca swallow. Too much thinking about the future. Too much thinking about a guaranteed future with a woman she slept with once.

A woman with whom she is about to embark on a date.

A first date with somebody who has no idea who she is.

“Beca?” Chloe’s voice comes back into Beca’s depth. “If that is your name. Beca Mitchell,” she drawls.

“Sorry, what?” Beca asks quickly.

“Nothing you just…got all quiet and shy. I was just kidding.” Chloe beams at her, holding out a hand. “Want to get going then?”

“Oh, um.” Beca smiles, reaching out to hold Chloe’s hand, resisting the urge to shiver at how warm and soft Chloe’s hand feels in her own. “Let’s. And yes, my name is Beca, you weirdo.”

“Are you okay with going to Victor’s?”

Beca blinks in surprise at the mention of one of the restaurants where her family frequently conducts business. “Oh, um—”

“I just heard it had good reviews, and it’s close.”

“Oh, yeah. I’ve been there. It’s fine.” Beca doesn’t think much of it. She hasn’t been there often enough and never really for business in a high profile sense. She’s sure it’ll be a relatively easy-to-handle situation.

She’s on a date. She knows she isn’t working. She knows that her father knows that. But still, she misses what Chloe says in response, too focused on the logistics that have momentarily flooded her mind.

“Hey,” Chloe says quietly, stopping them in their tracks. She tugs on Beca’s hand expectantly. Beca swallows, looking up into Chloe’s eyes as Chloe is seemingly unaware of the people having to walk around them on the sidewalk, grumbling all the while. “I’m glad I get to see you again.”

Beca finds that she has only the urge to tell Chloe the truth—to be honest and open with this woman. It is different. Refreshing. “Me too,” she replies, smiling again when Chloe leans in to kiss her again, soft lips tender and gentle against her own.

 * * * * *

 Beca finds that she loves talking to Chloe—loves her company and her presence. That first morning together had been more of the same humorous banter. They had kind of gotten to know each other, but mostly Beca had basked in the comfort of Chloe’s presence and her touch.

(And more of some of the same activities that had brought them into Chloe’s bed in the first place, but that was just a bonus, Beca told herself.)

Tonight, however, is something more. Beca feels it. It had been what she had anticipated, with no small measure of nerves, when she had accepted Chloe’s text asking her on a date only a few days after they had gone their separate ways.

Tonight, together, they sit in the quiet corner of the restaurant, staying for hours until the lights dim and they realize that they’ve stayed until closing. Chloe turns to meet Beca’s bewildered expression and they both burst into quiet giggles as they quickly gather their belongings.

“That’s never happened to me before,” Chloe comments. “Staying until a restaurant has closed.” She flutters her eyelashes at Beca. “You’re a good date.”

Beca smiles, taking a moment to make sure her phone is in her pocket. As she does so, she notices one of the wait staff gesturing for her to go into the kitchen.

“I’ll be right back. Just going to the bathroom.” She pecks Chloe on the cheek, quickly making her way to the back of the restaurant. When she’s sure that Chloe isn’t looking, she ducks into the kitchen, brow already furrowed and her mouth set in a thin line. “This better be good,” she points out, clearly displeased.

The maître-d cowers under Beca’s gaze for a few seconds before she grows bored and turns her attention to the restaurant owner who, to his credit, walks right up to her without a care in the world. “Miss Mitchell—”

Beca’s jaw clenches. “Beca.”

He smirks at her. Her fingers twitch against her thigh, wishing more than anything she had something more than a switchblade on her. “Miss Mitchell, so kind of you to stop by our restaurant tonight.”

“I’m kind of busy, so if you could…” she motions with her finger. “Hurry up a little, that would be great.”

“Is that any way to talk to somebody who extended restaurant hours for you and your…” his eyes cut to the door with a knowing glint. “Your friend.”

“I’m not working tonight,” Beca says lowly in lieu of responding to the obvious bait. “What do you want?”

“Seems your associates left something behind the last time they passed through here. And shortchanged us on some money. When we agreed to help you, it was simply that—to pass through.” He lifts a small package, carefully wrapped and tied in string. “We can’t have things like this here.”

Beca smirks. “Are you sure that wasn’t just one of your employees taking a little something for themselves?”

He presses the package into Beca’s arms before stepping back. “Send your father my regards—or maybe I can call him to let him know I saw you tonight?”

Beca swallows back the immediate rage she had felt when the package pressed into her arms roughly. She quickly tucks it into the waistband of her jeans, finding no pockets in her chosen sweater for the evening. Already, she feels the tension in her chest about to snap—a combination of anxiety and frustration with yet another business mishap. A business dealing that she can’t even address properly because Chloe is sitting alone at their table in an empty restaurant, simply waiting for Beca to return from the bathroom. Definitely not thinking about the package of questionable substances (drugs, Beca assumes dryly) tucked into her date’s jeans.

“I’m sure your friend will understand if you…end the evening early. But we would be happy to help you find an escort to get her home.” 

Beca’s heart races. She meets his gaze defiantly. A litany of words threatens to escape, nothing particularly appealing or fitting for the current situation. She steadies herself mentally, attempting to plaster a neutral expression on her face. She goes for calculated reasoning and an even tone, hedging a bet as to what exactly happened to have caused a mix-up at this level. “Next time,” she says, keeping her voice low. “If you ever try to steal from us again, at least make the effort to own up to it instead of chickening out. Trying to save your own ass like this?” She shrugs, making her way back to the kitchen entrance. “Not a good look,” she finishes, without looking back.

The short walk back to Chloe feels like a lifetime, but Beca makes it. She releases a breath she hadn’t known she was holding the moment Chloe turns to face her. Chloe, who is blessedly alone, stands and her eyes flash with concern. “I was about to go find you. Thought you slipped out the back or something.”

There is levity in Chloe’s voice, but Beca senses the underlying hesitation. The uncertainty. That same uncertainty is reflective of the sheer newness of...whatever this is and already Beca feels like she has done enough damage for one evening. For as big as Los Angeles is, she has come to know, through experience, that there is rarely anywhere to hide. “Sorry, just had some business to take care of,” she apologizes, offering a sheepish shrug to mask the momentary guilt and dread that had crept through her.

Chloe grins. “I mean. I didn’t ask. But thank you.”

Beca blushes even though she had totally said that with the intent of diverting Chloe’s attention while also going for some honesty, though she’s sure Chloe doesn’t need to know about what happened in the kitchen. She doesn’t need Chloe to know about any of that.

“Shall we?” Beca asks, opting to change the subject instead.

“Okay,” Chloe agrees. She stands, reaching for Beca’s hand. The gesture and all its casual intimacy makes Beca swallow. She doesn’t dare look back to see if anybody is watching; she doesn’t dare look back to check if any unsavory eyes are focused on their actions. She is suddenly so aware of how empty the restaurant is, how they really are the only ones there. She just had become so distracted and enamored by her conversation with Chloe—the way her eyes had sparkled so beautifully under the gentle restaurant lighting.

Still, with Chloe’s hand in her own, Beca finds that she manages to remain stoic, ramrod straight back and all. Together, they leave the restaurant, Beca’s heart somewhere in her throat all the while.

“I...don’t want this night to end,” Chloe admits as they walk down the quiet street. Beca shifts her gaze from assessing the parked cars along the street to meet Chloe’s eyes.

“I don’t either,” Beca admits.

“Can I kiss you?”

“Didn’t you kiss me already?” Beca asks quickly with a twitch of her lips. Before she can even form a full smirk, Chloe’s hand comes up to cup the back of her head delicately and her lips descend on Beca’s. Softly, she kisses Beca, both of their eyes slipping shut at the sensation. Beca sighs quietly, reaching up to grip Chloe’s shoulders as she tilts her head to fully sink into the kiss. She tries to memorize the way Chloe kisses her. It is a mix of desire, tenderness, and newness all at once. There is nothing to memorize however, not quite yet, as Chloe’s technique shifts and changes seamlessly with each moment.

“Come back with me,” Chloe requests, pressing her fingertips more firmly against the back of Beca’s head. “Please,” she whispers, breath ghosting against Beca’s jaw. Beca whimpers quietly, lifting her chin to catch Chloe in another kiss, both of them sinking into the sensation. Beca feels her back hit the brick exterior of the nearby storefront. Chloe presses closer still, sliding a hand around Beca’s waist to hold her close. The action incites Beca’s back into arching so she presses more solidly against Chloe’s front, enjoying the sensation of their bodies slowly beginning to meld together so naturally. Beca reaches up to hold Chloe’s face, losing herself momentarily.

She is abruptly brought back to reality when she shifts her stance to nudge her leg between Chloe’s and the rough texture of the package still tucked into her jeans rubs harshly against her belly. She gasps, pushing Chloe back slightly, placing her hands against the collar of her jacket.

“Sorry,” Chloe says quickly, looking rather contrite. “I’m sorry, I just—I haven’t stopped thinking about—”

“No, no, um. Me too. It’s…” Beca gently nudges Chloe back further as she steps away from the wall. “It’s...I have to be somewhere tonight. See my dad.”

Chloe’s lips—already pink and swollen, sending a flash of desire through Beca’s body—curve downwards, but she nods in understanding. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes again. “I just thought…”

“No, I just...yeah. He called earlier and I should…” Beca blows out a breath, running her fingers through her hair. “I should...go. See him, I mean.”

Chloe smiles reassuringly, both of them relaxing as Chloe takes one of Beca’s hands off her jacket. She presses a slow kiss to Beca’s knuckles, sending a shiver down Beca’s spine. “It’s okay. I’m not really a...put-out-on-the-first-date kind of person anyway.”

That breaks the rest of the tension that had been lingering in Beca’s body and she has half a mind to say fuck it to her father (not a new feeling) and all of this bullshit and just go home with Chloe. She laughs, pulling Chloe boldly in for another kiss, but stopping before they can go any further. “Well. I mean, something tells me that’s a lie.”

Chloe scoffs. “Please. That wasn’t a date. You were just a hot girl I met at a bar.”

Beca raises an eyebrow. “And now?” she asks, a twinge of curiosity seeping its way into her tone before she can help it.

“One of the best first dates I’ve been out with,” Chloe murmurs. “And I want to see you again.” Her eyes seem to shine even more than Beca had previously thought possible. “If that’s okay with you.”

Beca finds herself smiling—a smile that very nearly stretches her face uncomfortably because she cannot recall ever smiling that widely. At least not in recent memory. “That is...super okay with me.”

“Super okay,” Chloe echoes with a playful smile. The sight makes Beca’s stomach swoop, but at the same time, she is only reminded of the pressure against her belly from both the anxiety and weight (figurative and literal) of the package. “By the way?” Chloe chirps. “I would totally break that first date rule. Just saying. If we just forget all that bar nonsense.”

Beca groans. “Shut up,” she murmurs, though she does not mean it. She wouldn’t mind hearing Chloe laugh for the rest of the night, but she knows she cannot.

 * * * * *

 Beca’s good mood dissipates fairly quickly as she punches in the number to her father’s gated house. She trudges up the path, ignoring the greetings and acknowledgements from the guards she passes along the way.

By the time she reaches her father’s study, passing all the ornate decorative pieces lining the hallways along the way, she is clutching the nondescript package in her clenched fist. Without knocking, she pushes through the doors.

He barely glances up from his book. “Beca. What’d I say about knocking?”

“I forgot,” she says breezily. She tosses the package on the desk in front of him. “This is yours, I believe?”

He sighs, taking his time to earmark his book before he removes his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Such manners,” he mutters. He peers at the package, reaching out to turn it over delicately, noting the small writings along its edge. “Didn’t know I asked you to go to Victor’s today.”

“I was…” Beca pauses, choosing her words carefully. “I was just having dinner there. They recognized me.”

“Oh? Having dinner by yourself? How was the food?”

“Fine,” Beca murmurs quickly, avoiding the first question deftly. “I didn’t have to bring this back, you know? You need to pick better fronts,” she points out, daring to show defiance for just a few seconds. She’s kind of banking on her father still being in a good mood.

“Do you have any suggestions?”

“No,” Beca responds quietly. Obediently. “It was just unexpected.”

“The price to pay when everybody wants a slice of the pie and we’re only just too willing to accommodate.”

Beca grimaces. She hates this aspect of their relationship. Whenever her father attempts to impress upon her the nobility of what they do. Or the respect they command. It makes her nauseous and ill to even entertain the thought of doing this for the rest of her life. She cannot envision it — not for herself and not for anybody she happens to be friends with.

Not that she has many friends. Less friends means less stakes in the long run.

“Anyway, that was all.”

“You should stay the night. I’ll have Beatrice make you up some breakfast tomorrow. It’s late anyway.” His eyes flash up at her. “Unless you have somewhere else you’d rather be?”

Beca schools her expression carefully as her mind quickly fills with images of fingertips trailing up her arm, down her side, across her tattoos. Delicate sighs. Desperate kisses.

Kind, bright blue eyes and a trusting expression.

“No,” she murmurs. “Nowhere.”

 * * * * *

 “Was that okay?” Beca asks expectantly, searching her mother’s eyes for positive reassurance. “I got all the notes right.”

Her mother’s lips twitch though they still rest in a gentle smile. “My dear,” she says gently. “It’s not about just getting the notes right. Your hands and your heart need to be in concert with each other.”

Beca’s brow furrows, a pout gracing her lips. “In concert?” she echoes.

Slowly, her mother takes Beca’s wrists and places her hands back on the piano. “Try again, but play from the heart. Nothing beautiful ever comes from following the rules.”

fin chapter 2 |  AO3

[terramythos]

TerraMythos 2021 Reading Challenge - Book 3 of 26

Title: Acceptance (The Southern Reach #3) (2014) - REREAD

Author: Jeff VanderMeer

Genre/Tags: Horror, Science Fiction, Ecological Horror, Cosmic Horror, Weird, First-Person, Second-Person, Third-Person, Unreliable Narrator, Female Protagonists, LGBT Protagonist

Rating: 10/10

Date Began: 1/11/2021

Date Finished: 1/20/2021

Area X, a self-aware wilderness along the coast, has existed for decades behind a mysterious border. The landscape itself annihilates humans and repurposes them for its own ends. Hundreds of people have died attempting to uncover its secrets. But no one has yet discovered its origins or true purpose.

Now, Area X has spread past its former borders, perhaps to the entire world. Acceptance follows several key figures through the history of Area X, and their attempts to fight against an impossible threat.  

You feel numb and you feel broken, but there’s a strange relief mixed in with the regret: to come such a long way, to come to a halt here, without knowing how it will turn out, and yet... to rest. To come to rest. Finally. All your plans back at the Southern Reach, the agonizing and constant fear of failure or worse, the price of that... all of it leaking out into the sand beside you in gritty red pearls. 

Full review, major spoilers, and content warning(s) under the cut.

Content warnings for the book: Extreme body horror, altered states of mind, and psychological manipulation, including hypnosis. Several characters lose their sanity, and you see it happen in real time from their perspective. Intentional self-harm/mutilation as a plot point. Some violence and gore. There are brief references to animal abuse and terminal cancer. Not many happy endings in this one.  

This review contains major series spoilers. It’s also super long, as the book covers a lot of material. 

Acceptance is the most narratively ambitious book in the Southern Reach trilogy. While Annihilation and Authority feature a single protagonist/perspective, this one has four rotating POVs and one guest narrator partway through the book. It also covers a broader timeline than previous entries, from the origins of Area X 30-ish years ago to the ongoing present-day apocalypse. Acceptance is one of the few books I've read that utilizes first-, second-, AND third-person narration in a single volume, adopting whichever one makes the most sense for the character and their situation

While this sounds complicated, it's basically just a way to tell four different stories at the same time. VanderMeer also uses each storyline to address the major questions of the series. How did Area X come to be? What happened to the biologist? What was the former director of the Southern Reach trying to accomplish? And perhaps most pressing-- what is the fate of the world now that Area X has spread? Not everything is resolved, but it's definitely a conclusion.

The stories have some unifying connections, containing similar themes and callbacks/references to each other. However, for the purposes of this review I will be looking at each story and protagonist individually.

First up is Saul Evans the lighthouse keeper. He's been mentioned before, but never in much detail. Going in, we know a few things-- (1) he knew the director/Cynthia when she was a child and (2) something happened to him that turned him into the Crawler, the eldritch creature which writes the sermon on the walls of the tower in Area X. In Acceptance, we learn he's a former preacher who had a crisis of faith and left his old life, taking up the role of lighthouse keeper on the forgotten coast. It's implied this is partially due to him realizing he's gay and fleeing the resulting homophobic fallout. His past vocation explains the elevated, sermonic language of the words in the tower.

From the onset Saul is an intensely likeable character. He's trying to build a happier and more genuine life for himself. This part probably takes place during the 70s or 80s, but he's cautiously optimistic about his new life with a local fisherman named Charlie. He also forms an unlikely friendship with Gloria (aka Cynthia), a local kid who loves exploring the coast. However, he is tormented by the "Séance and Science Brigade", a shady organization that investigates/worships(?) paranormal phenomena. They sabotage the lighthouse beacon, which we learned in Authority is a marvelous piece of technology with a mysterious history. Shortly after, Saul accidentally absorbs a fragment of the beacon into himself, and shit goes downhill real fast.

While the catalyst of Area X may seem a little weird, the reader can piece together that part of the beacon has extraterrestrial origins, and Saul unintentionally activates part of it. The gradual shift from a normal life to something deeply unsettling has its appeal. I especially like seeing his logs/journal entries and how they devolve as proto-Area X overtakes his mind. The disturbing bar scene near the end is great as well. We know going in that this story has a bad ending (from a human perspective), but learning specifics about Saul as a person gives this more impact. Saul's is a sad tale of a man who wants to make a better life for himself and gets screwed over by bad luck.

Cynthia/Gloria/the former director is the next perspective character. In Annihilation she serves as the antagonist, but in Authority we learn it isn't that simple. She had ulterior motives, handpicking the biologist for the expedition in order to use her as a weapon against Area X. And, of course, we learn she was the little girl in that old picture of Saul, which means she probably grew up there before the border came down. 

This part opens with Cynthia/Gloria's death as "the psychologist" in Annihilation, but told from her perspective. From there, the pacing is a little slow, in similar style to Authority. We learn how Cynthia lived her daily life, how she infiltrated the Southern Reach, and her interpersonal relationships with Grace, Whitby, and Lowry. However, her storyline ramps up when detailing Area X and the lead up to twelfth expedition. Lots of old scenes/dynamics from Annihilation hit different with the new context. Especially interesting is the interview between Cynthia and the biologist; turns out there was a lot more context that the biologist obscured in her story. On some level we already knew she was an unreliable narrator, but it's fun to have it pop up again in a different book entirely.

I admire how VanderMeer makes someone who comes off as a throwaway villain into the one of the most complex, important characters in the series. This part is also really cool as it's written in second-person perspective, and the story justification for this (Area X examining her memories) is neat. While I like Cynthia's characterization in this part, the additional bits in Saul's story and his interactions with Gloria add helpful context and emotional impact. The end of the book being her letter to Saul is so damn sad.

The third main storyline follows Control and Ghost Bird in the "current" timeline-- exploring Area X in the immediate fallout of Authority. I love this part for several reasons. The contrast between the two leads and how they perceive themselves, Area X, and the current situation is great. Control is very much losing control, feeling "the brightness" taking over (a callback to Annihilation). Meanwhile, Ghost Bird is in her element, seeing and experiencing things the regular human characters do not. There's the sense that she's truly something "new" in terms of both humanity and Area X.

We also learn a ton of stuff about Area X that is hinted in earlier volumes but confirmed in Acceptance. (MAJOR SPOILERS) The first is that Area X isn't on Earth at all; something briefly hinted at in Annihilation, when the biologist doesn't recognize the stars in the sky.  Instead it mimics Earth, or something representative of it. The second big thing is that time works differently here. The uncanny state of decay noted in earlier books isn't actually a direct result of Area X. It's just the passage of time, because way more time passes in Area X compared to the "real" world.

The guest narrator/story is told within the Control/Ghost Bird storyline. The two meet up with Grace, who has managed to survive the Area X attack on the Southern Reach. She took shelter on the mysterious northern island and discovered an old journal written by... the biologist from Annihilation, which details what happened to her over the last THIRTY YEARS (yeah, the time thing) until she finally decided to give into Area X.

This section is sobering and sad; basically a glimpse at how the biologist's isolation slowly made her go mad. She finds an owl (hello cover) that she believes is her husband post Area X conversion and the two live together for decades. When it dies, the biologist loses the will to keep fighting Area X. It's ambiguous if the owl really is her husband, or if she's just projecting, but her heartbreak at the end is probably the strongest emotion she shows in the series. But what is interesting about this part is it confirms a cool detail. Injury and pain can halt the progression of "the brightness" within someone. Which is how the biologist managed to survive 30 years, how Grace survived what turns out to be 3 years, and so on. Even more interesting, when someone DOES finally succumb after warding off the brightness this way, they turn into something more strange and alien. Hence the moaning creature, and Saul/the Crawler. It's also probably why some creatures have incongruencies, like the dolphins with human eyes.

The biologist? She transformed into a giant, oceanic eldritch abomination COVERED in eyes. Just primo aesthetic. We get to see her from both Ghost Bird and Control's perspectives. Ghost Bird feels solidarity and a sort of euphoria meeting her alternate self. Control... basically breaks in the face of something like that, full cosmic horror style. Again, the contrast here is really appealing to me.

Both of their story arcs end in a way that is narratively satisfying, though the ending is open. The future seems hopeful in a bittersweet way, but presumably Area X has destroyed humanity as we know it. Whether that's a good or bad thing depends on your perspective and is a central thesis of the series.

So, I said I'd discuss how this series approaches aliens. While there's an appeal to anthropomorphic alien species one can talk to and communicate with, I think an "unknowable" perspective is more realistic. After all, who's to say alien life formed under similar conditions or has any resemblance to our own? The extraterrestrial element in The Southern Reach is very much this type. But it's a fine line to walk in fiction, because handwaving the weird alien stuff as impossible to comprehend (and thus conveniently ducking any responsibility for explaining it) is lazy writing when done wrong.

The thing I find interesting about this series is the human characters understand lots of the what of the alien elements, but not the why. For example, Area X transforms humans into various plants and animals. We know it instills a sense of "brightness" in humans exposed for too long, which encourages assimilation into itself. Humans infected in this way, even if horrified or resistant, have thoughts of this being inevitable, even a good thing. The biologist takes samples in Annihilation and finds several plants and animals have human cells. Control logically knows what Area X does to people, but he is ultimately helpless to resist the process when he experiences it firsthand.

As for the why of it all... we don't really know! There's multiple ideas presented throughout the story. Ghost Bird probably gets closest to the "truth"; that Area X is part of a machine organism from a dead alien civilization, and that it has a bizarre effect on Earth's biology based on its now defunct programming. Other worlds would have their own Area Xes based on this idea, as it's implied the Earth version is just one piece of many. But it's worth noting that Ghost Bird is a creation of Area X and sees things differently than the other characters. Unreliable narration is ironically consistent through the series. So it's hard to say if this is true or not; perhaps it's silly to think any explanation would be understandable to a human mind. Obsession with finding the answer is a recurring theme that drives characters insane. I think this is an interesting compromise when discussing the unknowable; to have some facts and theories but not necessarily a concrete answer. 

If I have a criticism for this book, it's the role of the "Séance and Science Brigade", especially in Saul's storyline. While they're set up earlier in the series, we only really see them in this book. Our limited perspective via Saul leaves a lot of ambiguity as to their purpose, function, and goals. There's an implication that Control's family influenced the organization's decision to sabotage the beacon and create Area X. But I consider the subplot with Control's mom/grandfather to be one of the weaker ones in the series, and this book didn't help. The S&SB comes off as campy and ineffectual, which is perhaps intentional? But since they're narratively the fanatics who caused Area X to happen, I really wish they felt more sinister and impactful. There's some attempt to make them scary, but it's not very convincing when compared to Area X. Kind of like a Saturday morning cartoon villain vs the unknowable cosmic horror of the universe. This is a nitpick, though.

While rereading the series, I discovered there's a planned fourth book which may or may not star a minor character from Saul's story. I'm interested to see what else there is to explore about Area X and the Southern Reach. As it stands, I still really like this series. Between the horror and general weirdness, it's not for everyone, but it sure does appeal to me. I think this is one of those series that you'll either adore or hate. Obviously I recommend it.

[love-and-monsters]

Wyvern Prince 18

M wyvern X F reader, 3028 words.

You didn’t want to confess your relationship for the rest of the trip, which Davrakoss seemed to understand However, it was clear that he was also less willing to hide. He stood closer to you in public and didn’t even bother to disguise his hatred for the guard that had struck you. Even the most oblivious of people would have been able to see how he shifted you away from the guard protectively.

It was on the day you were scheduled to return home that everything finally boiled over. You stood next to Davrakoss, his tail wrapped around your leg under your dress. “How’s your face?” he asked for what felt like the eightieth time in the past three days.

“It’s fine,” you said. The swelling had gone down and the bruise had gone from a deep purple to a sort of greenish-yellow around the edges. There was still a deep ache there, one that rose to the surface at the lightest touch or jostle.

“It still doesn’t look fine,” he said. “It must hurt.”

“A bit,” you admitted.

Davrakoss’ hand brushed against yours, dangerously close to linking fingers. “When we get home, I’ll make it up to you,” he said.

“There’s nothing for you to make up. You’re not the one who hit me.”

Davrakoss opened his mouth, but the approach of the carriage cut him off. He straightened, hand falling away from yours. Your stomach sank as the guard approached, gaze falling upon you.

Without looking up, you stepped forward and pulled open the carriage door. Davrakoss stepped forward to enter the carriage, then paused.

“Ride with me,” he told you. It was the sort of haughty tone he used when he was trying to mimic the entitled nobles. He wasn’t just requesting that you join him. He was demanding it, preparing to throw a fit if what he wanted wasn’t allowed.

“That would be-” the guard began, but Davrakoss turned and fixed the guard with a piercing, angry stare.

“She’s mine,” he said, “and if I want her to ride with me, she will.”

You weren’t looking directly at him, but from what you could see, he no longer looked entirely human. His teeth were all sharp and there was something feral about the slope of his cheeks and nose. His eyes were blazing, no longer warm and comforting, but as wild and uncontained as a forest fire.

“Yes, sire,” the guard said. He took a step back, dipping his head. Davrakoss turned back toward you, expression softening. He tilted his head toward the interior of the carriage and you followed him up the steps and inside.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you said as you closed the carriage door. You couldn’t bring yourself to sound disapproving.

“I know,” Davrakoss said. He didn’t sound very sorry. “Come here.”

He put his arms around you, letting you settle on his lap. The warmth he radiated chased away the last chill of the morning. “We should talk,” he said.

“About coming clean?” you asked. Davrakoss nodded.

“I know you said you maybe weren’t ready yet,” he said hesitantly.

“But we have to do it eventually,” you said.

Davrakoss sighed, stroking his hand over your back. “That would be preferable.”

“Especially because you’ve been more obvious lately.” The tiniest hint of bitterness managed to slip into your voice.

“I just did not want him to think that he could get away with hurting you again.” His hand brushed against your cheek for a moment, retreating when you winced. “He’s an ass.”

“Can’t argue with that,” you said.

“What I wanted to speak about was how exactly we should announce our relationship,” he continued. “I think you would know better than I what the best course of action would be.”

“Maybe,” you said. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“I didn’t think you had,” Davrakoss said with a small laugh. “But you are at least aware of how we should go about this? Should we announce it, should we just change our behavior, should we do some combination?”

“Um.” You had to consider it for a few minutes. Davrakoss let you lean on his chest. “I don’t really know. The other nobles, usually their courtships are announced, but that’s more of a political thing. It’s like a political announcement. Our relationship wouldn’t change anything politically, so I don’t know if we have to do that. We still need to tell people, though.”

“Oh. I should tell my parents,” Davrakoss said. “They’ll want to meet you again.” You glanced up at him. “It’s all right. They liked you last time you came by.”

“I guess I would prefer your parents to the noble court,” you said. “The best way to announce it would probably be you officially announcing your entry into a relationship. Essentially, it would take you off the market.”

“And how would I do that?” Davrakoss said.

“There’s a courtly meeting once a week, a feast that is basically used as a political gossip session for all the nobles. You’ve never attended it, I assume?” Davrakoss shook his head. “No, you’re not much for all that courtly gossip. It’s used to announce relationships and those sorts of things. If you went, you could announce that you were engaging in a relationship with me. It’ll be well-known in the castle by the end of the week.”

Davrakoss nodded. “Will you come with me?”

Nerves squirmed through your stomach. “You want me to come?”

“I don’t know much about the event,” Davrakoss said. “You know at least more than I do. I imagine you would at least be a help there.” He stroked his fingertips through your hair. “And you would be much better company than anyone else there.”

“If you really want me to come, I will,” you said. Davrakoss caught the back of your head and pulled you in close. His lips pressed delicately to yours. Then his hand slipped up and pressed to your bruised cheek and you leaned back with a groan.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Davrakoss said hurriedly as you grimaced. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, it just hurts,” you said.

“That doesn’t sound fine.” He lowered his hand so he was hugging you against him again. His fingertips tickled against your neck. “Your heart is beating very fast.”

“I’m nervous,” you admitted. “About the announcement.”

“We’ve got a few days,” Davrakoss said. “And once it’s over, I’ll be able to protect you more. You can stay with me.”

Warmth flooded your body at the thought of being able to spend nights in Davrakoss’ room. “Things will be… different.”

“Better,” Davrakoss said. “We won’t have to hide.”

“Things aren’t going to change that much for you. They’re going to change a lot more for me,” you pointed out.

Davrakoss fell silent for a moment. “Things changed a lot for me when I came here,” he said gently. His hand trailed along your back, then back up to your neck. “I’d never interacted with humans very much. I’d certainly never interacted with nobles. I had no idea what to do or how to interact with anyone. I was scared.” His voice had the slightest quiver to it. “But then you were there.” The shiver in his voice faded, replaced with something almost like reverence. “You were not a noble and you were always there. Willing to help. I knew it was your job, but still, I was so grateful. You were someone I could just be with, with no fear of your agenda. You helped me. And when you were done helping me, I wasn’t scared anymore.” He gave a light chuckle, stroking your bangs out of your face. “I was in love.”

“You’re saying that I made things easier for you,” you said.

“I’m saying that you helped me through one of the most difficult periods of change. I would be more than happy to do the same for you.” He smiled down at you, all sharp teeth. “And I can certainly make life very unpleasant for those who seek to harm you.”

You laughed and settled back into his arms. It was difficult to let the anxiety go, but eventually, with his gentle convincing, you managed.

The nerves returned soon after you got back to the castle and by the end of the week, you were swarming with it.

“Sorry,” you muttered as your shaking fingers failed to clasp a ring onto Davrakoss’ horn. It clattered against the floor and Davrakoss turned his head to look as you picked it up.

“It’s all right, my love,” he said as you clipped the ring into place. “I won’t let anything harm you.”

“I know. I just don’t know what’s happening next and that’s what’s bothering me.” Davrakoss caught one of your hands and gave it a squeeze before standing up.

“Like I said before. You helped me when I was in a new situation and now I’m happier than ever. The same thing will happen to you.” He smiled down at you, eyes glowing. “And I have a gift for you.”

He vanished into his closet for a moment before emerging with a small box. The box was a deep green color and soft to your touch. Davrakoss smiled encouragingly, so you carefully slipped your fingers into the seam and popped it open.

Sitting inlaid in the box was a small necklace. It was less ostentatious than the ones you would see other nobles wearing, which were so heavy with metal and jewels you were surprised they could keep their heads up. The chain was thin and simple, with an oval-shaped topaz set among a small cluster of emeralds.

It looked exactly like one of Davrakoss’ eyes surrounded by emerald scales.

“Oh,” you said quietly. You had never owned a piece of jewelry so elaborate and beautiful. You barely owned any jewelry at all.

“Do you like it?” Davrakoss asked. “I commissioned it for you.” He took the necklace delicately out of the box and brushed your hair away so he could clasp it around your neck. “I wanted something to remind you that I will always be there for you.”

You had to take a deep breath to stave off the tears that were prickling at you eyes. “Thank you.” The necklace settled round your neck, cool and heavy against your skin. You brushed your fingertips over the jewels, feeling their smooth surface. “I love it.”

Davrakoss kissed your cheek. “I’m glad.” He offered you a hand and you took it, feeling the rings on his fingers press against your skin. “We should be going, shouldn’t we?” He didn’t sound eager to do so.

“If we don’t want to be late,” you said. “You could probably get away with it, though. You’re important enough.”

“Hm,” Davrakoss glanced at the door. “If I can be a few minutes late…”

He pressed his lips to yours before you realized that he was leaning in. He was careful not to put his hands on your bruised cheek, letting them rest under your chin instead. You wound your fingers into his silky hair, sighing into his soft, gentle mouth.

It was hard to tell how long you were kissing for. Time seemed to melt away until Davrakoss broke back, gasping. “We’re going to be more than a few minutes late,” he said. He shook out his mussed hair and sighed. “We can pick up where we left off when we get back.”

“Mm,” you murmured in agreement. Your stomach turned with nerves and you had to take a few stabilizing breaths. “Are you ready?”

“Of course,” he said. “Are you?”

“I think so.”

Davrakoss looked at you cautiously for a moment. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” you said. Your voice grew steadier. “I’m ready.”

Davrakoss squeezed your hand before opening the door and stepping outside. You stayed a short distance behind him, your necklace tucked into your collar. It felt surreal. Within the hour, you would no longer be an anonymous servant, but someone who was dating a noble. Dating the prince of the wyverns. You struggled to keep your breathing even.

Davrakoss paused outside the tall, wooden doors that led to the banquet hall. “Are you all right?” he asked.

“Nervous,” you admitted. Davrakoss reached out to take your hand. You automatically tried to pull away, glancing around for any prying eyes, before you realized that such actions would soon be unnecessary.

“Remember. I’ll help you through this.” He squeezed your hand and raised your knuckles to his lips. “Deep breaths. This will be over soon.”

You took your hand back and Davrakoss pushed open the door. The murmur of gossip didn’t exactly cease as he stepped inside, but it did dull somewhat. You could see heads turning before the murmur started up again in full force.

Another one of the servants, your superior, approached Davrakoss. “Sire,” he said, bowing deeply. “It is an honor to have you here. Please, let me direct you to your seat.”

The room had two long banquet tables, one for upper nobles and one for the lower nobles. Davrakoss was led to the upper nobles table and seated near one of the queen’s sons. They nodded to each other politely.

You stood behind his chair, glancing around the room. Nobles dressed in brightly-colored clothes walked between the tables, speaking to one another. Davrakoss took a sip of wine, eyes lowered to the table. You got the feeling he was also trying to ignore exactly how many eyes were pointed toward him. His tail tapped gently against your leg under the table.

As much as everyone seemed interested in Davrakoss’ presence, no one seemed keen to approach him. Even those who stared boldly turned their heads away when his gaze approached theirs. His own presence had become more severe since you’d entered the room. There was something increasingly tight about the way his shoulders sat, and a furrow had developed between his brows. You were surprised by a sudden and intense desire to work your hands over his shoulders until the muscles loosened again.

Gradually, the nobles dispersed to their seats. There were several spots at the tables that you were fairly certain were set only out of politeness, not out of the expectation that anyone would show up. The queen’s seat was empty, as were several other high-ranking positions, and you were aware that they rarely, if ever, showed.

Food was set out on beautiful, elaborately carved plates. Other servants skittered around Davrakoss, shying away from his gaze. You stayed just behind him, trying to be as comforting as possible while still not saying or doing anything too obvious.

After a few minutes of eating, nobles began to stand up and make announcements. It started at the table for lesser nobles, with mostly banal announcements. One mentioned a marriage proposal, which earned some polite applause. Another spoke about a hunt that would be happening soon. Still another mentioned a celebratory party.

The posturing was irritating. Events were announced publicly, but invites were always sent privately. It made it more obvious when someone was deliberately snubbed. Just the sort of calculated social behavior nobles were known for.

Huh. Had Davrakoss ever received an invite to one of these events? You would have to ask him later. Nobles never allowed servants to handle that kind of mail, lest they attempt to steal the invite as a souvenir, or, worse, a way to crash the party.

The announcements gradually worked their way around the room. Davrakoss watched with what seemed to be an expression of polite disinterest, but you could see the gradual tension creeping up his shoulders. His tail tapped against your leg in a steadily-increasing rhythm. You moved a little closer to the back of his chair, ignoring the nobles who gave you dirty looks. His tail wrapped fully around your ankle and stayed there.

The noble next to Davrakoss waved off the need to announce something. Gazes locked on Davrakoss. He stood. His tail was still around your ankle, keeping up an even pressure.

“I would like to announce that I have decided to engage in official courtship,” he began. Almost was soon as the words were out of his mouth, a corner of the room burst into whispers. He waited, frowning, until the noise had died down. “I am courting Sara Farhai.” He motioned to you, tail tightening further. You were starting to lose feeling in your foot. The murmuring started up again before his gaze swept the room, silencing them. “That is all I have to announce.”

He sat down again. You shifted your leg until his tail loosened. Murmurs filled the room and you could feel gazes on you. Davrakoss stared resolutely ahead and took a sip of wine.

The rest of the lunch passed in a blur. All you were really aware of was the gazes of the nobles and the murmurs that buzzed in your ears. You couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but their tones were disapproving.

As soon as the lunch had concluded, Davrakoss swept out of the room, with your hurrying along behind him. As soon as you were a safe distance away, he turned back to you. “How was that?” he asked.

“You did good,” you said. “So now everyone knows. Or, well. Most people know. Everyone will know soon.”

Davrakoss sighed out a low breath. “My parents should have gotten the letter by now. I expect to hear back from them within a few days.” He gave a weak smile. “Be prepared for another trip. They’ll want to see you again.”

“That’s all right,” you said. “It’ll probably be better than staying here for the time being. I am going to get mobbed by the other servants. They’re going to have a lot of questions about us.”

Davrakoss squeezed your hand. “Would you like to stay with me for a while?” he asked. You nodded and he began to head up the stairs, still holding your hand.

You had to admit, despite the nervousness, there was still a sort of relief that you no longer had to hide.

[caeruleis]

@unladylikc​ asked:

☾ for one muse to hug the other without explanation [ for gran! ofc, i feel like vivian's already comfortable with initiating affection since they're longtime friends, so maybe you could write him reacting to the hug, adhsjkahdjskajhkd -- ]

Softer Prompts || Accepting (feel free to turn into threads)!

                                                            ★ ☆ ✮ ✯ ― ☽ ― ★ ☆ ✮ ✯​

     He’s sat, crosslegged, on the deck with his back hunched over in a way that, probably, shouldn’t be physically possible and most certainly isn’t comfortable with his chin pressed hard into the calloused pad of his palm. Around him are piles of journals, a handful of quills, and lists that stretch out long enough that they’re draped over his lap and threatening to tumble across the length of the ship. His brows are scrunched up in a manner that is comical, and his lips are pursed tightly as he glares at the pages spread out before him. His gaze intense enough that it’s leaving crinkles upon his youthful skin that mimic how old he actually, physically, feels right now - part of which could be resolved if he were to just straighten his ailing back a bit. But, no, he was knee-deep and far too focused on the task at hand to actually do even that much. Of all the things he disliked, taking inventory and actually keeping track of their growing and impressive stash of supplies and treasures, and not even Bahamut knows what else - though he suspects Lucio might if he were to actually seek the other out and ask for his assistance, a terribly tempting idea that continues to sound all the more pleasant to his ears the longer he looks at the headache-inducing lists before him, but, for now, he’ll simply suck it up and try to manage it himself. He has, after all, already passed it off to someone else the last few weeks, and, as Captain, he should really actually be aware of what’s on his ship. Regardless of how much he really does not to do this. 

      Which was part of the reason he was out on the deck in the first place instead of holed up in his room with his body bent over his desk like he should be. First, it was much less boring to be out in the open than it was to be huddled up in his room - at least out here he could hear the chatter of the crew, and see a handful of the various members interacting with one another. Not to mention the fact that it was a beautiful day out. The crisp, summer air felt warm and soft against his skin, and the mild, barely noticeable breeze licked at locks of auburn hair. The sun was shinning, and the sky was a brilliant shade of blue. Everyone around him had finished their own work ages ago, taking this time to relax or play or train, and, yet, here he was - utterly miserable with a budding migraine and a back he was fairly confident was never going to click back into its proper position. All while pouring over more documents that he cared to count - each one more daunting and mindless than the last, as his other hand held a quill firmly between his fingers, using its base to scratch at his scalp beneath his windswept hair. This was just too cruel. Maybe he really should find Lucio and force this all onto him - he’d do it. He never really said no to anything. And, sure, that might be what one considers taking advantage of another, but, in his opinion, it was simply...teaching him about the way of the world he was so interested in. Sure. He’s going with that. That’s what it’s called. He’s totally not considering using the other because of his eager attitude and strange ability to process large quantities of items. 

       He’s already almost managed to half convince himself it wasn’t borderline abusive when he hears the sound of footsteps coming up behind him, and, assuming its someone needing something from him, he makes a painful attempt to straightening out his back - a loud crack sounding through the skies with the motion and he winces visibly before the final blow to what remains of his spine comes in the from of his childhood friend spontaneously hugging him from behind - knowing it was Vivian before he even actually tilts his head slightly to catch sight of her dark locks fluttering in the breeze. And there’s a slight, gurgled and hoarse groan that gets stuck painfully in his throat at the abuse he’s put his already stiff back through, but he still manages to offer her a fairly cheerful grin through the mild agony he’s currently in. Any excuse he has to not look at the numbers and words littering those pages is one he’ll gladly accept without hesitation. And he can’t say he’s unused to her random acts of affection, he has known her for years now; plus he’s been through enough that there’s not a whole lot that can surprise him anymore. 

    ‘Afternoon, Vivi,’ he lifts his hands to sign, belatedly realizes he’s still holding the quill then promptly throws it onto the deck unceremoniously, before continuing. ‘Somehow I have the feeling you’re not going to want to help me take inventory, but, hey, I love to be proven wrong so feel free to. Otherwise, I hope you’re enjoying this day for those of us who can’t.’ His expression remains light and fairly cheerful, it’s evident he’s not actually being all that serious, though, if he were, it would have been difficult to tell - he’s always been rather skilled at concealing his emotions, and studying body language as a result of losing his voice had simply made him all the more adept at it. So while his back still aches, he doesn’t it show more beyond the initial wince when it had cracked, and the strangled groan that had come when she had first embraced him.    

[puppyexpressions]

Interpreting Common Dog Behaviors & the Meaning Behind His Moods

Your pup's actions tell you a lot about his mood. And although you may not be fluent in the canine tongue–short of what it means when it salivates–you do need to learn how to interpret dog behavior. Have you ever witnessed your dog licking certain textures or circling the same spot in front of you? There are many reasons a specific dog state of mind or health concern may cause him to do these things. Once you pay attention to his behavior, you'll be able to help him.

1. Bad Breath

Dogs aren't known for having wonderfully minty breath, but if you notice a marked change with even a little halitosis, it might be time to take a trip to the veterinarian. There could be something wrong with your dog's oral health.

A change in the smell of your dog's breath may also be a cause for concern with respect to his gastrointestinal tract, liver, or kidneys. If your dog's breath smells of urine, for instance, he could have a kidney problem. Sweet-smelling breath is a sign to vets that your dog may have diabetes (especially if he's drinking more water and urinating more often). His overall dog mood may appear happy, but if his breath has changed, pay attention - let your veterinarian know.

2. Biting

Puppies may nip at you as they learn how to communicate with their pet parents. This usually happens while playing, as young dogs often communicate with their mouths when they interact. It may also happen during training, or for simply no reason you can identify. If your young one is nipping regularly, though, it's important to stop it before it develops into a more problematic dog behavior down the line.

Dogs bite out of anxiety, fear, or aggression. Can you identify which is motivating your pet to do so? Is his mood influencing his actions? If you're having trouble teaching your dog not to bite, consider working with a professional trainer, or better yet, a veterinary behaviorist. Your veterinarian should be able to recommend one for you.

3. Circling

Dogs who can't stop walking in circles may have a health issue. Yes, sometimes it's fun to chase your tail, but if your pup can't shake the compulsion, there's a problem beneath the surface. Ear infections may cause circling, but compulsive tail chasing may occur with bull terriers

Of course there may be other reasons your buddy is circling. Older dogs may suffer from idiopathic vestibular syndrome, and, not to alarm you, but all dogs are at risk for poisoning or a brain tumor. Only your vet can determine the cause of your dog's circling, so get him in for a checkup.

4. Digging

Dogs dig in the ground for many reasons: to escape, to track animals, to make a cool spot to lie, or to hide something important to them. However, some dogs "dig" inside as well. Have you ever noticed your dog scratching at the blankets or couch in order to find the perfect place to lie down? This dog behavior happens most often at night and during nap times, and it is completely normal.

If your dog's digging starts to bother you, or damage your furniture, consider working with a professional trainer to reduce this stubborn habit.

5. Eating feces

Dogs eat feces for many reasons; it can be a normal (while distasteful to us) dog behavior. Young dogs may watch their mother clean them (who ingests feces as a result), and mimic her. Fear may even cause your dog to eat feces if he's afraid of the repercussions. Then again, your dog may just be curious. He may smell certain scents in the feces and wonder what it tastes like.

Eating poop can also be an instinctive solution to a nutritional deficiency. Make sure you feed your dog a well-balanced food so you can completely rule out malnutrition as a reason for his eating waste. Contact your veterinarian especially if your dog is losing weight as well.

6. Head Pressing

If you notice your dog pressing his head against the wall or another firm object, there's a need for your immediate attention. Head pressing is a common sign of numerous serious problems, such as toxic poisoning or brain disease. Make an appointment with your dog's vet right away.

7. Panting

Dogs expel most of their body heat from their mouths. When your dog pants, he's probably too warm, so he is regulating his body temperature. However, it's important to pay attention to panting, as he may do it when in pain as well. Help your pal regulate his temperature and make sure he's well hydrated before any physical activity–especially as the weather warms up. If your dog was injured, get him to the vet immediately. Some other health problems may also show increased panting as a sign, so if you have a question, don't hesitate to contact your vet.

8. Sitting on Your Feet or Between Your Legs

This is often mistaken for possessive behavior, but is most often a sign of anxiety or nervousness. "Dominance" is rarely the problem; your dog is probably trying to feel safer by staying close.

Anxiety is often more than a dog trainer is qualified to help with so discuss the behavior with your veterinarian and see if your dog would benefit from a referral to a veterinary behavior specialist.

9. Scooting

Have you ever watched your dog drag himself across the floor . . . with his bottom on the ground? It may seem funny (or kind of disgusting). But it is also called scooting, and it means there's something irritating your dog's anus. It's possible that your pup's anal sacs are full and need to be expressed.

If your dog's anal sacs aren't backed up, the problem could be irritation for some other reason. Allergies may only show up as an itchy rear. While it's common to blame worms, it is an uncommon reason for the behavior. Check with your veterinarian to be sure your pal is on an appropriate parasite prevention program.

Finally, a dog who's a grass-eater, or likes to lick around the house, could have strands of grass or hair trapped in his anus that he's rubbing the ground to get out. This is the least-severe reason for scooting but the easiest for you to help him take care of.

10. Urinating

If your dog is house trained, it may come as a surprise if you see him urinating in your home. Dog behavior doesn't usually change without reason. Formerly reliable dogs who suddenly begin urinating inside need your attention! This is a sign that something may be very wrong with your furry friend, and when he relieves himself frequently–even if he is in the correct location–it can be a sign of a urinary tract, bladder, or kidney infection. In an older dog, it may even be a sign of dementia.

11. Yawning

Although you might think he needs some sleep, a dog yawn doesn't usually mean he's tired. He may be interested in napping, but he could also be showing a sign of fear or stress. If your dog appears to yawn at an increased rate around a new person, don't rush the introduction. He's either picking up vibes he doesn't feel comfortable with, or is fearful for a less-obvious reason. No matter what the case, a forced introduction isn't a good idea.

12. Anxiety Shows in Many Ways

Signs of anxiety include shaking, tail tucking, escapist behavior, defecating in the home, biting or injuring himself, barking, and many more.

Because they're technically pack animals, your dog may become fearful when left alone. If separation anxiety is a chronic issue for your dog, you'll both need to learn how to create a relaxing environment when you leave the house. Consider taking your dog for a long walk or play a rigorous game of fetch in your backyard to tire him out before you go. Don't make a big deal out of your departure, either. If you're still having trouble with separation anxiety, consider involving a professional who can work on behavioral training.

If your dog is experiencing any of these behaviors, and it's not normal for him, don't hesitate to make an appointment with his vet to rule out any systemic medical issues. Your once social, extremely energetic dog won't suddenly become lethargic and withdrawn. If he does, he's asking for some help.

[spartanguard]

to trust someone else

Summary: Emma's wondering if maybe she judged Hook too quickly when the man himself stumbles out of the forest—bleeding profusely. “I...I didn't know where else to go,” he murmurs. She has to decide if she'll trust in him, or continue to write him off as nothing but a villain. (Canon-divergent from 2x08)

rated T | 3.6k | AO3

A/N: Here’s my contribution to @csseptembersunshine!!  Thanks to the organizers of this event for putting it on!! This story was inspired by this tumblr post, but watered down a bit to hopefully avoid triggers. It’s still fairly whumpy though. Title comes from “Trust” by Christina Perri.

Despite the heat of the fire, Emma shivered; she still wasn’t used to the noise—or better yet, lack thereof—of the forest. The Enchanted Forest. She shook her head; seriously, who had named this place? Even once she’d finally believed in it, she had to admit that it was contrite.

Anyways. It was too quiet—no cars, no people. While that might be a blessing—that she’d be able to hear any intruders immediately—it also meant that there was little else to fill the time but her own thoughts, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be left with them at the moment.

What Aurora said was haunting her: “I think he may have feelings for you.” There was still something odd about the princess’s sudden reappearance, and odder still that it was Hook, of all people, who let her go.

Maybe she was right; maybe Emma should have trusted him. But aside from Henry and maybe her da—David, there weren’t a whole lot of guys she was ready to do that with.

Over the crackle of the fire and the gentle snoring of her companions, her last interaction with Hook played in her head.

“Have I told you a lie?” His voice had been shaking—with rage or shock, she couldn't tell. 

“I can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about you,” she told him, trying to rationalize what was easily a dick move on her part. But he was a pirate, wasn’t he? Surely, he’d committed his fair share of those.

Or maybe there really had been something there? He wasn’t entirely wrong when he’d suggested they made a good team, and it was unnerving how easily he seemed to read and understand her—more than anyone had since Neal. She still didn’t know why she was so scared when that pile of rocks fell on him, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to analyze why.

But maybe that had something to do with the pang of remorse she felt when she turned her back on him and the utter betrayal in the way he was shouting her name.

Was it too late to go back? Find him wherever he was hiding and team up?

Or was it just another ruse by him and Cora?

Odds were good on both.

Thankfully, she couldn’t dwell on it any longer because there was finally some noise—even if the sound of someone stumbling through the forest wasn’t the most welcome of interruptions. If it was another one of those zombie things, she was never going to watch The Walking Dead again.

As silently as she could manage—grace was never her strong suit, but she managed it well enough—she stood, grabbed Mulan's sword, and held it aloft, ready to decapitate whatever was coming towards them.

The body lumbered into their tiny clearing, unsteady on its feet. Emma tightened her grip.

But then it collapsed at her feet, a lanky pile of dark leather and mussed hair who coughed a bit and then rolled onto its back.

“Hook?” she whisper-yelled.

“Hey, beautiful,” he wheezed with an attempt at a flirty smile, then grimaced and curled into the hand that was pressed to his chest.

She really hoped her eyes were playing tricks on her. Because in the glow of the firelight, it looked like his hand was covered in blood.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

He took a deep breath, but then winced again. “I...I didn't know where else to go,” he murmured, then let his hand fall away from his chest.

Emma gasped at the sight: his shirt was pulled away, revealing even more of his chest than normal, but his skin was indeed covered with his own blood, seeping from a handful of puncture wounds around his heart. He’d clearly lost a lot of blood and was struggling to breathe and keep eye contact. 

She dropped to the ground next to him. “What—what happened?”

“Cora,” he spat. “Who else?”

“Was she trying to take your heart?” Admittedly, Emma didn't quite know how that whole thing worked.

He snorted—at least, she thought he did; it could have been another cough. “No; she's not that merciful. Thought it'd be more fun to watch me bleed out, apparently.” 

“Jesus,” Emma cursed, trying to inspect the damage in the dim light, but also not wanting to touch him and make anything worse. “Why?”

“Help me tend this and I’ll tell you.”

Oh, right—he was bleeding. Fuck, this was not covered in her high school first aid class. “I don't know—what—”

“Get pressure on it, please; I can’t—I’m too—”

“Got it.” She still had his scarf wrapped around her hand, but that cut was mostly healed. So she quickly unwrapped it, folded it, and placed it over the wounds. Gently, but firmly, she pressed down.

He bit back a cry, and she thought she saw a tear at the corner of his eye, but then he exhaled. “Thank you, love. That helps.”

“Okay. Now tell me what happened.”

------------------------------------

Cora strode into the cave with confidence, not casting a glance in his direction—but her expression quickly faded to confusion when she realized her prisoner was gone.

“Looking for someone?” Hook asked, turning up the charm as he stepped from the shadows.

Cora was momentarily taken aback, but then scoffed. “Don't tell me you were dumb enough to let her go.”

He sauntered forward. “She was never going to give you what you wanted, anyway.” But now, he could—and work his way back into Cora’s good graces at the same time.

“So you freed her. And stuck around for the petty satisfaction of seeing me suffer.”

In any other situation, that would have been the case; there were plenty of people he’d likely do that with—particularly the Crocodile. But he’d have to play nice with Cora if he ever wanted to reach that goal. “Watching you is a tempting motivation, but it wasn't that.”

“Well then, you must have a death wish.” Suddenly, he was flying backwards, slamming into the stone wall of the cave; that was definitely going to leave him a headache. When he’d shaken the stars from his vision, he realized she’d manipulated the rock into cuffs around his wrists, both restraining him and holding him upright. He struggled against them, but there were no fissures or weak spots; it wouldn't give. Then she was in front of him, unlocking his hook from his brace, and pressing the tip of it against his chest. “You know I have to kill you,” she purred.

Oh, if only she knew. “You should try thanking me.”

That took her by surprise. “Oh, really? Why is that?” But she still had steel pressed against his skin and was dragging it over where his heart was rapidly beating.

He didn’t make it this far by cowering to intimidation, though. “Because I brought you a gift. It's in the satchel,” he explained as casually as he could, nodding down at the bag slung across his body.

“What is it?” she demanded. He had her interest.

“Customarily, surprise is part of the fun of gift giving. Open it.”

She tugged it off, ripping the weak leather strap, and opened the pouch. Her expression morphed from confusion to disbelief. “Is that...?”

He nodded. “Indeed, it is. And with it you'll get everything you want.”

------------------------------------

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Emma nearly yelled. “You took her fucking heart?”

“Aye,” he replied, but in a tone that implied he was at least slightly remorseful for it. “So if you could keep it down and not wake the sleeping beauty, lest Cora know I’m here, I’d appreciate it.”

“Why should I help you after you did that?”

“Because I want to help you get it back and get home. You’re the only person I trust in this bloody realm.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe you have a tendency to burn bridges and that’s why you have so many enemies?”

“Oh, and you haven't done anything similar lately, have you?”

Emma was silent at that; she couldn't exactly refute it, especially to him. “Yeah, but the more you talk, the more I’m confident in my decision.”

“Then let me finish.”

“Fine.”

------------------------------------

“It was Hook. He let me go.” There was an odd novelty to watching Cora pretend to mimic the princess’s voice as she dictated through her heart. It wasn’t the most convincing thing, if he was being honest, but he’d certainly seen worse.

He wasn’t close enough to the heart to hear what was happening on the other end of the conversation, chained as he still was to the wall, but given that Cora was calm, he had to assume they were buying it.

“Because of you,” Cora said. “He said he wanted to prove to you that you should have trusted him. That if you had trusted him…” Cora smirked and threw a glance his way. “...you could have defeated Cora together. That the two of you could have gotten the remains of the wardrobe. Without him, you'll have to go up against her all by yourself. He only wants to help. I...I think he might care for you.”

That wasn’t entirely untrue, honestly. Emma had impressed him right away with her tenacity and intolerance to his bullshit; very few had seen through him so easily and it was oddly refreshing to not have to put up a front with someone. Her subsequent betrayal stung more that he was willing to let on—just another reminder of why he closed himself off.

But he couldn’t let Cora know she was right. So he settled with a casual, “Nice touch, that.”

She dropped her arm that held the heart and turned back to him. “You know, she won't trust you.”

He was already well aware of that. “She doesn't have to. All I need is her to believe that I was genuine letting the girl go. Which, in a way, she does now. You're welcome.”

She pocketed the heart and came closer, then pulled his hook back from the other side of her skirts, where she’d stashed it earlier. He couldn't tell, though, if she meant to give it back or not.

Fine, then, He could start things. “Now, can we go on with the business going to Storybrooke? Together?” He attempted to lean forward, but the restraints held fast.

“Alas, I’m afraid I still can’t do that, Hook.”

His heart fell into his stomach. “Why the bloody hell not?”

“You think this proved anything?” she countered. “All it did was show me you’re a good lap dog to whoever will give you the most. Tell me truthfully: were you actually going to team up with her and leave me behind?”

“No,” he answered, but even he didn't believe his lie. He had been honest when he told them they were better—and safer—company; the present situation was proof enough.

She got closer and started swinging his hook on her finger, and he was noting the gleam of malice in her dark eyes. 

“There's no room for error, here, Hook, and I'm afraid you’ve committed one too many now. And if there's one thing I can't stand, it's a bootlicker.”

Rage ran through his veins. “That's what you think I am? A kiss-arse?”

“Something along those lines. It’s pathetic, really.”

“I’ll show you pathetic,” he snarled, trying again to spring free but the binds held firm. Those words may have described him once, but that was a lifetime ago. 

Cora just laughed at him. “Tell you what: how about I just put you out of your misery now and save you the embarrassment?”

“What?” 

Before he could think further, sharp pain erupted in his chest. She’d stabbed him—with his own hook. Briefly, she twisted it in his flesh, drawing an involuntary yell, before yanking it out; immediately, he felt blood seeping from the fresh wound.

Then she did it again. And again. And again, twice more, in a circle above his heart, cutting deeper each time into the muscle of his chest and extracting deeper screams and more blood with every one. He tried to slump to the floor, to relieve any of the pain, but the stone cuffs wouldn’t let him.

“Please,” he panted. “If you want to kill me, just crush my heart.” He’d asked for that once and been denied; maybe this time would be different.

“But where's the fun in that? You’ll bleed out so much slower this way.”

“Witch,” he cursed.

“Yes, that’s accurate,” she agreed. “But they don't call me the Queen of Hearts for nothing. Each of these stab points is just outside the heart—not enough to kill you outright, but able to draw the most pain.”

She stabbed him once more, right above the heart—not as deep, but she dragged this one a bit. “And they do bleed an awful lot.”

With a wave of her hand, the restraints finally disappeared, and he fell to the floor in a graceless heap. She tossed his hook on the ground, where it landed a few feet away.

“Well, it's been nice knowing you. Sorry about the revenge thing, but surely you understand where I'm coming from.”

The sad thing was: he did. He wouldn't let her have the last word. “I hope you fail,” he panted out, even though every word sent a searing pain through his chest. “I hope they manage to get the better of you and you never see your daughter again.”

“Unlikely,” she answered. “See you in the Underworld someday.” Then she disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

He gave himself one long moment to dwell on the pain, which got worse with each heartbeat. He placed his hand on his chest and his fingers came back dripping red.

He had two options here: let death come, which would be easiest, but certainly the least fulfilling. Or.

Or.

He could seek out the band of princesses and pray they'd take pity on him. Emma would believe him—she’d know right away if he was lying, and despite what she might believe, he’d been truthful with her thus far. But that was the only way he could think of to survive this, and his only chance now of getting his revenge.

It took far more effort than he cared to expend, but after a few staggering tries, he was upright, leaning on a wall and panting with his hand clinging to his chest, pressing on it as much as he could to staunch the flow. “Here goes nothing,” he said to himself as he took a step forward, then another, and kept going until he was out in the dusky forest. 

------------------------------------

“And here I am now,” he breathed, but his breaths were getting more and more labored.

“Why should I believe any of that?” Emma asked, pressing just a bit harder on his wounds. What kind of fool did he take her for? How did she know he didn't stab himself?

“Am I lying?” he asked, his voice getting weaker.

She wanted to confirm that he was, but nowhere in that tall tale had her bullshit detector gone off. Dammit. “No,” she conceded.

“I promise, I want to help.”

She swallowed. “So you were telling the truth when you said that to Aurora?”

His brow furrowed. “I wasn't then, but I am now.”

Still true.

“Please, Swan; help me here, and I promise I'll do everything I can to get you back to your boy.”

Even in the shadows, she could see the sincerity in his blue eyes. And really, it was her fault Cora did this in the first place; the least she could do was make sure he didn’t die. 

“Okay,” she said with a nod.

He gave her half a smile, but that was the most he seemed to be able to muster. And then he winced again, but he also gave a low groan.

“Alright, what do we need to do?”

“He needs stitches.” Emma nearly jumped; Mary Margaret was standing over her shoulder, looking down on both of them.

“Oh my god, how long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” she answered, then knelt next to them. “We need to clean and disinfect the wounds, then stitch them up. I should have a needle somewhere, but I'm low on thread, unless you're okay with powder blue, Hook.”

“Sounds lovely, milady,” he answered, oddly politely.

“Okay. I’ll get that; not sure how we can disinfect it, though.”

Emma winced at her own memory, but she knew what they had to do. “He’s got rum.”

“That'll have to work.”

Hook groaned, but she wasn't sure it was in general, or at what was about to come.

Mary Margaret ran to her bag quietly to get supplies, and Emma turned her attention back to Hook. “Where's your flask?” 

His hand began searching, eventually pulling it out of a hidden pocket in his vest. “I suppose this will be payback, eh?”

“I guess.” She uncorked the flask—with her hand, even though the memory of him using his mouth was something she wouldn’t admit to finding attractive—and pulled back her other hand from his chest. His blood had soaked through the scarf and was definitely all over her palm, but she had to set it aside and pushed back his shirt the rest of the way, fully exposing that half of his (very nice) chest. “Okay; think you can keep the volume down?”

He gave a curt nod. “I’ll try.”

She took a deep breath and then, before she could think about it any longer, poured. His entire face clenched in pain, but he didn't let out any more than a high-pitched whimper as she sanitized the area. She didn’t miss the tears now running down his cheeks, but she wouldn’t say a thing about it. She definitely knew a thing or two about dealing with pain on your own.

She found a clean corner of the blood-soaked rag and managed to get the punctures as clear as possible just as her mother was threading the needle. “Yeah, those are deep,” Mary Margaret said. “This may take a bit. Don’t pass out on me, Hook.”

“I’ll try.”

He was pretty brave as the needle first went in. But it became obvious that he was putting on a brave face as they continued on. His hand was in a fist so tight that she could see the white of his knuckles even in the dark.

She’d been there—she totally had, especially when she’d given birth to Henry. She’d had a death grip on the edge of the hospital bed and would have given anything for a hand to hold. 

Even if that was a significantly more painful experience, and surely Hook had dealt with worse when he lost his hand, it still wasn't a pain she’d wish on anything. So she placed her hand on top of his fist, working her fingers into his grip until he loosened it enough for them to slip in.

Once he realized what she was doing, his gaze darted up to hers—definitely in surprise. She gave him a small smile back and squeezed his hand.

His face relaxed and he gave a light squeeze back.

It didn't take very long for Mary Margaret to get him stitched up; Emma expected it to take all night, but clearly, her mother had first aid experience beyond whatever was required of an elementary school teacher. But that—and all of her mother's survival skills—were a conversation for another day.

“That should do it,” she said softly, gently patting the last suture. “Thanks for being a good patient.”

“Are you a healer or something in this other realm?” he asked, clearly feeling a bit better now that he wasn’t losing blood.

“Nope. I learned all that here. Now get some rest. You too, Emma.”

Emma was going to protest, but a yawn betrayed her. “You've got next watch?”

“I'm on it. And I'll try to head the other two off in the morning.”

Oh, thank God; Emma did not want to be the one to explain this recent change in allegiances—or the present location of Aurora’s heart; hopefully her mother also knew diplomatic ways to hold off an assasination attempt by Mulan.

“Sleep tight,” Mary Margaret said as she stood, then bent down to place a kiss on Emma’s head. The warmth she felt from it was foreign, but also something shed craved her entire life.

But, as Mary Margaret walked away, Emma suddenly felt awkward now that it was just her and Hook. And she needed sleep. 

“Okay, I’ll just hop over there—”

“Stay?” Hook interrupted, quietly and so innocently, a softness in his blue eyes she hadn't seen before.

Well, fuck. How could she say no to that?

“O-okay,” she said, nodding like a bobblehead, and shifted down to lay next to him. He still hadn’t let go of her hand. “Don't die tonight, alright?”

“I shouldn’t,” he said, sincerely.

“Good.”

She settled on her back, staring up at the unfamiliar stars through the trees.

“What, no good night kiss?” he teased; she could feel his eyes on her.

“Go to sleep,” she tossed back, but turned her head away from him so he couldn't see her smirk. It was probably a good sign that he was already back to his annoying flirtatious ways.

It didn't take long for his gentle snores to sound out. And as she too drifted off, all she could think was that, maybe someday, he’d get that kiss.

But first, they had to get home. 

------------------------------------

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[authorgreybrooke]

Red Daughter (The unsung hero of Kasnia)

Kasnia was a cold place, an extensive woodland with patches of snow decorating its wild landscape. The villagers were poor and wrapped in scratchy attire, always pulling their thin scarfs tightly around there necks. The stalls of food were old and rickety, manned by staving people, desperate for their wages.

The soldiers were brutal but honest, fuelled by their anger, at the Americans and their Hollywood, and their fancy chefs, and fancy clothes, and comfortable beds. They pushed around the populace and protected them at the same time. Kasnia had a mandatory military program, a type of conscription, that meant every male citizen had to do a minimum of four years of service before the age of thirty. The hatred was trained into them, beaten into them, it made them strong, hard, fierce, it made them warriors.

In a dirt field, on the edge of the market, some kids kicked around a dirty soccer ball. A blonde-haired woman with a broad smile, and a grey and red uniform ran around with the group, pretending to be bad at the game and laughing at herself with them.

Close to dusk, a loud whistling noise pieced through the ambients, and Snowbird grimaced at the familiar call. The General was summoning her back to camp, using a device that emitted a high-frequency sound that only the woman could hear, similar to a dog whistle. She waved goodbye to the children, who begged her to stay for just a little bit longer, and took off into the sky.

. . .

The base was metal and brick, void of colour. The guards patrolling never smiled at Snowbird. The only person who would look her with affection was Alex, and he seldom visited, though he sent her books. She loved The Great Gatsby, it sparked her imagination, told her about a fantastical world of music, colour and grandeur. It was meant to be a learning tool, from Alex, to educate her about the American's selfish lifestyles, their disregard and greedy natures. Still, Snowbird kept it close like a child with a teddy bear.

Snowbird obediently entered her room, the door locked behind her, and the sharp metal sound of the lock hurt her ears. She knelt by the pile of books in the corner and pushed a few aside, philosophy, Shakespeare, poetry, dark fiction, biography's -- her favourite was romance. There was not a lot about love, family, friendship, what she uncovered twinged something painful inside her chest, something she hadn't found the words her to describe.

The story of Gatsby was tragic, a missed loved, a series of unsatisfied grand gestures. The copy that Snowbird had was beneath her pillow, it had been read the most, Snowbird cherished the novel, keeping it close for comfort. The pages held secrets, scribbled between lines and on edges, her sporadic thoughts and feelings, confessions and wishes on stars. She used to write about Alex. slowly, the idea of him she had in her head faded and transformed into something else, like a mentor or a father figure, the term "family" did not quite mesh with the words he said and the words she had read over and over again in her books.

When Alex spoke of his sister, an unfamiliar feeling threaten to consume her spirit, she felt it when she read about Daisy, the untouchable love, the unrequited, the missed, the unreachable, the unobtainable. Photos, images of the Americans were pinned to walls of Snowbird's tiny room, faces she was supposed to observe and learn, expression to mimic for when the time came.

"Lena." Snowbird practised the name, replayed it in her mind, spoke it with different accents, the sound was somehow imprinted within herself long before she had even known Lena Luthor existed. She traced her fingers over the images, unexplainable angry when she looked at Kara Danvers, smiling, with her arm around Lex's sister.

She'd met Lena, briefly, when she was Imitating her counterpart in America. The L-Corp CEO appeared discipline and compassionate, powerful and kind, beautiful in a way she had only read about but never personally witnessed.

Kara Danvers's journal had revealed many things, such as Kara's deep, seemingly unrequited, feelings for Lena Luthor. Kara spoke of her alien biology and her fears of hurting any human she loved too hard, she talked about their friendship and how she couldn't risk anything more beyond that, afraid that she would lose her best friend ultimately, she talked about being too scared to tell Lena about Supergirl, afraid of losing the one person who made her feel as vulnerable as any human.

There was an article within Kara's diary that she'd had the urge to steal, it was written by her counterpart and was about Lena Luthor and her company. It spoke of her charity and innovation, Lena had the potential to change the world, and Snowbird hoped that the younger Luthor would join the Kasnian people, hoped that she could see the beauty of the Kasnian land as Snowbird saw it. It was a fantasy, a dream, to stand firm for her people with Alex and Lena at her sides, she shook away the vision as sleep pulled her under.

. . .

The morning came slowly, it was cold and dark as the new day began. The boots stomping outside Snowbird's door woke her from a restless sleep, the blanket wasn't warm enough, and the room seemed to hold the cold air inside, never circulating or warming. The room remained stagnant and devoid of anything homely. Snowbird ran her hand over her face, trying to push away her half-asleep imaginings, she was a soldier, she didn't need friends or family, she had Alex and Kasnia, and that was everything.

The days passed, and Snowbird trained, she played with the kids, explored the wildlands, read about people doing things she could never dream up. Snowbird was content, happy even, ever since she had introduced Lex to Mikhail, feeling a warmth in her chest as the pair interacted -- like everything was coming together, she may not have the type of family written in books, but she had one, sitting around a broken table, laughing about simple things. Life in Kasnia may not be glamorous, it never needed to be, Kasnia was magical and peaceful all on its own.

The extra time in between training sessions gave Snowbirds mind the chance to wonder, she thought about things, imagined other things, mainly what her counterpart was doing in America. While Kasnia carried on, Snowbird slipped away, her curiosity taking over once again.

. . .

National City was loud, Snowbird cringed as she entered the busy, messy place. Kara Danvers' apartment was empty when she flew near enough to look in through the window. She didn't want to visit that place again, it made her irrationally angry, and she could fathom why an American apartment would evoke such a feeling.

She found herself hovering above the L-Corp building, watching Lena Luthor bite her lip and type furiously at her computer. Without much thought, driven purely by instinct, Snowbird floated down onto the CEO's balcony. Lena's heartbeat was loud in her head, pushing violently against her own pulse. Snowbird pressed her hand to her chest, trying to slow the powerful beats, it was dizzying, distracting, overwhelming.

"Supergirl!"

Snowbird felt a warm hand against her own and flinched back, stumbling.

"Are you alright?" Lena had moved without a sound, she stood before the Kasnian, watching her closely.

"I'm fine," Snowbird croaked, it wasn't loud, it wasn't even a proper American accent, it was fragile and broken.

"You don't look fine. Why don't you come inside," Lena pushed open the door and tried to reach for the fracture Kryptonian.

"I shouldn't."

"Why not?" Lena tilted her head slightly to one side.

Snowbird knew nothing at that moment, only that her feet would step wherever Lena Luthor wanted them to travel. She staggered over to the couch and sat, trembling and unsure.

Lena sat beside her, calm and so undeniably beautiful. "Did something happen?"

"You hate me..." Snowbird recalled the fallout Lena and Supergirl had over the creation of Kryptonite, how Supergirl had sent Guardian to infiltrate Lena's private laboratory.

"I don't hate you. I don't trust you. There's a difference." Lena's voice was steady, soft, soothing.

"I understand."

"I like the new uniform. It looks warmer."

Snowbird looked down at herself and remembered that she was not in disguise and that she should not be in Lena Luthor's office. Alex was going to be so mad. "I should go."

Lena nodded. "Maybe you could stay for a bit. I have some work to do, and I would like the company. Just for a bit."

"Just for a bit..."

"Yes. Please."

Snowbird realised in that instant that she could not deny Lena anything. The CEO stood and returned to her desk, glancing over to the alien on her couch every so often with a small smile. Snowbird just sat and waited, and watched Lena in return as she slipped on a pair of glasses, sipped her warm coffee, stretched her arms above her head and rubbed the back of her neck.

The night moved slowly into dawn, and the Kasnian listened to the city folk stir, the traffic grew more intense and the buildings awakened. It wasn't until she heard Eve enter the floor from the elevator that the Kasnian snapped out of her daydreaming.

"I have to go!" Snowbird stood and made for the balcony. The last thing she saw before she jumped into the air was Lena rushing to her feet, almost as if she wanted to stop Snowbird from leaving.

. . .

The Kaznian market strip was a flurry in the late afternoon, children rushed about, catching the last of the sun while the women and men bartered for there dinners. A military jeep, the old rusted kind, sped down the main dirt road, forcing the crowds to disperse in a panic. The soldiers aboard screamed at the scrambling pedestrians, angry that they couldn't move out of the way faster. One woman, frail in her old age, tripped over nothing, dropping her bag of overly ripe fruit onto the ground. Torn between forcing herself to her feet and reaching for the food she desperately wanted, she didn't move out of the way fast enough.

The soldier driving pushed down harder on the accelerator, intent on not letting the human speedbump slow his vehicle down. There was a shout, and then the sound of the engine zooming passed. The old woman stood shocked, confused and holding her bag of fruit, safely away from the military convoy.

"Are you okay?"

The woman spun around to see her saviour smiling down at her gently. The older Kasnian rushed out a few gratitudes in her own tongue and insisted that the hero take some fruit for her next meal.

"No, I couldn't. Please. Keep them."

The woman insisted, pinching the blushing blonde's cheek and forcing fruit into her arms.

Snowbird laughed and thanked the woman, earning another pinch and a pat on the arm.

The people of Kaznia had never feared her presence, she was a strange woman in strange clothes who spoke their language and helped them when the soldier would kick them.

Not all of the soldiers were bad, but Snowbird was exceptional, she played soccer with children and built them a school, she raced people to doctors and dove into frozen lakes for lost things, she found lost pets and used her heat vision to start fires when her people were freezing. It wasn't glamorous or even exhausting, it was just how she helped.

. . .

Snowbird sat in a tree, resting on a thick branch, obtaining a wondrous view of the sun disappearing behind the treetops. The sunlight flickered in orange, purple and blue, before dimming away. A sweet juice ran around her smile and down her chin as she feasted sloppily on the yellowish mango, it left her fingers sticky, but she was happy. It had been a good day. Even though she still missed Alex, regretting the things she had said to him.

The American's had attacked, and she wasn't around to save her people, she had been distracted, and it had cost her everything. Mikhail was gone, murdered, and she had let her feelings dictate her actions, she sought revenge for his death and almost ruined all of Alex's plans, she had disappointed him, genuinely and it broke Snowbird even further.

She'd accused Alex of being controlled by his emotions, whether she was projecting or not, she couldn't know for sure, all she knew was that she had dropped Lena's name in the heat of their fight and it had ruined everything between them.

The General called her back, using the sharp whistle that always made Snowbird flinch, and so, she hopped down from the tree, landing too hard, making the ground shake a little.

Before she zipped all the way back to the military base, Snowbird levitated above the blackened crater that was now Mikhail's grave. The anguish that she had felt the day that he'd died was unlike anything she had ever felt, the pain itself lingered, in her limbs, in her chest, gnawing away savagely at her innards.

Everything ached, the weight of it manifest and she dropped to the ground beside the destroyed soccer ball, she watched it, waited for it to no longer be broken and when it refused she angrily snatched it up from the ground.

Snowbird held onto the punctured, charred soccer ball, closing her fist around its torn skin. Since the attack, her people had been afraid of monsters across the ocean and the Kasnian soldiers who patrolled with itchy fingers.

Alex had left Kasnia, and Snowbird stood in the wreckage, angrier than she had ever been before, alone and full of self-loathing. Alex had taught her, saved her from Kryptonite and she had failed. It was time to prepare, to train, it was not the time for distractions. Mikhail deserved better. Kasnia deserved better.

She tried to imagine what it would be like to lose Alex forever and a sick feeling crept along her gut. The ash got swept up in a breeze forcing its scent onto the visitor. Snowbird cough and cringed and flew away in a desperate hurry, eager to be locked away safely in her room.

. . .

That night brought twisted nightmares of Mikhail's face, his sweet smile, melted away by the volatile American weapons. Alex, vaporised by a missile, as he sat at his desk, scribbling notes. Lena, typing and relaxing, then being dragged away by faceless terrorist as she cried out for Supergirl's help, cries that went unanswered.

Snowbird gasped and screamed, throwing herself out of her bunk and onto the cold ground. She had been angry before because people told her to be angry -- but she had never hated, never so purely. She hated the Americans. She hated everything Supergirl stood for, all of the lies, Mikhail's murder, the typical American way of life. The pictures of Kara Danvers' picture-perfect life mocked her from their places above her bed. Supergirl defended the people who had murdered Mikhail, she protected them.

Snowbird didn't notice at first, that she was getting weaker, the first nose bleed never worried her although it did worriy the General, he watched her with narrowed, cold eyes and frowned. He would call Alex -- she knew that he would, and so she waited, she was ordered to halt her training and to rest. Alex would come soon, and he would make everything okay again.

Except, she wasn't sure that Alex would return. There had been no new books, no letters, no new orders, and Snowbird felt the absence deeply. The General made her rest and had the doctors run test after test. The sun wasn't helping as much as it used to, it didn't give her the strength and energy it did when she stepped out of the bunker months ago.

It took a lot of her reserves to push up into the sky, she told herself that she wanted to find Alex, even as she crashed into Lena Luthor's office.

. . .

The lab below L-Corp smelt of chemicals, it was cold and bright, the light reflected off the clean white surfaces. Lena had a laptop that she typed on, a machine that analysed things and safety glasses on top of her reading glasses.

"Do you feel any tingling?"

"No."

"Is your vision blurry?"

"No."

"Do you feel nauseous?"

"No."

Snowbird had awoken on a gurney beneath a giant sun-lamp, and since then Lena Luthor had been the motivated scientist, determined to diagnose the problem that made the Kryptonian crash land into her office.

As the warm radiation seeped into her veins and energise her muscles, Snowbird watched the dark-haired woman she obsessed over, obsess over her instead. Lena Luthor fussed about her temperature and her EKG readings, her hands turned her head and checked if her skin was clammy, her eyes frantically scanned Snowbirds body for signs of anything.

It was a selfish pleasure, the Kasnian enjoyed the attention, the worry covering the other woman's face. She enjoyed having Lena entirely to herself, if only for a moment.

Lena flashed a small torch into her eyes. "How are you feeling? Headache?"

"No." Snowbird reached up and let her fingers slip into the soft dark locks that had been hurriedly pulled back into a messy bun. Lena's eyes locked onto her own. "Glass. There was glass," she mumbled, letting her hand drop away again.

"Well, you did destroy my window. It was supposed to be shatterproof. Three inches thick."

"Sorry."

"Ripped up my carpet too."

Snowbird grinned. "Sorry."

"I don't know how I'll explain it to Eve."

The Kasnian looked down at her own hands, suddenly very, honestly guilty. "Sorry."

"Hey, it's okay. I am a billionaire."

"I have betrayed you. I fail everyone."

"You're not Supergirl. I know."

"But... How? I don't. I'm sorry." Snowbird shook her head, angry with herself for thinking she could deceive Alex's sister.

"It's okay," the CEO assured.

"I need to go!" Snowbird stood up, but hands quickly pushed on her shoulders.

"Relax. I won't hurt you."

Snowbird scoffed at the absurdity. "Aren't you afraid I'll hurt you?"

"No."

"Why?"

"You kept me company." Lena shrugged, nonchalant about the whole situation -- as if she were often visited by Supergirl copies in the middle of the day.

"What?"

"Besides, you're very weak right now. I think I could take you." Lena smirked and winked.

"What? I... Um... I don't understand."

"Rest. I have a few more test."

Snowbird would have argued, but Lena looked at her in that way she looked at Kara in those pictures, and Snowbird was stuck, frozen in her place on the gurney. Lena order food, piles of food, bags of greasy, unhealthy food and each new flavour was a revelation. Lena watches with a fondness as the weak alien in her lab consumed mountains of noodles and pizza.

They talked, sparingly. Mainly Snowbird avoided questions, avoided eye contact, avoided breathing too loudly. Lena noticed and she was clearly cautious in the way she approached the creature in her lab, she circled around but never stood too close. Snowbird could feel her everywhere in the room, she didn't need to look at her, no matter how much she wanted to.

Eventually, Lena could no longer hold her beneath L-Corp, though she did ask her to return soon, once all of the results were back. They walked slowly back up to the shattered balcony, and Snowbird took off into the sky after begrudgingly promising to visit again soon -- the whole experience left the Kasnian feeling uneasy, and for the first time, she was thankful that Alex wasn't around to learn about her city visits.

. . .

The General had cleared her for training again. Snowbird didn't tell him how lethargic she had felt the last few days, like always, she kept her weaknesses close to her chest. A full night under a sunlamp with light conversation from Lena Luthor helped her energy levels somewhat, but Snowbird wouldn't tell the General that either.

She was stronger, and that was all the General cared about, she did attack drills, and soldiers threw grenades at her to test her resilience. The first ten didn't hurt, but the last five gave her a headache. The ringing in her ears made her dizzy, and she messed up her evasive flying technique. Scientist scribbled things down in their notebooks and asked her to repeat specific actions.

By the end of the day, she was exhausted. She had never felt so tired, and when she retired to her room, she fell asleep instantly and dreamt of nothing.

[dovechim]

the singularity theory 03 (m)

➾ 11.5k  yoongi x reader ft taehyung

➾ the singularity theory posits that privilege of anonymity, combined with the element of restricted physical contact, has the ability to foster an emotional intimacy between two strangers that is genuine and non-forced.

➾ summary: in your last year of undergrad, you find out what a gloryhole is at the expense of your final year thesis. it’s a classic example of a psychology experiment that went way, way wrong.

but how were you to know that a certain min yoongi would be sticking his dick into your life?

➾ warnings: gloryhole use, degradation, blowjob, impreg kink, mentions of cumplay

➾ a/n: happy new years!! after what feels like a million years, it’s finally here. i struggled a lot while writing this, and i am so so so relieved to finally wrap it up. thank you for waiting so patiently, and i hope you enjoy!! love, addie

01 | 02 | 03 (complete)

Literature Review

This project was named after the astronomical phenomenon of a gravitational singularity, a one-dimensional point in the centre of a black hole that contains an infinitely huge mass in an infinitely small space. Here, gravity and density become infinite, and space time curves indefinitely. It is also commonly referred to the point where all laws of physics cease to operate. When an object falls into a black hole and approaches the singularity, it is presumed to disappear completely and irrevocably. However, from an observer’s point of view, the object appears to merely approach the black hole with an ever decreasing speed, never actually disappearing inside.

The author believes that there are significant similarities between this astrological theory and the experiment. The conditions of anonymity and restricted physical contact seek to mimic the attractive forces of the black hole’s irresistible gravitational pull that ultimately culminates in a single point of no return; a point where the forces that govern typical societal interactions break down and cease to exist entirely. It is also the author’s belief that anonymity acts as a vacuum space where private information can be disclosed without fear of shame or judgement.

There is a dick in front of you. It is Mr Cheetos’s dick.

Strangely enough, it doesn’t look as much like a Cheeto as you remembered. His voice sounds far away, as if you’re hearing it underwater, and a kind of fascination grips you as you reach your hand out to touch it. Ignoring your notes on the table and switching off the voice recorder.

The dick that presents itself through the gloryhole in front of you is dripping with precum, and before it can hit the floor, you curiously stretch out your tongue to catch one of the drops. It is salty on your tongue, not altogether bad. You bring your tongue closer to the tip, and as if he can feel your breath on him, Mr Cheetos shoves his dick further into the gloryhole, and you can feel your core ache when you imagine how he must look like on the other side; balls pressed against the wall in desperation, straining to get every inch of his length through the hole for you.

You let your tongue lap at the tip; the man on the other side rewards you with a guttural groan. He is hot and silky on your tongue, and you circle it around him a few times before letting it come to rest just below his tip, curling your tongue around him as he leaks more precum onto your tastebuds.

Mr Cheetos thrusts once, a futile gesture because he is already at his limit, thighs pressed against the wall. You control how deep he goes, and the realisation of it thrills you when you slide your tongue forward just a tad, and he groans. Closing your mouth around him, you placate him with a few sucks, swallowing down the taste of him.

“Stop,” he chokes out suddenly. He withdraws his cock slightly from the hole, as if he is gripping his base on the other side. “Gonna make me cum.”

The room is hazy, all you can see is the hard cock in front of you, and you inch forward on your knees to coax him back into your mouth. “Then cum. On my face.”

A choked whisper on the other side, followed by a few curses. It sounds like Yoongi is struggling to keep his composure- wait, did you just say Yoongi? Your addled brain backtracks a few steps only to find your memory completely hazy. This is Mr Cheetos, you remind yourself. Mr Cheetos needs a servicing before you can proceed with the experiment, and Yoongi-

“Want your pussy, please,” the voice comes again, begging, pleading. “Turn around and slide yourself on my cock. Please.”

His cock is dripping again. A random thought crosses your mind; you can’t let the floor be stained with anything, or else people are going to find out about this. You get to your feet slowly, eyes trained on his cock and that drop of precum that is dangerously about to fall, hiking your skirt up, and-

The wet, blunt head of his cock brushes your folds, and you feel him drip down your inner thigh. Smiling to yourself in triumph, you spread your thighs and take him in your hand, rubbing your clit a few times before you guide him back to where he needs to be; to where he belongs. He sinks inside of you deep when you push back onto the gloryhole, and this time you swear as if you can feel the rumble of his chest through the thin wall when he moans.

Your ass is flush against the wall as he begins to thrust shallowly. The stretch feels good, better than your small fingers.

“Fuck yourself on my cock.”

He stops moving, his cock is buried deep in your pussy. You obey him, beginning to work your hips as you scramble for the table in front of you to help you keep your balance, sinking all the way down to the base of his cock every time. You can already feel the wall that separates you and him getting wet and sloppy with your combined juices. Reaching down for your clit, you tighten around him immediately, fingers pinching and stroking.

“Let me hear you. That’s it, let me hear you as I imagine what you look like fucking yourself on my cock. You’ll let me cum inside you right? You’ll let any random stranger like me cream your pretty pussy through a gloryhole. I want you to show me your pussy after I fill it with cum.” The voice on the other side is getting slightly breathless now, and you can feel him starting to take control with his thrusts now.

You push your ass back against the gloryhole so that he can go as hard as he wants and needs.

“Answer me. Are you just a cumslut who wants men to fuck her through gloryholes and cum inside? You love it, don’t you. Random men fucking you full of cum. Even better if they knock you up.”

“N-no… just…” Your voice sounds small and fragmented to your own ears. Your vision is going hazy. Everything in the room is a blur, everything is spinning. But the one thing that remains clear is his voice.

“No? Don’t lie to me.”

“I-just want your cum. Just yours, please.”

“Whose cum do you want? Say my name. Say it as I cum inside your pretty pussy and make it mine.”

He is going so hard now that you can feel every thrust smack your ass, his balls are hitting the gloryhole, and you wish it was hitting your ass instead.

“I’m gonna cum. Fuck, oh please, right there,” you beg him to keep going, feeling your thighs tremble and your walls start to quiver around him.

“Say my name and I’ll let you cum like a good girl.”

“Mr Ch- Mr- oh fuck, I’m coming, Yoongi, I want your cum!”

The man on the other side responds with a pleased chuckle that you can feel radiating all the way up your spine as he gives you a few sloppy thrusts before he groans, burying his cock deep as he-

Warmth seeps through your panties, and you gasp, eyes flying open.

Suddenly, the world presents itself to you in 1080p quality as you are met with the view of your ceiling. Drenched in sweat, you sit up gingerly only to grimace when you feel the stickiness of your panties.

God fucking dammit, did you seriously just have a wet dream? At this age?

The last thing you remember from last night was… working on your paper. You must have fallen asleep and migrated to your bed at some point. When you glance towards your work desk, the tell-tale signs of an all-nighter are there, alright; opened bags of chips, half empty coffee cups and your laptop still open.

Pushing your covers aside, you grumble to yourself as you hurry to clean yourself up, only to stop dead in your tracks when flashbacks of your dream come back to you in bits and pieces. And more importantly, the name that left your lips-

This cannot be happening.

You stare at yourself in the mirror. It was just a dream. Just a stupid old dream.

But dreams originate from the sub-conscious. Dreams represent the id, the repressed sexual and primal urges that are locked away and hidden from society because they are unacceptable. Having a sexual fantasy is completely normal, but more worrying is who it was about.

You press a hand to your temple as the thoughts race against each other. Sometimes, you think that pursuing this degree is a mistake because you tend to psychoanalyse yourself in a manner that is all too unhealthy.

Splashing some cold water on your face, you brush your teeth quickly and tie your hair back. When you feel significantly more human again, you dig for your phone in the mess that is your bed only to realise that you’d somehow slept through all four of your alarms- and that you’re currently 10 minutes late for your last ever session.

“Fucking hell,” you swear under your breath as you gather your materials and fly out the door.

*

This is ridiculous. Just fucking ridiculous.

Yoongi never runs. Yet today, he dragged himself out of bed at five in the morning just to make sure he was out of the room before Jimin was up. Jimin likes to get in his morning workouts before 7am sharp, and he is a notoriously light sleeper.

But now, run completed, drenched in sweat and feeling gross all over, Yoongi has yet to come up with a plausible excuse to get him out of his session today. The last ever session for the month, and granted, he has no actual reason to wriggle out of it. It’s just, a part of him isn’t ready for it to be over.

He should have savoured the past few days more. That sweet period of limbo where everything is possible and yet, nothing is set in stone. All weekend long that fucking lemon yellow polish had been haunting him, mocking him even. Yoongi had been oscillating between writing it off as a mere coincidence and something else; something much larger and beyond his wildest dreams. He hadn’t dared to even think it aloud for fear of unleashing a never ending stream of self-criticism.

Deciding to bite the bullet and just say whatever comes to mind, Yoongi pushes the door open, catching Jimin in the midst of pulling a shirt on.

“Hey man. Where’ve you been- wait, you don’t look so good, you doing alright?” Jimin narrows his eyes as he closes the distance between them, tugging his shirt down as he surveys Yoongi’s flushed face.

Yoongi’s just about to grumble a retort- something about still being fit enough to kick Jimin’s ass out on the track- when he stops himself. At least that run had cleared his mind up a little for him to see that Jimin is offering him an easy way out. “Um, actually I’m not feeling too good.”

“What’s wrong?” He immediately comes over to put a hand on Yoongi’s forehead. “You’ve been off ever since our game last week. If you were coming down with something, it’d be over by now.” Jimin worries his plush bottom lip as he draws his hand away. “No temperature. Were you working out? You should take it easy man.”

“Yeah, I just…” Yoongi’s voice trails off. He’s never been good at lying, especially not to Jimin’s face. As obnoxious as his roommate is sometimes, when Jimin is worried, he is the epitome of a mother hen. So he decides to keep it simple. “Your snoring kept me up last night.”

Jimin’s eyes widen in mock hurt. “Dude, what? I do not snore!!”

“That’s exactly what someone who snores all night long would say,” Yoongi says as he reaches for a towel and some spare clothes. “I’m gonna take a shower and go back to bed. Hopefully without your loud ass.”

Jimin just grumbles under his breath, still protesting as he fumbles around his room to get ready for his morning class. But suddenly, he stops in his tracks as he finds his phone. “Wait, that last session with- your last session is today. Do you want me to cancel it?”

“Could you?” Yoongi casts a glance back at Jimin for just a second, all the better to fool him into thinking that this is no big deal, as if he hadn’t been ruminating on ways to worm his way out of this experiment for the past few days. “I mean, if it’s too much trouble to reschedule, then…”

“It’s fine, I got it,” Jimin mumbles with his arms full of books as he texts with one hand. “I’m sure _- um, she won’t mind.”

Yoongi’s ears perk up at the sound of Jimin’s hasty cover up- he was sure that he accidentally almost name dropped there. When he glances over at his roommate, Jimin is avoiding all eye contact as he puts his phone away and ruffles his hair like he always does when he’s flustered or nervous. He decides to probe a little.

“Speaking of… her,” Yoongi begins. “It’s her final year project right? Why’s she not doing it in a group like you are?”

“Because she’s stubborn as always,” Jimin chuckles under his breath, pausing to slap on a little moisturizer on his face. “She thinks she’s really on to something with her thesis, though she won’t let anyone read it. Not even me, her best friend! Can you believe it?” He turns around, a glob of cream still on his nose, with an indignant expression. “She literally just told me like 10% of it. Said it was all I needed to know.”

Best friend? Hmm, now he’s getting somewhere. Trying his best to keep his voice casual, Yoongi asks, “do I know this person?”

Once again, Jimin immediately stiffens up. It’s painfully obvious in his posture that he realises he’s treading on dangerous territory now. Jimin turns back to the mirror and slowly, deliberately spreads the cream onto his skin, avoiding Yoongi’s eyes in the mirror. “Yoongi, you know I can’t tell you that. It’d ruin the sanctity of her experiment. She told you that you can’t have any contact with her outside of that room, right?”

Yoongi sighs internally. At least he tried. He’s just about to turn to head for the showers when Jimin speaks again.

“Why do you wanna know who she is? Did something happen in those sessions?” He asks cautiously, as if he is treading on broken glass. Yoongi can hear from the tone in Jimin’s voice that he’s pretending to play it off casually. “Damn, you really gotta get laid soon.”

At least Jimin gave him a way out again, even if he did it unknowingly. Purposely avoiding the first part of his question, Yoongi shrugs. “I did just get laid. Remember? That girl from your party. After our game. _____. I thought I told you. That little seven minutes in heaven stunt that you pulled?”

At the sound of your name, Jimin visibly pales. “Wh- Who? Who did you hook up with?”

“Did I get her name wrong?” Yoongi muses, searching his memory. He’d only heard it once, and he doubts he could have remembered it wrongly. “_____. She was at your party last week. Dude, you asked me to kiss her in that stupid truth or dare game!”

Jimin’s eyes slide left and right, avoiding all eye contact as his lips press into a firm line. “Did I? I was really drunk. Maybe I just don’t remember.”

Suspicion sinks into the pit of Yoongi’s stomach and drags him down, threatening to swallow him whole. He clenches his fist around his towel. Jimin’s reaction only further serves his theory that… no. It can’t be. He’s simply reading too much into things. “Yeah, you were pretty drunk there.”

Yoongi desperately needs to escape somewhere else and think about all of this stupid, stupid coincidences, the little things that are adding up here and there. He leaves Jimin still standing in their room and hightails it to the showers, forcing the memory of your lips, your kisses, and most hauntingly, your fingers, out of his mind.

*

“Rough morning?” When you arrive, Mr Gucci is already seated on the other side, obscured by the glory- by Mr Cheetos’s experimental setup. You forgot to reset it after your last session with him, so you reach for the panel and remove it, forcing aside unholy thoughts.

“Definitely a rough morning,” Mr Gucci nods to himself when he sees your unkempt hair, spectacles askew on your face and currently sporting your baggiest hoodie. He, on the other hand, while also dressed comfortably in a baggy shirt, pulls it off with a grace and effortlessness that you can only dream of.

“I’m sorry, did you wait long?” You hurry to get your notes in order, and more importantly, catch your breath and try to regain your composure. You’re sorry that the last session with Mr Gucci has to end this way, even more sorry that he has to see this side of you that should never be revealed to the world. “Just give me a minute to get this set up- you can start with three impressions first if you like. Last week’s were ambitious, pretty and fresh.”

“Sure,” Mr Gucci bobs his head. “Ambitious, pretty, but not-so-fresh.”

You can’t help but laugh as you make a note of this. “Guess I set myself up for that one huh?”

Mr Gucci leans forward on his elbows, intrigued. “Tell me something, Ms Prada. Do all girls have magic powers like you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, no offense,” he holds his hands up. “I’m just incredibly impressed at how different you look. I mean, from how you usually look like. I assume you overslept today and didn’t have time to get to the regular routine, but…”

“Let me ruin your fantasy for you,” you cut him off. “This is what girls wake up looking like. None of that hashtag woke up like this bullshit. You don’t have any sisters, do you?”

“None,” he confirms. “Wait, but please don’t get me wrong! I didn’t mean it in an insulting way. I’m just amazed at how much effort it takes, and that deserves incredible respect.”

Mr Gucci seems worried over having potentially offended you, but the joke he made about not being so fresh tells you that you’re at least getting somewhere with him. Complete strangers wouldn’t mention it at all, though he is still clearly treading carefully to some extent. You’re not offended at all, and you convey this with a genuine smile. “You wouldn’t believe the effort it takes to get from this- a zero to a passable six. In fact, I’m sorry you have to see this at all.”

Mr Gucci’s eyes widen. “A six? That’s the best you give yourself? You’re clearly a nine, at least!”

His sincerity really touches you as you thank him with a smile.

“Honestly, women’s beauty standards are just bullshit,” he shakes his head sadly. “If I had a superpower, I’d completely erase all the beauty standards in the world.”

“Wow, that’s interesting,” you muse while jotting down a few notes. Mr Gucci had just answered one of your potential questions on his own, and this is definitely progress. It’s far from a simple answer you expect from him, reveals something that he’s passionate about. “Usually when people talk about superpowers, they want to go back in time, fly, talk to animals, that kind of thing.”

“Hey, how’d you know? Talking to animals is my second choice,” he grins. “But yeah. I was taking a sociology mod last semester for my elective and it really got me thinking about issues like these. And how I wish it could be solved with a snap of my fingers. Just like that.”

“That’s it, I’m voting you for president,” you grin back at him. “Think of it. You’ll be a better version of Thanos. Just one snap.”

Mr Gucci bursts out in laughter at your joke, clapping his hands several times, and you really feel as if you’re making a connection here. While it did come only in the last session, there’s no doubt that there are the beginnings of something stirring here.

The timer on your desk rings, signalling the end of your session.

“So, Mr Gucci, this marks the end of our month together. Before we end, I just wanted to thank you for participating,” you put your notes aside to smile at him, sincerely regretting that you won’t be able to meet him outside of this room. He definitely seems like good company.

“Thank you for having me, and I must say, it was a new experience,” Mr Gucci says. “I didn’t know what to expect coming into this, and I think I got a lot more out of it than just extra credit.”

“That’s good to hear. Okay, for the last time ever, three impressions?”

“Friendly, cool and my type.”

After Mr Gucci is safely out the door, you reach for your phone’s camera mode to at least try and fix your hair a little before Mr Cheetos is due. Not that it would matter now, since he won’t be seeing you at all, but you feel just a tad ratty and unkempt like this.

You notice that you have a few messages from Jimin asking you if it’s possible to reschedule Mr Cheetos’s session since he’s feeling unwell. That’s strange. Such a last minute request makes things seem urgent, and you can’t help but feel your stomach flip over in worry. You press the call icon and place the phone to your ear.

“Hey- yeah, what’s up?” Jimin’s voice answers.

“Chim, I just wanted to ask if Mr- if he’s okay. I mean, it’s not anything urgent right?”

“Oh no no,” Jimin’s reply comes immediately. “He’s just feeling a little under the weather. Said he needs to rest up today. I’ll ask him when he’s free to reschedule again, then get back to you on that. Sound good?”

“Um, yeah. Sure.” Jimin’s reply leaves a lot to be desired, you find yourself craving for more details about Mr Cheetos. Instead your best friend leaves you frustrated yet unable to ask any more questions, and you curse silently. “Wait! Um, I think I should like maybe get him something. You know, like soup or um, lozenges?”

You cringe at the sound of your own voice. Immediately you wish you’d just let Jimin hang up, and you can go straight back to your room and back to bed. What if Jimin gets suspicious? What if he demands to know why you suddenly care about Mr Cheetos so much? Suddenly feeling a need to justify your actions, you clear your throat. “Because, um I was kinda sick the last time and I feel bad that I might have passed my cold to him. You know?”

Jimin’s chuckle comes from the other side of the line, and you almost heave a sigh of relief.

You’re just being paranoid. Calm the fuck down or you’ll give yourself away, you mutter to yourself.

“Why, what’d you two do in that tiny little room, hmmm?” Jimin’s innocent joke sends your blood pressure sky rocketing again, and this time you can literally feel a bead of sweat make its way down your forehead like in those cartoons, except there is nothing funny about this. “A little spit swapping? Mouth to mouth?”

“We didn’t do anything!” You exclaim in a panic, which you try to cover up with a nervous laugh. “What would we be doing other than the experiment?”

“Geez, you nearly took my eardrums out,” Jimin whines on the end of the line. “Fine, just drop by my room and leave it at the door or something. I’ll pass it to him and say it’s from you.”

More than relieved that he dropped the subject so quickly, you shoot him a quick word of thanks before cutting the line, gathering up your things as you exit the room and head for the cafeteria.

You’re not really sure what to get for a sick person; you’ve never had to take care of one before. Jimin’s the only friend who’d warrant this kind of treatment, and yet you’ve never brought him food or anything like this before. Scanning over the options quickly, you decide on a good old chicken noodle soup and place your order.

With a warm container clasped close to your chest, you send a few texts to Jimin just to let him know that you’re on the way as you ascend the stairs to his room. He replies back that he isn’t in at the moment, and you don’t want the soup to get cold outside, or even possibly getting stolen, so you decide to knock on the door to get his roommate.

It’s not till the door opens that you belatedly remember who Jimin’s roommate is… too little too late as you come face to face with Min Yoongi, whom you haven’t seen since that night.

He looks sleepy, hair tousled as if he just got out of bed, in a half yawn as he peeks his head out. You can’t help but notice his attire of a thin shirt and boxers, but then you remind your eyes to stay strictly at eye level.

“Jimin, can’t you fucking let me sleep in pea- oh.” Yoongi immediately sobers up when he realises it’s not his roommate he’s talking to. “_____. Wh-what are you doing here?”

*

The moment Jimin gets off the phone, an inevitable sense of dread nearly consumes him. Jimin fucked up.

You’re absolutely going to murder him when you find out. This was never supposed to happen. How could he have let his lines get crossed like that? And as if Yoongi’s suspicion isn’t enough, you just had to call him right at that moment like some sort of freaky omniscient being as if you had heard every single word of his conversation with Yoongi.

His temples are throbbing. The lengths he has to go to keep this stupid secret. And more importantly, keep the two of you apart.

He’s just thankful that the whole conversation took place over the phone as opposed to face to face. He’d already had a hard time getting away from Yoongi earlier, but as his best friend, he’s almost certain you’ll see right through him. Since when did his life become this complicated? Jimin just wants to play basketball and get pussy. And be complimented on his ass. Is that really too much to ask for?

On his way to lab, Jimin’s phone pings again.

You: hey, at ur door in 5. u in?

Jimin: nope, omw to lab. Just leave it on the doorknob

You: it’ll get cold, jackass

You: I’ll ask ur roommate to take it in

Annoyed at the sudden show of your caring side, Jimin tosses his phone into his bag as he joins his final year project group in the lab, opening his laptop and clicking open a few reports he’d typed up a few days ago. But there’s something stopping him from focusing, a niggling thought at the back of his head…

I’ll ask ur roommate to take it in

Fuck.

Jimin all but shoves his laptop away and sprints for the door, yelling out a hasty apology to his team members as he fumbles for his phone before deciding to pour all his energy into making it to his room as fast as possible to intercept you. It only takes about 10 minutes typically to get from his room to the psychology building, but with a dead sprint, Jimin makes it in five.

But it’s still too late.

He sees you and Yoongi staring awkwardly at each other, and thankfully for him, Yoongi hasn’t seemed to realise what you’re carrying- making Jimin’s life infinitely easier, at least for now. Yoongi is fidgeting awkwardly on his feet, you are nervously running a hand through your hair- a habit you picked up from him, and Jimin can feel the awkwardness emanating off the both of you.

“H-hey guys,” he wedges his body in between you and Yoongi, conveniently blocking his view of you. His breaths are coming in pants and he can’t get his words out in time- maybe he isn’t as fit as he’d like to think. “Forgot something- for lab. What are you guys doing?”

You give him a strange look as if you’re seeing through all his lies, and Jimin panics for a second, afraid that you’re going to give yourself away.

“Oh, you needed to talk to me about something right?” Jimin hurries on, turning his back to Yoongi and ushering you away from the door. “Let me uh, get my stuff and I’ll be right out.”

“What’s with you today, Park?” You narrow your eyes in suspicion. “You’re being all cagey. It’s not like I haven’t seen the utter disaster that is your room by now. I can’t say I approve of your lack of cleanliness, but it’s nothing to be surprised about.”

“Yoongi just put up some porn posters all over our walls!” Jimin blurts, and he immediately wants to kick himself. Really? Porn posters? Couldn’t he have come up with something better?

Behind him, Yoongi just lets out another yawn, unimpressed whatsoever, turning to go back to bed. For once Jimin is thankful for his roommate’s unhealthy addiction to sleep. Yoongi doesn’t even bat an eyelid or seem to have heard Jimin at all. “Just get your stuff and get the fuck out of here, Park. Nice seeing you, ______.”

Grateful for the opening, Jimin darts in and pretends to grab a random notebook before letting the door slam behind him, his cheeks bright red with exertion and maybe a little bit of panic. He glances down to see the paper bag in your hands and reaches for it. “You wanted to pass me this?”

“Not you, asshat. For Mr… for the test subject. The one who cancelled today.” You clarify, handing him the bag. “You said he wasn’t feeling well…?”

“I did, yeah I did,” Jimin grips the bag tightly as his breathing returns to normal. That was too close a call. “I’ll make sure to get it to him.”

“Okay,” you nod to yourself, eyes straying to Jimin’s door once more, and he can feel a fresh wave of panic. “Is Yoongi… is he okay though? He looked a little pale there.”

“What?” Jimin laughs nervously, turning to follow your gaze and surreptitiously positioning himself in between you and the door. “Haven’t you noticed he’s always as pale as a sheet? Didn’t you already see his scrawny, pale ass anyway?”

Now it’s your turn to be on edge as you immediately slide your gaze away from Jimin’s. “Wh-what do you mean? I didn’t see anything the other night.”

“Who said it was the other night?” Jimin raises his eyebrows, and you are caught in your own slip-up. Still, the stubborn set of your jaw tells him that you’ll deny it till kingdom come. “Oh come on, do you really think I’m stupid? That look between the two of you just now practically screams it.” Jimin exhales, knowing that he’s treading on dangerous territory here, but he has to confirm it. Has to know if you and Yoongi really did hook up and if he’s really in deep shit.

“It was nothing, ok? Just a one-night stand. Doesn’t mean anything, you know I don’t fuck strangers like that,” you mumble with a roll of your eyes, pulling out your phone to check the time. “Aren’t you beyond late for your meeting anyway? I don’t think you have time to be standing here and interrogating me about my sex life-“

Jimin’s eyes widen as he realises just how long he’s been standing here. “Oh fuck, shit, gotta go. You’re not off the hook though!”

*

A few hours later, Yoongi hears the door creak open again and he lets out a small groan, turning over in bed and opening his eyes. Jimin is back from class, and he comes over to pull the covers off.

“Get up, lazy ass. Got you something, you should eat it. You’ll feel better.”

Yoongi lifts his head off his pillow in interest as Jimin sets down a paper bag on his desk and lifts out a tumbler from inside it. When he uncaps it, the tantalizing smell of chicken and soup wafts toward him, and even he can’t resist it as he climbs out of bed slowly.

“What’s with you today, Park? You’re being unusually nice to me,” Yoongi comments as he seats himself at his desk, reaching for the spoon and starting to dig into the warm concoction.

Jimin takes offense at this, bottom lip pouting. “I’m always nice to you!”

For a few moments, nothing is heard except for the noises of slurping as Yoongi gobbles everything up as if he hasn’t eaten in days. When he’s nearly done with the food, he turns to look at Jimin, who’s casually using his phone on his bed.

“Hey, you know _____ pretty well, right?”

“Yeah, why?” Jimin answers back with his attention still focused on his phone. “She’s my best friend, although she’s annoying as hell sometimes.”

“Is she the same best friend as the one I’m doing the experiment for?”

Jimin’s thumbs freeze over his phone screen; Yoongi can hear his sharp intake of breath, and he knows he’s got Jimin now.

“They’re the same person aren’t they?”

“What makes you think that?” Jimin is fiddling with his phone case, a telltale sign of his anxiety. He stubbornly refuses to look at Yoongi, but Yoongi refuses to give up. He’ll squeeze it out of Jimin somehow, it’s the only way he can find out for sure.

“You’ve always been a terrible liar, Jimin,” Yoongi sighs as he leans back in his chair. “Now spill. Everything. Why did you set me up with her at your party? You’re the only one out of the three of us who knows so-“

“I was having a brainfuck, alright,” Jimin exhales wearily, giving up all pretense now. “I got my wires crossed. I was really drunk that night, and when I saw her and you together, some weird part of my brain thought you looked really good together. It must have been the way you were looking at her, because I swear you never look like that unless you’re pining for someone-“

“I do NOT pine over girls,” Yoongi immediately retorts, his cheeks flushing pink along with the tips of his ears.

“-how was I to know that you’d end up fucking? For all I know that night, it ended with a harmless kiss,” Jimin throws his hands up in the air, pushing himself off the bed to start pacing back and forth. “You two were already talking before I could stop you. If I stepped in to separate you, that would be suspicious as fuck. And anyway, as far as ______ is concerned, you and Mr Cheetos are two separate people. So what’s the problem here? And as long as you play along-”

“She’s not two separate people to me,” Yoongi fights back. “Not now, not anymore. How can I keep going like this, keep lying to her?”

“Look,” Jimin sits on his bed and massages his temples. “You can’t, under any circumstances, let her find out before she submits her thesis. The truth will destroy her; you know it will. Not only will she insist on redoing her preliminary experiment, the added stress of it all is just… she doesn’t deserve this.”

Jimin is right. You definitely don’t deserve to have all your hard work go down the drain like that. There is a moment of silence as Yoongi contemplates his choices. A part of him is dying to see your face now that he knows everything, put the two halves of you that he knows together in order to make a whole. Even as he admits this to himself, it’s painfully obvious that he’s being selfish, doing so would benefit no one but himself. And it would destroy you in the process.

All for what? Just so he can have a shot at being with you? What makes him think you’d even want to see his face after he single-handedly ruined your thesis and potential graduation? Maybe not single handedly, because there is Jimin to blame too, but still.

“That’s from her, by the way. I told her you were sick to cancel yesterday. That’s why she was at our room earlier.” Jimin breaks his train of thought.

“But isn’t the sanctity of the experiment already ruined anyway?” Yoongi questions, a last ditch effort. “We had contact outside of that experiment room.”

“No, because to her, you are two separate people,” Jimin explains. “Up till now, all the observations and remarks she has on her report are based on interacting with you as Mr Cheetos, not Min Yoongi. Within that room, those are two different people. Any feelings she developed for Mr Cheetos is completely unrelated to any feelings she has for Min Yoongi. You understand what I’m saying, right?”

Yoongi slumps hard against the chair, closing his eyes. He swallows hard. “So what do we do now?”

“We pretend,” Jimin has his lips in a firm line. “She rescheduled your last session for tomorrow, by the way. Just have to tough it out for one more day. And after she submits everything, which should be the day after.”

“… and after that?” Yoongi hates the way his voice sounds. So full of hope but yet so vulnerable at the same time. The unspoken part of his question lingers in the air, but Jimin is more than adept to read between the lines.

“You’re free to do whatever you want,” he shrugs. “Tell her, or not. It’s up to you, buddy.”

*

Now that he knows, everything is different.

How could he not have figured out it was you right after that night? Your fingers are so distinct, even without the coat of nail polish, he’s sure that he could recognise them anywhere.

On the last session, Yoongi is more self-conscious than usual. Is his voice alright? Maybe he should try to speak in a lower voice so that you won’t recognise him. You and him have barely spoken to each other outside of this room, so there’s not much danger there, but he still doesn’t want to risk it.

Which prompts your question, “are you feeling okay, Mr Cheetos? You sound a little rough. Sorry we had to do this today, it’s just that I need to wrap everything up soon, and-“

“It’s fine,” he clears his throat, flexing his fingers in your grip as he leans his head against the wall slightly. “I’m fine. Sorry for yesterday, by the way. And thank you for the soup. It was really good, and it helped a lot.”

“Oh, you’re welcome,” your voice comes from the other side. “I’ll make it quick so you can rest, okay? Your last three impressions of me were relatable, intriguing and familiar. Any change?”

Yoongi bites his lip hard at the irony. “No, no change.”

“Okay thanks,” there is a pause and Yoongi assumes that you’re writing down some notes. “Question for today: if you had a superpower, what kind of power would it be?”

This time Yoongi has to pause and think, force himself to concentrate and stop focusing on the fact that it’s you sitting on the other side of the room from him. “I think… I’d like to be a superhero who saves people from disappointment and rejection. Like I’ll absorb it into myself? Sounds lame right?”

“No it doesn’t,” you answer immediately. “I’ve never heard of that one before. Tell me more maybe?”

“Well, if you think about it, traditional superheroes are all concerned with physical and mortal danger, all that stuff, but even they themselves aren’t invincible to intangible things like disappointment and rejection. And I think it’s because they are intangible that makes them so devastating and insidious. There’s no one in this world who’s impervious to disappointment and rejection.” Yoongi self-consciously flexes his fingers, wondering if his hand is getting a little too sweaty and whether you’d mind or not.

There’s a brief pause and then a sound as if you’re humming in agreement. When you speak, your voice has dropped to a lower, more intimate register, one that sends shivers up Yoongi’s spine. He just hopes it doesn’t telegraph down his arm and over to your side. “I’d very much like to be saved from disappointment and rejection. How should I call you when I need you then?”

Yoongi knows you’re joking, that this is entirely just for the sake of the experiment. This is not an invitation to tell you his real name and just let the cat out of the bag. But being behind this screen has him more reckless than usual, what could it hurt if he drops a few hints here and there? “You’d have to call me by my real name. Somehow, I think Mr Cheetos doesn’t quite cut it for a superhero name.”

His heart is pounding in his chest, mind racing to come up with all the possible ways you could respond to this.

“I guess I’ll remain disappointed then,” you say with an exaggerated sigh. “But actually, I do have a real question for you. If you want to save everyone from disappointment and rejection, does that mean that you don’t believe in the ‘everything happens for a reason’ mantra?”

“No way, I don’t believe in that bullshit,” Yoongi shakes his head vehemently. “I always thought it was utter nonsense, just shit white girls put on posters in their rooms.”

“You mean like the hashtag just girly things?” You are laughing on the other side, and the sound of your gentle laughter brings a smile to his own face. “What an absolute meme it has turned into. Because of people like you.”

“What can I say? I’m one of those assholes,” Yoongi has a shitfaced grin on, wishing he could see the look on your face, although for now he’ll settle on just briefly skimming his thumb over the top of your knuckles, hoping he can get away with it, and he does. “It’s so full of shit. Sometimes things just happen and there isn’t a set reason for it. Maybe there is, but we aren’t always able to know. If we believe there’s always a reason for something, we’ll drive ourselves crazy trying to find out.”

“So sometimes things just… happen? For no reason at all?”

“Yup,” Yoongi says firmly, popping the ‘p’ against his lips for emphasis. “Just accept it and move on. Hurts less that way.”

“You sound like you’re speaking from personal experience.”

Yoongi makes a non-committal sound in the back of his throat, and you laugh on the other side. “Alright, next time I’ll try doing that.”

There’s a brief pause before you speak again. “I think we’re just about done here. Anything else you want to say to me before we end with three impressions?”

Yoongi fights past the lump in his throat to say something, anything. Regret tastes as bitter as wormwood, and he can’t get the words out. Instead, he bites his lip hard. “No, nothing. My three impressions are still the same. Relatable, intriguing and… familiar.”

“Okay, noted. Thanks for all your help here, Mr Cheetos. I really appreciate it,” you squeeze his hand lightly as you say this, and he can feel his treacherous heart skip a beat just from this simple gesture. “It was great to have you here.”

“It was great to be here too.” Somehow his words sound choked even to his own ears, and he can only pray and hope that you don’t pick up on it. For once Yoongi is glad that you can’t see the look on his face and he can’t see yours either, for it would make it all the more difficult to prise his palm away from yours and stand. “So, um… see you around, I guess?”

There is a hopeful note in his voice that he picks up on right off the bat, and Yoongi hates it. Hates being so vulnerable like this, but somehow with you he’s always in this state.

“See you around, then,” you confirm, withdrawing your arm.

Yoongi exits the room without sparing even a single glance back, afraid that it might make him act on impulse and tear down that damn barrier to really see you. He opens the door, focusing on the way his fingers close around the handle, steps out, letting the door close gently behind him.

And that’s that.

*

Your eyes are sore, fingers and shoulders aching and still, you’re not quite satisfied with what you have. The midnight deadline is drawing closer and closer, and ever since you’d ended the experiment with Mr Cheetos, you’d locked yourself in your room without coming out.

Blowing a sigh through your lips, you lean back in your seat for a moment, closing your eyes to chase away the glaring imprint of your computer screen. Then you open them again and scroll through your notes for the last session.

Week Four Notes and Observations

Test Subject: Mr Gucci (Control Experiment)

Initial Impressions: Ambitious, pretty, not-so-fresh

(Note: this was a joke in reference to observer’s slightly unkempt state. Observer and participant shared a laugh over this)

Final Impressions: Friendly, cool, and ‘my type’

Personal observations: Conversation seemed a lot more natural this time around. Subject offered genuine personal opinions to question posed, expressed more of his personality. Definite progress in terms of emotional intimacy has been made as compared to the first week. Overall, there was an easy camaraderie between subject and observer, a result of spending the past month together.

Test Subject: Hot Cheetos

Initial Impressions: Relatable, intriguing, familiar (no change from week three)

Final Impressions: Relatable, intriguing, familiar (still no change)

Personal observations: Although subject’s impressions did not change throughout, he was very willing to share insights behind his thought process as he answered the question posed. Subject seems to have formed a little bit of an attachment (?) to the Observer, hinting desire to interact with the Observer outside of the experiment. Such results serve to be in line with the original hypothesis.

It’s enough. It has to be enough. As the minutes tick by, you scroll up and scan through the previous weeks again to see if you’ve missed anything. Then you move on to the last part of your preliminary proposal.

Final Conclusion

Throughout this month long trial experiment, the main aim was to test how human bonds are formed and cultivated under specific conditions. More importantly was to study whether the element of anonymity and physical contact would contribute to a landslide difference between subjects and their willingness to connect emotionally with another stranger. As the results from each week have proven, test subject who wasn’t allowed anonymity nor physical contact took a lot longer to establish a sense of trust and non-superficial interaction with the Observer. Whereas the test subject who was allowed anonymity and physical contact demonstrated a solid and perhaps even lasting emotional connection with the Observer.

In your mind still lingers all the things you and Mr Cheetos talked about during your sessions. Thank God you don’t have to write down the exact content of them in your report, for it would be an incredible violation of privacy, and you prefer to keep his words to yourself. Something only between the two of you, a shared secret. Even though you don’t know his true identity, you can be rest assured that something tethers you to him at least in this reality.

With just minutes to spare before the deadline, you save your document and upload it to be submitted, indulging in a stretch before you tumble into bed for a long, well-deserved sleep.

*

It’s a bit strange; life after submitting a huge proposal. It’s like you don’t know what to do with your life anymore, like you’ve lost a sense of purpose. You have to wait a bit to hear your supervisor’s comments on your proposal, and in order to distract yourself from harping over it, you decide to go see Jimin. That brat always has a knack for annoying the heck out of you when you need it most.

When you get to his room you try the doorknob without even bothering to knock, completely forgetting that he has a roommate. As a result, you stumble upon Min Yoongi dressed in boxers and no shirt, sitting at his desk working on his computer.

“Oh shit, um sorry, I was looking for Jimin,” you immediately avert your gaze, cheeks heating up. “I should have knocked. I’m sorry, I’ll just let you, uh…”

“Why so flustered?” He responds in a lazy drawl, turning in his chair to face the door, not in the least bit concerned about his half naked state. You wish he’d have the decency to rush and put on a shirt and some pants, at least. “It’s not like you caught me doing anything… illicit. I’m just on my laptop.”

The way you avoid his gaze stubbornly is just adorable, Yoongi can’t resist riling you up further. “Or did you think I was doing something else?”

“Do you know where Jimin is?” You avoid his question as you close the door further so that only a crack remains, shielding your body behind it.

“Hmm? Park?” Yoongi pretends to think for a while before he shrugs. “I dunno. Probably working out or something. Why?”

“Nothing, I just… well, see you later,” you say in a hurry and close the door, but Yoongi is on his feet and has his hand on the doorknob in a flash.

“Hey, wait. Why’re you acting so weird around me? Is it because of that night? We never got to talk about it properly, you know,” Yoongi pulls the door open a tad, fighting against your strength, and you must say that he is a lot stronger than you would think, given his wiry frame. He leans forward and lowers his voice to a sinful drawl. “So I figured now’s a good time as any other.”

“What’s there to talk about?” You sigh, relenting and letting him pull the door open to his liking. “It was just… it was just that. No big deal.”

Yoongi laughs and throws his head back as if he’s thoroughly amused with you. “Damn, you’re really a prude, aren’t you? Can’t even say the word. We fucked, we had sex, I had my cock in your pussy-“

“God, stop!” You hiss at him, stepping inside and slamming the door closed before someone overhears the filth that is pouring from his lips.

Internally Yoongi grins at his genius, he got you to come back inside without even touching you. “Don’t get me wrong, I love it. You’re so cute, Ms Prude.”

Your lips twitch at the nickname, and Yoongi wonders if that’s enough. But then you frown at him and cross your arms. “Fine, we had sex. We talked about it too. Is that enough?”

“Enough?” Yoongi raises a brow, copying your stance. “No, not nearly enough for me. See, when I have sex that mind-blowing with someone, I tend to want repeat acts. Multiple.”

You sniff and toss your hair over your shoulder, turning away from him primly. “Sorry, I don’t fuck people I don’t know.”

Yoongi pretends to frown in mock hurt when really, your cute little attitude and playing hard to get is more endearing to him than ever. “Really? You don’t know me? I spat in your mouth and you swallowed it. Among other things. I’d say exchange of bodily fluids counts as getting to know someone…”

You put a hand to your temple and sigh loudly, as if Yoongi’s some thick idiot. “Not that, you asshat. I meant emotionally. Mentally. I don’t know who you are as a person. That kind of thing. I slept with you that night because… I don’t know why. I just lost control, and I can assure you that it’s not something that happens often.”

Yoongi is quiet for a moment, letting your words sink in as he contemplates his response. It occurs to him that this is the perfect opening, and all traces of his smirk vanish from his face. He turns to look at you with an intensity unmatched, and sensing his seriousness, you straighten your posture.

“What if I told you that you do know me? As a person. You know my deepest darkest fears, my hopes and dreams, and I know yours.” Yoongi holds his breath. It’s now or never. Fuck it. He’s never been one to live life without taking a few risks here and there anyway. “What if I told you… I am Mr Cheetos?”

The words have an immediate effect on you as you take a step back, jaw dropping and your hands coming up to cover your mouth. It feels like all the air has just been sucked out of the room, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe, or even think straight. “Wait. I don’t… I don’t believe you. How can- it’s just-“

“It’s true, every single bit,” Yoongi says calmly. “How else would I know that nickname? The top thing on your bucket list is to perform in front of people you know with a mask on because you want to be a better version of yourself. And your biggest fear is being inadequate, being unable to make it on your own, living your whole life as merely average.”

Hearing your own deepest darkest secrets repeated back to you is bone-chilling, and unsettling to say the least, but then another part of you realises the implication of all this. You and Yoongi fucked at Jimin’s party right in the middle of your experiment. Which means that you continued to see him even after you’d had contact with him outside of that room. That wet dream with Yoongi and Mr Cheetos now seems like the fates laughing down at you, scorning you.

The entire experiment is ruined. The results are contaminated, and the worst thing is that you’ve already submitted it and there is no way of getting it back. Your fate is sealed.

“How long have you known?” You ask quietly.

“I suspected it on the third week.” Yoongi starts slowly. “But I never did anything to confirm it till… till this week. Everything was just falling into place so uncannily, and you know Jimin sucks at keeping a secret so he…”

“My god. I’m going to fucking kill Park Jimin,” you clench your fists. “That stupid little fucker knew all along! He made us make out with each other at his party knowing full well that-“

“Wait, he was drunk, he didn’t know we slept together till I told him,” Yoongi rushes in to defend his roommate, though he can sense that your anger is steadily mounting. “He didn’t mean to set us up at the party together. It was meant to be harmless, he didn’t know we’d-“

As enraged as you are, you’re still able to sift through your emotions and see reason, a quality that you’re proud of, maybe not at this moment though. Jimin only made the two of you exchange a kiss. Never forced you to go any further than that. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s yours. For being unable to resist his sweet lips and alluring touches, for giving in to temptation far too easily. Now your entire future is ruined.

You sink down to the ground in defeat, closing your eyes as you feel a tear escape onto your cheek. You hear Yoongi call out your name, feel his hand on your cheek wiping the tear away, but you move your head away weakly.

“It’s ruined, it’s all gone now, my proposal,” you are fighting back tears. “The experimental results are contaminated. I had contact with you outside this room without even realising it. Come to think of it, I may have had contact with Mr… the other subject too without even knowing it… fuck, I’m so fucking stupid, it’s all ruined!!!”

Yoongi scrambles onto his knees in front of you, the sight of your tears is heart wrenching. He cradles your face in his hands, forces you to look at him. Your breathing is unevenly fast, and he can see that you are having a panic attack, unable to think straight as the tears roll down your face.

“______. Just breathe with me. Look at me and breathe. In, one… two… three. Out, one… two… three,” Yoongi forces you to concentrate on his voice, fighting the urge to take you in his arms and hold you close. He repeats the mantra until your sobs have quietened, and you are staring blankly at his chest.

“What am I supposed to do now?” Your voice is small, and there is a lost look in your eyes.

“It’s not ruined, your proposal isn’t gone,” Yoongi tries to recall the exact words Jimin had said to him the other day. From another pysch major’s perspective, Jimin seemed confident that your thesis would still be valid. “Within that room, you still knew me as two different people. Mr Cheetos and Min Yoongi are two unrelated people to you right till this very moment. All the observations you recorded are still valid. You’re right when you said you don’t know me, Min Yoongi. So it couldn’t have affected your observations in any way. You understand?”

You are quiet for a moment as you listen to him, but then you shake your head stubbornly. “No, no it’s not, I have to get my proposal back and redo the whole thing, the experiment’s not valid anymore-“

“How is it not valid?” Yoongi fights the urge to shake some sense into you. “Your experiment… it has something to do with studying the relationship between two people right?”

“Y-yes, something like that,” you answer him. “That’s why it was so important that you and I have no prior contact with each other, and have our interactions limited to that room only. That way I can determine that any result comes purely from the experiment itself and…”

“And what result were you looking for?” Yoongi presses. “Now that it’s over, you can tell me, right?”

You hesitate for a beat before you give in with a sigh. “Emotional intimacy. That’s why it’s just… it’s all wrong, all fucking wasted, and…”

“God, for such an amazingly bright woman, you can be so dense sometimes,” Yoongi takes you by the shoulders. “You practically made me fucking fall in love with you, do you not understand? If anything, it should prove your theory right!”

His words hit you like a bullet straight to the gut, and for a moment you can’t react. Your words trip over each other as you stare at the man in front of you, his eyes alight with just how sincere he is, and the way he wears that frustrated expression on his face from trying to get you to understand. “Y-you’re… what now?”

“I’m in love with you. You made me fall in love with you,” Yoongi repeats it a second time, even more slowly now. “From that moment I accidentally stuck my dick into that hole, I was as good as a goner. And every session we had after that I could feel myself falling deeper and deeper. It was fucking killing me to keep pretending that I didn’t know it was you on the other side. And to walk out knowing that I could never see you again? I’m far too selfish for that.”

You shake your head in confusion, struggling to comprehend all the facts that are being thrown at you now. “Is that why you chose to tell me now? Instead of… earlier?”

“Jimin said it was better this way,” Yoongi sighs. “He was right. He’s sorry, by the way. And I know it’s a lot to take in, so just… I’ll leave you alone. Give you some time to digest it all. It was a huge blow to me back then too, so… I understand what it’s like.”

You can see the reluctance on his face as Yoongi pulls away, offering you a hand to help you stand up. Shakily, you get to your feet, and he withdraws his hand. Strangely enough, the action sends a pang right through your heart. Awkwardly you shuffle to the door, peeking at his face which betrays no emotion. “I guess I’ll um… yeah. I’ll get going then.”

“See you,” Yoongi nods as he watches you slip out the door, and then you’re gone, for the second time.

*

Now that the shock has worn off and you’ve had a bit of time to think, to realise that your proposal isn’t in jeopardy after all, you’re a lot calmer. What’s a lot more challenging is reconciling the two different people that you know into one.

You don’t know Min Yoongi. But you know Mr Cheetos. And now they’re the same person, so somehow you have to merge them. It’s beyond futile to deny that you’re more than intrigued by your interactions with Mr Cheetos in that room, and if he was Min Yoongi all along... 

You sigh as you toss your phone across the room, ignoring yet another call from Jimin. That sneaky bastard deserves to be on edge for a while more. This whole thing is partially his fault, anyway.

You can’t resist pulling up your report and scrolling through it again, reading all the observations about Mr Cheetos in a new light now. With every word comes the memories of you and him in that room together, and if you think about it, you should have seen it coming earlier. That conversation about fears you had with Yoongi in his room where you thought you’d mistaken him for someone else. And that stupid vivid wet dream. As it turns out, it wasn’t the unveiling of your lewd desires but your subconscious’s way of warning you.

How ironic.

You sigh as you open your email and address it to your professor. Then, your hands hover over the keyboard as you ponder over what you’re about to do. You can’t just sit here and do nothing, not when you can’t deny the facts any longer. Min Yoongi and Mr Cheetos are one person, and as the seconds tick by, it’s no longer as hard to swallow as it was when you first found out.

Which leaves only one thing to be done. You quickly open your proposal and make the necessary changes in red before attaching it and pressing send before you can have any second thoughts.

There. One loose end tied up. Now for the last one.

You push your chair back and head for Yoongi’s room. It’s already past midnight now, so you’re not even sure that it’s appropriate for you to be doing such a thing, but fuck it. You can’t wait a single second longer.

This time, you make sure to knock first, and disappointingly, it’s Jimin who answers.

“Oh,” your face sours when you see him, and his is the direct opposite.

“Hey, _____! I’ve been calling you for hours, I thought you died!” Jimin’s eyes widen at the sight of you. He at least as the decency to look guilty when you glare at him.

“Where’s Yoongi? I need to talk to him,” you demand.

“He’s uh… he’s just…”

“I’m here, why?” Yoongi peeks his head out from behind Jimin, pushing up a pair of glasses higher on his nose. “_____?”

“Could we… could we talk?” You say hesitantly.

“Sure,” Yoongi replies, turning to look at Jimin. “Park, do you mind?”

Jimin immediately jumps to reply, sensing the tension between the two of you. “S-sure, take your time! I’ll just uh… go sleep at Jungkook’s tonight. Take all the time you need.”

And then he grabs his pillow and hightails it out of the room.

“Stupid punk,” you mutter under your breath as you step inside. “What does he think we’re going to do all night that he can’t come back here?”

“You’re right, we’re just talking,” Yoongi agrees. “It’s not like we haven’t been alone together in a room and not jumped each other’s bones before- oh wait…”

You smack him sharply on the arm as you glare at him. “You’re such a fucking sleeze, Min.”

But he notices that a smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you make your way over to his desk.

“So…” Yoongi starts awkwardly, rubbing his neck.

“So… I wanted to tell you something. I wrote in to my professor because I needed to change something on my proposal. I felt like I couldn’t turn it in without being truthful about what happened in the experiment.”

Yoongi feels a lump beginning to form in his throat. “Okay… I hope you didn’t write about me sticking my dick into that hole, because-“

“No, you idiot, of course I didn’t,” you roll your eyes as you pull out a folder you’d been carrying with you. “The changes are here. You wanna read it? It does concern you quite a bit, so I thought…”

“Sure, why not?” Yoongi reaches for the piece of paper from you, willing his hand to stop shaking as he reads through it.

Final Conclusion

… Whereas the test subject who was allowed anonymity and physical contact demonstrated a solid and perhaps even lasting emotional connection with the Observer. At the end of the experiment, said test subject revealed to being ‘in love’ with the Observer by admitting that he had been harbouring deeper and deeper emotions for the Observer as the experiment progressed. As of now it is yet unclear whether these emotions truly count as love or merely just infatuation, as it was an unprecedented result that the Observer did not seek to define the parameters of prior to the experiment. To add on, it has to be acknowledged that the Observer herself does share a similar degree of emotional intimacy with the subject. As such, it would be pertinent to conclude that this observation only further strengthens the author’s main thesis of the singularity theory.

Yoongi reaches the end of the paragraph with his breath stuck in his chest as he lowers the piece of paper, only to find you looking at him nervously.

“Is it… is it okay? I mean, I already sent it to my professor, so yeah, but I just wanted to… y’know…”

It’s cute when you’re nervous and you ramble on and on like that. Yoongi grins a gummy little smile at you as he reaches for your waist and pulls you in for a kiss, your lips meeting for the first time that night, and damn do you taste good. Like everything he’s ever wanted, all the longing and the pent up desire of the past month unleashed into this single kiss. Your lips and tongue clash against each other, too reckless to take it slowly and enjoy each other, too desperate to prove to himself that you are really right in front of him, and he’s not letting you slip away this time.

Finally he draws away, panting because you stole the breath right out of his lungs. “It���s perfect.”

All the tension eases out of your features as you circle your arms around his waist, resting your cheek against his chest.

“But wait, you think I’m just infatuated with you?” Yoongi pulls away to frown at you, but there is a teasing smile on his lips.

“Hmmm, I dunno,” you shrug back. “According to science, infatuation is different from love, it’s a lot harder to prove that love exists between two people, most relationships are just borne out of infatuation…”

Yoongi shuts you up with his lips attacking a particularly sensitive spot on your collarbone, making you moan his name. “You know, it’s hot when you talk about science and psychology and all that shit. But I’d rather hear my name instead.”

Your breaths come in short pants as he sinks his teeth into your tender flesh for a moment before soothing the spot with his tongue. “Li-like I said, Min. Infatuated with me, you are.”

“Shut up, I’m fucking in love with you,” Yoongi reprimands you with a sharp pinch of your nipple.

You smile against his neck, playing with the baby hairs at the nape of it. “Prove it to me then, Mr Cheetos.”

[redandfranticfeelings]

an autistic analysis, lyric by lyric, of ‘i love play rehearsal’

ive been hyperfixating over bmc for the last month and i keep thinking about how autistic the main characters are and christine is so very very very autistic coded to me. so i decided im just going to straight up deconstruct the lyrics of her signature song in the context of her being autistic (and also having adhd, but my experience is mostly in autism)

this is very very rambley and based more on personal experience than research, so i doubt itll be interesting to anybody but me, but i just want to talk about christine, the autistic queen

I love play rehearsal Because its the best! Because it is fun. I love play rehearsal and I get depressed as soon as its done.

it goes without saying that chrstine’s special interest is theater right? the way she treats it as the “highlight of [her] life” and then switches into this song after acting completely awkward and disinterested in jeremy outside of the context of him being engaged in her special interest.

But not depressed as in like kill yourself depressed No, im not into self-harm Dude, I swear, here check my arm!

overexplaining in a way that reads very much like speaking before she thinks, even though bringing up self harm in casual conversation with someone you barely talk to is not exactly proper etiquette. i think this is also an adhd trait? going faster than your own brain. that’s basically this whole song.

See, I just use the word to emphasise a point, Show the passion I have got I am passionate a lot. I have mad, gigantic feelings, Red and frantic feelings, About most everything Like gun control, like spring,

a lot of people assume autistic people are typically emotionless but it’s also very easy for us to get caught up in emotional issues especially when it comes to stuff we love, and it catches us off guard. christine being hyperempathetic is implied later in the show when she has that awful survivors’ guilt over making fun of rich and jake, and it also plays into her being so socially conscious as well.

Like if I’m living up to all I’m meant to be.

being an high school junior is really rough bc of all the decisions that have to be made regarding college and your future as an independent adult, and being autistic just makes it worse bc it can easily lead to burnout to deal with so much at once, if you even can comprehend these things much at all (i had no idea what to do, lol). i doubted my ability to grow up and succeed constantly because i had no idea who to talk to and what questions to ask and how to present myself. that’s something that a lot of people worry about, but having social delays makes it way more of a pressing issue than it is for neurotypicals, i feel.

I also have a touch of ADD. Where was I? Oh, right!

self explanatory and very canon. adhd and autism can be diagnosed simultaneously nowadays and the symptoms overlap a lot, btw.

I love play rehearsal, Cause’ you are equiped with direction and text, Life is easy in rehearsal, You follow a script so you know what comes next. Anywho the point that I’m getting to is sometimes life can’t work out in the way It works out in the play

this part screams autistic culture to me. unpredictability is scary because social situations don’t always go smoothly like in fiction! this is why social scripting is a popular therapy tactic for autistic children- you have to manually study social situations like a script. theater is something meant to be memorized and recited until you’re able to process it and manufacture emotion, but honestly for autistic kids, life feels a lot like that sometimes. remember how miserable she got when one of her favorite plays had the script changed without her permission to make a whole new story she doesn’t know? of course that’s just upsetting on its own, but in the context of her knowing theater so well and being fully prepared for one story only to be forced to learn a new one? ouch.

christine is never shown as comfortable outside her element- she hides in a book during “more than survive” and shrinks into nothing at the party. it’s a recurring theme that she has no idea exactly who she is, struggles with her identity outside of theater, and despite not really caring about how people see her, she does care about her own ability. socializing makes her feel awkward, especially when something totally unexpected happens like jake or jeremy asking her out. if she doesn’t have a plan or routine or, well, a script, then she can’t trust herself to go forward.

Like the only time I get to be the center of attention, Is when I’m Juliet or Blanche DuBois

as an autistic theater kid, i just really do relate to being clueless and dumb in real life but being able to totally thrive on the stage, because you can channel the energy that is usually misplaced in real life social interactions, and transfer it through dialogue and song and dance that someone else laid out nicely for you.

and can I mention? That was really one of my best roles, Did you see that?

an epic combination of letting your mind wander easily without caring about making sense to the person you’re speaking to, and taking every opportunity to infodump. in a lot of productions she even mimics her blanche voice just for fun. jeremy tries to respond here but she doesn’t care because she’s in her own brain where everything only really seems to make sense to her.

And no matter how hard I try, It’s impossible to narrow down the many reasons why, I love play rehearsal. I happiness cry whenever it starts!

if she isn’t being hyperbolic then this plays into my ‘so much emotion it’s hard to control’ thing detailed a bit above. either way, big special interest mood.

It’s just so universal Getting to try playing so many parts. Most humans do one thing for all of their lives, The thought of that gives me hives! I’ve got so many interests I wanna pursue,

it’s a lot easier to lose yourself and connect to your special interest than focus on your very complex, very overwhelming real life issues. escaping into fiction and being able to play in a variety of social situations as a totally different person, yay theater!

in general i just like the idea of christine struggling to visualize who she is and thinking about a lot of hypothetical but being unable to choose which one is most desirable or plausible. idk if that’s autistic or just a fun character trait lol. i know jumping from interest to interest is an adhd thing though.

this little passage is good for at least showing that christine distinguishes herself from ‘most humans’ in a way that isn’t so much ‘not like other girls’ but like ‘life is so much more confusing to me than it seems to be to others’ (which the show proposes isn’t exactly true and is the same closed-mindedness that jeremy has, though christine realizes it sooner; however; the sentiment rings true in that christine, as a neurodiverse young woman, has a lot more hoops to jump through than a neurotypical classmate.)

And why am I telling this to you? Guess there’s a part of me that wants to.

jeremy is also very autistic coded in my eyes, but that’s a separate post. i just like them being drawn to each other through that sort of kinship. also if you interpret her as having an unrealized requited crush on him…well, i think for a lot of us, romantic love is easy to confuse with friend love, if even that, because the specifics of emotions are a mess to unravel. (which also explains her confusion on her relationship with jake)

oh and right after this, she starts squawking just because she had the impulse to do so. vocal stimming, much?

Back to play rehearsal, My brain is like ‘bzzz’ My heart is like 'wow’

my brain is always like bzzz honestly lol. this is generally a pretty good way to describe being hyperfocused.

Because we’re here at play rehearsal, and it’s starting, We’re starting, It’s starting, Sooo-ooon.

it’s been confirmed as a deliberate decision that christine’s songs never end on a rhyme, except when she’s squipped and it isn’t ‘really’ her, because she subverts everyone’s expectations, including jeremy’s. i feel that could make for a nice simplified metaphor for autism, right?

[airquietworks]

Bitter Hearts, Sweet Confessions (IzuOcha Oneshot)

Summary: There are some words Ochako cannot bring herself to say, even as she explores a romance with Deku. Bombarded by the onslaught of Valentine’s Day, Ochako is forced to confront the feelings she kept buried deep within. For on Valentine’s, chocolate can be the gateway to love.

The sensation of his hand weaving its way through hers was equal parts lovely and terrifying.

As always, it was oh-so-gentle in its grip. But Ochako could feel the unevenness as their flesh clasped together, their hands both worn and calloused.

It was a strange sensation – but not unpleasant.

 Even walking like this, hand-in-hand, was enough to set her nerves ablaze. Even if this was their third date.

“Umm…would it be alright if we walked the grounds a little while?” He spoke quietly, barely above a whisper, as they found themselves at the front gates of U.A. “I’m...I’m not ready for this to end yet.”

His cheeks reddened as he scratched at a cluster of freckles on the right side of his face. He could be so effortlessly adorable sometimes.

“Sure, Deku!” she replied brightly, despite the hard thumping of her heart. “I’d be happy to.”

Their weeks together had been a whirlwind of conflicting emotions since he had finally, after two years, worked up the courage to ask her out.

It had been a close call, accepting his invitation for their first date. The question had put her on a terrifying precipice. But, in spite of her misgivings, she could not bring herself to say no.

The gravity between them had completely flipped since then. Easygoing interactions were suddenly fraught with fear. Their dialogue had oft become a dizzying dance of awkwardness.

But they were too determined to not see this through. They fought past their nerves. Their first date, albeit terrifying, was still wondrous. Those memories were something she was sure she would treasure for her lifetime, whatever came of things between them.

Now, nearing the end of their third date, they had progressed to regular hand holding. The new gesture was still enough to make her sweat.

Still, they quietly kept connected, their bodies finally starting to mimic their hearts.

“I’ve really had a wonderful time with you tonight.” Deku’s heartfelt words snapped her from her reverie. She rolled with the sudden conversation easily, nodding with a grin.

“Yeah! It was a lot of fun,” she responded with enthusiasm, recalling their pleasant meal together and their various escapades throughout the evening. “That movie really got my blood pumping!”

She raised her fist and flashed a cocksure grin. His answering smile warmed her to her core.

Ochako continued to talk the night away with him, enjoying every moment. They eventually found their way back toward their dorms and their inevitable parting.

“Want to grab a seat?” Deku suggested as they came upon an ordinary-looking bench on the path. “I don’t really want to get back yet.”

“Me neither,” she replied, shaking her head as she thought about the interrogation her friends would put her under after the date. “I guess it’s not too late yet, right?”

The pair gently placed themselves on the bench. They stretched their legs in unison, rolling their worn-down ankles and leaning back.

Ochako took a deep breath, gazing up at the dark night sky. The light pollution kept most of the stars at bay, but there were a few bright spots she could pick out.

She side-eyed Deku, who was leaning back heavily into the bench. He had closed his eyes and was breathing slowly. An unfamiliar peace made its way across his features, plain-looking as ever. Still, she found her eyes drawn to his serene face.

Her pulse quickened, sending blood racing to her cheeks. She bit her lip lightly, clenching her fists and trying to keep control of her nerves. Why did she still get this way around him? She had hoped after years of controlling her tumultuous feelings about Deku, she could handle trying to see if a relationship would work with him. Deep down, she knew her heart yearned for it.

But her infuriating heart made her skittish. She wanted to explore something more with Deku – and how deep her feelings for him truly were - but she could do without their every interaction being a tightrope walk.

“Hey, Uraraka?”

Once again, his voice halted her train of thoughts. She internally chided herself on getting lost in her own mind again.

“What’s up?” She replied, not missing a beat.

Without her realizing it, Deku had scooched himself closer to her. There was barely a foot between them now. He seemed to loom in front of her, his presence sending a light shock through her system. Goosebumps ran up her arms as his emerald eyes gazed at her, a bright spark flickering within them.

“I just...” he trailed off, his throat bobbing with a gulp. At least he was nervous too.

“I just never thought…well, maybe it’s kind of silly.” His eyes were glued to the wood between them, his cheeks as inflamed as hers. “I wasn’t really popular growing up. I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to be with someone like this.”

“Deku…” she might never understand how he, of all people, could not make friends for much of his youth. It was always a sore spot when he brought it up.

“I’ve been really happy being with you, Uraraka. As more than friends, I mean. It’s been…it’s more wonderful than anything I could have dreamed of.”

Why did her heart have to hammer in her chest so fiercely? She felt an unbridled, fiery passion towards the boy in front of her take shape, freezing her in place.

“I...I feel the same way, Deku.” She offered him a tight-lipped smile. It was an honest-enough response, even if she was clamping down on her urges to glomp him.

It was enough to send a bright, beaming smile across his face, one that never failed to delight her. But it did not last long. His face fell, his eyes suddenly looking everywhere but at her.

He gulped again.

“Would it be alright if I…I mean…could I...would it be alright if I…”

She might be as romantically clueless as him, but she could tell what he was getting at.

Her heart thrummed in rhythm with the electricity that seemed to flow between them. Her thoughts went quiet as she became laser-focused on the boy in front of her.

Ochako could not tell what had possessed her. Without a word, she pressed a finger to his lips, cutting off his mumbles. They felt soft to her touch, sending a small shock through her fingertip.

She gazed into his suddenly wide-eyes and took a deep, bracing breath. She refused to say anything, sure she would somehow put her foot in her mouth.

But her head moved. She nodded twice, firmly, to leave no doubt as to her answer. Her chin tilted upwards and her eyes closed. Darkness overtook her sight and she readied herself for whatever might come. 

A second passed. Then two. Her heart rattled rapidly within her, out of control. Another second. She waited.

She felt his breath against her lips.

His mouth was gentle, yet solid, against hers. The contact made her eyes tense up further, determined not to look into his.

She pressed back into his lips. Back into the electric, terrifying, heart-quivering moment. She gave as good as she got, her body refusing to be passive. She heard him gasp slightly as she pushed. But he did not yield, his face standing firm as she washed over him.

The contact burned deeper than their lips’ previous chaste meetings. Their mouths started closed but then opened slightly, moving in unison. They were both still too tepid to go beyond that, but it was enough to send an inferno coursing through her blood.

The moment faded as quickly as it came. As their lips parted, Ochako dared to open her eyes, in time to see Deku open his. There were no nerves in those green irises anymore. Only an admiration, deeper than she had ever seen. She could see the moisture built around the edges of his eyes, piquing her curiosity. She resisted the urge to reach out and wipe them away, the remnant feeling of the kiss keeping her still.

Another beaming smile blossomed across his freckled face. She was sure she wore one to match.

Truly, it must have been magic that had overtaken her.

“I love you, Uraraka.”

With those words, the spell was broken.

Her head spun at the confession. As she tried to process it, his passionate gaze was suddenly something frightening. They were expectant, awaiting a response. She struggled to find her voice under the sudden swell of emotion between them.

She felt her heart racing again. She swallowed a lump in her throat as Deku moved his face away from hers, staring down intently at her.

Ochako tried to summon the right words. She should respond. She had to.

Say ‘I love you.’

Her feelings for him were a knot wound tightly around her heart. She was still slowly untying it, seeing whether the cords would lead them together. It was supposed to be slow, steady, safe. Not jerking forward faster than she could handle.

You love him. Say it.

The buzzing in her mind drove her to panic. Why could she not say anything? His face was questioning now. She had to move.

I love Izuku Midoriya.

“I…that’s…um…why…” she stammered out, her sentences falling over themselves repeatedly. She could not muster the words.

Ochako looked up, hoping to convey something in her expression while her mouth mumbled wordlessly.

But she was surprised when Deku placed his finger over her lips.

“It’s okay. You don’t need to say anything.” Her lip quivered under the watch of his gentle gaze. “I just wanted you to know that.”

His voice was deathly calm. A quiet confidence, as if he were speaking as a hero trying to comfort a victim.

The tone unsettled her deeply.

“Deku…I…” she gulped again. Closed her eyes, trying to find the words from deep within her heart.

I love you.

“…thank you,” she whispered.

His small smile did not betray him. Nor did his gentle hand clasping around hers, as he edged forward, startlingly bold, and pressed his lips to her cheek.

But his clouded eyes showed her the truth. The hurt she had inadvertently wrought, sitting in the water starting to overflow from them.

“I’m going to turn in.” He stood up, not waiting for her reply. “Good night, Uraraka.”

She sat statuesque as he walked away, the light casting his shadow behind him.

The display before her was enough to make her sick to her stomach.  

The rainbow of colour bombarded her eyes, with strings, creams, and moulds as far as her gaze could reach. Red, pink, and white stood out more frequently. Stacks of boxes stood in a far corner, ready to house the affections stored in their many hearts.

The brightness clashed against the browns of chocolate, filling bowls in all kinds of varieties. Normally, she would be all-too-delighted to see such a large amount of sweets. Now, though, the chocolate poured onto her mounting sense of dread.

Other ingredients dotted the terrifying landscape: strawberries, nuts, eggs, butter. No possible ingredient – or expense – was spared for the display.

“I do hope we have enough. I’m pretty sure my list was comprehensive, but I’d hate to think we missed anything.”

Ochako, Mina, Tsuyu, Jirou, and Toru all glanced at one another. They did not dare speak it, but they all knew they shared the exact same thought about Momo.

She’s way too rich.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Toru stepped forward, arms of her uniform flying upwards in her exuberance. “Let’s get to work!”

Ochako shuffled her feet behind her friends, letting them lead the charge to dig into the absurd amount of food before them.

She lacked enthusiasm towards Momo’s idea to make Valentine’s chocolates together. Given that she had ardently refused to disclose what happened during her last date with Deku, she could not summon a good-enough excuse to get out of the activity.

At least it was probably a good idea to make something for Deku. Plus, this was a lot more cost-effective for her than store-bought chocolate.

Ochako reached out and grabbed part of the table, staring intently at what was laid out in front of her. There were more types of chocolate than she could count, from liquid chocolate to baking chocolate to chocolate chips.

“Do you need a hand, ribbit?”

Ochako blinked and looked to her side. Tsuyu stood next to her, a gentle smile on her face, but with eyes as unreadable as usual.

“Well…I guess I could,” she replied with what energy she could muster, turning to stare down once more at the food arranged in front of her. “But I’m not really sure where to start.”

“There is a lot to choose from,” Tsuyu observed, looking out towards Mina, Toru, and Momo, who were eagerly starting on making customized chocolate. “But maybe it doesn’t have to be complicated..”

“Whaddya mean?” Ochako asked, looking over at her friend with a piqued eyebrow.

“Well, you’re making some chocolate for Midoriya, right?”

Ochako nodded in simple affirmation. She did not even sputter about it; she supposed she was growing in that regard.

“And the chocolate is supposed to represent how you feel about a person, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, how do you feel about Midoriya? What would best reflect that?” Tsuyu punctuated the question by turning her blank stare to Ochako, dark eyes probing her response.

Ochako sucked in a breath at the dangerous, innocent questions. Once again, she froze in place, trying to find an answer.

I love him.

“Well, I like him.” She gave the words as much bubbliness as she could, flashing Tsuyu a smile, trying to disguise her inner turmoil.

“Liiiikeee him, huh? How much?” Like a manic pixie, Mina hopped over to them, getting far too close on Ochako’s right side. The pink girl’s dark eyes were menacing, a toothy grin wide on her face.

Ochako gulped as her mind scrambled to find a way to thwart her overly-enthusiastic friend. Not even her and Deku getting together was enough to stop Mina’s teasing.

“I dunno. A lot? He’s…he’s my best friend, after all,” The words rang lamely even to her own ears. In desperation, she grabbed a bowl of chocolate, lifting it into the air. “Hey, let’s get to work on making some chocolate!”

“But do you love him? That’s what this chocolate is supposed to be for, isn’t it?” Mina stared intently on her, her yellow eyes piercing right through Ochako.

“I-I don’t know. What does it matter? I’m still just…figuring it out. We only started dating a month ago!” Ochako could not stop the rush of blood to her cheeks. She glared at her pink friend, hoping to intimidate Mina into backing down. She did not need this.

“Well, it matters for your chocolate, after all!” Mina said with an innocent enthusiasm, not budging in the slightest. “Do you not love him, then?”

“No! That’s not it” Ochako shouted, stomping on the ground, outright glowering at her friend. She took a loud step forward, making Mina step back.

An annoying, self-satisfied little smirk blossomed on Mina’s face once the shock wore off. Ochako kept glaring down…until she realized what she herself had said.

She scanned around the room to see the rest of the group all staring directly at her. She could see the knowing little smiles on their faces. She imagined Toru wore one to match the rest.

“Wait! I didn’t mean it like that!” Ochako went into full damage control mode, trying to find the words to turn the tides of this situation. She swung her head around rapidly in search for some kind of lifeline.

“It’s not a big deal, Ochako,” Tsuyu interjected. Ochako felt Tsuyu’s hand grab hers gently, stopping it in place. She had not realized it had been shaking – and balled into a fist.

“Love doesn’t have to be a scary thing,” Tsuyu noted in her simple, matter-of-fact tone. 

Ochako blinked at that and tried to digest how easily the statement rolled of the frog girl’s tongue.

“I...it...that’s not what this is,” she replied in a low tone, eyes glued to the bevy of chocolate, unable to meet her friends’ eyes.

“Isn’t he your best friend?” Tsuyu challenged, forcing her face into Ochako’s vision.

“He is-“

“And you even want to be with him as more than a friend, right?” Mina interjected, impish glee bursting from her voice.

“…I do!” Ochako admitted, spinning her head to try to answer Mina. “But-“ 

“And you really care for him, don’t you?” Toru piped in.

“Yes!” she answered, rearing her head to try to speak to the invisible girl. This was ridiculous. She was not on trial here. “If you can just let me-“

“I don’t understand,” Momo stated serenely, flashing her brown-haired friend a pitying glance. “Why can’t you just say you love him?”

You love him. Why can’t you say it?

“I don’t want to deal with it!”

She could feel her hands shake with unbridled emotion, no longer in Tsuyu’s grasp. Her friends’ incessant questions – and that nagging voice in the back of her mind – finally gave way to sweet, merciful silence. She looked around to see slacked mouths and eyes full of questions.

I don’t want to deal with it.

The words rang through her mind, more clearly than when she spoke them aloud. Her red-hot frustration quickly dissipated. She brought a hand to her mouth as if hoping that doing so might retroactively stop the words from bursting forth.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kyoka asked bluntly for the other five girls in the room.

“I…I…” Ochako leaned forward, bracing her tense arms against the granite countertop, staring down into it.

Images flashed in her mind. Watching Deku from afar as her feelings for him blossomed. Pushing those feelings down – as she did for so many of her emotions – lest they get in the way or her or the people around her. Struggling with those feelings for years as a strange gravity bound them together.   Those self-imposed, rusted chains had ensnared her heart tightly. They choked her. She wondered if she could even pry them loose.

“Ochako…” Tsuyu placed an elongated hand over hers. “Do you really want to keep doing this?”

Her mind flashed back to her disastrous last date. Deku, so forlorn, acting as if nothing was wrong. Walking away from her, not daring to look back.

Alone.

Her head drowned in the tears she was sure he shed. They fell, splashing on the granite counter below.

Her friends came to her side. They guided her to sit down, and she gladly stumbled into a chair, her limbs suddenly far too heavy.

The nagging voice in her mind grew louder as she calmed down. She refused to cry for long – not with how much she had to do.

Through her watery eyes, she looked back up towards the volume of chocolate wonder before her. As she pondered the potential of all the different varieties, she could feel inspiration bloom forth within her mind.

She had to give him an answer.

“I have an idea.”

Izuku groggily cracked his eyes open, blinking the sleep away from his vision. Remnants of his dreams floated their way through his mind – hazy pink hearts, a fast-moving cityscape, and an overbearing amount of Uraraka’s face.

He reached out a hand and worked to turn off the alarm clock on a table by his bed. He could usually awaken himself before the whining blare of the device at 6:30 a.m., but it never hurt to have a backup.

Izuku groaned and rolled back over when he completed his task. He made long, slow blinks, trying to push off the urge to fall back into slumber. He had an early-morning workout to get to.

Floating a few feet above him was a small, heart-shaped, brown lump.

He blinked again and tried harder to rub the sleep out of his eyes. His dreams must be seeping into reality.

But the lump stayed right where it was, floating solidly above him. He recognized it as chocolate, catching a whiff of the sweet fragrance emanating from it.

It was a plain-looking thing. Milky brown, with darker lines crisscrossing atop it. As the last remnants of sleep dissipated, he noticed there was a delicate character written in the center of the heart.

愛

He blinked, rubbing at his eyes, confused by the kanji for love and affection. He reached out with a hand and grabbed it, pulling it close to get a better look.

The symbol was written neatly for such a small surface, although it was a little rough on the edges. Curious about its floating, he released it from his grip, only for it to remain steady in the air.

“Uraraka,” he whispered to himself in astonishment, unable to control the smile blossoming on his face.

He briefly glanced around his All Might infused room, his groggy mind wondering if she was somehow hiding there. Idly, he plopped the chocolate into his mouth, humming as the sweet taste rolled across his tongue.

Izuku scrambled to get dressed into a warm, green jogging outfit, hoping to track down Uraraka and figure out how exactly she had gotten the chocolate into his room.

More importantly, he wanted to know what exactly she had meant by it; the kanji on its own was generic, after all. He had not anticipated Valentine’s Day chocolate from her amidst their rocky spell. But apparently, she had other plans.

Heart daring to hope, Izuku stepped out of his room to greet the rest of the day, only for his forehead to collide with yet another chocolatey treat.

This one was a little more substantial than the last: a heart-shaped, brown cookie a little smaller than his hand. Another kanji was written on it, this one in a thick, green frosting that matched his suit:

恋

The kanji for longing and romantic love was accentuated with some extra pink sprinkles.

Izuku felt like as if his heart might burst at the sight as he grabbed the cookie with a grin. He instinctively took a bite out of it. It was the sweetest thing he had ever tasted.

His eyes busied themselves with scanning the hallway, half-expecting Uraraka to leap out and confront him. Instead, his eye caught on a small object floating in the air at the end of the hallway. Yet another sweet delight left behind for him.

Izuku found himself guided through the dorms by a series of Valentine's treats floating through the air. Each was emblazoned with a different symbol relating to love, whether it be kanji, oversized hearts, or even the odd word in English. One particularly adorable cupcake had artfully included both their faces. He thought he might break out into tears at that one.

But in this early morning hour, he could not find the person who made him want to leap into the sky.

With his arms starting to overflow with confectionary, Izuku was relieved to see an empty, small cardboard box on the kitchen counter in the common area. Mercifully, there was nobody else there at this early morning hour. He breathed a sigh of relief as he deposited his treats into the box; he did not want to try to deal with probing questions from his classmates.

Another message was scrawled on the inside of the box: “Outside, backdoor.”

Increasingly perplexed, Izuku nonetheless followed instructions. More floating treats guided him when he exited the dorm building, straight into a forested area on campus.  

With each new chocolate came a new message of love and affection, further sending his heart aflutter. His mind struggled to process what, exactly, Uraraka meant by all this. She had shown she was hardly ready to confess love to him – and he was fine with that. What could have brought this on, and where was it all leading to?

Eventually, his eyes finally laid sight on Uraraka in the distance through the spaces between the trees, dressed snugly in a brown coat. Izuku sprung forward with haste, wanting to get close to her and somehow show her just how much he appreciated her unbelievably lovely gesture.

“Wait!” she cried out, holding an outstretched hand as Izuku entered the small clearing she was standing in. Up close, he could see the strain on her face. Her eyebrows scrunched upward and she placed a hand firmly over her gut, a telltale sign she was fighting back Quirk-induced queasiness.

“I’m glad you made it alright. I was getting pretty worried.” Her voice still sounded bright but quick breaths made her uneven. “I just…I need to say something before you ask me anything. Okay?”

Izuku swallowed his nerves, the air filling with a peculiar tension. His mind spun with possibilities of what she might say, unable to judge which outcome was most likely.

He took a steadying breath. It would be alright. This was Uraraka. They had made it this far, hadn’t they?

“Alright.”

Her answering smile was strained and much, much too lovely.

“I know I didn’t say anything when you told me…when you told me you loved me.” Her cheeks reddened at the proclamation, but her speech carried on strongly as she stared him head-on. “I want to apologize for that. I wanted to make it up to you.”

“Uraraka, there’s nothing-“ he tried to interject, but she pushed her hand forward again, staying his tongue.

“I didn’t understand it at the time,” she admitted, chocolate-coloured eyes rolling downward. “Why I couldn’t answer. But I realized after pushing my feelings about you away for so long…I was afraid of them.”

She reached down into a small, pink knapsack she had placed at her feet. She pulled out a sizeable, white box from within. From that, she finally managed to pull out the object she sought: a large chocolate heart with some kind of writing etched into it.

“I used to think it would be better for both of us if I never dealt with those feelings,” she sighed as she slid a finger down her crafted chocolate. “I didn’t know how to deal with them, you know? And I…I still don’t, really. I don’t know what’s going to happen next.”

She looked back up toward him, her eyes connecting with his. Izuku felt his throat catch at the intensity of her gaze, so focused, freezing him in place. The cold wind blew his hair around but did little against the warmth rising in his face.

“But I do know some things. I know I trust you, Deku. I know you’re the best person I’ve ever met. I know I look up to you. And I know these last few weeks, going out with you…they’ve been some of the happiest I can remember.”

He reined in the urge to call out, to rudely interject with his own swelling emotions. Still, he could not stop the tears from falling down his cheeks, the air chilling them against his skin.

She closed her eyes. Breathed in. Out again. She let go of the chocolate in her hands with a push, moving it rapidly towards him.

“I know I want to be with you.” The chocolate sailed quickly through the air. Izuku held out his trembling hands to catch the chocolate heart as it came to him. It was large enough that he needed both hands to hold on to it. He stared down at it with wide eyes, the texture smooth to his touch.

He narrowed his focus down onto the words, etched carefully with a white chocolate lettering.

愛してる 出久

(“I love you Izuku”) 

“…and that I love you, Deku.” She spoke the words as he read them, leaving him no room to doubt his eyes.

The chocolate in his hands shook as his own heart pulsed rapidly. He read the letters carved into it over and over again, words he once feared he would only ever hear from his mother.

He lifted his face up from it and stared back at Uraraka through his own watery eyes. The sunlight bathed her smile through the trees. She peeked at him from underneath her eyelashes, her brown locks framing her face perfectly.

There were no words that would not fail him.

Izuku closed the distance between them with two tremendous leaps, pulling a giggling Uraraka into his arms. He pushed a kiss into her hairline as she wrapped her own arms around him, pushing her face into his chest.

“You…you’re...” he blubbered, trying and failing to find something he could say in response.

“I love you, Uraraka. So, so much.” He decided it would be best to keep it simple.

“Gosh, Deku, I didn’t think you’d cry this much,” she teased, stepping back slightly to thumb a tear off his cheek.

Izuku croaked out something between a laugh and a sob. “Sorry. Couldn’t really help it.”

“Nothing to say sorry for,” she assured him with a smile. “Hey, Deku?”

“Hmm?”

“Would it be alright if I kissed you now?”

The question rolled off her tongue with quickness and ease as-of-yet unseen in their fledgling relationship. He blinked at her and felt his face burn as he stared down at her own mirthful gaze.

He could only nod.

He could taste the chocolate, and the love, on her lips.

AN: Written for the IzuOcha Discord Server Valentine’s Day contest. Thank you to folks in the server for editing this and making it so much better. Ducktective, Deadliest Sin Bin and anyone else I missed, kudos to you. Sorry it’s been a while. I’ve been working on another project which I hope I can bring to fruition. Hope you all enjoyed! Please leave a like and/or reblog if you did. ^_^

[greenteafiend]

touch starved Keith + klance + your writing are all of my favorite things, for the bad things happen bingo :D

@badthingshappenbingo

Crosses are done, circles have been requested. Thanks anon! :) I hope you don’t mind that I’ve built on a tiny snippet I’ve posted before, and always intended to come back and wrote more for.

There were requirements that needed to met in order for Keith to sleep well.

The first, was physical exhaustion. He had to be worn out, completely wrung of energy, with aching, trembling, muscles, so tired there was no room left in his brain to think.

The second was it had to be quiet. He was a notoriously light sleeper, waking up at the slightest disturbance. Even a change in the rhythm of someone’s breathing in the same room as him was enough to wake him. Enough to have him springing into alert defensiveness.

Lastly, he had to have his knife on him, within easy reach. No matter how exhausted he was, without his knife he wouldn’t feel safe enough to drop off.

Which was why it was so shocking to Keith to wake up, after having fallen asleep on the couch in the rec room, with none of those requirements satisfied, feeling more well-rested than he could remember feeling almost ever.   

He hadn’t been physically exhausted; he hadn’t actually done anything even mildly taxing that day so far.

It wasn’t quiet. The boring Altean movie he and Lance had been trying to get through was still playing, relatively loudly, in the background.

He didn’t have his knife on him. Ever since he saw the symbol on Thace’s blade, he was a little paranoid about having it on him around the castle just in case the wrapping came off the handle and someone saw. He had his suspicions about what further investigation would reveal, and he was a little apprehensive (read: terrified) of what would happen if those suspicions were confirmed.

So the fact that he was laying sprawled across Lance’s chest - head resting right over where Lance’s heart was, one hand loosely fisted in the fabric of Lance’s ever-present jacket - wasn’t even the most shocking part of all of this.

Lance seemed to think it was however…

Keith got one moment of bliss, where he was perfectly comfortable, with the warmth of Lance’s body seeping into his own, the calming scent of Altean soap filling his senses, and a profound feeling of safety hanging over him…

… and then Lance looked down at him, he looked up, Lance yelped, and suddenly he was on the floor.

“Why were you sleeping on me!” Lance yelped.

“Why’d you push me on the floor!” Keith retorted heatedly.

“Because you were sleeping on me, why were you sleeping on me!?” shouted Lance.

“Because it was comfortable!” shouted Keith back.

“What are you two shouting about now?” injected Pidge. She’d just come into the room, laptop cradled carefully in her arms.

“Nothing!” they both shouted simultaneously, and then Keith stormed off.  

Lance didn’t acknowledge what had happened, and Keith followed his lead, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it. How it had felt to hear someone else’s heartbeat, how nice it had been to share body heat…

When he’d lived alone in the desert, even when he’d had enough blankets, he’d never really been able to get warm. It was like there was a pillar of ice inside his chest that only thawed when he was near other people, but he was hopelessly clueless about how to go about actually being near people.  

He wanted it so badly. To touch, and be touched. It was as if his skin was hungry for it, but he didn’t know how to ask.

To make things worse, it was as if his body had gotten a taste of what proper comfort and security felt like, and was no longer satisfied with physical exhaustion, quiet, and his knife as sleep-aids. He lay awake for hours, shivering even though the castle wasn’t cold, arms wrapped tightly around himself to try and mimic the feeling of a hug.

He knew it was his own fault. The others thought he was a loner, that he preferred being alone, and his temperament being what it was, (hot-headed, angry, impulsive) he could understand why were more standoffish with him than with each other. When they hugged each other and high-fived after a mission well done, Keith only gots nods of acknowledgement. He was reaping what he’d sown; they thought that was what he preferred.

Shiro was the exception to that. Shiro would put a hand on his shoulder, and sometimes, he’d even pull him into a half-hug, but it only happened rarely, and it was careful. Shiro was always very careful to never crowd him.

When they’d first met, and even Shiro’s most innocuous movements had made Keith flinch, had made Keith so very aware of how much larger and stronger than him Shiro was, how much damage he could do to Keith if he wanted to, he’d been grateful for that care.

Now however, when every day that went by left him feeling more and more exhausted, more and more like the icy pillar in his chest might overcome him completely, Keith wished he knew how to reach out.

But he didn’t, so he suffered in silence, and thought a lot about the firmness of Lance’s chest, and the safety he’d felt being held in his arms.

“Jesus, Keith. You look awful,” remarked Lance a week later. They’d found themselves alone in the rec room as they usually did when Shiro was busy with leader stuff, and Hunk and Pidge were busy with science stuff. It said a lot about how bad Keith must have looked that Lance’s remark had actually sounded concerned, rather than mocking or teasing.

He shrugged in response.

“You look… really tired. You should have a nap or something,” suggested Lance.

“I’ve tried,” Keith muttered.

“You obviously need to try harder,” said Lance. “I’m gonna put on that movie we tried to watch last week, maybe it’ll put you to sleep again. Just try not to fall asleep on top of me this time,” the words were teasing, and pretty tame as far as their banter usually went, but Keith had just spent a whole week trying to capture the feeling of lying against Lance with his imagination in an attempt to trick his body into letting him sleep, so he wasn’t amused.

“Was it really that bad?” he asked. The question came out sounding small and vulnerable, rather than annoyed and accusing like he’d intended.  

Lance’s eyebrows had raised so high they disappeared underneath his hair.

“Do my ears deceive me? Keith Kogane, resident Red Paladin and killjoy, asking me, ‘was it really that bad,’ when talking about accidental, completely unintentional, cuddling that definitely didn’t happen.” Lance’s imitation of his voice was very poor in Keith’s opinion.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Keith snapped, not in the mood to decipher Lance’s silliness.

“It means, I like cuddles as much as the next person, but you’re allergic to human interaction,” Lance explained.

“Oh…” said Keith, looking down at his knees as everything in him just shrivelled up.   

“What am I doing wrong?” he asked.

“Doing wrong-?”

“Everyone thinks I want to be alone. No one ever hugs me,” Keith regretted the words the minute they left his mouth.

“Nevermind. Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled, backtracking as quickly as possible.

It was fine that no one wanted to touch him. They didn’t owe him anything, he was fine. He could deal with the cold, itchy feeling underneath his hungry skin the same way he always had, alone.

“I’m just gonna-” he got up, intending to escape from this whole mortifying situation as quickly as possible, but Lance stood too and grabbed his wrist to stop him. The simple touch made him shiver.

“Hang on a minute, are you saying you like hugs?”

Keith shrugged.

“I just… that nap with you was the last good sleep I had,” he admitted.

There was a beat of silence, and then Lance let out an irritated huff.

“Fiiine,” he whined, “it was pretty comfortable. And you do look like you need sleep.”

Keith frowned.

“What are you saying?”

“I guess I don’t mind if we have another nap like the other day,” he said, sounding put upon.

Keith wanted to, he ached for the safety of Lance’s embrace, he could taste sleep on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t want something given so begrudgingly. He’d been through that before with countless foster families. Accepting things people didn’t want to give you didn’t work out in the long run.

He pulled his wrist out of Lance’s grip.

“Look, if this is some sort of– if you feel sorry for me–”

“Hey, hey,” interrupted Lance, “I said I like cuddling, didn’t I?”

Lance sat back down on the couch, raising an arm invitingly.

“Stop being so grumpy, and just c’mere,” he ordered.

Keith wanted it so badly… His resistance crumbled under the weight of Lance’s expectant stare like a sandcastle breaking apart under the weight of a wave.   

He obeyed, tucking himself carefully against Lance’s side, and shivering when Lance’s arm clamped around shoulders. His ear was pressed up right against Lance’s chest, and he could hear his heartbeat. He could smell the soap he used, he could bask in his warmth.

It felt so good, so safe.

Keith fell asleep.

(And when Lance was positive that Keith was indeed asleep, he ran his fingers through his hair.)