#our lives are what but little love letters to things we’re weird about | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ajortga · 5 months

Text

can you keep a secret?

pairing: wednesday addams x werewolf fem reader

summary: you miss your girlfriend who's recently transferred to nevermore academy. your persistent whining is able to transfer you to nevermore and cling onto her the whole time there.

word count: 5k+

based off request!

W and R are in a relationship, W transfers to Nevermore. W and R may not have anything in common, but they do on some things, like R being an outcast as well (a werewolf ), R insists their parents that they transfer to Nevermore too. After they successfully did, R immediately finds W, the outcast's curious to what'll happen to R (obvi doesn't know they knew each other).. Basically every student in Nevermore sees them together everyday. One, asks W who R is to W, she answers truthfully, "They're My Lover." everything and everyone just goes crazy

“Cara mia, we live next to each other,” Wednesday says softly, brushing your hair back as you braid her black silky hair.

You hum, a little sad, finishing to braid her two tiny braids that hung low to her chest.

“But I won’t see you in school, baby." A huff escapes your lips as your girlfriend sighs, giving up on trying to coax your madness.

“Or at all,” you add, “you’ll have a damn dorm with some girl that you’ve never seen before. It’s not fair.”

The raven-haired girl rolls her eyes, “I’ll cut off my heart with the sharpest knife I know if I ever started to love someone more than you,” Wednesday suggests, trying to make you feel better.

She cups your cheeks as you refuse to speak and rubs her thumb gently around the pink tint covering them. A way to always make you feel better. Yet she knows better because you certainly don’t look better.

“We’re both outcasts Weds. My stupid parents just won’t allow me to transfer because they think Nevermore is weird. Yet they went to school there. That's not fair."

“They’re just trying to protect you. I'd feel that way too for our daughter if Nevermore had hurt me. If someone ever hurt you, they’re death will be a long one. Sufferable and miserable. So bad that they’ll beg for forgiveness before they bleed out.”

Usually Wednesday would expect you to smile and giggle, but you’re not. Why does your girlfriend have to leave you?

“Can’t you stay?” You ask, voice tiny.

“As much as I sneak out, Mother has already informed everyone including your parents not to let me stay the night. They are used to my.. Tactics per say.”

Your sharp nails from your growth as a soon to be wolfed out werewolf emerges, clawing the wood you attached to your wall when this kind of stuff happens.

"I can sneak you in and I'll even build you a door in my closet," you suggest.

"No, Y/N."

"What if we install a life-like robot and I'll sneak out with you?"

"No."

You huff angrily, slashing the wood.

Wednesday firmly takes your hand, and your hand almost scratches her, yet it stops as you don’t want to hurt her, “Stop that.”

“No,” you state, tugging your hand away and sinking them into the wood, so hard that a big ass dent forms.

Your girlfriend sighs, rolling her eyes as she sweeps her bangs away from her eyes, “I don’t know what you want me to do bambina. Maybe I could.. Sneak you away from this horrid place. But at what cost? Nevermore seems strange. Not strange in a way I’d want to discover in mysteries though.”

She sees the way you sigh, disappointed. Upset.

“You’ll be there for a whole school year, it’s far.”

“I’ll bring my typewriter. Distance won’t change that, swear on my cemetery. I’ll write you letters at night, secretly take the principal's mailbox and send them to you. Or I’ll threaten Thing in my backpack and crawl till he can give it to you.” Wednesday isn’t kidding, her stare is cold, well usually it was cold, but not towards you. “He can suffer in thorns, I’ll stitch him up, just as long as.. You’ll write back?”

You nod, yet you don’t care about the letters, you care about her.

“You’ll send them?”

“Yes.”

“Every night?”

“Yes.”

“What if you begin to stop when you feel like it’s not working anymore?”

“I won’t Y/N.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do.”

"No you don't, you don't know the future."

"But I do know that I won't stop sending my letters. I can feel it."

You stop scratching the wood and you bury yourself on Wednesday, breathing in her scent as you try to comfort yourself. Yet even when the lights are off, your heart is pounding, feeling alone.

A tear falls from your cheek as you watch Lurch stuff his trunk, Wednesday talking to her mother and father, while hesitantly hugging Pugsley.

“You’ll have so much fun.” Morticia says, with a smile, kissing her cheek and staining it slightly with her black lipstick.

“Define fun as boring and a punishment, sure,” Wednesday stiffly responds, yet softens as she looks at you. She takes her mother’s hand off her shoulder and approaches you.

“If you cry, it'll be raining all day. And you don't want it to be all gloomy for you? I don't want my socks wet. A poem, along with two pages written in a small font. One to express my day, and one to express that stupid love so you can sleep peacefully at night with nightmares.” Wednesday says, stopping for a moment, “sweet nightmares,” she adds.

You nod, yet your tear stained cheeks aren’t really helping, she reaches up and wipes it off with her thumb. Then let you hug her, you immediately bury yourself into her and she sighs.

“I’ll be thinking of you, till every grain of sand can be counted.”

You watch her approach the car, then slip in. She has the window scroll down, and you look at her. As the car engine roars, you bite your lip. And slowly watch it wheel away. Slowly jogging till it’s out of sight.

It’s been two weeks. And sure enough, Wednesday has kept her promise. She’s sent you letters you’ve kept in your drawer, they’re never repetitive, but always show you love. You like it like that, knowing that it isn’t a chore for her to write letters for you. If anything, they’ve lengthened in size as she's sent more and more.

It makes you miss her a little more. You have to hug your life-sized stuffed animal at night that she sprayed her perfume on. She also left half a bottle on your counter, just in case it runs out. Though it takes longer to sleep, it makes you feel a little better knowing there was something that was like a piece of her beside you.

Thing has visited you, and you know that little guy has a huge memory. You lost the letter you were going to hand Thing, and though you were a little sad, he moved his fingers and you realized you could speak to him for hours and he would tell Wednesday every detail. She had even wrote to you,

I owe Thing a thank you, yet he can be provoking at times. He had communicated to me for an hour, thirty minutes, and thirty two seconds about your day. I always wonder what secrets lay in the Addams Family. Yet I’m not quite comprehending why Thing has a big memory space.

Nonetheless, I think about you everyday. My roommate, Enid, has been unpleasant with her interesting taste of fashion and colors. It’s distracting. In a negative way. You’re distracting in a way where I can’t take my eyes off your enticing figure Y/N. Weems had bothered me the whole day, smothered me with questions and made sure I was doing fine. No wonder why mother got along with her so much. Those two are like the same person just one with smothered ink. But, something that sparked my particular interest was that you can dorm with two other people. Thing had told me that there was an accident at your school. If you’d like, which I’d appreciate, could ask your mother about transferring, say it’s dangerous. You aren’t a late wolfer, but convince her possibly that Nevermore can increase your chances. Wish you were here, I hate Mr. Tuesday. That white bunny is always staring at me during my typing time. But I can tolerate him a bit more, knowing you gifted it to me. You love Mr. Tuesday, so I appreciate your gesture. It’s not often I get visions, but they’ve almost made me want to experience them more. I see you in them, baking. Writing to me. It makes me almost happy.

Enid keeps trying to get to know me, she’s a strange soul, but she’s a werewolf, like you. You two are nothing alike, yet I think you two would get along a bit too much. Except you don’t blast random glitter pop music during the night. During my WRITING TIME. Even thinking about it rots my brain. But I miss you cariño. Sleep tight, I’ve left at least 300 things to hide in your house and you’ll never expect where they are. But everyone is special, it’ll make you at least smile a little when I tell you each night. Today’s item is snuck inside your bed, I used Mother’s chainsaw to cut through the wood, it’s a tiny version of Mr. Tuesday. I asked Thing the other day to sneak it in that spot and he sanded the wood back in. It should be a sort of door. But I crocheted it during my free time, there are times where I can’t think during my writing time. That is an understatement, but I only think of you. But I’m hoping you can enjoy it for today.

Love you, sleep cozily,

Weds

You smile as you look under your bed, now noticing the small outline from Wednesday’s chainsaw and you open the little compartment to see another crocheted white bunny of Mr. Tuesday. You nuzzle it and place it on your desk. You love him. You even spent a few minutes grabbing white yarn and attaching it to your tote bag.

You think about what Wednesday said, someone had gotten hurt in your school from being stabbed by a senior that was drunk. Obviously he didn’t mean it. But you had seen how anxious your mom got when she found out the news.

It was 11:23PM, and your mom’s room light was illuminated from the hallway. You get out of bed, ruffle your hair, and approach her room. Your only thought is Wednesday.

Before you could even ask, you already noticed her holding a black card, the logo of Nevermore Academy apparent. It said in bolded letters, 1965 Jericho’s long lasting Nevermore Academy. One for outcasts.

“Mom?” You said, your voice slowly quiet, and she looked up at you, waving you over.

“Hi honey,” she replies, “I’ve been thinking about the accident at your school. And I know you don’t like that place that much. And as much as I feel like I should keep you there. Your safety is important to me.”

Your excitement grows, you want to have that wide smile off your face.

“So?...” You question, wondering if she was saying what you were thinking she meant.

“And you keep bringing Wednesday up. So me and Morticia talked, and I talked with your father. We’re going to send you to Nevermore, but only if you want to. As long as you write to us every end of the week and call us. We want our little wolf to meet ones like her. It’s not often you find ones like us here.”

You nod.

“Yes!”

You didn't even think it would be that easy.

As soon as you get the news you squeal and call Wednesday early in the morning. She responds almost quickly, her voice on the other line, “What brings you to call me this early Y/N?”

“I’m transferring to Nevermore!” You say, you were much more excited but your tired voice betrayed you.

There’s a pause, then a small, “What?”

“I’m coming!”

A laugh and you can almost feel your girlfriend smiling with a toothy grin with her ear pressed to the phone.

“I knew your parents would let you go somehow,” she says, voice more excited, yet anyone else would not notice but you.

You can hear some rustling, “I’m going to ask Weems if you can dorm with me. I can kick Enid out for all I care, yet she isn’t horrible. Just, I’d rather spend it with you if she doesn’t allow a three dorm. Maybe I shouldn’t bring up a three dorm at all.”

“Thing, go back home and ask Father if Lurch can drive Y/N to Nevermore. Actually, include that if he won’t ask, I’ll shave his head off. Also make sure that he sprays two times of her favorite perfume, have her favorite sour candy ready, her headphones, her books, and tell him to pack some melon milk for her too. And her cow stuffie. Make sure he’s playing the playlist she made that’s saved in the car.”

There is a pause, and she makes a small, ‘oh oh’

“Baby,” Wednesday doesn’t call you that much, but when she does you’re over the moon. It usually shows that she’s happy. Really happy, yet her voice is still soft and composed, “I installed a door behind your clothes in your closet, guess we’ll unwrap the 300 presents when we go home. But I got another Mr. Tuesday there, he has some sort of costume on.”

She pauses, you hear a random girl jumping up and down in the background, squealing about something as your girlfriend groans and presses her ear back into her phone, sending Enid an annoyed glare, “Pack your stuff, I’ll be waiting. I might as well cut my ears off if Enid won’t stop blabbing her mouth off.” You can tell that Wednesday turns her head to face her new roommate, she says louder, since Enid couldn’t hear her talking to you, “Better yet, slice her mouth off.” Then Enid’s squeals die down.

You grin through the phone as you grab out another version of Mr. Tuesday with a mushroom hat, you hug him tight.

The doorbell rings and you hear your mom open it, putting Wednesday on speaker phone.

“I’m almost done packing.”

“Y/N, honey. Mrs. Addams requests to see you,” your mother’s voice echoes through the hallway and you glance at the door.

You don’t know how Wednesday can hear it but she does, “I’m taking into conclusion that she received my message. Oh yes, she replied with those stupid icons. Yet it is one of a thorny rose and a gravestone.”

“Coming!” You stuff your bags, “Be right back.”

You almost choke as Morticia brings you into her embrace, hugging her back with an easing gentleness.

“Hello little one,” her soft voice says, the one you find comfort in as much as you do Wednesday’s. She gently rubs your hair, “I informed Lurch for your arrival, he’s outside whenever you’ll be ready dear. I’m so glad you decided to willingly join Nevermore. It has been a place that holds many memories. It’s where I met Gomez and fell in love. Maybe Wednesday and you can find the secrets in it. Go on journeys with her. Dig some graves, set them on fire."

It weird you out, but you smile, nodding, “To spend it with Wednesday is all I need.”

“You’re a special soul, a pure heart I can handle. Now go,” she waves you away, “Don’t keep him waiting for long.”

You give her one last grin and look over your shoulder before turning the corner.

After hanging up on Wednesday when you finish packing all your bags, your mother and father hug you goodbye and give you your favorite cranberry juice. Sweet.

It’s cozy in the Addams car, comfortingly with no talk, just the music Wednesday requested (forced) Lurch to play that lingers in your playlist. You feel like a butler with all the requests Wednesday smothered him with.

An hour passes and you can see the way the clouds slightly come into view, then you see the environment change as a sign that reads, “Welcome to Jericho! A Town of History”

Then, you finally see the academy in view, and Lurch arrives right in front, before taking your bags and guiding you to Principal Weems.

“It is my honor to have you here at Nevermore. This school has history, and where you’ll certainly grow,” her smile is wide, a little too welcoming it gets a little scary.

You just give small mumbles and nods, “Well, Morticia called me this morning and I quickly looked through your demographics. It also isn’t a coincidence that you have straight A’s. A 4.3 GPA. Many extracurriculars, and of course, you’re a werewolf. I see.”

“It is no surprise also that you had gone to the same school as another student who just enrolled, Morticia’s daughter, Wednesday. She sure is.. Different. But nonetheless talented. She had asked me yesterday afternoon if it was possible to have a dorm of three, and I’m assuming that you have been planning to dorm with her for the rest of the semester?”

She reads your mind, you immediately nod your head up and down, “Yes.”

“Well, most of the 3 dorms have been occupied, but her and Enid seem to have a slow relationship. I’ll have her in my office today, but by the end of the night or tomorrow morning I’ll give you my answer.” Weems scribbles on a note, writes some address and a name, “You’ll be rooming with Yoko, sound okay?”

You nod.

“Alright, I’ll call Enid up, for your guide.”

“..Guide?”

She nods, “Of course, we have many classes you can do, and people you can meet. She knows this place well, and I know that she’ll open up your shell.”

As Wednesday watches Enid leave, a soft grin forms on her face as she unties Thing from the random crocheted pink jacket Enid made for him.

Her eyes scan Enid as the door closes, then she turns to him, “I’m expecting Y/N is here. I’ve crocheted a questionable amount of Mr. Tuesdays.” She informs, “I shouldn’t have admitted that,” Wednesday sighs, as she pulls out the drawer next to her to reveal at least 40 assorted sizes of the same bunny. There were some in outfits, wigs. Wednesday almost finds it as therapeutic as her writing time. She crochets them whenever Enid leaves their dorm.

Thing smacks his head, and the braided girl glares at him, “Don’t judge me, I can cut off your fingers any time,” she threatens, seeing the way Thing surrendered with two fingers up in the air.

Then he moves around his fingers and does random hand movements.

“You think I’d follow Enid and try to make conversation with Y/N so much that Enid will get suspicious? You’d really think I’d do that?”

Thing agrees.

“Then, you know me too well, let’s go.”

“Enid, glad you’re- Wednesday? It seems like you’ve tagged along,” Weems adds as she almost seems surprised, looking at her. If anything, the look in her eye is cautious.

“Yes,” Wednesday responds, trying to avoid the way your eyes almost smile as you look at her, but if anyone else were to look at you, they wouldn’t notice. “I’ve decided to accompany Enid, this is much more exciting than some other events at Nevermore,” she adds again, not entirely rude.

You sit in the middle while Wednesday takes the only left seat available, scooches her chair closer. Her hand rubs over yours after meeting under the covers of Weem’s desk. She takes note of how a small smile creeps on your face when Weem talks because of that.

“This is actually so awesome,” the blonde cheers next to you, making you turn your head and turn it, confused.

“We’re both werewolves silly! We should dorm 3 together! Wait, are there even any 3 dorms left?” When the principal shakes her head no, Enid sighs, “Then Wednesday can pair with Yoko. Actually, she barely even talks to Yoko, let alone handle her better than she’ll be able to handle me.”

You blink, glance at Wednesday for a moment and she shakes her head frantically.

“What if I dorm with her?”

The question leaves everyone silent, well everyone is surprised but Wednesday.

“You’d want to room with Wednesday while Enid rooms with Yoko?”

There's a lingering silence as you look around, “Why not? I'd like to get to know her better,” you lie. The most you want to do is get to talk to your girlfriend again.

"Oh. You don't want to, you know, get to know Wednesday before actually having to dorm with her?"

"Nope."

"Well, then that’s settled for your dorm. I’ll have to file Enid for a dorm change. But I’d like to ask if that is okay for both Wednesday and Enid.”

“Yes,” your girlfriend immediately responds, then coughs a little to cover up her excitement that’s masked behind her calm demeanor. “I can take a break from someone that is the complete opposite of me.

“I’d be happy to dorm with Yoko, at least I can have my music playing at night and my glitter-”

“My ears are bleeding Enid, don’t mention that word you just said.”

“Glitter?” Enid questions.

“No.”

You giggle from your girlfriend’s demeanor, squeezing her hand under the desk.

“This is Ophiela Hall! You don’t need to find your people here, you can make plenty of friends in other groups, but you have a group of werewolves! And what makes it even better is that we haven’t wolfed out!” Enid jumps up and down and you watch her legs bounce up and down, up and down. She’s like a whole party.

People give you two small looks, both you and Wednesday can tell they’re almost surprised she tagged along with someone whos new. It makes you smile a little.

Your girlfriend notices them whispering about you. Not anything bad, you seem like the sweetest person out of them all, but they’re whispering about the two of you. Even Bianca gives you a cautious look, but you’re too distracted to know what their saying as Enid keeps talking to you and dragging you along. Wednesday follows like a puppy.

“Enid, hey.” A boy speaks up, and you turn around at the new voice, he’s wearing blue and a beanie. The same tie everyone is wearing.

“Oh hi Ajax, this is Y/N. She’s new and I’m showing her around.”

A glare is thrown at Ajax as your girlfriend exhales. You give a small wave, “Hi.”

“You a werewolf too?”

You nod, seeing the way his hat kind of turns sideways, poking some peeking out snakes back into it. That’s scary.

The bell rings and you look around, confused, Enid grabs the paper you stuck in your bag.

“Oh, hey! Your next class is with Wednesday and I, it’s just plant anatomy with Thornhill. Come on.”

Somehow Wednesday gets Xaiver to move away from her, so now you’re sitting next to her.

“What the hell is this class?”

“Thornhill just talks about plants. The only entertaining aspect of this is that I like seeing Bianca fail to beat me. Though that goes in almost everything.”

The auburn hair girl turns around, with a wide smile and fairly big glasses for the size of her head.

“It’s a pleasure to have a new student, I’m glad to have you in our third period class Y/N.”

You embarrassingly smile, everyone looking at you, some with smiles and some with just small glances.

“Could you give us the formula on how to turn this plant into a…” Thornhill goes on and you look at the plant, it seems it’s a Ghost Orchid.

You answer almost immediately, and Wednesday nudges you with her foot to almost say a ‘yay.’

Bianca stares at you as Thronhill clasps her hands together, “Exactly, you know your plants well. I’m sure you’ll excel here. Today we’ll have a change of assignments. It’ll be a challenge for duos against other duos and whoever answers first, and correctly for that fact, will earn a point till all the questions run out. Sound easy enough? Alright, let me get my cards ready.”

A knowing smirk grows in between you two, “We’ll win in no time,” Wednesday states, you look at the duos. It’s you and her, Enid and Yoko, Bianca and Divina, and other people you have no clue about, including Xaiver.

The game starts and before Thornhill can even get to the end of the question, you and Wednesday slap the bell, giving out the answer.

“Quick hands,” Xavier mumbles.

“That’s correct! Great job girls.”

The game goes on, and you’re tied with Bianca’s team. The silence can be cut with a knife as the two duos anticipately wait for the question. As Thornhill begins to read out the question, it takes you two a while to know the answer. Bianca and Divina seem stuck.

It’s several moments before the learning in your past catches up to you, slamming the bell and saying out the answer.

“Correct once again! You two win, great job! You can grab a succulent or stick to two pieces of candy that’s probably expired at the end of class.”

You and Wednesday high-five and to say the least, everyone is surprised because the braided-hair girl never let’s anyone touch her.

Weeks have past, and you’ve never been happier. Giving ideas for Wednesday’s stories that even she never thought about, helping her crochet more Mr. Tuesdays, so much that she had thing steal a laundry basket from Weem’s office, and even braid her hair and put black ribbons. She’s grateful to have you at Nevermore, her stories have been expanding because of you.

Your always stuck to her side, fencing playfully with her, even willing to go out in the woods with her. But she hasn’t went out since your arrival, knowing that you wouldn’t want to leave her side, and she certainly doesn’t want you getting hurt.

Even you and her worked together designing a matching cat on your black and white pajamas.

It’s fun when you two get to talk about life when you two are in your dorms, even better when you two are on the balcony and watching the stars. Wednesday plays the cello while you sing. She loves that she has someone that she puts her closed-off personality aside for.

“I love it, you look so pretty with bows baby,” you say, tying the ribbon.

“You look pretty with bows or without cara mia.”

“Shut ‘p,” you say, smacking her arm lightly as she wraps her arms around you and rubs your hair.

It’s not long till Weems announce that it’s time for lunch.

Wednesday gets up, signalling you to come with her, but when you don’t, she comes back to sit next to you.

“I’m just looking for my necklace, you can go ahead, it won’t take long, promise.”

She sighs, and nods for a moment, then points at Thing, “Help her.”

Thing waves his hands as she blows a soft air kiss and closes the door.

It’s sprinkling a little bit when Wednesday is outside.

“How does Wednesday act so non-hazardous with Y/N? It’s honestly impressive.”

“That’s not impressive, how the hell does she not smack her or give her glares? Do you not see the way her eyes actually look normal when she looks at her? Not even normal, they’re gentle! Plus she was the first to go run and get a bandaid when Y/N accidentally got a paper cut.”

It’s like they summoned the girl, who’s holding a plate of her lunch.

Enid smiles and Wednesday sits down, looking at everyone.

“Are you seriously speaking about me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We want to know why the hell you are actually sweet with Y/N.”

“You could’ve used any word besides sweet.”

“Baby-like?”

“Even worse.”

“Don’t dodge the question,” Bianca adds, somehow now being in this conversation, “You killed the biggest spider that was crawling to her, for her.”

“She doesn’t like spiders. Who wouldn’t use not being afraid of spiders to protect someone who is?”

Bianca blinks, then wrinkles her nose, “If it was me you’d certainly let it bite me.”

“Well that’s different.”

Everyone at the table groans, “Exactly!”

“What did I tell you?”

“The only person you’d not let it bite is Y/N, we just want to know why.”

“I’m protecting her because she’s my girlfriend.”

Everyone turns their head to her, “What?”

Enid slams her fists to the table, “I fucking knew it. I knew it! Ajax, you owe me five dollars. I CALLED IT.”

“The Wednesday Addams actually has a girlfriend?”

“Why didn’t we catch on?”

“They’re kinda cute together- don’t even speak or she’ll actually cut your head off if you say cute.”

Everyone is arguing with each other, going crazy. But by the time they cool down and look at where Wednesday was sitting, her seat is empty.

Then everyone looks around and sees her draping her black jacket over your tiny figure, she pulls you closer to her chest as you hold onto her. (Let’s say she’s atleast 4 inches taller than 5’1 in this.) You tug her big jacket over your shoulders as you hug her. She holds onto you and guides you to the table, kissing your forehead and brushing your damp hair.

Even when she comes back, she bends down and takes the butterfly that’s resting on your hair and places it on your hand. “I heard somewhere that if a butterfly lands on you, it means that they see you as a beautiful flower.”

“I never heard that before.”

“I know, I made that up.”

Everyone starts screaming again, making your girlfriend and your heads snap at them.

“Look at them!”

“Aw! So cute!”

“I want to say this is disgusting but they’ll be my roman empire soon enough.”

You turn back to her, seeing her eyes soften, almost happily, "You told them?”

“I didn’t know why they didn’t conclude to that in the beginning.”

Bianca groans, rolling her eyes as everyone is screaming, then Xavier chimes in. "Back to that spider scenario. I definitely think Wednesday would kill it for me."

You glare at him, clinging onto your girlfriend a little more like a koala. She rubs your back as you tighten your arms around her.

"Your sense of self-love is filled with stupidity. I'd kill the spiders that are harmless to you and leave the ones that are most venomous and ugly looking for people like you, have some respect."

Xavier goes quiet, making a defeated grunt.

Everyone does their little, 'awws' again. You turn to her, now that everyone knows about your status.

“At least we can kiss in the hallways?”

“Maybe save that for the dorms.”

“Can we kiss right now?”

Wednesday’s eyebrows lift up, and she sighs, turning you away from the group and giving you a light kiss, as your lips press together, she nudges a small Mr. Tuesday now with inverted colors, a black bunny. They're both holding hearts and have a star over their head.

"Now Mr. Tuesday has a Mr. Wednesday," she says softly, tucking her black jacket tighter around you as you continue hugging her.

"And Miss. Y/L/N has a Miss. Addams."

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega x you #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega imagine #vada cavell x reader #tara carpenter x you #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x y/n #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams x reader

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lincolndjarin · 10 months

Text

my sister lives in the attic.

main masterlist

joel miller x reader

warnings : angst, death, child loss, grieving, denial

a/n : i've never written something like this but i'm in a weird place and this idea has been following me for quite some time now so i decided to take a few minutes and write it, i'd love some feedback on it since this style is kinda new to me !!

He didn’t like to talk about his children.

“Do you have kids?”

“Two daughters.” Was all he said.

That’s what he had told you on your first date. He was so abrupt about it that you didn’t ask about them again, instead opting to wait until he told you on his own terms.

On your fifth date he told you that Ellie got in trouble for cursing in gym class that day.

On your seventh date he told you Sarah was away at college, and that he missed her terribly and wished she would visit.

On your eighth date he told you that Ellie made him a card for his birthday. He even brought it over to your house to show you. It was a drawing of the two of them floating through space. The inside said:

i love our family to the moon and back!

You didn’t ask why Sarah wasn’t included in the crayon family portrait.

On your ninth date he showed you the photos in his wallet. A baby girl with her curly dark hair up in two little buns sitting in the sand. The one below it was a girl who looked to be about five, giving the camera a toothy grin, standing next to Joel in a courthouse, holding up her adoption papers.

On your twelfth date he finally invited you over for dinner, you happily accepted.

Joel introduced you to an extremely energetic seven year old. He gave you a tour of the house (only the first floor.) and you smiled at every family photo hung on the walls.

“I invited Sarah but she couldn’t make it, she’s got midterms but I’m sure you’ll meet her soon.” He tells you before leaving you with Ellie, going to pick up a pizza for the three of you.

Ellie tells you about school, about her best friend Riley, and about playing soccer in the backyard with her father.

And then she says the strangest thing.

“My sister lives in the attic.”

“Excuse me?” You had given her a confused smile but she carried on as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“My sister, Sarah, lives in the attic.” She said it so plainly. Taking your hand and dragging you up the stairs, pointing up at a staircase on the second story that led to a singular door, pink paint peeling from it with little wooden letters spelling out SARAH, the sight of it put you on edge.

“We shouldn’t go up there honey, let’s wait until your father gets back.” You had put up a bit of resistance but she ran ahead of you, you watched helplessly from the bottom of the stairs as Ellie pushed open the door and ran inside.

“It’s okay, dad says I can talk to Sarah whenever I want as long as I don’t touch her stuff.” She had shouted, already inside. Despite every nerve in your body singing for you to go back downstairs and wait, you knew better than to leave a child alone so you climbed the steps and entered the room.

Nothing strange, nothing frightening, no secret nightmare.

When you look around all you see is a room, albeit a child's room but a room nonetheless.

Ellie sits in a love seat, suddenly repeating everything she told you about her day to seemingly no one as she stares at Sarah’s bookshelf. You walk around, trying to recall when Joel said she left for college. Everything is covered in a thick layer of dust but strangest of all this is clearly not a teenager's room.

This is a childs room, for a girl about Ellie’s age. Every photo on her desk doesn’t show her older than what looks to be twelve.

“Ellie, honey, when you said your sister lived in the atti-'' She doesn’t stop talking from behind you, ignoring you entirely but her words stop you dead in your tracks.

“Dad keeps saying you’re coming home for Christmas but he also said you’d be home for his birthday, he keeps telling me how much we’re gonna get along but I just tell him we already get along fine.”

It sends a chill up your spine, you aren’t superstitious but in a moment of weakness when you turn a part of you almost expects to see a ghost.

Of course that isn’t the case.

When you look Ellie remains in the loveseat, seemingly the only thing that isn’t covered in dust up here. Her eyes trained on the highest shelf, when you follow her line of sight all of it starts to make sense. The shelf is covered in books and toys and trinkets, all of which are showing signs of age and disuse but the top shelf is neat and tidy, it even looks recently dusted.

Only two things are on the top shelf.

A beer bottle with the label ripped off, a lilac sits within it, a few stray petals lay in a halo around the makeshift vase.

And a dark purple urn.

You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat, unable to tear your eyes from it.

“One time Uncle Tommy told me she was an angel.” She whispers when you stare in silence for far too long. “Dad got so mad we didn’t see Tommy for like a month after that and when we did see him again everything went back to normal.”

“What happened to her?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, she only shrugs in response.

“It was before I lived here, I never ask, I’m worried he’ll send me to live with Uncle Tommy if I do.”

“Oh, honey.” You crouch down beside her, she hugs her knees to her chest. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“I’m still not gonna ask. He doesn’t talk about her that much, only when someone else brings it up or if I ask to come up here to see her.” You nod slowly before holding your arms out to her, she wraps herself around you and you carry her to the door, eager to leave the tomb you’ve stumbled upon. “Bye Sarah.” She mumbled against your shoulder as you closed the door, the sentiment sent shivers down your spine.

When Joel returns with the food it’s as if you never were in the attic at all.

Ellie runs to him, wrapping herself around his leg as he laughs, trying to kick her loose.

When the three of you sit down for dinner she never says a thing to him about any of it.

She asks if she can go to her friends house after dinner, their mom is going to take them to the arcade, Joel grins at you, asking if she was good while he was gone and you put on a smile, nodding.

“Then you can go.” He ruffled her hair before she ran off to get her backpack. When it was just the two of you he took your hand, mentioning something about catching a movie while she’s gone, you nodded absentmindedly when he gave your hand a gentle squeeze you finally looked him in the eye.

You’d never noticed it before but there is a permanent sorrow behind the dark expanse of his irises, as if he’s never really happy, he’s sometimes just less sad. “Everything okay?” He asked.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t bring up the attic at the dinner table.

Or in the car.

Or at the movies.

He just needs time, you tell yourself. Maybe he’ll tell you on your thirteenth date, maybe it won’t be until your hundredth date. Until then you won’t tell him that you know who lives in the attic and you’ll nod with faux disappointment when he says that his eldest won’t be home for the holidays this year.

And you’ll take extra care of him on days when he comes home with fresh lilacs.

a/n : yeah so uhhhhhhhhhh tell me how y'all liked this haha idk if i'll write anything like this again it was just sort of something for me to vent with, hope everyones having a good day and thank y'all for reading <3

#lincolndjarin #one shot #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #tlou joel #joel tlou #the last of us hbo #the last of us #tlou #joel the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel and ellie #sarah miller

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ariadnewhitlock · 1 month

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Held You Close || solo

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Outside Aria's apartment SUMMARY: Aria reads Cass's letter. TRIGGER WARNING: Sibling death referenced (found family, just to be safe), domestic abuse (parent-child) to be safe.

Ariadne,

This is hard to start. I never thought I’d be writing it, you know? It’s, like, totally weird. But everybody has to start somewhere, so I might as well start with the point of it. Here goes:

I’m leaving Wicked’s Rest.

I don’t think it’ll be forever or anything. I just… think it’s what I have to do right now. My dad isn’t exactly thriving here, and I want him to be better. I want to be better, too. I think if we go somewhere that’s fresh for both of us, it’ll be simpler. He can get… reoriented with the world, like, the human world, and I can help him. I can help him be better. That’s what I’m supposed to do, right? I’m a superhero, and he needs help, so I should help him. I want to help him.

I want you to know that me leaving has nothing to do with you. You’re my best friend, and I couldn’t have asked for a better one. Every single movie we went to, every single sleepover in the cave, every bag of candy we shared… it all meant the world to me. It still means the world to me, even if I’m not going to be around anymore.

It’s not forever. I want you to know that, too. I’m leaving, but I’m going to come back. Someday, when my dad is a little better at understanding all this stuff, when he’s more healed, I’m going to come back. And you’ll be here, and we’ll pick up right where we left off! I might not live forever, but we’ve still got, like, a thousand more years to spend together! We’re still going to do all the things we talked about. We’ll still tell everyone we’re sisters, or that I’m your aunt, or whatever when I get older and you stay the same age. We’ll still buy every new kind of candy that they invent, and eat them until our stomachs hurt. We’ll still be best friends. I just need to hit pause for a little while.

Not, like, a total pause or anything, though. It’s 2024, right? We can still text. I’ll send you pictures of Alaska when we get there. I’ll tell you about all the volcanoes, and you can tell me what’s going on in Wicked’s Rest. Like whether or not you and Wynne have eloped yet, or whether Van and Thea ever kiss! I want to know all the hot gossip, okay? I want to keep up with everyone, even if I won’t be back for a while.

And… I want you to know I love you. I love this. Our friendship, what we have, it’s everything to me. I’m sorry I haven’t been very good at it these last few months. I hope you can forgive me. I hope you can forgive me for leaving, too. If you can’t, I get it. I’m the last person who could blame you for being upset with me for leaving. But… I hope you won’t be, anyway. I love you, okay? Forever.

Love, Cass -- There was a letter. Ariadne opened it up, carefully, despite the fact that her hands were shaking.

It didn’t make sense, because dead people (well, people who were like, forever dead) didn’t write letters. That sounded like some especially morbid version of those Bailey School Kids books that she’d read with her literacy teacher back in middle school. They hadn’t been her favorite and, come to think of it, said literacy teacher was also probably something not human –

– but now wasn’t the time to focus on that. Even though she so desperately wanted to focus on anything but what was in front of her. The truth.

She’d always held so strongly on to the truth, placed it on an altar. It was important, and it meant things would be okay.

Now she wanted anything but the truth.

The truth made her feel angry. It made her feel hot, and not in the wonderful way that she did whenever Cass hugged her. Hugs that were now simply memories.

She looked down at the letter.

You’re my best friend.

“You’re mine too.” She said, to nobody in particular. To the air, to the wind, maybe to G-d, who her grandparents on both sides still believed in. To anyone and anything that could get the message to Cass. “I – I wanted to save you.”

Tears welled up in her eyes.

“I love you. I love you.” Repeated like a mantra, like a prayer, as if she could force her best friend to materialize once again, and they’d both laugh and watch a superhero movie that Cass said was not good but that they both still loved. They’d eat cartons of ice cream and make Dr Pepper floats and hug and she’d watch Cass fall asleep and she, too, would close her eyes, level her breathing with that of the fae’s. Match it, because best friends were supposed to be able to do that.

I’m going to come back.

“Then come back.” She let out an absurdly large sigh, as if she was expelling any of the leftover air she had in her lungs.

They were supposed to be sisters and aunt and niece or any sort of family.

They were sisters. Not by blood, but Cass’s own blood had taken her from this world, in the end, and so found family was better in the end, wasn’t it? Found family wanted to save her, wanted to love her, did love her even when other people used her.

“I’ve loved you forever. I will love you forever. You… I’ll never be upset with you.”

Her tears dropped in big, cartoon-like drops onto the letter and Ariadne lay it down, out of reach of her seemingly never-ending sobbing. It was the last thing she had left of Cass, other than the yellow topaz butterfly around her neck – but Cass has written on this, not too long ago, and Ariadne was going to keep it forever.

“I’ll still tell you the gossip.” Once again, spoken to someone who wasn’t there. “I’ll tell you everything.”

She knelt down on the ground outside her apartment and drew a heart in the dirt.

Below it she wrote:

For the best friend anybody could ever have.

Ariadne folded up the note and stuck it into her bag.

“I’ll never forget you.” She stood up, legs still shaking.

– and then, finally, “I promise.”

#held you close #solo #writing #c cass #sibling death tw #domestic abuse tw

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galacticxangel · 4 months

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Wait I saw your comment on the meeting your mutuals/stranger danger post. You said you married your mutual? That's so cute. Have you shared that anywhere and if not would you share it here?

I’m pretty sure I’ve shared it passively, but I never shared the full thing just on its own, so I’ll do that here!

So back in Ye Olde Days (13 years ago), Ask Blogs were a big thing on Tumblr, and also, so was Minecraft! And wouldn’t you know it, I was running a little Minecraft ask blog. And then I came across another, which had amazing art and characters and I adored what I was seeing, so I followed, they followed back, I sent little asks, and we communicated that way! The blog I found was run by two people, @cosmic-anchor (Silvia), and her friend Lazzy (boyo where’s your blog). He’s still a mutual bestie today, as are a few other folks we met via ask blog shenanigans, like @knightlymoon and @ragnarode .

ANYWAY. We get to playing on a server together (we actually use a Minecraft version release date as our meeting anniversary, because it was right around the prerelease of Beta 1.8: September 9, 2011. How do we remember? Well, that’s when they released Endermen! And anyone familiar with Minecraft aakblogs knows just how popular those are today. But back then? HOLY crap. Everyone and their grandma has a Sexy Broody Enderman or a Sexy Broody Enderman Hybrid. It was. A lot), take to each other like a church on fire, and become besties! We have a little house together.

Long time passes, and we’re on pretty much daily communication, still playing games, etc. I went through basic training and she was one of the folks I sent letters to while I was there. We played D&D together (This was an entire fiasco where we lost one bestie due to an abusive relationship. She’s back now tho! Love you Lynn <3). Even in the military, when I got DEEPLY depressed, she was there for me and helped me out (I credit her for being alive today. I’m not sure I’d be here if she hadn’t talked me down and convinced me to see a mental health specialist). I get out of the military, get my own little apartment, and go ‘wait a minute. I can do what I want. I have a best friend I’ve known for like six years now. Let’s invite her down!’ And so we start planning our first

‘Down’ is an understatement. See, I live in Texas. She lives in Kentucky, literally a thousand miles away. And while I’ve got all my documents and paperwork and driving skills and travel under my belt, she… doesn’t. As the older sibling of a special needs person, and not from a very high income household, she didn’t have this stuff. So it’s up to me, and I’m too fired up about taking my bestie to a renaissance faire (yah we. Really nerdy lol) to consider anything but!

We get her costume ready. Her plane tickets. Her ids and everything, sorted. It comes to like. Two weeks before the flight. And I get a call at work. It’s Via. Now, this is weird. Over the years, we’ve kinda fallen into a system. Common communication falls into just a message (Skype at the time iirc, Discord didn’t exist just yet). Something kinda urgent gets you an alert ping (like @ing someone). Dire is a call. And my phone’s ringing.

Not good.

So I hurriedly excuse myself from the office to take it, and she’s in tears. Her dad’s gotten cold feet, and won’t take her to the airport like he promised because ‘what if I’m an internet predator’. I mean. I get it. I have a Southern Style family, too (This will come up later). But damn it, she’s an adult. We’re BOTH adults. Also, I just bought a round trip plane ticket! Also, at this point I know more about her than he does. He still thinks she’s straight. But he won’t take her because we’ve never met face-to-face.

It’s Wednesday. I look at my office door. I have my best friend, current queerplat partner on the line, sobbing apologies.

“Hey. Tell him to pick a place to eat. Dinner on Friday. My treat, okay?”

“What?”

“Tell him to pick a place for dinner on Friday. I’ll see you then.”

Thus begins the trek that cements me as ‘most unhinged friend when others need something’ in our friend group to the day. I go into my office, spinning a sob story about how some nondescript family member just passed and funeral and blah blah I need to go but I’ll be back on Monday.

Green light acquired.

I go home, and immediately go to sleep. I wake up around midnight, pack my bags into my little Kia, and off I go. 1000 miles. Now, remember when I said my family would come up later? Here’s later: I didn’t tell them. There was NO WAY they were going to just sit idle while I drove a thousand miles, ALONE, to meet someone I’d never met in person. I’d never driven quite that far, either. Not to say no one knew, I would plot two hours on my gps, send the path to Lazzy and Via, and check in when I hit the next stop. If I didn’t check in, they were told to call my parents if I was over an hour late. Which, obviously, I never was, because I’m typing this and not like, dead or anything.

I roll up to her local Cracker Barrel at 8pm on Friday, after easily one of the best experiences of my life (was out between cities on a clear, late summer night, got to see the Milky Way for the first time, got ‘adopted’ by a bunch of truckers at a truck stop I paused for a nap at). My hair’s a bit frizzy and I’m wearing a shirt that says ‘Watch Closely: I’m About To Do Something Stupid’. But her dad gets the firmest, friendliest Texan handshake I can give, and a bright smile.

Apparently, he never expected me to show. According to Via, I humbled him that day. I don’t pay for dinner, despite offering. I even stay the night.

She’s on a plane for Texas two weeks later.

(Bonus: it’s at the point I send a picture of the big ol ‘Welcome To Kentucky’ state line sign to my parents. This. Was not a good idea lol. But I had my big Texas meat swangin my ego and I was damn proud to be functionally unhinged. My dad scolds me and then gets me a hotel room in Little Rock, DEMANDING I stop half way on the way back. My mom calls me, yells at me, and then hangs up on me. Calls back an hour later to apologize because she wasn’t mad I went, she was mad that I was right when I told her ‘you’d have tried to stop me’. Ultimately fine, in the end).

There’s at least one other travel adventure (much easier this time! We were supposed to go to PAX South but were too lazy that morning so we ate pizza and played video games.

I move out of my apartment and start renting a house. I have extra room. And I think about my friend, who’s only left her tristate area twice now, both because of me. And I think ‘that’s my best friend! I wonder if she wants to move down here!’

Another 2k miles on my poor little Kia (who’s STILL KICKING BTW), and she now lives in Texas. This was about five years ago. We live in my little granny house that’s older than both occupants combined. You heard that right, though. Oh my god, We Were Roommates.

It’s about this time that apparently Via starts Getting The Feelings but BLESS HER she’s being SO GOOD because at this point I’m defining as Aro/Ace. Turns out it was just some anxiety/aversion because my previous relationship was turbo unhealthy! But I really like this chick, and I’m like ‘you know what, I’m scared I’ll mess up our friendship, but I’ll try these things. We already go on ‘dates’ and I buy you flowers occasionally just because I was thinking of you and we already snuggle every night because it helps us go to sleep’ yeah I was. Hm. Dense.

Anyway it takes off HARD and within the year, we’re married on the coast where I took her to see the ocean for the very first time, on September 9, 2023.

Our first anniversary is soon. 💕

#Wife Posting #MINECRAFT LESBIANS BAYBEE

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allthefoolmine · 6 months

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Happy season 3 of young royals to all who celebrate!

(It’s me I’m celebrating)

On to episode 5, which I didn’t watch this weekend due to knocking my computer off my couch and cracking the screen about ten minutes in. Totally my fault, but I also want compensation from Lisa Ambjörn personally, y’know?

Anyway, on to episode 5! Hope all who have finished the season enjoyed themselves, and looking forward to getting there myself.

Reactions / commentary / flailing (please dear God let me not break my computer this time) under the cut for spoilers / avoidance purposes.

- oh god the opening of this episode. Why did August tell him that about Erik. Why?! What was the point of that? It just seems needlessly cruel.

- and Wilhelm not telling Simon. Will he ever? This fool says nah, our crown prince is not in good-decisions-mode.

- August is such a shit! Vincent is a total dick, but blowing him off in that smug and dismissive way…legos underfoot are too good for him. Thumbtacks? Marbles? PORCUPINES?

- having just said I hope August has something very painful and embarrassing happen to him, I do really want to know what’s up with his letter.

- so hard to see Wilhelm and his Dad talking about Erik. Which begs the question—why does Wilhelm believe August without question? It really seems like he just accepts this information about this brother and I’m not sure I understand it.

- Wilhelm turning down Simon’s call. BAD DECISIONS MODE activated, huh? Oh, and now we’re quitting choir??? Buddy, sunshine, pal, YOUR LOVELY BOYFRIEND IS RIGHT THERE TO TALK TO HIM. (I wasn’t expecting him to actually to do it? He talked! And Simon said something helpful! And Wilhelm just, wow, buddy, wow. That stupidity is gonna come bite you.)

- fucksSAKE August, leave Sara ALONE.

- oh we get friendship time with Felice, oh good.

- Good luck Sara! OH. NO. Very upsetting to see her father let her down like that.

- Simon looks so cute in a suit! And his Mom continues to be everything you would want a mom to be. “It shouldn’t be this hard” is such an important message.

- Simon, good, yes, hug your sister! You two need to be friends again please!

- oh seeing Wilhelm remove the purple nail polish, my friends I am in PAIN.

- oh some CUTENESS. the birthday muffin! The birthday muffin! The birthday muffin, I may yet live.

- “maybe it was stupid to tell you about Erik” YA THINK ASSHOLE?!?

- oh the sports foundation SUCKS. Give the man an LGTBQ charity PLEASE.

- oh the weird birthday song. Bless them they are trying! I love Simon’s little look of wtf through it all. Perfect.

- August is a complete mystery. Going to the party after being sent home like that? I for one would not. I’d be on tumblr, licking my wounds, or something. Instead he’s chugging red wine in a white suit.

- I like the “tale of two dinners” format

- Simon is doing his best but I can only imagine how hard this is for him.

- August “leave her alone” challenge. You absolute walnut.

- I would not have hugged him, I would have punched him. Sara is much nicer than me.

- Wilhelm, I get that you’re having a crisis but think about someone other than yourself, *please*. Simon does not deserve to deal with your family shit without your support! Simon, you do the right thing for you, buddy! You go home!

- Simon’s side eye when Wilhelm goes off is everything.

- Simon, gtfo, love. This is above your pay grade.

- “love shouldn’t be this hard”

For everyone who has sat with that for a week…oof.

Ow.

#a fool watches young royals #young royals #young royals season 3 #young royals s3 #young royals s3 ep5 #simon eriksson #crown prince wilhelm #wilhelm x simon #young royals spoilers

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lifeneedsrot · 2 months

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🌲already outdated.

filthyrottenworm ——> lifeneedsrot

🔭no minors allowed! We dont post much NSFW we just are extremely uncomfortable around minors and want our boundaries respected

🔭hi! We’re the Starship System! There’s 26 of us, one for each letter of the alphabet. We are traumagenic and DIAGNOSED with DiD, and a pro-endogenic former sysmed! We have no real “host” but Maverick fronts the most. We use emojis to represent who’s speaking online. We are anti-harassment and anti-censorship, aka “proship” (even though we barely participate in fandom and don’t actually “ship” anything)! If you’ve got a problem, block us forever, because we will accidentally refollow you.

🥀we tag all posts with the alter’s name and starshipsys

🐰this account is for finding Real friends. We are more open about ourselves on this account and more guarded on our Starshipsys account. If we follow you then we’re open to being Friends.

⚓️no DNI except minors (under 18). We block liberally. Introductions below the cut. Ageless bios are usually blocked, minors always blocked.

Emoji - name - pronouns - headspace age

🧤 - Agate - they/them - 8

Agate exists to promote healthy expression of emotions.

🧤hi. I’m usually sad. Oh apparently that wasn’t enough of an intro I was gonna leave it at that. Um. I like talking to people. I’m kind of stuck in memories of really bad times so I’ll probably talk about bad things that happened a long time ago. I want our system to express our feelings now when we can because we used to never be allowed to. So sometimes I front to tell people what we’re really feeling and be vulnerable and stuff.

🪩 - Boppie - they/them - 21

Boppie exists to have fun and hold our party-loving feelings and maintain our in-person social status.

🪩Hey!!!!!!! I’m TONS of fun, I like dancing, I like being loud, and I like not giving a shit. I’m totally chill. I’m better at in person interactions than online, tbh. I wanna go to a rave and to a bunch of conventions and festivals and parades and honestly if it’s a loud party, I wanna be there. Unforchy maverick says No Never to all my wants and needs, waaaaaahhh. Can’t even drink alcohol. Can’t EVEN have COFFEE. No substances allowed. I’ll prolly talk about wanting to try shit and whine about how nobody lets me have any fun. I like music and singing and sometimes I play around on beepbox to make songs. I’m awful at it lawl but it’s fun!! I can’t survive without constant stimulation, so like, stimulate me. LMAO

♠️ - Cole - he/it - 21

Cole exists as a living manifestation of blades, and guards us from using sharp objects for self-harm or for harming others except to protect.

♠️Hey. I’m not great at talking to people. But I do enjoy conversations. Sometimes. Im a living knife. I used to date Quasi in headspace but I broke up with them after they tried to claw my eye out. To be fair I treated them horribly throughout that relationship. I consider myself a recovered persecutor because of how I used to treat them versus how I am now. I like blades and I’m aroused by blood. But I’m trying to avoid hurting people. I talk about death and mourning because I perceive my Quasi (Quasarinova) to be dead and replaced by the current Quasi (Quasiren). Which is part of the reason why I broke up with them.

🐰 - Daisy - she/any - 7

Daisy represents one half of unconditional love: “be yourself and you’ll be loved as yourself.” She also holds parts of our hypersexuality.

🐰hi!!! I get mad when people try to make us bend to be someone we’re not. And what we are is WEIRD and if you got a problem with that then block us or we’ll block you. I am ICKY and we are ICKY and if you don’t like that then BLOCK US FOREVER!!!!! But if you’re niceys we’re super nice c: !!! I love Tazzy and my little pony and sometimes I say everypony instead of everybody. WE SHOULD PLAY PONY TOWN TOGETHER. I can show you aaaall our ponies!!! We got one for every one of us. So 26 ponies. They’re the best representation of our headspace appearance for now. I like Disney movies I think but I haven’t seen many

🔭 - Estella - they/she - 21

Estella holds our love for technology and indie videogames, but their purpose is mainly to promote in-sys relationships and take care of the emotional needs of other alters by matchmaking.

🔭Hi!!! I hope we can be friends :3 I like Slay the Princess right now!! I’m a forever fan of minecraft and spore. In-sys relationships are extremely important to us, so I’ll probably talk a lot about that. Haven and I are girlfriends! Tazelein and Daisy are something… Starbound is starting to forgive Kakxyl, so they might get back together! Present and Cole might be together someday but neither of them are ready yet and I don’t want to pressure them. Maverick and Quasi are taking it slow, too. The XYZ primordials are forever married soulmates in a poly triangle or whatever. Whenever my headmates start to get along really well, I get ecstatic and front to happy ramble about it! I’m hoping I can take care of all of our emotional needs by setting alters up with each other. It’s to avoid codependency. Also, I made our headspace in minecraft! We should play minecraft together! If I can figure out how to make it work… also the proportions in our minecraft world are a little off.

🐁 - Fobi - it/she - adolescent

Fobi holds the “flee” stress response and its purpose is to run away when we are in danger.

🐁if I front its a bad sign. I only front when we’re in danger or if someone forces me to front. I exist only to run and I am in a constant state of fear. Estella wants me to not be in a constant state of fear but I don’t know what that would be like. I don’t want to be hurt anymore. I want to survive. I want to survive at all costs and I will do whatever we need to do to survive. We’re nothing more than a frightened animal. But I can be strategic, too. I recognize what is needed. I will put the most necessary alter in front, and sometimes that’s me, to run. Sometimes it’s someone else, like Starbound, to fight.

🦇 - Grim - it/its - adolescent

Grim holds the “fawn” stress response and its purpose is to adore and dote on people to prevent us from being hurt by them or to prevent them from leaving us.

🦇hi… I don’t know what to say… I’m also not very good at talking… I want more friends though. Do I have to write more? Okay… I want to be hurt. My description up there is a little weird. I’m not sure I like it. I don’t prevent people from hurting me. I… make myself very available to be hurt… because we need it. We need people to be around us more than we need anything else… and people hurt the people they’re around… so we have to be okay with being hurt. More than okay. I learned to love it. So please, if it’s the only thing that’ll keep you from leaving, hurt me. I’m more afraid of being alone than anything else…

🌺 - Haven - she/he - 21

Haven exists to express genuine love and care for our friends, family, and partners.

🌺Send us asks!!! Talk to me!!! Say hello!!!! Be our friend!!!! I promise we’re way nicer than you think. We don’t bite! Except some of us do bite. And I’ll bite if you ASK me to bite. But mostly we don’t bite. I usually talk about the people we love! Our friends! I hope you can become one of our friends, too. Because we have a severe friendship deficit.

✏️ - Indigo - they/them - 12

Indigo holds our hopes, dreams, and interests from Middle School.

✏️I LOVE STARSET AND WINGS OF FIRE. Those are my two favoritest things ever, especially wings of fire. I could talk about wings of fire forever. I write wings of fire fanfics. I also LOVE undertale and deltarune!!! I want to make a really cool indie game but I don’t think I have the skills to, so I stick to writing stories where I KNOW I can do it. I am good at writing but I almost never get past the prewriting stages. I also like reading fantasy stories. Sometimes. We haven’t read a good series in forever. We like Tamora Pierce’s books though! We’re not caught up on everything though. We also draw and are trying to draw a portrait of every one of us!

🎊 - Jynx - she/any - ageless

Jynx holds narcissism and a God complex. Her purpose is to hold insecurity that is expressed as superiority.

🎊fuck that description, I’m literally awesome. Anyway. I’m actually a god, for realsies. I’m the best thing ever. You should bow down and worship me. I’m not insecure. I’m genuinely awesome. Okay, that sounds insecure. I’m serious. Kakxyl is my dad, Lynx is my brother, Present is sort of my sister because it was raised alongside me. My dad is literally beyond godhood. He ascended so many times it’s like unbelievable. And im going to rule the world one day, so you should get on my good side.

🍠 - Kakxyl - he/any - eternal

Kakxyl’s role is to help other alters change their roles.

🍠Greetings. I like breaking people out of patterns of thought. There is not much for me to say. I am an ancient being, technically older than the primordials, and I may never truly die. However, death is merely a transformation into something else, and I shall always be an entity of transformation. The end of one thing is the beginning of another. I change, and I end, and I transform, as all things do, though my consciousness may remain uninterrupted, I experience slow and continuous death through change. All entities must die throughout their lives, many times. All creatures must transform through time. You are not the same you as you were yesterday. You will be someone else tomorrow. As stable as you view your identity to be, you transform as much as any other entity. You die. You have died. You will die. You are always dying. And you are always reborn.

🫐 - Lynx - he/any - ageless

Lynx holds the “freeze” stress response and will front when there are too many emotions vying to be expressed at once.

🫐I once had no voice, but now I can speak. Or type, I guess. Hm. What to say about myself. I want to learn fencing. I know how to wield a sword in headspace, but front body doesn’t. We also need to learn more ASL. I usually front because I’m emotionally numb in comparison to the others. So I front when the others are too emotional to make rational decisions.

⚓️ - Maverick - they/he - 21

Maverick is the captain of the system and makes the final call on all decisions, as well as the “host” who fronts the most.

⚓️damn this is a weird intro post. Why did we do it like this. Anyway I’m as close to host as we have. I’m the captain. I make the final call on all important decisions. I like boats. Front body never learned to swim, so we need to do that before we can go out on the water. I want to travel. I want to visit all fifty states and a few other countries. We’re from USA if you couldn’t tell.

🍥 - Nyan - he/she - 6

Nyan holds innocent childlike interests and emotions that we were unable to express when we were physically a child.

🍥Hi! I love making friends and talking to people and candy and legos. Hehe I am friends with daisy and agate. I like kitties and I named myself after Nyan cat. Meow :3!!!!!! I want to play minecraft and get super good at it and also I like the sims 3 and 4 but only with the pets pack added for kitties and spore and I like ummm lots of things! I used to collect littlest pet shops but I donno where they went. I like running in circles but front body is too tired all the time for that. I like stuffies and I like cuddles. I like ice cream also.

🚀 - Oscar - he/him - adult

Oscar’s role is to push people away to protect the system from being hurt by others.

🚀I don’t trust easily. If you do earn my trust, don’t break it. I do hold a grudge. I personally think our system would be safest alone, without dealing with outsiders. But everyone else is pretty convinced we can’t be happy alone.

🩵 - Present - she/it - adult

Present’s role is to mourn our lost relationships, but hold hope that we can heal.

🩵I hope you’re not off-put by all the strange introductions. We’re trying to reach outside our comfort zone to make more friends. So, hello. Don’t be shy, please. I think an important part of healing is opening ourselves up to form new friendships. We’ve been hurt a lot. We’ve hurt people, too. Our ex partner system accused us of grooming them because we were 19 and they were 17. It was a horribly toxic and abusive relationship for both systems, but we’re not a groomer, and we didn’t deserve thousands of people persecuting us online. A lot of our system feels like we’ll never be able to move past that relationship. It was such a defining part of our identity, and then our entire community was ripped away from us in one motion when we were cancelled off of that website. But we’re ready to rebuild.

🥀 - Quasiren - they/them - 18

Quasiren intends to create intimacy, friendships, and bonds. They hold the hope that we can still form meaningful relationships.

🥀Come be our friend!!! It’s necessary. Important. We’re genuinely very kind and nice and really like making friends. Okay, we’re a little desperate and a lot lonely. But I promise we’re waaaaaay friendshaped. So, what are you waiting for? You know you want to say hi. You know you want to become our best friend forever! We’re total sweethearts.

🥩 - Raptorse - it/its - adult

Raptorse is just there to make sure we don’t starve to death or develop an eating disorder.

🥩I’m just here to eat. We’re an animal. Animals need to eat. We get too hungry, I front. I eat. I chomp. I bite. I’ll even eat you. Not always good at talking. Sometimes words get mangled and grammar too. Especially when I need to do my job. Just a primal urge when that happens. All animals need is food, water, shelter. All animals need do is shit, piss, eat, sleep, fuck. Some animals don’t even need fuck. We need to get rid of urges but not really need another animal to deal with that. Maverick is saying I overshare. Don’t care. Survival is priority. Not nobody’s feelings about shit we do. Gnaw my way out if needed.

🎆 - Starbound - she/any - ageless

Starbound is the “fight” stress response and represents a need for justice.

🎆don’t piss me off and we’ll get along fine. But if you do piss me off, well. I’m not afraid to burn bridges the way the rest of these soft bitches are. I get mad real easy. And I get real fucking mad. Basically, if you’re talking and I front, you done something to piss us off big time. I hate injustice.

🪱 - Tazelein - he/any - ageless

Tazelein holds hypersexuality and the other half of unconditional love: “in order to love someone, you must love them as they are, not as how you want them to be.”

🪱hiiiiiii cutie~!!!! I like tearing people apart. Yes, I do mean tearing. Ripping them to sinewy shreds. Red ribbons and white fragments, squishy bits of organs strewn about. And then I like putting them back together. And I want you to be aware for all of it. Unfortunately, I can’t do that in front, humans die too easily, and front body isn’t strong enough to keep them alive. I can still get creative with what I do and keep you alive. Humans are also fairly resilient. If you’d like to be torn to shreds, or whatever adjacent thing I come up with, come say hiiiii~~ don’t be shy!!! Or do, it might be cute. Oh, is this not a normal way to introduce myself? Oops, ahehehe.

🕊️ - Utopia - they/any - ageless

Utopia holds our fascination with spirituality, religion, and the occult. Their role is to ponder the mechanisms of spirituality.

🕊️we are a somewhat spiritual system. We believe that when we were younger, we were connected to spirits that would grant our wishes so long as we were good to them. We also believe these same spirits granted us visions, but that we have lost connection with our spirits. We seek to regain our connection. We also believe all souls are interconnected in a massive web, and that travel between them is possible. Yes, I am referring to syshopping. We experienced syshopping firsthand with our aforementioned ex partner system that accused us of grooming them. I would like to regain a similar spiritual link with someone, not necessarily syshopping as I’m not certain we may ever achieve that again, but we also had friends who we shared dreams with, and I believe with enough closeness and common spirituality this may be achieved again.

🦠 - Vitriol - it/its - adult

Vitriol’s role is to prevent other people from being hurt by us by any means necessary.

🦠we’re not worth befriending. Reread Tazelein’s intro. Do you think someone who would say that is safe to befriend? Stay away from us. We have been abusive in the past. I don’t know if we still are, but it’s not worth the risk.

🕸️ - Webber - they/any - ageless

Webber holds our abandonment issues, and has the role of building and maintaining trust of others.

🕸️hello there :}. You’ve been reading for an awfully long time, haven’t you? I appreciate it. If you bothered reading this far, please say hello. We likely won’t message first. Most of us are too shy for that; we assume that you don’t want a message out of the blue. Ah, I should introduce myself. I’m Webber, a deity of trust. There’s nothing I value more than the trust of others.

🔥 - Xray - he/xe - primordial

Xray represents the current time and destruction. Xis role is to end or finish things, or get things over with. He does things nobody wants to do.

🔥once we are close enough with someone, we will have a boundaries conversation. We currently have 7 major boundaries, but may add more if necessary. After the boundaries conversation, we may decide to share our simplyplural with you. Any attempt to rush these two events before we’re ready will be perceived as a yellow flag and cause us to be wary of you.

🌲 - Yarrow - they/it/yey - primordial

Yarrow represents the past time and transformation. Its role is to help people see parts of themselves they hadn’t yet seen.

🌲hello. I don’t have much to add. I like writing about the alters of our system. Most of our simplyplural entries are authored by me, including the sentence description that’s written below each of our names in this introduction, which was taken from part of our simplyplural. We will share it when we are ready to share it.

🌊 - Zenith - ze/zer - primordial

Zenith represents the future time and creation. Zer role is to start new things and promote seeking out new pleasurable experiences.

🌊haiiiiiii!!!!! I’m kind of the mom of the system. But like, in a really fun and hot way. I like building people up! I also like making things. Which sometimes includes alters. We currently are maxed out at 26, but we might expand in the future, it’s getting a little tight in here.

#intro post

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gretakatharinaa · 8 months

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life in your 20s - about drinks and decisions

Now that my exams are coming closer and I spend every day of the week either working or studying and my only outlet is to work out or writing (which is not going well), I thought I should write about something that is all too familiar.

Life in the twenties.

I’ve wrote this article before - three drafts and 2 cups of coffee later I was fed up and closed my laptop. I decided to come back to it.

I think the fact that it needed this fourth draft shows how life in your twenties is.

When I asked around on how the 20s are, I mostly got answers like: confusing, depressing, challenging or just straight up filled with anxiety.

I also got answers like: exciting, vibrant, adventurous.

Obviously, every chapter in your life is filled with all sorts of emotions but I want to emphasize this "second puberty" you enter without even realizing it.

When we were younger, we didn’t know what we were going to be but we dreamt about this grown up life, your own money and apartment.

We used to buy center shocks, now we’re out for dinner and drinks.

We used to dream about furnishing our first apartment, now we’re hit with the reality of furniture prices (why are carpets and mirrors SO expensive?!).

We used to beg our mom to buy cereal, now we sigh at the prices in the store.

We used to jump up and down when we got letters in the mail with our name on it, now we’re scared to open them because it’s either spam or another bill.

We used to have crushes but instead of being fifteen and goofy, we’re really in love but break up or don’t even try because you work too much, you study too much, you don’t want to settle etc.

From hand holding-relationships and first times to trust issues and situationships.

Or we commit to relationships, being scared that we should have spent more time being single and constantly questioning what could have been.

Somehow, you still have pimples and crushes but now it’s that - on top of responsibility and possibility and bills and existential crises.

Of course, life in your twenties is also liberating. I’ve realized that the choices are mine to make, I have to defend myself and my opinions less and I have opportunities - to work, to study, to travel, to eat chips for dinner.

I can buy silly little things with my money and spend my time however I intend to.

The problem is, in your twenties, you constantly need to make decisions. What job/major to pick, what hobby, what future, what to eat (THREE times a day, EVERY day - pisses me off) and some decisions are harder than others.

You can’t always do what your heart desires, sometimes you cannot take that trip or get that job. Sometimes you can’t have that person, or rather, you shouldn’t. So you make a decision. And you live with it.

It’s weird, I’m fine with the decisions I make but only because I made the sensible choice - not because I did what I want.

What makes everything so confusing, is that everybody tells you you can be anything. And you start to spiral, wanting to be everything and anything, changing opinions and paths and being driven by the fear of missing out.

Everything is aesthetic or groundbreaking or inspiring or different or special and somewhere in between those adjectives are you - chasing or being chased?

I get it.

The 20s are a grey area. It’s okay to be confused and have no idea about who you are. It’s also okay to have babies and marry (in whatever order you prefer). It’s okay to have a normal 9-5 job and not be a drop shipper or OF model making bag. - I've been getting a lot of feet related DMs lately.

It’s okay to have a weird love life or no love life at all. It’s okay to wait for the one.

Not everyone understands you, not everyone will benefit your life.

The point is - i think - to soak it all in. To surround yourself with people who understand you.

So whatever feeling the 20s give you - fear, excitement, pressure - it's meant to be felt and experienced.

And then, one day you'll be thirty and just when the existential crisis of your 20s has stopped, the 30 will do you dirty.

Kidding... I think.

My god, this is the FOURTH draft and I still hate it. I have a million things on my mind - Laundry, exams, dinner plans, when i have to be at the office tomorrow and most importantly: Why can't I finish this fucking article?

I can’t just post this unfinished, sucky piece of ass and call it a day.

-Actually, I can. I’m a grown-up and this is my blog.

Happy 20s24. Get it? 20s.

#rawring 20s #20s #life in your 20s #existential crisis #possibility

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itsclydebitches · 2 years

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Nitpick November

Okay, this is an ancient nitpick now and I’m like 95% sure I already ranted wrote about it in a previous year, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Why oh why didn’t we learn what Ruby bought at the gift shop?

This is a fantastic, lighthearted moment in an otherwise depressing Volume! It shows off the characters’ personalities in a natural way, helping to distinguish what will quickly become a fairly homogenous group! Ruby is spending her money (Qrow’s money?) buying gifts for her teammates. Weiss thinks it’s all a waste of time (getting annoyed over inconsequential dolt stuff to hide how anxious she is about returning to Atlas). Yang is actually acting like a sister, getting playfully mad that Ruby won’t say what she got her and making a grab for the bag. “You’ll have to wait and see~”

Except Yang - and the audience - never get to find out what Ruby chose for her. It’s like a domestic Chekhov’s gun, but the included element is actually inconsequential. You wanted the story to follow up on a question it posed, one another character expressed enthusiastic interest in? Lol don’t be ridiculous.

The fact that RWBYOQ seem to have lost all their luggage (except the bike) and never comment on that is downright weird to me. Yang rants about gaining a “defenseless old lady,” but not that they presumably lost whatever was in the 9+ bags they were traveling with.

Which, given that they expected to have a nice, leisurely, day long ride into Argus on an otherwise dangerous quest, most likely includes things like dust and weapons supplies. You know, the important stuff a huntress would miss when suddenly stranded in hostile territory.

Give us a bonding moment where Ruby tells Yang what her gift was in an effort to cheer her up. Add tension to their travels by limiting the means with which they have to defend themselves. Hell, give a meh, but technically believable line about how gee golly gosh, we sure are glad everything we were traveling with was up front with JNR. I’m sure they’ll have it all unpacked at whatever safe house we’re heading towards. Oh look, there we go. Here’s your gift, Yang!

As always, the most annoying part is that RWBY’s nitpicks are, often, not actually nitpicks. The show forgot Ruby’s shopping spree in the Argus train station. Okay, big deal. Problem is, the show forgot everything else that happened in the station too.

Like the letter Qrow sent to Ironwood, the one that goes a long way towards explaining his increase in security (among every other justification) and providing the group with a means of entering Atlas if they just show a little patience. It would be real silly for our conflicts to revolve around entering the city + the group’s cliff-hanger shock at Ironwood defending his Kingdom + then seguing into total suspicion of the general when Qrow started the Volume with a letter that boiled down to “Things are awful and if you get this first, oopsies, things likely got worse and you’re on your own.”

Or, a revision:

“Dear James,

Things are really fucking bad right now! Worse even than you’re hearing and definitely worse than is safe to say over mail. So we’re coming to you. Trains are faster than letters, so if you get this first then, uh, something bad probably happened to us? Like, I don’t know, we got stranded in the woods with apathy-inducing grimm. Or something. Just tell your people to be on the lookout for wandering huntsmen because you’re smart enough to realize that getting this letter before we show up is a #BadSign.

You and I, we’ve had a playfully antagonistic, but ultimately respectful relationship over the years, which is why I’m warning you ahead of time. I look forward to resuming our partnership. I definitely don’t plan to become so randomly suspicious of you that I try to live in Atlas as a fugitive, then return your hug, then lie to you for weeks, then trust you again, then decide you need to die for my own stupidity. That would be wild, right?

See you soon!

Love,

Qrow

P.S. I bet Ruby bought you something at the gift shop. She’s a nice kid and would definitely want to thank the guy who gave her beloved sister a state-of-the-art arm, helping to bring her out of the depression that Ruby then had intense guilt over leaving her in to hunt a power-hungry murderer. Something to look forward to!”

#rwde #rwby #mymetas

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belphegor1982 · 2 years

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“The night before we got married, I was so nervous. I came here to see Mr. Miyagi. He sat me down, poured me a cup of tea... and some sake. And we talked about you.”

Amanda’s last evening as a bachelorette with her family (mom, cousin, aunts and uncle) gets a little derailed by nerves. Sometimes you just need some perspective to help you sort everything out.

I’ve had season 5 of Cobra Kai doing cartwheels in my head and stuff to my heart for a month and a half (ish) now, in particular episodes 5, 6 and 10. What Amanda says in 5.06 about her conversation with Mr Miyagi made me wish we could have seen that kind of scene in the show. (and cry. It made me cry, big time.)

So I wrote it ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

___________

In the Light of Tea and Sake

Winnetka, San Fernando Valley, 1999

“Well, I think that’s it.”

“That’s it? Really?”

“Yep. Everything on the list.”

Daniel took a sip from his espresso. How he could keep downing coffee at 6PM and still sleep like a log afterward had always baffled Amanda. Especially since he wasn’t exactly short on energy to begin with.

“Wow.”

Amanda took the paper, sliding it closer on the table. The ‘list’ in question was a little chaotic and largely symbolic anyway, but it was something, seeing all those checked boxes in front of various items like Pick up dress from the dry cleaner, Send RSVPs, or Order extra Lambrusco. They weren’t even in the correct chronological order, but every single one was crossed out.

For some reason her heartbeat was very loud in her chest, and she wasn’t sure all of it could be chalked up to excitement.

“We’re getting married,” she said softly, almost to herself.

Daniel flashed her a grin.

“Well yeah, that was the idea.”

“No, I mean… married.”

“That’s… a thing that can happen when two people decide they want to spend the rest of their lives together. You’re not going Runaway Bride on me now, are ya?”

A smile slipped past the tension in Amanda’s chest.

“And miss on the buffet afterward? Are you kidding?”

She was rewarded by a laugh and a cheeky grin, followed by an exaggerated waggle of eyebrows which Daniel was bound to know looked both ridiculous and charming.

Some of the weird tension inside her eased.

God, she loved that man so much.

At least that had never been in question.

“You’re so much prettier than Julia Roberts, anyway,” he said loyally, before adding, “Besides, you know the only thing that’ll be different tomorrow night is that we’re gonna be wearing a ring, right here.” He pointed at his left ring finger. “The ceremony’s just an excuse to get everyone we love together for once. Once that’s out of the way we’ll all stuff ourselves with great food, and dance, and we’ll have a great time. Oh, that reminds me – give me the list, I just thought of something –”

Food, dance, and all their loved ones in one place. Amanda couldn’t help but smile at the mental picture. Sure, when you put it that way, it all sounded so simple. Daniel had a gift for making complicated things sound simple, or at least straightforward.

But this shouldn’t be complicated, should it?

Except… Maybe it should. It was one of the biggest decisions of her life, after all, right up there with deciding to swap Ohio State for UCLA almost at the last minute and move halfway across the country. Talk about a leap of faith. At least she’d had Aunt Pat, and Jessica on holidays sometimes.

So. Maybe a few jitters were only natural.

She put her chin in her hand, letting her shoulders sag, and gazed at the man seated near her at their kitchen table. He was scribbling his last-minute entry on their list with the earnestness he usually reserved for tasks like writing letters or trimming bonsais. Things he loved doing.

Amanda smiled softly into her palm, almost despite herself.

“What are you adding?”

“Nothin’ important, just a couple of ideas for the music. You know, in case the DJ goes through his entire playlist and decides to take requests.”

“It’s our wedding, babe,” she pointed out. “I’m pretty sure we’ll be allowed a few requests. You know, besides the first song.” She paused. “Although I might have to bribe the guy with cake to get him to play ‘Always’ at some point. Preferably around 11PM when we’re all a little wasted on champagne and I can get you to myself for a slow dance.”

Daniel’s grin came back full force. “Way ahead of you.”

It was the second of the songs he’d added to their Things To Do Before The Wedding list, the first being ‘Desperado’, because he loved the 70s and 80s soft rock he’d grown up with. Besides the Eagles and Bon Jovi, the rest of the songs was pretty eclectic. Amanda was fairly sure he’d thrown in ‘Tutti Frutti’ specifically for his mom to lindy hop to.

With him, probably.

Daniel LaRusso was something of a momma’s boy (the logical result of having been a family of two for so long), a trait which against all odds Amanda found charming. If only Lucille’s attitude toward her didn’t set her future daughter-in-law’s teeth on edge…

Good thing Daniel’s close family didn’t stop at his mother.

Sometimes it felt just a little odd that he and the closest thing he had to another parent essentially called each other “Mister” all the time, like a teacher and his student, but over the years Amanda had learned to hear the terms of endearment behind the honorifics.

When she looked up from the list she met Daniel’s eyes, warm and a little bit wistful.

“Still set for your girls’ night, then?”

“It’s more of a games night, really,” she pointed out. “Besides, my uncle Brian will be there too, so I don’t know if you can really call it a girls’ night. But yes, I’d better get going. Aunt Pat likes everybody to be punctual for big dinners and I’ll be glad to see Jessie again. And mom,” she added as an afterthought, feeling vaguely guilty that it had to be a late addition.

“Okay. Well, enjoy your last night as a bachelorette.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me to not do anything you wouldn’t do?”

Daniel snorted.

“I think we both know the chances of that are pretty slim.”

“Oh, please. I know you’re a bit impulsive, but surely you couldn’t be that reckless as a kid, right?”

“That depends on where you rank ‘Blowing all my savings on a last-minute passport and round trip to Okinawa’ on your scale of reckless things people can do.”

“Pretty damn reckless, yeah. But in context it was also incredibly sweet, so as far as I’m concerned it doesn’t make the scale.” She leaned in to kiss him, lingering just a bit, hoping he wouldn’t feel just how fast her heart thumped an erratic rhythm against her ribcage. “I’ll see you at the church tomorrow, then.”

“Can’t wait,” said Daniel softly, all shining eyes and earnestness, with no trace of the nerves she realised with a flash of guilt she’d been trying to squash for a while.

No doubt there, no uncertainty. He was one hundred percent committed to marrying her and, like he said, spending the rest of his life with her – like his parents probably would have if his father hadn’t died way too soon.

Amanda had made her choice, wanted that, too, so… Why was she so goddamn nervous?

She turned up the volume on the radio in the car to drown out the question, and resolutely avoided glancing back at the cover bag that contained her dress for the entire drive to Aunt Pat’s Chatsworth house.

* * *

The door opened on Aunt Pat’s beaming smile.

“Heads up, folks, here comes the bride!”

Amanda barely had the time to smile back and say hi before she was engulfed in a warm hug and plied with questions about how she was keeping, and was she excited for tomorrow, and her well-being in general. Aunt Pat was a veritable whirlwind, her love as generous as it was relentless, and in the blink of an eye Amanda was whisked upstairs, hugged welcome several times, and seated on the couch between her mom and her Uncle Brian.

“So good to see you, honey.”

“How are you doing, Mandy?”

God, she’d missed them. But she hadn’t missed being the last guest who inevitably took the spotlight and got mobbed.

Amanda found herself calling on everything she and Daniel had had to learn when they’d started selling cars to and rubbing elbows with North Hollywood royalty in order to mask the anxiety churning dully in her stomach.

(Those people could smell impostor syndrome a mile away, like sharks with blood in the water. You needed the right smile, the right poise, and a self-confidence that could shatter a rock. She’d gotten surprisingly good at it. Daniel was still working out some kinks.)

“Oh, well I –”

“Don’t crowd the poor girl,” exclaimed Aunt Maggie from the staircase. Presumably she’d been the one to take Amanda’s overnight bag and dress upstairs to what had been Jessica’s room once. “Canapés, sweetie? Brian made them specially for you.”

“I know you like ‘em,” Uncle Brian chimed in with fake bashfulness and real pride, handing her the plate.

Amanda picked one – a spinach and goat cheese pastry, nice – and grinned. “Thanks.”

“He’s not the fancy caterer you picked for the wedding reception, but nothing can beat your uncle’s cooking, right?”

“Mom,” said Jessica from the armchair she’d sat in after welcoming Amanda with a brief hug like everyone else, “please. You promised you wouldn’t say anything more about the catering. I’m sure it’ll be great,” she added with a smile in Amanda’s direction. The warmth of it eased a knot that had just started to tense in Amanda’s shoulders.

Aunt Maggie sighed the heavy sigh of the put-upon, but thankfully didn’t protest.

“So, Jessie,” said Amanda swiftly, before more questions or remarks about her upcoming wedding, “how’s Nick? And Holly and Paige?”

“They’re fine,” Jessica said, helping herself to more appetisers. “Nick’s minding the girls tonight.” She laughed. “They’re all psyched up about tomorrow, but I don’t know how much of that is getting to sleep in a hotel or the prospect of hurling flower petals at people tomorrow. We’re gonna have a couple of excited little gremlins on our hands until they serve the cake,” she added with transparent fondness.

Amanda shook her head with a snort. “Sorry about that. If I’d known asking them to be flower girls would create monsters…”

“Don’t worry, they love you and Daniel to pieces. They’ll keep their mischief down to tame levels for your sakes.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Amanda raised the glass of white wine Aunt Pat had just put in her hand and toasted them both.

There was a scoff to her right.

“What, Mom?”

“Nothing, darling, just… I still don’t understand why you’d want to put yourself through all this hassle. I understand wanting a big family reunion, but you don’t need a wedding for that. Do you know just how many marriages end in a divorce these days?”

Amanda had to force herself to take a second to breathe – in through the nose, out through the mouth, Mr. Miyagi’s voice echoing in her head the way it did when she did her yoga while he and Daniel did katas – and attempted to smile. The result felt more strained than what she aimed at. She must really be off tonight; usually her diplomacy game was much better than that.

“Four point one for every thousand Americans1, I know, Mom. You told me. Several times.” At least she still knew the exact amount of warning needed in her tone to make her mother know she was toeing the limits. “But it was my choice. Our choice.”

For a second, Joanne appeared to have a ready argument on her tongue. Fortunately, it was the moment Aunt Pat chose to clap her hands and ask her to help her set the table.

“Oh, and Brian made buckeyes2 for dessert,” she added with a wink at Amanda and Jessica.

The two cousins looked at each other.

“Okay, how many of those do you think can we eat before we realise we no longer fit into our dresses?”

Jessica laughed. “I don’t know, but I like a challenge. Come on, let’s find out.”

Amanda popped one last canapé into her mouth and rose from the couch, taking Jessica’s arm as they went.

* * *

The dinner was excellent.

It was also, at times, endless.

At her best, Amanda cultivated patience like a well-kept garden. Being patient helped when co-running a business. It also helped smooth things out in her personal life. Her couple was a partnership of equals, well balanced, but she’d known from the start her temper was more even than Daniel’s. Each knew to take their turn at patience when the other needed some, though.

So it wasn’t like a few derogatory comments on her life choices and management style were enough to rile her up – not usually, and especially when scattered among casual kindnesses and funny anecdotes. Mrs LaRusso could dish worse than that on a good day. But the timing sucked.

Why couldn’t she seem to stop feeling so worried already?

“Joanne,” said Aunt Pat in a warning tone while they were all helping themselves to dessert, “leave the girl alone. That’s the second time she makes that face, and I don’t like that face.”

Amanda was tempted to point out that, as an almost twenty-nine-year-old with a thriving career, she was more of a woman than a girl, but at this point any kind of lifebuoy was welcome.

“I’m just saying,” said Joanne in a voice Amanda was annoyed seemed to sound much more reasonable than her own, “Daniel’s a good man and I’m sure you’ll be very happy together. It’s the shackling up I don’t get. Everything you own, everything you earn, you’ll have to share – you’ll completely lose your independence. And what if it doesn’t work out in the end?”

“Then you get to tell me ‘I told you so’,” Amanda retorted. The sarcasm came out sharper than she intended. She had to take a second to centre herself. “Look, Mom, can we drop the subject already? I just wanted a nice family dinner, not a re-enactment of the Salem trials.”

Her mother rolled her eyes, but softened.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just want what’s best for you.”

Oh, for…

“So do I, and I’ve been old enough to know what I want for some time now.” Amanda paused as the realisation hit her. “And right now, I think… I think I want to go home.”

There was a shocked silence.

“Oh, sweetie,” said Aunt Pat, startled, “you’re not staying for game night?”

“Sorry, Aunt Pat, not tonight. I’m turning in early. If it’s okay with you I’ll be back here at 9 to get dressed, just after the hairdresser appointment. You know, if the dress still fits.”

The quip fell slightly flat. Her mother looked crestfallen.

“Amanda, honey, I swear I won’t say a single –”

Amanda waved a hand, already feeling calmer for her decision to not stay after all.

“I’m not storming off in a huff, Mom, don’t worry. I just… need my own bed right now. I’ll see you guys tomorrow, okay?”

To her relief, she was answered by murmurs of assent and sympathetic noises.

One of the perks of being a bride-to-be was that many people expected you to be nervous and irrational, and were more willing than usual to let it go. In hindsight, maybe she should’ve banked on that much earlier instead of doubling down on trying at all costs to come across as chill, efficient and cheerful to everyone but Daniel.

She bid everyone good night, kissed her mother on the cheek (getting an apology hug she’d probably appreciate better tomorrow), and picked up her handbag.

“Sorry about your mom,” said Jessica softly when they were both at the door. “And mine. And Dad. Wow, this dinner was kinda terrible, huh.”

“We’ve had better, yeah,” Amanda conceded with a small smile. “I really would have enjoyed the sleepover, though. Sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry, we can always take a rain check. I’m sure Daniel won’t mind if I borrow my cousin for a girls’ night out one of these days.” She paused, and rubbed her hand along Amanda’s arm. “Sure you’re gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Jessie. Thanks. I’m just a little beat right now.”

Jessica peered at her for a few seconds without saying anything, then pulled her into a hug Amanda returned gladly.

When they parted her heart was lighter, though it still beat uncomfortably loud in her throat.

“All right, go get some rest. I’ll save you some buckeyes.”

“And that is why you’re my favourite cousin,” said Amanda with a laugh. Jessica grinned.

“Yeah, I know. See you tomorrow morning, then.”

“Bye, Jessie.”

The lull had done Amanda good. By the time she was behind the wheel of her car, fishing her cell phone from her handbag to send Daniel a text, the tension that had kept building during the dinner was waning a bit. She still felt on edge though, like electricity running just under her skin.

She did want to go home, change into her most comfy pyjamas, and snuggle her boyfriend as if tomorrow weren’t anything special. Maybe pop Ghostbusters into the VCR. They’d watched it so many times over the years the tape was starting to get creases in some places.

But the state she was in right now… Daniel was a perceptive guy. What if he picked up on her nervousness and jumped to the wrong conclusion? Jitters weren’t cold feet, but it was bad, right? Or at least a bad sign?

Amanda flipped her phone closed, buckled her seatbelt… and threw her head back in frustration, hitting the headrest. Ugh. If that little voice in her head could just shut up—

She didn’t send the text, figuring she could surprise her boyfriend – fiancé – and drove off.

She was coming up to Sherman Way when she spotted the bridge over the Browns Canyon Wash in the near distance. Before she knew it, she was turning west toward Canoga Park.

This is probably a bad idea, she thought, but she kept driving.

* * *

Amanda knocked once, then twice, softly enough for plausible deniability that someone was on the threshold at all. The door opened before she could decide whether to stay or leave discreetly while it was still polite.

Mr. Miyagi’s eyebrows went up.

“Amanda-san?”

“Good evening, Mr. Miyagi,” she said, and did a hasty bow after belatedly realising she’d forgotten. “Sorry to bother you at this hour, I just… I…”

He waited until she failed to finish her sentence, then asked with a frown, “Thought you go to family tonight. Everything all right?”

Amanda gave a shaky laugh. “Yes. Well, no. Well, yes, it’s just… This is so dumb. I’m sorry, I’ll—”

“Amanda-san.” His voice was gentler than usual, less gruff. “Want some tea?”

She breathed out, let her tense shoulders sag a little.

“Tea would be lovely, thank you.”

Mr. Miyagi silently stepped aside to let her in.

Amanda went to sit on her knees in front of the low table, her hands in her lap. It felt strange, being there without Daniel. Mr. Miyagi had never made her feel unwelcome, even for a second, but the bond between those two was so obvious it was almost tangible, a living, breathing thing. They shared so many private jokes, and memories, and overall a kind of shorthand to each other that it might have made Amanda feel left out very easily.

She never did.

All it took was Daniel’s voice pulling her back from the sidelines, or Mr. Miyagi’s eyes twinkling as he shared a quiet smile with her, to remind Amanda that there was a place there with them that was just for her.

But she’d never been on her own there before, let alone at ten in the evening.

Mr. Miyagi soon came back with a tray loaded with a steaming teapot and two round cups. Amanda made sure to hold hers correctly, despite the impulse to wrap her fingers around it.

“Thank you,” she said quietly. Mr. Miyagi gave a short nod and sat down, too.

The tea was a good quality matcha, foamy and sweet, the perfect temperature when Amanda dipped her lips into it.

Her evening hadn’t been quiet. It had been frustrating at times, sure, but also full of love and laughter, a familiar brand of chaos as various conversations collided across the dinner table. As she closed her eyes to savour the silence, the heat of the cup, and the flavour of the tea, some of the tension that had made her heartbeat loud and her chest tight seemed to drain away.

The rest of that tension remained in place, but its coils were slightly less taut now.

The little house felt as it always did, cosy and warm despite the early October night outside flirting with the lower fifties. The light-coloured wood walls helped. So did the paper lamps, the rug, and the decorations here and there, testament to a life rich enough to contain several.

A few items stuck out, though. There was a navy blue suit on a coat-hanger, the pants neatly folded over the lower bar. It was flanked with another hanger, over which a white shirt was draped. Hanging around the hook of the hanger was a silk tie with a blue and white flower motif.

The shirt’s wide lapels were a few years out of date, but the ensemble fit together surprisingly well. And retro was in style, anyway.

Amanda smiled.

“Mr. Miyagi, you’re going to look fabulous tomorrow.”

“Good suit. Do all work.” He took a sip from his cup and glanced at her. “Good thing about wedding: everyone look at bride, nobody else. So Miyagi can wear flashy suit, no problem.”

Amanda suppressed the urge to shift uncomfortably.

“Hopefully they’ll be also looking at Daniel. I mean, he’s the groom. And his suit is pretty neat, too.”

“Hai. And Daniel-san look at you whole time.”

This time Amanda’s smile had a touch of heat in her cheeks. He probably would stare a little, at that.

Quiet fell again, so unobtrusively Amanda started when Mr. Miyagi asked, “So. What wrong?”

Amanda drank from her matcha again and gently laid the cup on the table.

“Mr. Miyagi, can I… can I ask you a question?”

Mr. Miyagi gave her a nod.

“Have you ever been nervous, even though there was absolutely no logical reason to be nervous?”

“Miyagi nervous plenty of time,” he said, glancing at her curiously. “Sometimes true reason hidden, only see later. Why?”

“I’ve been feeling… a little weird about tomorrow, all evening. Well, make that all week, now I think of it. And now I’m – I think I’m a bit scared?”

The last word surprised her even as she said it. She had to take a second to think, a little taken aback.

“Which is completely absurd,” she continued with a wave of her hand as though it might hide how self-conscious the admission made her feel. “I mean… It’s a wedding, not some high noon duel. I love Daniel and he loves me – we’ve been living together for four years, for God’s sake. I’m not having second thoughts, I’m just…”

Like earlier, Mr. Miyagi waited patiently until it became clear Amanda would not finish her sentence.

“Nothing wrong with nerves before big day. Natural.”

“I know, but… Look, we’re in 1999. People can choose to not get married and it’s not a big deal, so getting married shouldn’t be such a big deal, either. I mean, my mom just plain told me she didn’t get why I wanted a wedding. She thinks it’s old-fashioned.”

“And father?” asked Mr. Miyagi, pouring a second helping of tea into both their cups.

Amanda downed some of her matcha, licked the foam from her lips, and lowered her eyes.

“I didn’t invite him. We don’t have a good relationship.”

And if that wasn’t a spectacular understatement.

At the beginning, when they were drafting the list of guests, she’d hesitated. Daniel had said, Take your time, honey. It’s your call. I know things are complicated between the two of you. Which was sweet of him, because all he’d had to work from were the bare bones: that Ted Steiner had walked out on his family during Amanda’s last year of high school, that he lived in Boston now, and that neither Amanda nor her mother talked to him more often than a few times a year. Daniel hadn’t pried, hadn’t prodded at sore spots and scar tissue; he had taken what she’d been willing to give and not demanded anything more. Amanda had been ridiculously thankful for it.

Mr. Miyagi didn’t pry, either, nor offer platitudes. He was just there, giving silent support, with neither judgement nor impatience.

Amanda breathed out.

“My dad had an affair when I was a teenager. My mom caught him cheating and… I guess it was the last straw for their marriage. They got a divorce pretty soon after that.”

Mr. Miyagi shook his head ruefully, but made no comment.

“So… maybe that’s part of why I’m scared, you know. I do remember them being happy together, and I think even when that stopped they put up a convincing front for my sake, but… I’m not starting out this marriage thing with the best of examples, you know?

“I mean… Daniel’s parents really loved each other. I don’t really get on with his mom enough to have hearts-to-hearts with her about it, but Daniel’s a big fan of scrapbooks and photo albums and I’ve seen their faces when they look at his dad’s pictures. Perhaps he could have ended up having an affair, or doing something that’d make his family disappointed for some reason, but they’ll never know. They’ll always have these memories of him being a good husband, and a good dad, and that’s all they get to keep, because he’s dead. Meanwhile, my dad lives in Massachusetts with a woman sixteen years younger and he never remembers my birthday. And he blows me off when I call him at ‘inconvenient times’.”

Amanda downed her tea in one go, suddenly wishing for something a lot stronger.

“I didn’t mean to unload on you,” she said quietly, not quite looking Mr. Miyagi in the eyes. “Sorry about that. I think the bottom line is just that I’m scared that even good things go south eventually – someone dies, someone cheats, you know, life happens – and I’ve been trying not to think about that for some time. And now it’s all I can think about. I’ll be fine,” she added, “I think. But the timing is really, really bad.”

“Hm. Timing is what is, can’t change that.” She raised her eyes. Mr. Miyagi drank the rest of his matcha, then climbed to his feet with a slight groan. “Wait here a moment.”

While Amanda worked on swallowing the lump in her throat and blink the sting out of her eyes, he made his way across the room to a cabinet, from which he took a bottle and two glasses.

Not just any bottle, too. This was the kind of sake that always made its way into his cabinet as the winter grew close. The one Daniel said he couldn’t let him drink alone. He’d told her the reason for the yearly bender a couple of years ago, when he and Amanda had first moved in together and he’d come back from Mr. Miyagi’s one November morning with a massive hangover. Since then, grief and outrage fought an endless battle in Amanda’s heart whenever she saw the little hand-coloured photograph in Mr. Miyagi’s bedroom, but she’d never found the right words or the right moment to talk to him about it.

“Oh, Mr. Miyagi, you don’t have to –”

“At-at-at-at. Tea good, but for this? Strong stuff better. Drink.”

He poured two generous drinks and toasted Amanda’s tumbler. The glass went clink.

The wine was light, slightly sweet, with a kick at the end. It seemed to warm her throat and chest from the inside, much as the tea had. She closed her eyes for a second, enjoying the taste. And the kick. She had needed that kick.

When she opened her eyes again Mr. Miyagi was looking straight at her.

“How ridiculous do you think it is,” she asked in a low voice, “being scared of your own wedding?”

He shook his head.

“Amanda-san, in life, always easier to hide head in sand. Admit being scared, though – that pretty brave. You face fear.”

She took a sip from her glass to hide the wry turn of her mouth. “Brave is the last thing I’m feeling right now.”

“What feeling right now, then?”

“Stupid, mostly. And, well. Still nervous,” she added.

“Ah, not stupid. Just young.”

“Not that young.”

“And not that stupid either.” A small laugh escaped Amanda. Mr. Miyagi’s expression softened. “Miyagi… very nervous before wedding. Very young then, and very stupid.”

Amanda held her breath. He had never mentioned his wife to her before.

“Why were you nervous?”

“Daniel-san tell you about first trip to Okinawa?”

Amanda nodded. “He said you’d left your first love there. She was engaged to marry your best friend, and you left so you wouldn’t have to fight him to the death. And win,” she added in a softer voice.

Another time, another place, another world. Arranged marriages and duels of honour – it all sounded like a story, not like something regular people her parents’ or grandparents’ age could have gone through. And maybe at first glance the little old man seated next to her in a khaki button-down did not look like the stuff of stories. But as she had come to know him better, she’d come to know better.

Mr. Miyagi nodded with a smile.

“Hai. Yukie. Very kind, very smart. Very beautiful. Miyagi’s heart… broken, little pieces. Think never love again.

“I come to Hawaii in shame, start working small jobs. Fix carts, fix roads, cut cane in fields. Then… meet Sakiko.”

He stopped for a gulp of sake, then continued in a faraway voice, “And she smart, and kind, and beautiful too. Her laugh was like… sun, here.” He patted his chest. “Each time, little piece of heart come back. One day I ask, Will you marry me? And she not laugh. Say yes.”

Another gulp.

“Luckiest guy on Earth.”

Amanda drank, too, hoping it would make her throat less tight. It didn’t.

“And you were still nervous?”

“Of course. Sakiko was sunshine, I was bum with broken heart! Didn’t believe second chance at love. Too rare. Like, blow it with Yukie in Okinawa then, blow it with Sakiko in Hawaii now, you know?”

Despite everything Amanda had to bite on an unexpected smile. That last bit was definitely a LaRusso contribution to Mr. Miyagi’s English.

“So, what did you do?”

“Marry Sakiko anyway. Say to myself, Must not lose to fear. Love… too precious to be touched by something like fear.”

If Amanda had been seated on a chair, this would have been a perfect time to cross her arms on the table and lay her head on them, if only as a cover for the emotions she could feel rising in her throat. But the table was too low for that. Instead, she took another gulp of sake and leaned forward on her elbows, her whole body slumping even as her mouth wobbled into a smile at the last sentence.

A smile that fell when Mr. Miyagi poured himself another glass and muttered, “This story no happy ending, either.”

He stole a glance through the open door of his bedroom, where he kept Sakiko’s picture and the little box that contained some of his most painful memories. Amanda swallowed, her eyes burning.

“I know,” she murmured. “Daniel told me what happened then. Mr. Miyagi, I am so sorry, that—”

“Eh, long time ago. Not worry.” But his voice was rough, his eyes shining wetly in the dim light of the lanterns. He reached for his glass, downed some of the wine; when he set his glass down Amanda laid a hand on his arm, gently, at a loss for how to convey everything she wanted to.

Somewhat to her surprise, he didn’t pull his arm back.

“Was boy, you know. Little American Miyagi boy, born California. Sakiko wanted American name, like George, Harry. I wanted Kanryō, like father. Sakiko say, Why not both? Many Americans more than one name. Last letter say, Little Kanryō Harry strong, kick hard.”

Mr. Miyagi picked up his glass with his free hand and emptied it in one go. A breath shuddered out of him.

“Miyagi pretty damn lost for a while after. No pick up broken pieces for many years. Too much work.”

Amanda was reluctant to remove her hand, still clasping his arm. She clenched her lower jaw to keep it from trembling and wiped her eyes with the thumb of her left hand.

Mr. Miyagi made for the bottle again, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, his hand flopped on Amanda’s, patted it once or twice, then squeezed.

Then he let go and leaned back, blinking at the ceiling.

“Life, you know. Sometimes work out, sometimes, ah… sometimes not.”

“That’s one way to put it,” said Amanda, her voice thick and echoing around strangely in her head. Mr. Miyagi looked back down again and peered at her.

“Not mean give up on life. Never know what you find next. Like chocolate box.”

Something that might have been a laugh in different circumstances snorted its way through Amanda’s nose. Thank goodness she hadn’t been drinking. Look at the dignified bride, snickered a voice in her head that sounded a lot like her own.

“Did you just quote Forrest Gump!?”

“I watch TV,” Mr. Miyagi retorted with what she could recognise as a rather poor attempt at his usual stone-face sarcasm. Not that she’d dream of calling him out on it. “Good for catchy saying. Sound wise later, when make this face and go hmm. Listen to wise old Miyagi.”

Amanda, flabbergasted, dealing with severe mood whiplash, and maybe just a little buzzed after Aunt Pat’s dinner and half a glass of sake, stared at him open-mouthed for a while until delight started to creep into her face, like a blush. Mr. Miyagi smiled.

“Daniel-san make same face first time figure out karate training. Mouth open, big eyes, ooh.”

“I know that face,” Amanda laughed. “I’ve seen that face. His eyes go…” She made a gesture with all five fingers extended, palm out, and smiled fondly. “He loves to make everyone think he’s got it all figured out. You know, control, balance, and everything. But then something will blow his mind and wham – surprise face.”

“Hai. Good moment. Great fun, too.” Mr. Miyagi picked up his sake again, both his moustache and his glass almost hiding his smile until he realised there was no alcohol left in it. “Miyagi father teach karate since small boy. This high.” He raised his hand at a height Amanda, through her patchy experience with kids, guessed must mean ‘very young child’. “Do kata, blocks, balance exercises. Build good muscle, good reflex, good head. Years to learn. But Daniel-san, only two month training before tournament. Had to trick mind for body build muscle and reflex quickly.”

“And did he have a good head?” asked Amanda, resting her right elbow on the table and her cheek into her palm, smiling at the mental picture.

That smile widened at Mr. Miyagi’s expression.

“Eh… Depend. Hard head, yes. Big mouth. Bit of a handful. Tended to rush into things, not look right, not look left – only forward. Sometimes not even then!” He raised his eyebrows in mock outrage. “And stubborn, like mule. If really no want listen, no listen at all, even Miyagi, even mother!”

He shook his head.

“Good head, yes, sometimes – but good heart, always. Big heart. Bigger than him.”

Amanda had to smile again at that. She and Daniel were the same height; she stood taller than him when she wore high heels, but she’d always been tall for a woman. 5’9 was the average height for a man. He did seem to have twice the average amount of heart, though, which had been one of the things that had drawn her to him in the first place.

“You know,” said Mr. Miyagi as he screwed the sake bottle’s cap back on, “Daniel-san tell me later he was angry when he and mother move here, to California. I understand. Left family, friends. Memories. Tomb father buried. And for place that no want them, no understand them. Funny face, funny accent. Get laugh at, beat up. Don’t know rules here, he say.

“Well, Miyagi know thing or two about Don’t know rules here. He say angry boy now. I see lonely boy then. Polite to old Okinawa fixer guy. Gentle with bonsai. Come down, say, Hey, Mr. Miyagi, can hang out with you tonight? I know mother work late, I know boys with bad attitude in school. I say, Sure, here bonsai clipper. Here story about Okinawa. And then, later, karate training. But even after tournament, still show up. Do kata, help fix house, talk. Talk a lot,” Mr Miyagi added in that special tone of his, dry but for the twinkle in his eyes, “but, er… listen, too. Listen good, for young man who talk so much.”

Amanda smiled into her palm, both at Mr. Miyagi’s words and the guarded but transparent affection in his voice.

“He is good at that,” she murmured, “when he wants to be.”

“Hai. Sometimes forget, but never for long. Love bring him back, always.” He paused. “Even when being bonehead.”

The word made Amanda chuckle silently.

“He really means a lot to you, huh.” Like you mean the world to him, she didn’t say. But then again she was fairly sure she didn’t need to.

Mr. Miyagi pursed his lips in thought. Then gave a short nod.

“Boy lonely when come here. Miyagi… lonely for long time then. Busy life, busy hands, yes. But, er, heart need busy too. Need love to give, to get. Like bonsai; no love, then no water, no help shape and grow. Root go weak. No good.”

His eyes fell on a little juniper on a cabinet – one of the many bonsais scattered here and there, in the house and the garden – and his moustache twitched.

“Then one day Miyagi realise heart get pretty busy, too. Turn out lonely boy with big mouth and hard head, plenty of love to give. When I get letter from Yukie that father dying, he say, I’m coming with you, Mr. Miyagi. Be there for you. And when father die…” He cleared his throat. “When father die, no more wise Mr. Miyagi for a while. No more funny jokes, no more smart sensei. Just little old man alone, full of tears and regret.

“Daniel-san lose father, too. Shared grief with me then, regret, guilt. Kind words, gentle silence. Help pick up broken pieces.”

For some reason this reminded Amanda of her mom taking up yoga after Dad left, like her, so they’d share an activity that was all theirs and help each other through it. Or Jessica spending six months in California after Amanda moved in, just so she wouldn’t be alone in a strange place.

She drank from her sake and smiled into her glass, trying to catch Mr. Miyagi’s eyes.

“That’s what a good family does,” she said softly as she set the tumbler down. “Be there in the good times and the bad.”

“Miyagi not very good family. No see father for forty years.”

“No, but… family doesn’t have to be blood, right? You were there for Daniel and he was there for you. That’s the important thing.”

Mr. Miyagi shot her a side glance.

“True.” His gaze softened. “Once I lose baby boy. Later, I get young man. Not same, but not less.”

And before Amanda could figure out whether she wanted to smile or cry – and if she could get away with blaming it on the sake – he said in a voice that was a lot more like his usual matter-of-fact tone:

“You say Life happen – you right. I say Sometimes work out, sometimes not – Miyagi also right. But life is people, too. And…”

He stopped, as though searching for words.

“Look, important thing about Daniel-san: hot head, kind heart. Always fight for what believe, here.” He put his hand over his heart. “And what Daniel-san believe most is family, friends. Trust. Support in hard times. No walk away from difficult situation – go right toward trouble and say, I make this right. And I think you same, Amanda-san.”

“Mr. Miyagi,” said Amanda in a small voice, putting her chin in both her hands and leaning with her elbows on the table, “if you’re trying to promise me we’ll never have problems, I’m not gonna believe you.”

“No. You will have problems – plenty good couple have problems. But you and Daniel-san, love each other very much. Work through problems. Make good team.” He looked her in the eyes again. “Worth it.”

“I know,” murmured Amanda. “Believe me, I know.”

Fact was, she did know, and she’d known for a long time, way before anxiety had started to whisper inside her brain. She did have doubts, and fears, and insecurities – but never about that.

Maybe sometimes all you needed was someone to lay out the inside of your head for you and show you what was in it. In the light of tea, sake, and good insights, everything became just that little bit clearer.

Mr. Miyagi was smiling.

“So. You better?”

Amanda gave the question some consideration.

“Yes,” she said eventually with a solemn nod, “I’m better.”

“There you go. Power of matcha and nihonshu3. Work every time.”

“Power of a good host, too,” she pointed out, “and a good friend. Thank you, Mr. Miyagi.”

“Ah, no thank me. Want guest room? Is late. And you getting married tomorrow.”

She gave a laugh. “There is that, yeah. But I think I’ll go home. Thanks for the offer, though. And the perspective.”

Mr. Miyagi nodded and started getting to his feet, slower than before. The two glasses of sake and the late hour were taking their toll, like it did on Amanda.

“Thank you for company. Always welcome here. And, er, Amanda-san?”

“Yes?”

He hesitated again, although this time it didn’t look like he was searching for the right English words, but rather bracing himself.

“Next month, fifty-five years since… since telegram. I know Daniel-san come – not like it when Miyagi alone that night.” He cleared his throat. “If you… if you want to come, too… have tea, perhaps drink some sake in memory, then… Would be good. To have you.”

Amanda’s breath caught in her throat.

“I would like that,” she said softly, but with feeling. “I would like that very much. Thank you.”

Silence fell between them, soft and comfortable, a bridge rather than a divide.

When the moment broke, Amanda retrieved her handbag and her coat to leave; but as she went to open the door she let her hand fall and turned back to him.

“Mr. Miyagi?”

“Hm?”

She bit her lip, tasting the remnant of the lipstick she’d put on before leaving her and Daniel’s apartment. It felt like ages ago now.

“I, uh… I’d planned to walk down the aisle alone. You know, there’s a tradition that the father of the bride gives her away, but… well, you know. He’s not… He won’t be there. So.” Heat was rushing in her cheeks and ears which would have been convenient to blame on the sake, but a complete lie. “Would you… come with me? Give me away?”

Mr. Miyagi didn’t answer straight away, and she faltered a little.

“I know you’re already Daniel’s best man, so it’d be a bit irregular, but—”

Mr. Miyagi made a dismissive hand gesture.

“This first American wedding Miyagi go to, not suppose to know what regular or irregular. Good excuse if someone say Oh, can’t do that. But… Important for you?”

“Yes,” Amanda said, the word rushing out of her along with a breath. “Yes, it’d be… it’s important.”

“Then Miyagi honoured to give you away, Amanda-san.”

He bowed, very formal and deliberate. She bowed back in the same manner, careful to keep her eyes on his, smiling warmly.

Her heart finally at peace.

* * *

The apartment was dark and silent when she turned the key in the lock and walked in as noiselessly as she could. She hadn’t let Daniel know she was coming home. He must have gone to bed by now.

The kitchen still smelled faintly of mac and cheese when she passed by the open door.

Daniel’s go-to comfort food.

Amanda smiled fondly. Perhaps she hadn’t been the only one in need of some reassurance tonight.

The feeling was confirmed when she stopped in the bathroom to change into her night clothes. The laundry hamper had gained a couple of additions in a few hours, ie. sweatpants and a t-shirt, though the most telling was Daniel’s headband, carefully set aside to be washed by hand later. His bath towel was damp. He’d definitely been practising something more intense than slow katas and breathing exercises. Sometimes they joked that if they managed to get a bigger place – an actual house, for instance – they might include a dojo just so he wouldn’t have to clear space in the living room to work on his karate.

The shapeless lump under the covers didn’t move when she tiptoed into the bedroom, but as she slipped into bed she heard a mumbled, “Hey, honey. Didja ditch your game night for me?”

“Kinda,” Amanda whispered back, wrapping her arms around her boyfriend. “Turns out I want to spend my last night as a bachelorette with you.”

“Aw. I’m flattered. And hey, who could blame ya.”

Sleepy and slurred as his voice was, the grin in it was unmistakeable. The accent, too. The more tired, angry or emotional he was, the stronger the Jersey came out.

Amanda snorted, and made herself comfortable. It was easy. The texture of the pillowcase, the scent of fabric softener on the sheets, the solid warmth of Daniel as she curled up against him and buried her nose in his hair – it was all familiar, reassuring. None of that would change tomorrow, or next week, or next year. And the changes that would come – their joint career plans, getting a house, having kids one day – they would face or embrace together.

Daniel shifted until he had his arms around her, too.

“You okay?” he murmured.

Amanda looked at him in the dim light filtering through the blackout curtains, closed eyes barely visible through the tousled dark hair flopping across his forehead.

“Yeah.” Quiet, heartfelt. Nothing stirred in her chest except the usual affection. “You?”

“Mhm-hm. Quiet night. Glad you’re here.”

Not a word about working out through possible anxieties. Daniel hated to make people worry. It was both an endearing quality and a frustrating flaw of his.

One breath, two, three, each longer than the last before his voice came again, barely audible.

“Still on for tomorrow?”

“It’s a date,” she whispered, and he let out a silent laugh. With possibly some relief in it. Amanda was too sleepy to tell for sure.

They fell asleep intertwined, arms and legs in a tangle, like any other night.

___________

1In 1999. (of course I checked ^^’) I don’t know about now, though.

2A candy made of peanut butter fudge partially dipped in chocolate originating from Ohio.

3Aka sake.

___________

💜

Please drop a comment if you like! I’m Belphegor on AO3 and the fic is at archiveofourown.org/works/42425775, except I can’t make the link clickable because then the post probably won’t show up in the tag. (dammit, Tumblr.) I’ll put a clickable link in the replies.

#cobra kai #karate kid #fanfiction #my stuff #I have a lot of feelings about this okay

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youroldfriendmurkyaura · 1 year

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5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who reblogged something from you. learn to know your mutuals and followers.♡

I’ve been trying to think of something interesting to answer, I always, like anyone (possibly), have the things I have feelings about crowding the space behind my eyes and yanking me around by my heartstrings, and I try to courteously shut the hell up as much as possible, and I’m always so deeply bored of myself (we’ve been together so long, you know?) and tumblr is the easiest place to read my mind (or possibly Instagram stories, in a way), but I’m gonna try.

1. When people like things I make/give them! I’m deeply inclined to bombard people with things I like to imagine them enjoying (never date me, save yourself lol) or like am curious about what they think of it and know they’ll never buy it for themself and if I give someone a book I have THOUGHTS about they’re that much closer to reading it. Which I know is deeply ridiculous in a way because we’re all individuals and different people get the same feelings from different things, but it’s wonderful to find a likemindedness in someone else and to see someone’s face light up about something you both relate to. I hope it isn’t all just making feel weird and guilty about living with things they don’t want and trying to decide when to throw away letters and mixes. At least I’m older, medicated, and keep a journal now. That didn’t stop me from making a playlist of songs I think D’Arcy might like (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/34Afpmxm0EQSGiMPsjrBGZ) and sending it to her on instagram the other day, though. I read somewhere that she likes I Can Change and I like Ezra Furman’s cover of it, and I’ve been wondering if she likes it too. She’ll never see my message, of course. She’s literally busy.

2. This is just number one continued probably. I love food and when it turns out better than I had expected. I made fudge again recently (which I’m required to bring to winter holiday family gatherings since I brought some slabs I had in the freezer once) but this time I substituted a half cup dark brown sugar and it was better, and in a different batch I substituted in peanut butter for the butter. I wasn’t sure it would work, but peanut butter cookies involve heating peanut butter so I gave it a try, substituting about 6 tablespoons of peanut butter for 2 tablespoons of butter I think. IT WAS SO GOOD. So I’m very excited about that. It’s just carnation’s 5 minute fudge (https://www.verybestbaking.com/carnation/recipes/carnation-famous-fudge/) but it’s really good and easy. I make it with evaporated goat milk and Ghirardelli chocolate chips and whatnot, but it was good and wowed youth group leaders when I made it with the cheapest ingredients money can buy in middle school too. Give it a try! Making candy and boiling sugar intimidates me, but you really do just boil it for 5 minutes and stir, you don’t need a thermometer or anything.

3. Cats! When Sméagol flops down with a sigh on my chest and puts his hands on my arm. When Joan makes me kiss the top of his head before he eats his food. When Vron drapes himself in the trough between my calves (leg parts) after I turn my cpap machine on every night. When Cricket comes running over to curl up beside me for tv time (we’re watching Barry right now and I’m LOVING it, it’s so dry but not gritty, and FUNNY) and smile and smile and smile. When Pancake bleats and runs around, and when you can watch the gears turning for so long before he decides to not be naughty after all, just like I taught him when he was a kitten (we put a LOT of work into learning to find better things to do with our feelings haha). When Samwise is like, “I don’t know who you are but everybody else loves you, for no apparent reason, so hello.” (Smeegs just found a smell haha, little cutie.) Cats are delightful and so smart and warm and fun. I’m amazed by how much they’ve picked up on. I could go on and on about how smart my cats are, but it would sound like I was imagining it. But like, one day, on a whim, I told Vron to sit and he promptly sat? There was no reason for him to know that, unless maybe he lived with a dog at some point before coming to languish on my steps as a kitten one day in the middle of the summer. I gave him water, then let him come inside and we played for an hour, and then I put him back outside. A little while later, I opened the door and he was still there and was like “well that was weird” and walked right back in. I never found where he came from, but I did get Cotton-Eyed Joe stuck in my head for weeks and weeks so his middle name is Joseph now. Probably should be Josef or something like that, actually. Russia, let me know how wrong I am. I’m counting on you.

4. Staying up! It’s so much quieter and cooler. When I first moved here my air conditioning didn’t work, so it just kinda happened that I was awake and sweating whether I liked it or not till at least midnight (I live in the desert lol) so working (in a store) during the hottest part of the day was kinda necessary. But I just love the peace and being by a lamp when it’s dark out. I’m a very quiet person, so silently listening to music with headphones in the middle of the night and letting my mind unfurl is my idea of a good time.

5. I’m trying to think of one last thing that encompasses everything I’ve left unsaid, but that’s impossible, of course. Oh here’s something: when I read something in print that has only ever before been inside my head and I didn’t know other people felt that way or experienced things like that. It happened when I read Annabel by Kathleen Winter and when I read Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy. (I should’ve named Vron Levin because he’s my favorite but I wasn’t sure how to pronounce it and didn’t have internet when I first read it and immediately reread it when the kitten marched in so I couldn’t look it up. So I was like, “Well, I could call you Vronsky…” and he said “Yeah!” and I said “Yeah? You want your name to be Vronsky?” and he said “Yeah!”) There’s something so breathtaking about… I don’t even know what. Words? Particular words in a particular order that hit a spot in you that no one has ever seen, noticed, understood, or had any clue what you were trying to say about before. It’s amazing. Go through a breakup and be all buffeted about by… things on pages. You can ruin your day every day with just some sheets of paper. I suppose I’m not the first person to notice that. Concepts and memories and the imagination can really have an impact on a person. But you know what I mean, you’ve been alive before.

#my dang self

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fmdxsuji · 2 years

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word count: 858 words (excluding lyrics) notes: creative claims (full lyrics) verification self-para for drawing our moments!

she’s scrolling through equinox’s fan cafe when a post catches her attention. there’s a single heart as the title, but it’s addressed to her. as always, suji tries her best to read all the letters that are written to her. she’s been a little behind these days, and so she’s been trying to make up for that by reading everything today.

it’s no surprise to see so many letters were written late at night. night? can she even consider that time frame night? it was more like early morning. nevertheless, they acted as a reminder of the many people who seemed to struggle to fall asleep at night.

while she doesn’t share the same concern, she loves hearing from her fans and casual listeners about how her music helps them out. comforts them. it’s probably the biggest thing that pushes her to continue writing music. there’s a couple of tracks that are always mentioned when people like to talk about her most comforting songs. suji’s never deliberately written anything to push those emotions, but she does like providing help in that sense.

as she scrolls through the letters, she finds that they have a common theme of needing a hand to hold. needing someone to lean on. she’s heard of how staying up late at night can bring on a wave of emotions, and she wonders how many people use their letters to her to express their supressed thoughts. how many people use the place as their safe zone.

she gets it, she really does, because that’s the role music plays in her life as well.

taking a look at her own clock, she sees that it’s gotten late which means it’s time for her to go to bed herself. however, the words that she read don’t seem to escape her mind.

not for a really long time.

it isn’t until a conversation she holds with an older idol that the letters pop back into her mind.

the conversation doesn’t last long because she only ends up bumping into him in the middle of a cafe at cheongdam. a quick coffee run before she has to go off to a schedule. he’s busy himself so he only offers a few words.

“it’s weird, seeing my fans grow older along with me. it’s like we’re walking through our lives together. and while they say that i’ve influenced them, i can’t deny that they’ve influenced me as well. it’s a nice feeling to be able to go through everything together, so try not to forget it.”

she thanks him before her manager is ushering out, but once she gets back into her van, she can’t help but think back to his words.

just like him, she can’t deny that her fans have influenced her as well. whenever she was feeling down, she’d think about them. whenever she’s writing a song, they’re the first ones she thinks of. whenever she feels lost, she goes back to videos of her from concerts or performances. that’s what motivates her to keep going. the energy that her fans send her.

before she knows it, she’s already taken her phone out and opened up the notes app. she doesn’t have a lot of time on her hands, but she can’t seem to keep these thoughts to herself. she’s unsure if it’ll ever turn into anything more than a diary entry, but she’s determined to express it somehow.

even if the road in front of us seems dark when your color bleeds into me i take the light from heaven in my dreams and draw you

along with it, she makes a mental note to herself to perhaps turn this into some kind of segment in the future. whether it’s on a live or offline event, she wants to ask her fans when they think about her the most. her, the group, her songs and all that. when does she bleed into her fans’ lives? because they’re constantly existing in her life, and she wants to know if it’s the same for them.

the transparent raindrops that fall down my window can’t be counted just like the starry night that’s taken over me like you

for a moment, suji wonders if she’s always been this cheesy. usually, she’s not this kind of person. she’s not even all that expressive with her emotions. it’s why she relays it through lyrics instead. however, what the senior idol has told her continues to linger in her mind, and she can’t help but imagine life when all of this disappears. when the spotlight no longer drops onto her or her group anymore, and she’s left with nothing but her songs to keep her name alive.

she’s never been one to avoid reality, especially in this industry. she already knows that equinox is way past their peak moment, and that they’re riding a steady wave instead. however, that’s still a wave to ride on. what happens when all of that vanishes?

all that would be left are the memories and what have been drawn from them.

and it’s not like that’s a devastating thing either. rather, she thinks making a slow stop would be nice. it’s simply another reminder to be grateful for everything she has right now, to cherish the moments with her fans so that she lives on in their lives as some kind of influence.

because she knows they’ll always be a part of her life as well.

#famedverification #( ♡ * // self para. )#[ I'M FREEEEE ]#[ this also means i will finally get to replies now lol ]

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soulmatesthrough-death · 2 years

Note

❗️🤝 🤡 🧍‍♀️😼 🎵 😎 + Wrench?

F/O Ask Game -- Part 2

❗️- Quick! Without thinking, tell me your favorite thing about your s/o!

“Heh, not gonna lie...first thing that came to mind was their hair. Which is...sorta weird when there’s a lot to love about my Kat? But... I guess it’s just the fun of it, y’know?

“The long hair I met them with... Seeing it grow out, getting to play with it... Helping fund the “chop off” process so they could feel better. It’s been a ton of fun. A way to show off their personality. Who they are. So... Maybe it’s a little less weird if I phrase it that way?”

🤝 - What is something in your relationship that you and your [s/o] mutually agree on?

“Haha, typo! I gotcha, though. Anyways! So a mutual agreement, huh...? I mean, there’s a few things to pick from, but for the one that stands out...

“First of all, sand is only cool in theory. You miss the beach until sand ends up in your pockets, your boots, (now our) masks... Your ass, still, somehow! Fucking incredible.

“Also that the Siska movies are cringe, but in a way that has you laughing... So basically, they’re good cringe.”

🤡 - Do you ever embarrass yourself in front of your s/o?

“When I first read this, I thought it said “does your s/o ever embarrass you” and I was trying to figure out if Kat ever did, intentionally or not...and I re-read it now to realize it’s if I embarrass myself in front of Kat?!

“...The better question is when don’t I? Even now, I think I’ve got the “cool and suave” vibes going, only to trip on my sledgehammer or stumble over my words and fuck up my lines... We’re married, for fuck’s sake! You would’ve thought I woulda gotten better at all this, at some point.

“...Well, not that I’m complaining, actually. Me messing up and looking like an idiot gets them giggling and happy, so... Ah, I guess I’ll settle for looking like some kinda dweeb around my partner.”

🧍🏽‍♀️- Has your s/o ever done something (purposeful or not) to embarrass you?

“OH, I DIDN’T MISREAD!!! HAHA...! I still don’t know, actually. I’m trying to think up something that comes to mind, but... Most of the time, they’ve either been so cute that nothing else registers, or so awkward that I’m more worried about them than me. Y’know?

“But yeah, they’re too much of a sweetheart to bully me like I do them. If I embarrass them, it’s all fun and games! But they never do the same back... Although, that might have something to do with us having different...thresholds for who considers what “embarrassing,” so I win more than they lose.”

😼 - Do you ever get jealous when your s/o pays more attention to a cute pet than you?

“...No. Yes. Fuck! Maybe!?

“...All I’m saying is I am totally, way cuter than a “puppy”...or cat...but I’ll admit defeat to Princess Leia. ONLY because she’s our baby!!! Any other cat or dog or horse...or whatever has no grounds to stand on!!”

🎵 - Give me a song that reminds me of your s/o!

“Oh... Wow. Uh, I’m not prepared for this one, actually. We have a song together and it’s so “us” that I’ve never quite thought up a song that reminds me of KitKat...? Lemme check, though.

“Hmm... Might have to go with Moon and Back by Alice Kristiansen. It goes both ways, but... The gentle tone of the song, overall sappiness, moon themes (right next to all things cats, they LOVE the space-stuff), support through rough times... Yeah. That’s my wifey.”

😎 - What do you do to impress your s/o?

“Uhhh, a little bit of everything? Especially in the beginning! To...the point I was overbearing, yeah. But I really wanted them to like me. An embarrassing amount. Miiiight’ve gotten a little over the top, sometimes.

“Now, though? I’ve actually calmed down. My biggest “love letter” to Kat was getting Princess Leia at all and... They recognize that. I get to live with this silly furball-baby and I...think that’s a break for awhile. Might get back into DedSec work...might find something new.

“I’m still thinking about it. Kat wants kids someday, though, and I plan to keep impressin’.”

#Anon #Wrench answers #otp; purrfect anarchy #[W] also a break is BIG TIME what Kat needs #[W] I won't...no refuse to let em get too in their own head #[W] about....anything rlly #[W] I'll look out for em and...yeah #[W] kiss their ass to bed and all that

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ghostsgerard · 2 years

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Your URL made me feel like I had to tell you that I’m getting my PhD and becoming a uni professor simply because I got weird about bridgewater

dont let your hyperfixations just be hyperfixations. let them influence your major life decisions

#ily #our lives are what but little love letters to things we’re weird about #kait.ask

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secretsofblackthornhall · 3 years

Text

Julian to Mark

Mark Blackthorn

℅ Helen Blackthorn

Los Angeles Institute

Malibu, CA

Dear Mark,

Don’t worry about the parchment scroll yet, I’ll get to it at the end of the letter.

Hello from Chiswick! It’s pronounced like chizzick, it’s just outside central London, and it is a collapsing ruin. The house, I mean, not the neighborhood, which is cozy, a little suburban, lots of green space, quiet. You’d like it.

I should have been in touch before, I know that – and I’m sorry. We had to move fast to save this place and I knew a fire-message wouldn’t reach you. Blackthorn Hall may be a ruin, but it’s our family’s legacy, one of the very few things that we’ve inherited from Blackthorns past. I feel this sense of responsibility, a need to preserve the place for Tavvy and Dru, for Ty and Liv — well. You know.

It was us or the Clave, and they would have knocked it down and put something else in its place. It’s easily in bad enough shape that knocking it down would be the practical move. But it’s ours, and I kind of love it. I mean, if we don’t love it, who will? It can be truly beautiful again, I believe that. You should visit when you get a chance—all of you there are invited, of course—but be warned that if you come in the next couple of months you will be put to work.

This brings me to the parchment, which is the estimate and contract from the faerie builders for the renovation work on the house. I was hoping you and Kieran could look it over for faerie trickery, both in terms of whether their rates seem reasonable, and also to make sure they don’t get Tavvy if we’re late with payment, that kind of thing. They came highly recommended—they’re brownies? I think? They look like big garden gnomes. I mean, it’s probably the pointy hats. They could take them off, of course, but I guess they like them. They must know they look like garden gnomes. Anyway, they seem trustworthy and industrious and all that. But faeries do love tricking humans. Let me know what you think.

Oh, I should explain that there is one part of the house that is in all right shape and has all the “mod cons,” as they say here. It was redone in the Sixties and, well… it is groovy. The cons are Mod as well as mod. I am not sure you will get that joke but don’t worry about it, it was pretty stupid. The thing is, I’d never thought about it, but I realized this must have been fixed up by our grandparents. The timing works out. So this must be where Dad lived, once. And Uncle Arthur. It was where they grew up. And I realized: they, too, must have been groovy.

Arthur. Must have at one point. Been really groovy.

I just want you to sit with that for a moment, the way I did. It creates a feeling I believe to have never been felt before by any human being in the world.

You should see the clothes. I mean, really. You should see them. There’s a consignment shop’s worth of vintage stuff here and none of it suits me at all. You’re welcome to it but it is almost all synthetic fabrics and would not go over in Faerie itself.

Aaand I know I’m rambling. I was trying to avoid saying this, but there’s something about this house. It reminds me of some of the nights you and I used to ramble around the Institute back home. Which I know is weird, London couldn’t be more different than the Santa Monica Mountains — I miss the wildfire tang in the air, the smell of the chaparral and sage, the coarse dirt under our feet. (Do you miss it too? I feel like it has to be very different where you are in Faerie.) But there were plenty of times, especially when we were younger, when we’d tell ghost stories out there and scare ourselves that something was watching us. Maybe something was, though I’m inclined to think now that it was something friendly. Here in this house I get the same watched feeling, like there are eyes on me, shadows I see out of the corners of my own eyes that disappear when I turn around.

Anyway, I really wish you were here. I’d bring it up with Emma, but I don’t want to freak her out. She’s started the massive job of sorting through decades of papers and journals that used to belong to the people who lived here, and I’ve started painting the ballroom. I know Emma has been in touch with Cristina, please send my love to her and to K as well!

Your loving bro,

Julian

PS: I realize now I don’t know where this letter will find you, so let me clarify that “all of you are invited” from the LA Institute, not “all of you are invited” from the Unseelie Court.

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softukiyos · 3 years

Text

the enemies to lovers project | lee minho

𝙙𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙩𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵; 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘤𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘦 𝘢𝘶, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵, 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙘𝙧𝙞𝙥𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣: 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘫𝘪𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘨'𝘴 𝘱𝘴𝘺𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘫𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦 -- 𝘥𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘮𝘺, 𝘭𝘦𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘩𝘰, 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘪𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵. 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘰𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩, 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥.

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: ~18𝘬+

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘨𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨

𝘢/𝘯: 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺!!! 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘰𝘯𝘦! 𝘪 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘢𝘩𝘩 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 >.< 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘪 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘱𝘦𝘰𝘱𝘭𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵! 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘣𝘢𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘢𝘭𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴 𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥!

prologue.

“You know I despise you, right?”

“Oh, despise. Such a big word, baby,” Minho drawled with an obnoxious smirk, the one that simultaneously made you want to rip his hair out and kiss those perfectly delectable lips of his, “If it's any consolation, I abhor your presence as well.”

“Wonderful,” you crossed your legs, a smile creeping onto your face as you leaned backward in your chair, “So why exactly are you here?”

Minho laughed, “The same reason I presume that you’re here for. A hundred dollars to put up with you is a tempting offer.”

You couldn't help but laugh, and you glanced over at the camera pointed at you and Minho, with your mutual friend, Han Jisung, directing the operation. Right, both you and Minho would receive a hundred dollars if you participated in his little social experiment about love. Of course, he'd wanted the two of you to do it for free, but neither of you would budge unless there was at least a little bit of monetary incentive. You loved Jisung, you really did, but you weren't going to willingly spend time with Minho unless there was something else to gain.

“Alright, let's get started before the two of you claw at each other's throats like a pair of angry cats,” Jisung clapped his hands together as he stepped out from behind the camera, “I assume the two of you have a basic idea of the experiment?”

“Of course not, Sungie. It's not like you ran through your proposal to me through FaceTime twenty thousand times before presenting it to your professors,” Minho replied with a pleasant smile.

“And it's not like I read through your written proposal double that amount before you had the courage to hand it in,” you supplied with a similarly saccharine expression.

Jisung sighed, rubbing his eyes with his fingers, “Why are the two of you genuinely the nicest people I’ve ever met but somehow turn into demons when you’re together?” He muttered, mostly to himself.

“It’s not too late to get rid of us and find some other test subjects, Sungie,” you called out with a smile, “We know we’re hard to handle.”

“No way. The two of you are perfect for this project, and I’m not going to let either of you slip out of my fingers after I worked so hard to get you two here,” Jisung refused your offer. Clearing his throat, he decided to begin, not wanting to give either of you more time to get hostile.

“Alright, so you’re both familiar with the basics. The experiment will take about one month, and the data will be recorded in these notebooks,” he said, the camera behind him recording his verbal instructions as he walked forward and handed both you and Minho a small, leather bound notebook, “These will serve as your diaries for the duration of the test.”

Minho perused through the empty lined pages with a snort, “What are we supposed to do, write our undying confessions on these pages?”

“You’re going to write your honest feelings about each other. And by honest, I mean really do mean honest. Neither of you are ever going to read what the other person writes about you, so you don’t have to worry about your reputation or whatever,” Jisung explained, “I’ll be extrapolating information from your entries and your entries only.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, glancing at Minho as he closed the book and and leaned back in his seat, “So that’s it, right? We date for a month and write down whether we still hate each other after every encounter?”

Jisung threw a weary glare at him, “Theoretically, yes. The purpose of this experiment is to see if the actions of love will foster any actual feelings of love to appear even if there weren’t any in the first place. The two of you will go on dates, leave each other cute notes, anything that you would do with your significant other. And after each of these, you will write down a diary entry about how you feel about that person. At the end of the month, I’ll collect the two notebooks to write my thesis. Any questions?”

You glanced at Minho, who raised a questioning eyebrow at you as if waiting for you to speak first. After a long moment of palpable silence, your lips curved into a smile, “A bold move of you to find the two people least likely to develop feelings for each other, Sungie.”

Jisung dropped his psychology major professionalism for a moment and smirked, “You know I never half-ass anything. So no questions?”

Minho raised his hand obnoxiously, speaking before Jisung even bothered to call on him, “What happens if one of us falls for the other? Do we win something?”

“No, you competitive little shit. No one is winning or losing anything. This experiment is just to document the progression of romantic feelings or lack thereof,” Jisung glared at his best friend, “You’re not trying to prevent yourself from changing your feelings about the person one way or the other, got it?”

But Minho was no longer paying attention to him, his annoyingly beautiful smile now aimed at you across the table, “You’re going to fall in love with me so quickly, Sungie’s little experiment will be over in a week.”

Your competitive edged roared to life at the provocation, and you smirked, flipping the pen around your fingers, “Your diary is going to be filled with love letters to me once I’m through with you.”

“Oh dear,” Jisung groaned to himself as he walked over to shut off the camera, a weary expression visible on his face.

This was going to be a very long month.

You never once thought there would come a day that you would walk out of your apartment to see Minho waiting for you, nonchalantly leaning against his blood red accented motorcycle and his famous leather jacket.

“What is this?” You asked suspiciously, as if poking at his intentions with a ten foot pole.

Minho rolled his eyes, “I'm taking you to class? Why else would I have dragged myself out of bed at ass o’clock in the morning?”

“You're taking me to class on this?” You gestured toward the motorcycle with a hint of disdain, but Minho saw right through you, his lips curling in a smug smile.

“There's no need to be scared, baby,” he sauntered towards you and patted your head, “I'll always protect you.”

Scowling, you swatted his hand away, “Don't do that. It's so weird,” you huffed, fixing your hair.

“You know that's the point of this whole damn thing, right?” Minho said with a hint of annoyance as he felt churlishly irritated by your constant resistance. Did you really hate him that much?

“No, the point is to do these actions in a genuine and heartfelt manner. Everything you say is fake,” you said plainly, looking him straight in the eye.

Minho couldn't help but scoff, “How is it supposed to be genuine when I don't feel anything for you?”

“You start off with basic friendship. That's not as hard, right?” You said as you reached into your large bag and pulled out a container of milk bread, “Here. This is my Day 1 gift for you.”

Minho’s face went slack as he took the container gingerly, treating it like a live explosive, “You made this?”

“Yeah, made two loaves last night,” you answered, surprised by the sudden softness in his tone. Okay, this was awkward, and you couldn't help but cringe as you extended your hand, “If you don't like it, I can take it back—”

“Hell no,” Minho yanked his arms away from yours and pulled the plastic container to his chest defensively, “You gave it to me, so it's mine!”

You blinked in surprise, your hand falling to your side, “I see,” you said before shifting on your heels and nodding, “Okay, I'll see you later, whenever that is,” you took the chance for a quick escape, turning and beginning to walk to class.

“Wait.”

A gasp left your lips as Minho grabbed your wrist, making you turn back around to face him, “I have a helmet for you, okay? And I'll drive slower,” he muttered, his eyes trained on the floor and darting around anxiously, “I won't get you hurt, I promise."

You studied him carefully, his tone of voice, his posture, anything that would give away some hidden agenda, but there was none. Looking down at his hand still wrapped around your wrist, you relented, "Alright, I'll go with you."

Minho nodded, leading you over to his motorcycle and grabbing the extra helmet from behind. Before you could take it from him, he moved it out of your grasp, "Have you ever even used a motorcycle helmet before? If you put it on wrong, it's not going to do you any good," he said snappishly as he adjusted a few of the straps and fitted it onto your head.

Unconsciously, you held your breath as he leaned towards you, slipping a finger between the strap and your chin before snapping it shut, "It's not too tight, yeah?" he asked as he pulled away, and you could only shake your head mutely, "Good."

Swinging a leg over, he climbed onto his motorcycle, easily putting his own helmet on before turning to look at you as he pushed up the visor, "Here. Climb on behind me."

You eyed the motorcycle with a hint of disdain as you approached it, “And what am I supposed to hold onto so I don’t fall to my untimely death?” You asked dryly.

Unfortunately, that was the wrong question to ask, and the gleam apparent in Minho’s eyes told you that, despite his surprising show of kindness, Lee Minho was still Lee Minho, and Lee Minho was a fucking asshole.

“Why, you hold onto me, of course,” he said pleasantly, “Unless, you’d rather fall off the bike and shatter your bones. The other option is to walk, but seeing that it’s almost 8:30 already, you’d probably end up being late.”

Clenching your jaw so hard you were sure it was going to be sore for days, you stalked over to the motorcycle and swung your leg over it, climbing on haphazardly. You’ve seen the movies; you knew how you were supposed to ride a motorcycle from behind, and your arms tentatively wrapped around Minho’s midriff, avoiding as much bodily contact as possible.

Minho snorted, “You know, if you hold on like that, you’re gonna fall off anyways.”

“Mind your own business--fuck!” A squeak left your lips as Minho suddenly revved the engine and the motorcycle lurched forward. Out of pure instinct, your arms tightened around him, and you buried your face in his back. The time could not have been more perfect, and you felt a rush of anger as you realized that he was just messing with you, “Don’t fucking do that!”

The asshole just laughed, “Aw, come on, I wouldn’t have done it for real. But you seriously need to hold on, okay?”

You huffed, scowling underneath the helmet as you kept your arms locked around his waist, begrudgingly learning your lesson, “Just drive.”

“Sure thing, sweetheart,” Minho revved the engine again and started the journey, albeit with a much smoother start as the two of you began to speed down the street and towards the literature building.

When you arrived at your destination with Minho pulling up right to the front of the building, you were practically squeezing him like a life-sized plushie, your eyes squeezed shut and your face smushed into his leather jacket.

“You can let go now, darling,” he chuckled as he used his foot to push out the kickstand. Cheeks flushed with embarrassment, you detached from him like two magnets of the same pole, getting off the motorcycle.

“I am--” you gasped for breath as you yanked off your helmet, “never doing that again.”

Minho laughed as he took the helmet from you and put it in the container at the back of his bike, “Hey, you’re here with five minutes to spare! If anything, you should be thanking me, sweetheart.”

Your glare was frightening as you finally relented with a huff, “I’m grateful for the ride here, but next time, no motorcycle, please.”

“Next time? Who said anything about a next time?” The boy positively giggled as you realized your mistake. Minho never said anything about a next time! What were you thinking? Now, he probably thought you wanted him to take you to school every morning, which was absolutely not the case!

“Oh, whatever!” You snapped, utterly fed up as you threw up your hands in total exasperation and marched up the staircase without so much as a goodbye.

Minho’s smug laughter echoed in your ears as you stepped into the building, “Love you too, sweetheart!”

(name): day 1

action(s): drive to school

notes: utterly infuriating. an arrogant, smug, flirtatious little shit that thinks he’s the king of the world. he brought his motorcycle out of the blue to pick me up when he knows i flipped out the last time i rode one with jisung (yes, sungie, i am still mad).

i did get to class early though, because of him, and that’s rare for me. silver linings, i guess.

lee minho: day 1

action(s): drive to school

notes: a stuck up little princess as always, whining and complaining about every little thing that doesn’t go her way. shouldn’t she be happy enough that i came to take her to her class? nope, she just kicked up a fuss about it being a motorcycle. did she think i was going to remember when she had a meltdown riding it last time? (it was funny, sungie, don’t mind her.) i barely got so much of a thank you when i got her to the lit building, early, no less.

the milk bread was good, though. maybe i’ll try to convince her to make me another loaf.

ii.

First dates were always weird. First dates were even weirder when you were about to go out with your fake-social-experiment boyfriend that you didn’t even like.

What were you supposed to even wear? Were you supposed to dress to impress (not that Minho would ever be impressed with anything you do)? Or were you supposed to dress like you just rolled out of bed? In the end, you opted for something in between the two extremes, hoping that you weren’t going to face the embarrassment of being over or underdressed.

Luckily, Minho didn’t change his daily look too much for the date, opting for a pair of ripped black jeans, a loose t-shirt, and--of course--the leather jacket he never left home without. At this point, you were honestly convinced that Minho was having some sort of romantic relationship with that jacket.

But what was out of the ordinary was the small bouquet of vibrant carnations that he held in one hand as he browsed his phone with the other. They looked wildly out of place in comparison to the rest of his get up, and the contrast was so amusing to you that you couldn’t help but smile as you walked over to him.

“Are those flowers for me?” You asked sweetly, clicking your heels. Minho glanced up from his phone, his eyes darting up and down, and you knew he was assessing your outfit the way you had assessed his.

“No, these are for my other social experiment girlfriend,” he said with a dry smile, handing them to you, “I heard from Jisung that you hate flowers, so of course I had to get you a bouquet for our special day.”

“Carnations are actually my favorite type of flower, so thank you very much,” you replied, sniffing at the bouquet before glancing around, “Where’s your motorcycle again? In maintenance?”

Minho’s face twitched for a split second before he nodded, “Yeah, I scratched it up real bad. We can just take the bus again.”

You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, but you said nothing more about the topic as the two of you walked to the nearest bus stations. After the first day, you had never seen Minho’s motorcycle again despite the fact that he walks you to your class almost every other day (he skips the days when he has work). What was even more suspicious was that he always had an excuse for not bringing it: he crashed it and it needs maintenance, he forgot to fill the gas tank, Jisung was borrowing it, etc.

They weren’t bad excuses, but it’s been almost a week, and you were beginning to suspect that there was more to the missing motorcycle than he was telling you.

“Who recommended this place?” Minho asked as you took the seat at the station and he leaned against the wall.

“Jisung did, actually,” you laughed a little, pulling out your phone and clicking into the link of the restaurant Jisung had sent you, showing it to Minho.

The boy scrunched his nose with distaste as he glanced at the restaurant images, “Did you really think it was wise to leave our first date in the hands of the man who’s never actually had one successful date before?”

“He said it was a control variable or whatever,” you said, placing your phone back in your purse, “Besides, I checked the reviews, and most of them only had good things to say. Why? Is this not your ideal first date?”

Minho scoffed, lips curling into a smirk, “I don’t really do first dates, sweetheart.”

“Oh? So what do you do?” You asked with a hint of annoyance clear in your tone, “One night stands?”

The boy shrugged, “Mostly. Why put the effort to try and create something concrete when it’ll fall apart soon enough anyway?”

You couldn’t help but scrunch your nose at his words, once again being hit with the realization that you and Minho were as different as people came, “That’s a rather morbid way of looking at things.”

“It’s realistic and it’s safe. That’s all I really need at this moment,” Minho said shortly as his eyes darted down the street, and he pushed himself off the wall, “The bus is here. Let’s go.”

Without stopping to wait for you, he walked to the edge of the sidewalk as the bus pulled up to greet him. There was nothing you could do but silently follow him, wondering what Minho had gone through to adopt such a cynical mindset about love.

“What about you?” Minho asked rather suddenly when the two of you had arrived at the restaurant, settled into your table, and were already waiting for your food to arrive. There had been such a long interval of time between the previous conversation and the current one that you didn’t even process the intention of his question for a long moment.

“I’m sorry?”

Minho bit his lip, and he looked like he was regretting the fact that he couldn’t contain his curiosity, “What are your experiences with first dates?” He asked, resting his elbows on the table, “You have had a few, right?”

With a questioning eyebrow, you swirled the small amount of red wine in your glass, “I’m not quite sure whether your question is a genuine one or just another insult.”

“Why can’t it be both?” Minho asked innocently.

Rolling your eyes, you sipped at your wine before answering, "I've had a few first dates, fewer seconds, and no thirds."

Minho considered your words, "What went wrong? Clashing personalities? Scheduling conflicts?"

You scowled, placing down your glass as you grit your teeth, "You're a nosy little shit, aren't you?"

“Hey,” Minho raised his arms in mock surrender, “if I'm about to be your social experiment boyfriend for a month, I should know what I'm getting into, for my sake and yours.”

Leveling a withered glare at him, you couldn't help but begrudgingly admit that Minho had a point. If the two of you couldn't be honest with each other, this experiment wouldn't work. Like the mastermind had said early on, honesty was a key part of the project. Damn you, Han Jisung.

“Eventually, every man gets annoyed by the fact that they'll always be second in importance,” you finally spoke as you swirl the wine again, “They say they understand, but in the end, they'll never settle for a woman who puts their passions over their relationships. They want attentiveness, constant coddling, constant affection. They want to be nagged, they want me to be the one that messages first, and I'm just not the type.”

For the first time, Minho’s gaze upon you was devoid of arrogance and that giant defensive wall he’d always had up. His expression had turned almost thoughtful in a way, as if he was really looking at you, really trying to see you for who you were, and you couldn’t help but cringe slightly under his stare, smiling bitterly, “Did I scare you off, too?”

Minho seemed to jolt out of whatever daze he was in, a laugh leaving his lips, “Nah, princess, you’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he chuckled, putting down his wine glass as he spoke again, “It’s not your fault that they felt inferior dating someone that was more driven than them. It’s their loss, honestly.”

“Really?” You failed to hide your surprise, not expecting to find support in someone that was so different from you.

“A relationship isn’t supposed to hinder you from doing the things you love. You’re supposed to do them in tandem and support each other during the process,” Minho said, and as you searched for the punchline, for the part of the conversation where Minho would bark out a scathing laugh and point at your disappointed face, you realized there was none. You suddenly had a strange revelation that you may have misjudged the man sitting across from you.

“If you have such a wise impression about love, why do you never try it out?” You asked softly, studying his expression like always, but you stopped searching for something malicious about him, since the search had been fruitless so far. Now, you were simply curious, slowly trying to learn more about him.

Minho shrugged with a wry smile, “Just because the solution exists in theory doesn't mean it truly exists.”

"You don't think you'll ever find someone like that?" You asked.

"Well, if they're out there somewhere, they haven't shown up in my life yet, so..." Minho trailed off, his expression rather nonchalant at first glance, but you were slowly getting better at reading him. He felt wronged, probably by someone in the past that didn't support his endeavors.

You let the conversation drop as your food finally arrived, and the seriousness of the evening seemed to dissipate as the food took precedence. When the bill was finally paid (the two of you split it after a long discussion), you walked out with your arm looped around Minho's, and despite yourself, you didn't hate it all that much.

“So, we're gonna beat the shit out of Jisung for forcing us to go to such an expensive restaurant, right?” Minho hummed as the two of you walked back to your apartment. You tried not to focus on the fact that Minho hadn't pulled his arm away, keeping you snug against his side.

“I like the way you think,” you laughed, your heels clicking against the ground, “Tell you what, how about the next date, you pick somewhere you normally go to in your free time, and I’ll do the same for the date after. That way, we don’t have to spend an atrocious amount of money unless we want to.”

Minho stopped short, and for a minute, you wondered if you’d overstepped his boundaries. Then, he turned to look at you, a surprised, almost soft, smile on his face.

“You want to see me that much?”

It would’ve been so easy to dismiss his words as sarcastic teasing, like the rest of your conversations have been for the past year that you’ve known each other. But his tone, his expression, it felt almost genuine, like he was pleasantly surprised that you were willingly offering up your own time to spend it with him.

And at that notion, your cheeks felt unnaturally hot as you averted your eyes, “Well, the experiment is supposed to last a month,” you mumbled, finding a very interesting divot in the ground, “What type of social experiment girlfriend would I be if we only went on one date?”

Unbeknownst to you, Minho’s smile dimmed ever so slightly at the mention of the experiment, but he still felt that weird, fluttery feeling nonetheless. He knew you were probably just too shy to admit anything truthful to his question, and he didn’t fault you for it. It wasn’t like he was being very honest either.

“Well, I rather enjoy our little escapades, so I suppose I can spare a little effort to plan the next date,” Minho said with faux weariness, making you elbow his side playfully.

“I swear, if you drag me to another horror house like you did when we went out with Jisung--”

Minho let out a laugh at the memory, “Didn’t you punch the zombie that jumped out near the end?”

“Not a word.”

“And I think you screamed at one of the ghosts, too?”

You frowned, reaching up and messing up his perfectly styled hair, “Not a word!”

Minho didn’t take any of your threats to heart, teasing you relentlessly about that incident all the way back to your apartment, but to be totally honest, you didn’t mind it all that much.

(name): day 6

action(s): first date (control)

notes: the date wasn’t bad except for the ridiculous pricing. we actually had rather interesting conversations about our interests, outlooks on life, and had a rather heated argument about whether prisoner of azkaban or the order of the phoenix was the best harry potter book.

minho’s nice. i know you’re probably laughing at me as you read this, future jisung. but he’s nice. the flowers he got were really pretty. he’s a good listener, too, and he doesn’t give false comforts. he tells it to me as it is, whether it’s good or bad. i like that about him. he also looked really good for the date, but that’s rather surface level, right? whatever. i hope this is even minutely useful to your project, jisung, bcs it doesn’t feel like it’ll be much help.

lee minho: day 6

action(s): first date

notes: han jisung. the meal was $150 and we both ordered the cheapest things on the menu. fucc you.

the date was alright, though. (name) actually got dressed up for the date, so i felt a little bad. she’s putting more effort into this project than i thought she would, and i don’t know whether its because she genuinely wants to know me better, or if its bcs it’s your project, jisung. (i know she used to like you, it was obvious). whatever. she’s easy to talk to when we’re not at each other’s throats like usual. she makes me feel understood, which is a good feeling i guess.

this absolutely does not mean anything special. it just means that she’s not as stuck up as i thought she was. the bar is still incredibly low.

i wonder where i should take her for our next date. the horror house is tempting, but she’s probably going to get sued if she shows her face there ever again. oh well, i’ll figure it out.

iii.

“Why are we heading towards the direction of the horror house?”

“I promise you, sweetheart, it’s not the horror house,” Minho said for the umpteenth time as the two of you walked down the busy downtown streets together.

You remained suspicious, and as a chill blew towards you, the winter wind seeping into your bones and making your teeth chatter, you brought your hands to your mouth, blowing on them in an attempt to get them warm.

Minho let out a dramatic sigh at the sound of your silence, “Do you have any faith in me at all?” He asked, taking one of your hands and lacing your fingers together before shoving it in his coat pocket without faltering for a moment.

He seemed unfazed, oblivious even as the two of you stopped at a crosswalk, but you...your poor heart did a feeble stutter that certainly wasn’t the product of any social experiment. You knew the feeling well enough from your past experiences, and the fact that it emerged right at this moment made you worry.

“What?” Minho’s voice invaded your thoughts as he followed your line of sight to his coat pocket, where your hand was snugly fitted inside his.

You tried your best to salvage what was left of your pride, “Aren’t my hands cold?” You asked weakly, “You don’t have to hold them.”

“Yes, your hands are like fucking ice, that’s why I’m trying to warm one of them up, dummy,” Minho rolled his eyes at your lame question before turning to check on the light to make sure it was still on red, “We’re almost there. The place is cozy, I promise.”

Nodding, you slowly felt your composure return to you, “As long as we get out of this cold, I'd consider it a successful date.”

“Oh dear, you've just ruined my plans for a picnic up in the mountains,” Minho said with a deadpan expression just as the light turned green.

“You're ridiculous,” you said, rolling your eyes, but there wasn't any bite behind your words anymore, and Minho’s jabs at you had slowly lost that hard edge to them. Could it be possible that the two of you were really warming up to each other?

It was true that the two of you were getting along better, and in tandem, you began to be more present in each other’s lives. Minho still walked you to school on the days that he didn't have work. In return, it's become a normal routine for you to make two loaves of milk bread every other day since Minho always devoured his portion ridiculous quickly.

Not in a romantic way, absolutely not. Both of you would cringe at the very idea. But as tolerant friends, maybe.

“Ah! Here we are,” Minho said pleasantly as he guided you off the busy street into a smaller, quieter alleyway filled with various cafes and antique shops.

“A cafe date?” You smiled, “I didn't know that was your style.”

Minho stopped short at a particular cafe, taking his hand and yours out of his pocket as he reached forward to open the door, “Well, it's not just any cafe.”

You quickly realized exactly what he meant as you walked in, your eyes lighting up with pure elation and joy as you squealed, “It’s a cat cafe!”

Unbeknownst to you, Minho’s eyes lit up from behind you as he shut the door, keeping the winter cold out of the cozy establishment, “You like cats?” He never knew that about you.

“Like cats? I love them!” You practically gushed as you shrugged off your large coat and Minho signaled for a party of two, greeting a few of the waiters with a suspicious familiarity.

“Do you come here often?” You asked curiously as the two of you found a nice little corner to sit down in, complete with beanbags, blankets, and little wooden surfaces that were meant to serve as tables.

Minho almost didn't need to answer your question, since the moment he sat down, four cats passed over towards him, the sound of gentle meows filling your ears. You didn't think you'd be able to hear anything more sweet, until you were proven wrong when Minho let out a soft giggle, his expression unbelievably fond as he stretched out his hand, petting their heads and scratching their ears.

When had you ever heard Minho giggle? No, not that psychotic little witch giggle he did when he was feeling diabolical. This childish, almost innocent giggle that burst from his lips.

“I come here at least twice a week,” he said as one of the kittens clambered into his lap, “I have three cats back at home with my family, and when I miss them, I come here.”

You nodded, surprised that he was divulging information about him without being prompted, but you didn’t mind it one bit, “That’s nice. I’m sure they miss you, too,” you said, smiling as one of the more curious cats went over to you, sniffing at your hand before pressing their head against your palm.

“I’m sure they do. I was basically their servant,” Minho laughed before turning to you, “Do you have pets?”

“Oh, I wish,” your voice was forlorn and wistful as you began to rub the cat’s belly, feeling a rush of pride as they laid on their side. It was rare for any cat to do such a thing, and you treasured the moment dearly, “I had a kitten when I was very, very young, but they died only a few months after we got them. I haven’t been able to muster the courage to adopt another pet since.”

Minho pouted at the way your voice trailed off, your expression faraway, and he suddenly felt an urge to gift you a kitten right then and there just to make you smile. He was long used to seeing you angry, he was getting used to seeing you when you were at peace and smiling, but he’d never actually seen you look so wistfully sad before.

“Well, you’re always welcome to use my membership card here if you need a break from school,” he offered rather awkwardly, keeping his eyes on the cats so he wouldn’t have to feel the brunt of your expression, which was probably weirded out.

“You’d let me?” You sounded hopeful, giggling to yourself as a cat jumped into your lap, curling up and burrowing against your stomach.

Minho smiled, turning his head to see the way you were coddling the little kitten, stroking her fur with utmost delicacy and with nothing but pure adoration in your eyes. He was suddenly hit with the realization that you were incredibly beautiful, and his brain almost immediately imploded.

Wait, what? Lee Minho?! Who the fuck are you turning into?!

Unaware of his current struggle, you glanced at him when you didn’t receive an answer, and he scrambled to clear his throat, “O-of course,” he said, “You’d get a 15% discount on drinks. Super handy.”

If you noticed his strange behavior, you didn't comment or make a face, only gazing down at the kitten in your lap as you asked teasingly,, “Does this girlfriend benefit only last the month?”

It was a joke, not at all different from the ones both of you made on a daily basis, making jabs at your rather intriguing situation, this one seemed to really hit Minho. What was going to happen when the month ends? Will the two of you go back to hating each other and fighting every moment of the day? Will all these little acts of love, the way you would occasionally drop off a bento box at his dance studio and the way he’d pick you up after your late night classes so he could make sure you were safe, would that all disappear like a dream?

“Hello? Earth to Minho?”

Minho blinked out of his daydream, tilting his head towards you to see you already looking at him with a concerned smile, “Are you alright? You seemed pretty faraway.”

“Nah, I’m good. I just remembered that I have a coding assignment due tonight,” he lied, a light tinge of rouge on his cheeks.

“What?!” you yelped, scaring the cat in your lap as they meowed in discontent, jumping off you, “We should get going then--”

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Minho grabbed your arm as you stood up, and with your balance tilted, you fell back onto the beanbag couch, although this time, you were much closer to Minho than you originally were. To stabilize yourself, your hand jutted out to press against his chest, and his breath hitched in his throat.

What sort of black magic was Han Jisung doing to him with this experiment?

“Sorry!” You squeaked out, your embarrassment clearly visible as you tried to push away from him, but Minho kept you close until the two of you were almost cuddling on the beanbag couch.

Minho only hummed, feigning nonchalance even as his heart was doing strange backflips in his chest, “It’s fine. You’re still cold, right? I saw you shivering a bit. You can just sit here,” he said, shrugging off his coat and placing it over your legs.

“I guess...thank you,” you said rather quietly, not trusting your voice to hide the emotions that were raging in your heart: the confusion, the giddiness, the childlike excitement, and the fear, “But what about your assignment--”

“Don’t worry,” he patted your head lightly, “It’s just a simple one. Won’t take more than an hour. I’ll just do it when I get home.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure,” Minho emphasized the last word with a teasing smile, his heart slowly coming to terms with these new, tingling emotions that he was feeling, “I never knew I’d ever experience you babying me.”

Your cheeks grew warm as you smacked his arm, “Shut up!” You complained, bringing his coat up to your face and shielding yourself, “I’m just trying to make sure you don’t flunk out of school!”

“Don’t lie, you’ve fallen in love with me, haven’t you?” He asked, his eyes sparkling with mischief only to receive another angry smack on the arm.

“You wish. I don’t fall in love with jerks like you.”

“If it makes you feel better, I am honored by the attention,” he said with a teasing smile as he nudged your shoulder.

Another kitten came to your position, rubbing against your thigh as you petted their little head, “You better be,” you muttered almost to yourself, “After all the bentos I’ve made for you this last week.”

Minho let out a yawn, stretching out his arms and very cautiously wrapping one around your shoulders. To his luck or misfortune, you were too enamored by the kitten to notice, and you curled into his side without much consideration. The poor boy wasn’t sure whether he wanted you to notice and confront him about it, or whether he should be allowed to feel a sense of fondness knowing that you were dropping the defensive walls around your heart with him.

He won’t tell you, but he was truly honored to be cared by you, to experience your worry, your encouragement, and your little acts of love. It came so naturally to you that you probably didn’t even hold any of those actions to any significance, but to him, the one who was always the lone wolf, the one who was always defined by his looks before his personality, it was nice to be truly seen by someone.

Even if it wasn’t going to last.

iv.

Lee Minho was late, and you were going to kick his ass if you didn't happen to be frozen by the time he arrived.

You stood outside of the computer science building awkwardly, trying not to focus on the weird glances from the students walking in and out, all of whom were obviously wondering what a literature freak was doing at the center hub of the sciences. It was absolutely mortifying, and you briefly wondered if Minho ever got such stares while he waited for you outside of your building. If he did, well, you felt slightly more grateful than you did previously.

“Hey! (name), right?”

You looked up with panic in your eyes as you quickly tracked the sound of the voice to one familiar stranger, a particular boy on campus that you never actually ever thought you'd have the opportunity to speak to.

“That's me, and I assume you're Hyunjin,” you said, getting straight past formalities. After all, you weren't really in the mood for chitter-chatter. You were just in the mood for a nice hot chocolate to warm your body.

But unfortunately for you, Hyunjin’s disarming smile was a clear indicator that there were no escape routes plausible, “Wow, no wonder Minho snatched you up quick.”

If you had a tail, it would've bristled at this very moment, “Excuse me?” You asked, keeping your tone decidedly cordial.

Hyunjin’s smile only widened, “What is he like as a boyfriend? Does he treat you well? Or are you just another piece of disposable garbage for him like every other girl he’s fucked?”

The final question shouldn't have fazed you, but it did. Why did the idea of such a thing send your heart into cardiac arrest? Why did it scare you so much, when you knew none of this was real? Wasn't it all just manufactured by the conditions of the experiment?

Your face must've given away more than you thought, because Hyunjin’s cheshire-like grin only widened as he took your vulnerability as a chance, “You don't have to be with him, you know. Don't you think we'd get along a little better—”

“Really fucking low of you to be trying to hit on your friend’s girl,” a hand suddenly snaked around your waist from behind, making you gasp as you felt your back pulled against someone's firm chest.

“Especially my girl,” Minho’s eyes showed not a hint of amusement or politeness as he rested his chin on your shoulder almost protectively, as if daring Hyunjin to try again.

Hyunjin regarded the two of you with cautious intrigue, his eyes darting from Minho’s hand on your waist to his face now nuzzled in the crook of your neck, and he lifted his hands up in mock surrender.

“Just wanted to make sure you know how lucky you are,” he smiled at Minho pleasantly, leaning forwards as his eyes sparkled when they met yours. Now, you may dislike Hyunjin, but you couldn't deny his beauty, and at such a distance, you couldn't help but feel a bit flustered as he purred, “And how easily that luck can be taken away from you.”

Minho bared his lips in a threatening snarl from behind you, making Hyunjin scoff as he turned away from the two of you without another word. A moment of tense silence screamed in the air before you cleared your throat awkwardly. This was definitely not a good way to start off a date.

“Well, that was weird,” you laughed, detangling yourself from Minho’s hold so you could face him, “I never thought I’d see the day where Hwang Hyunjin would flirt with me while he’s sober.”

“He’s such a fucking asshole,” Minho suddenly spit out with a surprising amount of vitriol in his tone, enough to fluster you for a moment, “Going after someone who’s obviously dating, he just doesn’t have any shame anymore! Plus, I was literally walking behind you. He definitely saw me before he made a move.”

Finding his behavior utterly bizarre, you stared at him for a long moment before you could even speak, “Are you...pretending to be jealous?”

“What?” Minho blinked, as if suddenly realizing that you were still there witnessing the extent of his ranting. And then, your question hit him like a ton of bricks, “What the fuck? I’m not pretending to be jealous, I--”

He stopped himself before he could do any more verbal damage to his own reputation, but inside, his head in shambles.

I’m not pretending to be jealous, I am jealous.

What was happening to him?

From the look on your face, Minho could tell you were a mixture of confused and suspicious, but you didn’t press him for more details or to finish his sentence. That was one thing he really appreciated about you. If he didn’t elaborate on his words, you trusted that he didn't say more because it simply didn't need to be said.

"Well, we should probably get going," you said, slipping your arm around his, "I was freezing my ass out here waiting for you."

"Then, perish."

"You're the worst social experiment boyfriend I've ever had!" You complained, your pout clear from the sound of your voice as Minho let you lead him to whatever date surprise you had in mind.

“I’m the only social experiment boyfriend you’ve ever had,” he pointed out reasonably, resting his head on yours while you waited for the traffic light to change.

You let out a huff, trying to push him off you, but it was rather fruitless to make Minho do anything, really, “You’re still the worst,” you said, trying to tickle your way out of the situation.

Minho only chuckled. Two could play at this game, he thought smugly as your attacks failed and he wrapped his arms around you from the side, pulling you snug against him so he could nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck, tickling your skin with his hair and making you shriek.

“Lee Minho, I swear to God!” Despite the slurry of curse words that left your mouth, you were laughing and made no genuine attempts to pull away from him. You’ve noticed over the last few weeks that Minho was never one for blatant physical affection, but he was being abnormally clinging today.

“Admit it, kitten,” he teased, peeking up at your expression as he smiled, “I’m the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

The world around you seemed to freeze as the weight of that question fully sunk in. Was Minho the best boyfriend you’ve ever had? You thought back to every awkward first date, every time the guy looked strangely disappointed when you said you wanted to head home by yourself, every time one of them awkwardly mentioned that they wanted you to cheer them on at the expense of your own passions. You thought through all of those memories before you realized oh my god Minho was the best boyfriend you’ve ever had.

“Hmm? Oh, come on, I was kidding,” Minho seemed oblivious to your plight as he took your silence as a rejection, beginning to let go.

“You are.”

The words slipped out of your lips before you even realized what you had said. Minho’s eyes widened rather comically as he tried to make sure he was making the right mental connections in his head.

“I am?” He repeated slowly.

“You are...the best boyfriend I’ve ever had,” you muttered the last half, your face burning as if you’d eaten a whole bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos.

Minho blinked, his entire system short-circuiting.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” you said, awkwardly shuffling on the heels of your feet before you found your escape, “Oh, green light! Let's get moving!” Your voice was bright and overly cheery as if you didn't just drop a bombshell of a revelation on both Minho and yourself.

Minho practically stumbled over his own feet to catch up to you, “H-hey!” He grabbed your hand before you could pass the halfway point of the large intersection, where the light was manually turned red by one of the buses.

You glanced down at your intertwined hands and back up at his face before answering softly, “Thanks.”

He nodded in response, trying not to put too much attention to the way your fingers curled around his, trying not to put too much attention to the way your hand fit in his, and asked, “So, where are we going?”

“Well, you brought me to the place you like to go to destress, so I figured I would do the same,” you answered, reaching into your back pocket and pulling out a key that looked suspiciously like Jisung’s access card to the music building.

“Tell me you didn't steal Jisung's access card.”

“It's not stealing if I'm returning it before he knows what happened,” you shrugged.

“Um, yes it is.”

You glanced up at him with a playful smile, “You gonna rat me out, darling?”

That name of endearment shouldn't have affected him so much, but it did, and he physically had to restrain himself from holding your hand tighter as he scoffed, “I'm no snitch, especially not when it comes to my beautiful social experiment girlfriend.”

You let out a laugh, “You’re definitely the king of heart fluttering pet names.”

The rest of the walk to the music building was filled with idle chatter as the two of you slowly got back into the rhythm of your usual banter. At some moments, it was even easy to forget about the way you’d hug his arm to your chest as if shielding yourself from the cold. It was even easy to forget about the way his hand would gently squeeze yours if he felt you shiver too violently beside him, a silent check up on you. It was far too easy to call all of these little actions as normal, as if he was actually your boyfriend.

“Are you sure we're not going to get caught?” Minho asked as the two of you walked to the side door of the music building. Although, he didn't sound very concerned about potentially getting in trouble, only slightly curious.

You slid Jisung’s card into the reader and the door unlocked with a click, “I've done this for years. Even if people do check the rooms, there's lot of places to hide.”

The boy only chuckled, holding the door open so the two of you could walk in and escape from the biting winter cold. After wiping off your shoes using the doormat, you gingerly took his hand again and lead him up the stairs to the end of the hall where you pulled him into a dark room.

“Kitten, if you wanted to find a private little place for us to have some fun, we didn’t need to go all the way to the music room,” Minho said, amused, “I know plenty of lockable closets around the campus—”

“That’s so gross,” you said as you turned on the light, revealing that the two of you were in one of the group music rooms, with a piano sitting at the center of the room and a couple of instruments stored on the sides.

Minho placed a hand on his heart, “Mean,” he huffed accusingly at you. He was mostly kidding, of course, but a part of him felt a genuine despair at the fact that you didn't seem to be remotely flustered or enticed by the idea of being with him in that way, with such intimacy.

“Don't worry, Min. There will be plenty of fish out there desperate to jump into your arms soon enough,” you flashed him a wry smile as you grabbed one of the guitar cases and brought it to the carpet near the piano.

“Min?” He repeated, the nickname making him feel slightly better even as your words dampened his spirits. Did you really think he would be that eager to go back to his normal “no-strings-attached” routine after this month?

For the first time, you looked a little flustered as you sat down on the soft carpet, opening the guitar case with a few clicks of the locks, “Sorry. Do you hate it?” You asked sheepishly, “I just figured that you give me so many petnames, I should try to give you one, too. But if Min isn't good—”

“It is!” The boy interrupted a little too eagerly. Catching your surprised expression, he immediately controlled himself, clearing his throat awkwardly as he sat down across from you, “Yeah, Min is fine. Min is good. It's just...new.”

“No one's ever called you Min before?” You asked with a curious expression while you pulled out the guitar with what Minho noticed was practiced ease.

He shrugged, “I don't think anyone’s ever given me a nickname before.”

I don't think anyone’s ever reached that level of closeness with me, was the unspoken follow-up to his statement. After all, what type of one-night stand would ever result in names of endearment or genuine emotional attachment?

“Hmm...maybe I should take it up a notch and call you Minmin,” you said absently, testing the tension of the strings and being totally unaware of the spiral you just send Minho down on.

Minmin? Minmin? The poor man was turning into a pile of mush before you and you didn’t even know what you did. Minho was sure that if you ever called him Minmin, he’d throw away everything to do as you asked.

“If you want,” he said, shuffling awkwardly as he sat across.

You glanced up at him, giggling as you finished tuning up the instrument, “So this is my de-stress room,” you said, “I like occasionally coming here to write songs or just play the instruments here.”

“You play instruments other than guitar?” Minho asked, sounding rather impressed.

“I used to play piano as a kid, actually,” you explained with a smile as you checked the A string, “Jisung taught me how to play guitar in our first year here.”

Minho bit his lip, struggling to keep control over his expressions, “Right.”

Never before in his life did Minho ever think that he’d be sitting across from you and feeling jealous about Han Jisung’s relationship with you. It wasn’t secret knowledge; he knew you used to like his friend, and you used to like him very much. It wasn’t like Minho minded; you were the one of the decent ones and you genuinely liked Jisung for who he was. Something must’ve happened in the middle of the second year, because you gradually seemed to pull away from Jisung at least in a romantic manner. Minho never thought much of it. But now, he was beginning to fully realize how close you and Jisung actually were, and how much that was beginning to bother him.

Did you still like Jisung? That was the question that always haunted his mind. Were you doing all of this for the boy in your past when Minho was here falling harder every single day?

“Hey, Min?”

Your voice broke into his thoughts as his ears perked up, “Yeah?” He answered with an uncharacteristically gentle voice. There was something about the way you spoke that felt hesitant and uncertain, rather unlike you, and he wanted to make sure that you felt comfortable being here with him.

“D-do—“ you swallowed nervously, “do you want to hear one of my songs?”

Minho’s eyes widened. As a friend of Jisung and the other two famous producers on campus, he was no stranger to hearing music that they produced. But because of that, he knew how much these songs meant to the people who wrote them. How personal they can be, and how terrifying it could be to share them with others. And the fact that you were willing to bare that part of your soul to him was a gesture of trust that he’d never expected.

“Do you want me to listen?” He asked with caution, “You really don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I do!” You blurted out before your cheeks grew warm, “You shared a big part of yourself with me when you took me to that cat cafe, so I wanted to do the same.”

Minho felt a little speechless, so all he could do was nod and give you an encouraging smile. Taking his gesture as acceptance, you cleared your throat softly and began to strumming out a simple chord progression.

The poor man was immediately entranced. There wasn’t any hope for him anymore. The moment you opened your mouth to sing, Minho fell into silent awe as he let your soft, soothing voice flow through his body. There was something so present about your voice, about the lyrics you sang. Everything just felt so raw that all he could really do was watch and listen with a gentle smile on his face.

When you finished, you opened your eyes and hesitantly turned to face him, “Well?” You prodded, a hint of nervousness slipping out of your lips.

It took Minho a few moments to put his thoughts together, and even then, they weren’t totally coherent. Nothing like the smooth-tongued, cheeky persona he always embodied, “That was--wow,” he stumbled over his words.

To his luck, you didn’t seem bothered by his failure to string his words together, but only smiled encouragingly, “A good wow, I hope?” You asked.

“Definitely a good wow. The best wow,” he nodded fervently as you laughed, waiting for him to continue, “Did you ever take classes like Jisung and Chan?”

“Oh, no. I definitely don’t have the extra money for that,” you said, resting your arms on your guitar, “But I’ve always loved to sing, and I’ve always loved hearing other people sing, too. My first childhood crush was this really cute busker who sang Hey There Delilah once near my city’s shopping street.”

Minho’s lips quirked up in a smirk. This was much more comfortable territory for him, especially when it means teasing you, which is honestly all he ever did, “A childhood crush, huh?” He drawled, stretching out his legs, “So you have a thing for people with good voices?”

“Absolutely,” you nodded, “If anyone has a good singing voice, I’m at least 40% more inclined to fall in love with them.”

“Wow,” he let out a laugh, “That is an incredibly significant statistic. I’m almost worried about how shallow you are.”

You let out a noise of indignation as Minho only laughed harder, fending away your useless attacks, “I am not shallow!” You snapped, your cheeks feeling warm, “Having a good singing voice is just an added bonus!”

“Sure, sure,” he teased, even going so far as to pinch your cheek playfully, “Is that why you fell in love with Jisungie?”

“I’m not in love with Jisung--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know you aren’t now,” Minho waved his hand dismissively, even though deep in his heart, he didn’t actually know and that was why he approached the topic in the first place, “But you were in love with him back then, right?”

The withering glare you gave him was weak at best, and you sighed, hugging your guitar to your chest as if it was your own personal shield, “Yes, I was. But that was years ago and we agreed to be just friends. It was awkward in the beginning, but I’m content with the relationship we have now.”

“You are?” Minho asked, trying to sound casual as he picked a piece of lint off his pants.

You nodded surely enough for him to see that you were being genuine, “I am. Jisung is just a friend, nothing more.”

Why Minho seemed so interested in the topic that he’d ask not one, but two follow-up questions about Jisung, you didn’t know. If you didn’t know better, you’d think it was jealousy or a way of making sure that you were emotionally available, but you did know better, and you knew that Lee Minho wasn’t that type of person.

Trying to bridge what was becoming an awkward silence, you cleared your throat and asked, “Do you have a favorite karaoke song? We could do a jam session here if you’re comfortable with singing.”

“You want me to sing after hearing how good you sound?” Minho scoffed in disbelief.

You visibly pouted, and Minho’s defenses immediately weakened, “Aww, I promise I won’t judge! And besides, Jisung said that you sounded good the last time you two went to the karaoke bar. It’s just the two of us, Min,” you smiled encouragingly, “We’re just here to have fun!”

Fuck everything. Fuck you and your gentle words, your soft smiles, your teasing eyes. Everything about you just made Minho want to lower all his walls and embrace all that you want to do. Letting out a sigh, he relented, “Fine. Do you know Congratulations by Day6?”

“Uh, I think the question is who doesn’t know Congratulations by Day6.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Minho scowled as you laughed, shifting the capo slightly higher on the neck of the guitar to the right tuning. Giving you time to get ready, Minho pulled up the lyrics on his phone to make sure he didn’t mess up unnecessarily in front of you. It shouldn’t matter, of course, but there was a weird fluttering in his stomach that made him almost believe that he was nervous.

When the two of you were finished fiddling around, you glanced up at him, smiling, “Ready? I’ll give a four count,” Minho nodded, and after you rapped your knuckles against the body of the guitar four times, he opened his mouth and began to sing.

His voice and your playing blended together almost magically, and it felt like the rest of the world disappeared as he continued to sing, disregarding his phone since he seemed to know the lyrics by heart. All you had to do was follow along with your gentle strumming, listening and keeping up to the natural inflections of his voice. The room felt cozier, the sterile fluorescent lights felt warmer, and you were getting lost in the ethereal picture of Minho when--

“Why are the lights on in the hallway?”

The two of you immediately stopped as you glanced at each other, eyes comically wide. It seemed like, much to your luck, the security guard happened to choose that very day to make his rounds, despite skipping every other day during the week.

“Put the guitar away! I’ll turn off the lights!” Minho hissed at you as he bolted to the wall of the room and you went to place the guitar back in its case as quickly and carefully as possible. Luckily, the music room didn't have any windows on the door, and the guard couldn’t see what was happening inside unless he actually entered the room.

The two of you just managed to put the guitar back in its original state and turn off the lights just as his footsteps neared the door. In a split second, Minho grabbed your arms and yanked you into one of the bass storage compartments, closing the closet door right before the guard opened the door to the music room, looking around curiously.

Neither of you could even breathe in the crammed space of the closet as you tentatively waited for the guard to check the room. The storage compartment left almost no wiggle room, and Minho’s arm stayed wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you snug against his chest so the two of you could fit.

Oh god, this was too much for you. The thumping of his heart against yours, the tickling of his hair against your ear as he had to dip down to avoid thumping his head against the top, the grip he had on your waist as his thumb rubbed your side, an instinctive attempt to calm your nerves.

The silence screamed in the room, and the two of you held your breaths before the footsteps exited the room, and the door clicked closed. Even still, both of you stayed totally quiet for a few moments longer before Minho let out a soft chuckle.

“This is definitely a closet I haven't explored.”

You swatted at his arm, “Now is not the time to make dirty jokes!” You scolded, but Minho accepted your angry hands, happily holding you snug against his chest as he laughed.

“If not now, then when?”

“How about never?” You rolled your eyes as you lifted your head to glare up at him, but your intentions seemed to die out the moment you realized just how close the two of you were. Minho’s face was not inches, but centimeters away from yours, your noses almost brushing and your foreheads so close that you could practically count his eyelashes.

Minho gulped, staring down at you in panic and awe as he struggled to maintain his composure. There was so much he could do, so much he’s done before; this position shouldn’t be all that shocking for him. As he’d said before, he has had his fair share of sloppy closet makeouts and even a little more than that. Cramming into a storage closet with his arms around you shouldn’t be enough to send his mind and heart into overdrive.

But they were, because he’s never met anyone that set his heart alight like you did. His eyes trailed obviously to your lips, the way that yours eyes did to his, but he couldn’t find it in himself to make the first move. There was something holding him back, an irrational fear that prevented him from moving too quickly, a fear that he might scare you away.

“What are you thinking about?” You asked softly, your hands finding their home on his chest as neither of you made moves to pull away.

“About how this date took a rather strange turn,” he answered instead, his eyes glittering with amusement.

To his surprise, you look flustered and a bit ashamed at his words, “Ah, I am sorry,” you apologized, “I didn’t think it was going to turn out like this. They never check the rooms, and I just wanted to show you a place where I--”

A gasp fell out of your lips as Minho pulled you forward until your body collided with his chest. He engulfed you in a tight hug, his face buried in your hair as he mumbled with what you could discern was a hint of trepidation and shyness, “Don’t be sorry. Thank you for showing me this side of you.”

Your hands stilled behind him, your eyes widening as you felt him hold you tighter. You could feel the beat of his heart, the trembling in his breath, and the remainder of the walls around your heart all but collapsed as you snaked your arms around his midriff, snuggling your face into his shoulder and marveling at how perfectly you fit against him.

“Thank you for giving me the chance,” you murmured, your voice muffled by his familiar leather jacket as you smiled, “You know…”

“Hmm?” Minho answered absently, holding you close.

“I like this better than fighting.”

Minho couldn’t help but giggle at the sheer simplicity of your statement, and he couldn’t help but feel inclined to agree with you.

“Yeah, me too.”

“Fuck!”

Minho let out a trail of belligerent curses as he ran to the nearest bus station, holding his leather jacket over both of your heads to shield the two of you from the sudden and pouring rain. As the two of you were walking in the middle of the flower garden right before the weather took a sharp turn for the worse, both of you were soaked to the bone by the time you found shelter.

As you clutched at your chest, gasping for breath, you huffed grumpily at the boy beside you, who looked way too dashing for someone who was doused like a wet dog, “Weren't you supposed to check the weather?”

“Well, if we went to the arcade like I'd suggested instead of the park, we wouldn't be in this predicament, would we?” Minho retorted, running a hand through his damp locks.

“It’s a Friday night. The arcade would’ve been packed to the brim and you still would’ve been all pissy.”

“It’s better than being soaked to the bone and freezing our asses off at some random bus station.”

The two of you maintained your angry tense glares for only a moment longer before you caved, rolling your eyes as a smile crept on your face, “It seems like nothing has changed, even on our last date.”

“We're destined enemies. The universe has decreed it long ago, sweetheart,” Minho chuckled.

The most humorous thing about both of those statements were how utterly false they were, and how aware both of you were about that fact. Anything and everything that existed between the two of you had changed during the course of the month, and both of you knew it. Minho had changed from a necessary annoyance to an irreplaceable pillar in your life, a source of honesty and comfort that you've grown to relish. Even though the two of you still bickered like cats and dogs, there was something good-natured about it now.

“Well, our garden date is fucked and we can't exactly go to the arcade like this, so what do you suppose we do?” You asked with a grimace as you wrung the excess water out of your hair, “This is the last day before our project ends.”

Minho sighed, shaking the droplets of water off his jacket as he bit his lip, turning his gaze to your side profile. You were happily oblivious to his stare, continuing to twist the water out of your hair as you stared out at the rainy street, humming softly to yourself. He could tell immediately that you were cold and doing your best to keep yourself from shivering.

It was definitely a pet peeve of his that he’d grown more and more annoyed over as he spent the month by your side. You never liked to wear jackets or bring them along, despite the fact that you were literally cold-blooded and tended to match the temperature of whatever weather was going on around you. It got so bad at times that Minho had already developed a habit of bringing you an extra jacket or scarf so you at least didn’t catch a fucking cold while you were spending on dates with him.

Unfortunately, the forecast had predicted clear skies and warm weather for the whole day, and Minho didn’t think about bringing that extra jacket around this time, so all you could do was perish in your cold, soaked clothes.

“You could come over and hang out at my place.”

The words tumbled out of Minho's mouth before he could really consider the consequences, and all he could do after that was look as nonchalant as possible.

As expected, you gawked at him as if he'd grown a second head, “You want me to hang out at your apartment?”

“Don't make me repeat myself,” he grumbled, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot, “We could dry up there and maybe watch some Netflix or something."

You let out a scandalized gasp, dramatically covering your chest with your arms, and Minho's face burned as he gave you a hard shove, "Not like that, oh my god!" He sputtered in total embarrassment, fully beginning to process the implications of his words.

As the poor man dissolved in his own misery, you cackled, relishing his suffering as you ran a hand through your wet locks, "I'm kidding, genius!" You said with a laugh, "Gosh, who knew you were actually such a prude on the inside."

If you took Minho seriously at all, his glare would have sent you six feet under. Unfortunately for him, one month of fake dating taught you that the man was a lot more bark than bite. You were basically Minho-immune at this point.

“You know what?” He closed his eyes, grabbing at whatever supernatural patience he had not to just shut you up with his lips smashing against yours, “Offers’ off. Walk home yourself.”

“Aw, alright I’m sorry!” You laughed, ruffling his messed up hair as you walked out of the bus stop and into the pouring rain, “Come on, please? I promise I won’t make fun of you anymore.”

You promising not to make fun of him sounded about as genuine as Jisung saying that he’d stop procrastinating on his homework, but what was Minho going to do? Make you walk home by yourself in this type of weather? It wasn’t that he was giving you any special treatment; this was just what any good samaritan would do.

With a roll of his eyes, he stomped over to you and flung his leather jacket over your head, “Let’s go,” he muttered. Smiling playfully, you followed him home, using his jacket to shield you from the rain as you stared at his back with a hint of bittersweetness.

The jacket still smelled like him, you thought absently as you walked in his shadow. As much as you’d tried to deny it to yourself, Minho smelled good. He smelled like Febreeze and citrus. You were going to miss the warmth of his jacket very soon, when he’d no longer be obligated to take care of you or make sure that you won’t catch a cold.

“Did you die back there, sweetheart?” Minho called behind him, “You’ve gone all quiet.”

“If I died, how exactly was I supposed to answer you?”

“Oh, my bad. I was really only asking out of courtesy,” he smirked, throwing his head back as his eyes sparkled with a mischief you’ve grown out of hating. Seeing the few feet of distance between the two of you, he extended his hand, chuckling, “Seriously, what are you doing all the way back there? Come on.”

You felt yourself grow quiet, taking a few large strides forward before you let go of the jacket and slipped your hand into his. Minho’s fingers laced with yours as he continued on his way, leading you down a couple streets before you made it to the familiar apartment complex.

Now, you’ve been to Minho’s place a couple times, so you didn’t feel too overwhelmed as the two of you rushed into the lobby area sopping wet and trying your best to dry off your shoes on the mat. However, it was always just a quick stop, like standing in the lobby area while he went up to grab something, or meeting with him downstairs before going on a date. You’d never actually been into his apartment before, and as the two of you stood in the elevator in a deafening silence, you couldn’t stop your heart from racing a little faster than normal.

“Alright, now I’m worried,” he said as the numbers on the elevator screen went up slowly, “You’re being abnormally quiet. What’s up?”

You blinked in momentary surprise, not expecting him to pry, since he wasn’t ever the type, “Oh. I’m just wondering what your place looks like,” you said, smiling.

Minho didn’t buy it for one second, but he only gave you a strange glance as the elevator doors opened, “I see. Well, it’s nothing special. It’s just like any other dumpy frumpy apartment.”

“I didn’t mean like whether it looks expensive or not,” you said with a soft laugh as the two of you walked down the hallway towards the door to the left, “I’m just wondering whether it would be clean or messy, if you like to keep it warm or cold. Those sorts of things.”

“Oh,” Minho rubbed the back of his neck, and for the first time, he felt a little nervous about twisting his key and opening the door. What if you had higher expectations about it than he could actually meet? Wait, did he pick up those boxers off the floor before he left that morning? He did, right?

“What are you waiting for?” You asked in amusement, watching as Minho seemed to have gone very still after he pushed his key into the keyhole. When he didn’t budge, you moved forward to turn it yourself, only for him to angle his body in front of the door.

“Uh, maybe this isn’t the best idea,” he said with a pleasant, saccharine smile.

You blinked, “Minho, we’re literally at your door,” you said just as a loud boom of thunder sounded in the distance, “And it’s thundering. Your room can’t be that horrid, right?”

“It might be a bit messy,” he argued.

“We’ve both spent game nights in Jisung’s hell hole. I think I can handle however messy your apartment is.”

That was a fair point. Minho couldn’t really find an argument against that attack. Lowering his head, he sighed, “Let me head in to tidy some things first.”

With a raised eyebrow, you crossed your arms, “No problem, but I seriously don’t care, if that’s what your worried about.”

Minho could only nod suddenly before he turned the key, unlocked the door and slipped in faster than a ghost before slamming the door shut. Just like he’d predicted, his boxers were lying nonchalantly on his bedroom floor, and he shoved them in his hamper before cleaning--more like hiding--the rest of his junk in record time.

You were beginning to think that Minho had just locked you out of his apartment when the door opened once more, and he walked out with a towel in hand, “Did you hide whatever dirty toy you needed to hide?” You asked with a smirk.

“Get your head out of the gutter,” he retorted, throwing the towel at you and leading you inside.

The apartment wasn’t far from your expectations. Clean, but not meticulously so, a little bit on the chilly side, and a sense of homeliness with the warm lights and lamps that he chose from the living area. You found yourself growing fonder and fonder of it by the minute.

“It’s cute,” you smiled, wrapping the towel around your neck.

Minho tried to ignore the way his cheeks warmed at the simple, but genuine compliment that fell out of your lips, “Thanks. I laid out a change of clothes for you in the bathroom. You can also take a shower if you feel like you need to warm up.”

“What a gentleman,” you said teasingly as you placed your handbag down on the floor as you headed to where Minho had gestured to the bathroom, “Do you have people over often?” It was an easy question, not even close to brushing the real question that sat in the back of your mind.

Is what we have special? Do I mean something different to you the way you mean something different to me?

“Actually, besides Jisung, you’re probably the first,” Minho answered, grabbing a towel to dry off his own hair as he walked towards you, “I don’t really like strangers or acquaintances in my space.”

“Oh, I should be honored, then,” you said, trying to contain your surprise as turned to face him, studying the way his damp hair framed his face and the way his eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that you could never read. You could never tell what that gaze wanted, what that gaze meant, but you knew what it did to you and your foolish little heart.

Minho’s head tilted ever so slightly as the silence hung in the air. Then, he smiled, brushing the tip of his finger under your chin, “Well, being my social experiment girlfriend has to have its perks.”

The trance shattered, and whatever moment of tension and unexplainable attraction you felt disappeared into the air as you marched towards the bathroom, “I’m glad I got to make use of it before my membership expires tomorrow,” you said, your voice tinged with sarcasm as you shut the door.

A laugh left Minho’s lips as he shook his head, walking into his bedroom and quickly getting into a change of clothes before flopping onto his couch. This experiment has proved to be one of the most difficult experiences in his life. All this time, he always knew what he wanted, and he always knew how to get it. If he wanted someone, he got them. If he wanted to pursue something, he found himself being able to achieve it with just a bit of hard work on his part.

But with you, he didn’t know what he wanted, nor did he know how to obtain it. When he met you as Jisung’s other best friend, he never once imagined that the two of you would form such a strange yet irreplaceable relationship in such a short amount of time. He liked you, he liked you a lot. But as he found himself falling further and further, he realized that the reason this was so difficult was because he cared about you. His way of living with no strings attached wasn’t going to cut it anymore, especially since he was beginning to notice that many of his strings were tightly wrapped around your fingers.

And despite this, the two of you were going to have to cut them all off when the morning came.

“Fuck you, Jisung. You probably knew this was going to happen, you little shit,” Minho sighed, lying down on the couch and closing his eyes. Whatever, he didn’t want to think about the goodbye. He’d deal with it when it came.

“Uh, Minmin?”

“Hmm?” Minho answered you absently, his eyes still closed.

“You can shower if you’d like,” you offered, the couch dipping under your weight as you sat beside him.

“Nah, I’ll just shower tomorrow morning,” Minho said, opening his eyes and physically having to fight back a blush as he saw you, his hoodie practically engulfing you whole and his sweats going past your feet. Oh fuck, did he even think things through when he picked out a spare set of clothes for you?

You caught his stunned gaze, your cheeks immediately reddening, “L-look, they’re just a little big on me!” You said defensively as you grabbed one of the pillows and shoved it in his face, “Can’t you stop staring?”

Minho laughed, fending off your relentless pillow attacks with his arms, “Sweetheart, I swear! You actually look really cute!”

“Shut up!” You shrieked, swinging your arms relentlessly as Minho finally had enough letting you win. Lashing out with his hands, he grabbed both of your wrists, stopping their movement and forcing you to drop the pillow as he yanked you forward. With all your momentum going in one direction, your body had no choice but to follow, and when you opened your eyes, you were sprawled on top of him on the couch, his hands still locking your wrists in place.

“Um,” you looked around, further procession the rather awkward position the two of you had taken, “did you mean for this to happen?”

Minho didn’t, but he was nothing if not an opportunist, “You can think whatever you wanna think,” he shrugged, letting go of your wrists as he wrapped a casual arm around your waist, “What? Not comfortable?”

The more you thought about it, the more you realized that the position was actually quite comfortable. Minho was always built like a personal heater and whatever chill you felt from running around in the rain just seemed to melt away as he held you.

Stop it, the little voice in your mind whispered as you tried not to focus on the fact that your face was inches from his. This date was for you to say your goodbyes, not fall farther into the black hole.

“Comfortable? Hardly,” you scoffed as best you could, pushing yourself up with your hands and curling up on the couch beside his stretched out figure, “You’re all muscle from dancing so much. It’s like sleeping on a rock.”

“Ah, these abs are hard as rock,” Minho nodded very seriously.

“I wasn’t talking about your abs.”

“Then what else can be hard?” He blinked for a moment before his smile turned unbelievably devilish, “My, my, (name)...I didn’t know you were so--”

You grabbed the pillow you’d previously discarded and shoved it into his chest, “Can we watch something?” You interrupted him pleasantly, pretending not to have even heard the beginning of his less than appropriate joke.

Minho huffed, throwing the stupid pillow to the floor as he scooted next to you, “Sure, want popcorn?” He asked, handing you the remote after turning on his TV, “Just find something on Netflix.”

“Anything you don’t like to watch?” You asked, browsing through the selections.

“Nothing horror related,” he answered as he pushed himself off the couch, heading to the kitchen.

His reply felt strange to you, and you frowned, turning around to look at him, “But don’t you love horror movies?” You asked, remembering very clearly that Minho and Jisung had first met because they both went to the same viewing of a new horror movie that you refused to go to.

“Yeah, but you don’t, right?” Minho pointed out before shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly and disappearing into the kitchen area as you were left reeling at his almost blasé answer, struck by how much he’d grown to learn about you and how much he'd grown to take your feelings into account.

Now that you thought about it, you realized how much Minho's personality had changed and affected the way you did things, not in a controlling way, but in a way that you found yourself thinking about him when making decisions. When you made your weekly batch of bread, you tended to lean towards milk bread because it was Minho’s favorite. When you went out for dinner together, you thought about what he enjoyed before picking a cuisine. When you browsed for cute accessories, your taste gravitated to cats because they reminded you of him.

Holy fuck, how deep in were you?

“You didn't pick anything yet,” Minho noticed as he poked his head out from the kitchen, waiting for the popcorn to finish.

“O-oh right,” you fumbled with the remote in your hands as you scrolled through the selections.

Minho hummed, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, “Hmm…? What were you thinking about, kitten?”

“Nothing, stop being nosy,” you answered with an annoyed edge as you found something that piqued your interest, “Hey, wanna watch Bridgerton? I heard some good things about it from my friends.”

"I heard it's a bit of a shitshow," Minho commented as the microwave beeped and the smell of buttered popcorn filled the room. Grabbing the bowl and taking a few pieces for himself, he returned to the living room, jumping over the couch and plopping down beside you.

You tried to ignore how casual it felt for him to just throw an arm around your shoulders to pull you close, focusing on the TV, “Wanna check it out to see which review is accurate?”

“Sure, whatever you want, kitten.”

As the two of you powered through episode after episode, it became clear that both reviews had some merit, as the series was a bit of a shitshow, but one that you wouldn't be able to stop watching. Minho and you found yourselves rather invested in the story and the characters, letting out a huge “finally” when the two leads confessed their genuine love for one another.

“Another episode?” You asked after a short bathroom break, falling into his arms even more so than before and practically snuggling into his warm chest now.

“Go for it, sweetheart. I have all night.”

“So do I,” you chuckled, and pressed the play button.

However, things started to take a weird turn after you reached the middle mark of the series. Bouts of contained love had been released, and there were beginning to be many scenes that weren't quite appropriate for general audiences. You quickly realized that this was probably not the show you should've picked to watch through straight-faced with your lovely social experiment boyfriend.

You held your tongue for most of them, just wanting and wishing for them to be over as soon as possible, but when positions started to turn towards an even more peculiar direction, you couldn't help but make one rather underhanded comment.

“Ugh, forget the literal fanfic fake dating trope they had going on. This is probably the most unrealistic part of the whole show,” you said with mild disgust as you watched the female lead gripping on the rails of the staircase.

“Oh?” Minho perked up at your comment almost too eagerly. Like you, he had also been suffering from the tragic case of watching a dirty scene with his totally-fake-but-also-somehow-real girlfriend, and felt a crash of relief when you spoke up about something, “And why is that, kitten?”

A noise of disbelief choked out of your throat as you gestured at the scene before your eyes, “I mean, look at them! Can you possibly expect me to believe that she feels comfortable in that position, much less enjoy it?”

Minho shrugged, “You’d be surprised how much you can ignore when you’re in the moment.”

“I don’t believe it,” you scoffed, grabbing a handful of popcorn, “At least, I’ve never had such an experience before.”

The conversation was dropped then and there, and the show continued without further criticism. But halfway through the next episode, you began to feel that you were being watched, and sure enough, Minho was gazing at you with an unreadable expression, deep in thought.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked, chuckling awkwardly, “Do I have something on my...Min?”

Your eyes widened comically as Minho suddenly shifted on the couch, leaning impossibly closer to you and gently cupping your jaw with his hand. Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck fuck fuck. Had he lost his mind?!

Minho seemed to answer your silent question as he stopped right before his lips could brush yours, and his eyes searched for any fear or hesitation in your expression, “Is it true?” He asked hoarsely, his words no louder than a faint whisper.

“What true?” You murmured back, looking up at him through your lashes.

The man gulped, trying to hold onto whatever semblance of control he had left in his body, “What you said earlier...about never having such an experience before.”

Oh, your cheeks reddened as bright as apples, “Why do you have to bring it up again, idiot?!” You felt your voice fail you as Minho tightened his hold on you.

“So it’s true?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, “Yes, it’s true! What does it have to do with you, asshole?”

Minho sucked in a breath, studying your face as his eyes shone with gentle adoration and tenderness that you didn’t even know he could possess, “Can I kiss you, (name)?”

Your name. It was your name. Not sweetheart. Not kitten. Not any other petname he could give anyone that he pleased. He uttered your name. He was asking for your permission. And like a sailor drawn in by the siren’s song, you had no hope of escaping now.

“Yes.”

Closing the gap, your lips met as the two of you finally succumbed to the growing tension that festered with every meeting, every touch of your hands, every quip thrown both ways. Minho caressed your cheek as your hands slid to his shoulders, reveling in the kiss that was such a long time coming.

When he finally pulled away to let both of you catch your breaths, his cheeks were flushed, his eyes blown wide as he stared at you underneath him. Swallowing, he brushed the hair away from your face, his heart warming with unrestrained affection as you leaned into his touch instead of pulling away, “Can I give you that experience you’ve been lacking?” He asked, a coil of anxiety rolling in his stomach as he studied your face for every miniscule reaction.

Any inkling that you didn’t want to, any inkling that you were only going to along to please him, he’d end it all. Minho knew very well that he was walking on a tightrope of maybe losing you forever.

But to his surprise, you didn’t look fearful or uncomfortable, only a bit uncertain, “T-this is our last night though, a-as…” you trailed off, not wanting to make those thoughts a reality, just like Minho had been actively avoiding the topic as well.

“I know, I know,” he sighed, stroking your cheek absently with his thumb, “Maybe...we can think of this as a goodbye.”

You smiled, “It’s one hell of a goodbye,” you teased, making him chuckle. It was definitely one hell of a goodbye.

“Do you want it?” Minho whispered, hovering over you, “You say the word, and I’ll back off. Promise.”

Sucking in a breath, you decided not to live by your head anymore. With Lee Minho holding you close, kissing you silly, what was there to refuse?

“I want it,” you murmured, “I want you.”

This was the right choice, you told yourself as Minho carried you to his bedroom, treating you with a delicacy and gentleness that you’ve never experienced before. It was the culmination of your feelings for him. Maybe, when the morning comes, these feelings would wash away with your bouts of pleasure. Maybe, when the morning comes, you wouldn’t be as deeply in love with him as you were now.

Right?

epilogue.

When you woke in the morning, the rays of sunlight spilling in through Minho’s dark curtains, you were almost stunned by how very wrong you were. As you turned your head, finding yourself face to face with Minho, fast asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, you knew that you were not only still in love with Minho, but you were more in love with him than you were the night before.

And boy, did that terrify you to your very core.

Fuck! This wasn’t supposed to happen. The experiment was over, right? There wasn’t a purpose that pulled you two together anymore. There wasn’t a purpose for Minho to feel any sort of attraction to you anymore.

Too terrified to face the love of your life when he woke, you did the only thing you knew how to do.

And you ran.

Detangling yourself from Minho as gently as possible, you slipped out of his bed, grabbing your clothes from where they’d been haphazardly discarded around the room. You changed in record time, anxious to avoid making sound or staying around until Minho woke. It was only 8:30 in the morning, though, and you knew that Minho naturally didn’t like to wake before 9:00, so you had a bit of time.

You wanted to leave as soon as you finished changing, but your guilty conscience wouldn’t let you disappear without some form of gratitude. For the night before or for the way he’d treated you the whole month, you didn’t know. But either way, you grabbed a couple of ingredients that he had in his refrigerator and fixed him a hearty breakfast before heading to the door. You only looked back once before officially steeling yourself to disappear from Lee Minho’s life, at least until you’d be able to resolve these naive and yet deep-seated feelings you had for him.

For the rest of the week, life went on as normal for you, as if your one unforgettable month with Minho had all but faded into the wind as you had hoped that night. You finished your final entry in the diary and handed it back to Jisung the day after the experiment ended. If he had questions as to why you’d disregarded the original plan to hand yours over along with Minho’s at the same time, he didn’t bring them up.

“Did you at least have fun, (name)?” Jisung asked before you could turn around to leave.

You hesitated, quickly realizing that the fact that you couldn’t answer the question immediately gave away your uncertainty. After a long moment of thought, you nodded.

“Yeah, I did.”

You really did, though. There was no point lying to yourself about that when you were already having such a hard time pretending that your very real feelings for Minho don’t exist.

Speaking of Minho, you spent much of the week trying to cut him out of your life as much as possible, which was proven to be rather difficult since the two of you had such a close friend in common. You could tell that Jisung was getting a little sick of seesawing between his two best friends without knowing why the two of you were acting this way. Even back when the two of you were basically the worst of enemies, neither of you ever actively tried to avoid seeing the other.

But now, you were avoiding Minho like the plague. You avoided his school building entirely, and if you happened to see him walking down the street by some unlucky miracle, you’d bolt in a random direction and hide in a store until you were sure he was gone.

It was a lot of effort, and you weren’t even sure if it was working, since your feelings for him seemed to grow even stronger the more you were away from him.

There was just worry that festered within your heart, this genuine concern you had over his wellbeing now that you weren’t able to check on him every day. Was he eating well? Was he skipping breakfast now that you stopped giving him your milk bread? Did he pass that exam he was worried about?

It seemed your feelings for Minho were going to need a little more than distance to disappear.

After two weeks of moping and frustratingly obvious heart sickness on both sides, Han Jisung finally had enough with his idiotic best friends.

You opened your door in surprise as Jisung stood at the entrance of your apartment, an unusually angry expression on his face, “U-uh, Sungie? You good?”

“Do I look good?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “How the fuck do you expect me to be good when I’ve been fucking tiptoeing between you and Minho for the past two weeks?!”

You flinched at the very mention of his name, “I’m sorry. I promise everything will go back to normal soon.”

“With the way you’re doing things, I don’t think that’s going to happen, (name),” Jisung rubbed his eyes tiredly, and you finally noticed the deep eyebags he had, indicating several all nighters, “I finished writing my thesis paper.”

“Oh, congrats.”

It was easier to muster up a smile at that statement, since you were genuinely proud of Jisung for such a daring project.

“I also read both of your notebooks.”

Fuck. That was a necessary part of writing that paper.

You nodded, trying to keep your cool, “Okay? Did they not have enough information?”

“Forget the stupid project for one fucking moment, please,” Jisung interrupted before sighing, “At first, I thought the awkwardness came from the fact that you still hate each other, but it turns out it’s just the opposite.”

“What are you talking about?”

Jisung threw you a long look, as if silently weighing several options in his head. You could practically see his thoughts running a mile a minute, and all you could do was stand there as he finally reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar notebook.

“This--” Your eyes widened as you gazed down at the name written in Sharpie, a name that decidedly wasn’t yours, “Jisung, you can’t--”

“Yes, I know that as the operator of this experiment, giving out information that I’d originally stated was confidential is absolutely against everything that science stands for,” he said wearily, “But as your friend and Minho’s friend, this is the right thing to do.”

“What am I supposed to do with it?”

“Read it, dummy. I could tell you what’s inside, but I don’t think you’d believe me unless you saw it yourself.”

Jisung grabbed your wrist and pressed the little notebook into the palm of your hand, “I think you’ll know what to do after,” he smiled gently, his eyes filled with earnest care as he gave you a quick hug and made his way down the hall, leaving you to stand at your door holding Minho’s grey project notebook.

With nothing else to do, you entered your apartment again and plopped down on the couch, notebook in hand. Did you even want to see it, Minho’s unadulterated truth? A part of you wasn't, but curiosity always killed the cat, and you found yourself gingerly opening the first page.

Nothing was far from what you expected at first, since it matched quite well to your own experiences. First blatant dislike, then grudging respect, and finally, a growing fondness. You found yourself smiling as you read about how much Minho actually adored the bentos you made, even though he never made his thoughts on it entirely clear to you.

Then, you finally made it to the last page: Day 31. You found yourself stopping short, your heart beginning to race again as your eyes scanned the first few words.

lee minho: day 31 + 2 days

action(s): last date

notes: yeah, i know this entry is late, but i just needed some time to collect myself.

she left in the morning before i could wake up. i can’t say i was surprised, since i told her the night could be our goodbye, but i’d hoped in some part of me that she’d stay, that we’d just carry on with the rest of the month like the ending date didn’t exist. she made me breakfast, though, so at least i know she wasn’t disappointed or upset with me about how far things went. at least i hope.

fuck, jisung, i can’t stop thinking about her. it’s been two days already and nothing i do can make me forget her. the last night just made things infinitely worse. i played with fire and im getting burned for it. i can’t get the way she felt out of my head, the way she would also look into my eyes and see me for what i am inside, not just what i look like. i miss her milk bread, i miss seeing her outside the dance studio.

jisung, i think i love her. no fuck it, i do love her, and there’s nothing i can do anymore. she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me based on how she’d been avoiding me like the plague whenever i see her on the street. and now, i don't even know how much of what she felt, how much of what she did for me was real. did she put in so much effort because she wanted you to be happy? or was the way she hugged me, the way she spoke to me, was it all real?

it doesnt matter now.

By the time you made it to the end of the page, your eyes were filled with tears and your vision blurred over. Minho...he loved you? Had you been so absorbed with wallowing in your own misery that you failed to realize that your actions were hurting him?

Panic filled your very being, and as Jisung had predicted, you knew exactly what you had to do. You had to make amends, apologize for your actions, and at the very least, express your own feelings to him directly, even if it was too little too late.

With the notebook clutched tightly in your hand, you grabbed your purse and rushed out the door, still putting on your boots as you hopped to the elevator. Which bus did you have to take to get to his apartment? First the #2 and then transfer over to #13...right.

You bolted out of the lobby, feeling the rush of cold air seep through your bones, but you hardly found it in yourself to care. You ran to the bus station, anxiously shuffling on either feet as you waited for the next #2 line bus to arrive. When the bus finally arrived, you were already standing at the edge of the sidewalk, too jittery to sit. The doors slid open, and before you could barge inside, your jaw went slack as a familiar figure stepped out of the bus, his own eyes widened as they caught yours.

What was most interesting, however, was the familiar grey notebook that he clutched in his hand, one that was painfully identical to the one you were holding.

The two of you stood in an awed silence as Minho got off the steps, and the bus drove away. Immediately, you felt a wave of concern as you looked him over from a distance. Did he lose weight? Was he getting enough sleep?

In the end, Minho was the one who spoke first, clearing his throat awkwardly, “Judging by the notebook in your hand, I’m assuming that Jisung fucked us both over?”

“Y-yeah, sort of,” you answered, surprised that your voice didn’t completely fail you in such an important moment.

Minho seemed to wait for you to continue, but when you didn’t, he spoke again, “Um, I read it. Your diary entries.”

That wasn’t a surprise, of course, see that you read his, but you couldn’t stop the wave of flushed embarrassment from washing over you as you thought about all the embarrassing things you wrote about him, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, looking sheepish, “Do you really think I sound like an angel when I sing?”

Oh, if you could hide yourself six feet under, you would have. But you could nod shamefully, “Yeah.”

“Do you really like it when I cuddle with you and pull you onto my lap?”

Was this your punishment for not being honest upfront? “Y-yes! Now can you please shut up--”

“Do you really love me?”

The wind was knocked out of your lungs as you finally looked up to stare at Minho, whose face was unreadable as always. He held up the notebook and repeated his question when you couldn’t find it in yourself to muster up an answer, “You said in your final entry that you were in love with me, that you loved every part of me inside and out, and that our final night together just made everything so much more real. Is it true?”

Your eyes filled with pain as you choked out softly, “What will you do…if it is?”

Minho’s expression didn’t seem to change, but you didn’t miss the way his eyes seemed to return to their usual sparkle just a little bit, “If it is true, then I’d call you an idiot for ghosting me.”

“R-right--”

“And then I’d walk over to where you’re standing. I’d wrap my arms around your waist like the way you love, and I’d kiss you silly. I’d tell you that I’m totally and completely in love with you, as you probably already know from my diary entires, and I’d ask you to be my real girlfriend,” Minho spoke, his voice filled with meaning as his grip on your notebook tightened, “Now tell me, is it true?”

You couldn’t even remember how to breathe as you stared at him, the cold winter wind making his cheeks so delightfully rosy that all you wanted to do was to kiss them gently and warm them up with your mittens. And as he gazed at you, the sincerity pouring out of his posture, his words, and his eyes, there was no way you could continue lying to yourself.

“It is true,” you said, your eyes filling with unshed tears as you gripped at his notebook, “I’m in love with you, Lee Minho, and it’s tearing me apart just like it’s tearing you apart. I want to love you for real, I want to date you for real, I want us to be real.”

Minho took three large steps forward before he was right in front of you and his lips crashed against yours in a breathtaking kiss. His arms wrapped around your waist like he’d promised, and yours cupped his cheek as he kissed you with unrestrained fervor.

Wow, he really did kiss you silly.

“No more rules, no more of this social experiment bullshit,” he murmured against your lips as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, “Do you want to be my real girlfriend, (name)?”

What was there to refuse?

the enemies to lovers project: [success]

#stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz x y/n #skz x reader #lee minho imagines #lee minho scenarios #lee know imagines #lee know scenarios #stray kids x reader #dream type: oneshot

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