#skipper a beat

[sezzlelot]

[kawaiiers]

Enemies to lovers

[raredrop]

break time, here's the team pre-clay battle and their weird movesets

[jax-and-winstrate]

quick update on the teleporting thing. I'm in Hisui

[alaskan-wallflower]

i dunno why i stress myself out so much about being cringe, this is my blog, i should be able to post whatever weirdness i want on here

[lunaoritur]

dont think i ever mentioned this but for the past few months, i've been working on writing a thing with brainwashed luna and i highkey wanna share it here

[theonottsbxtch]

Cool for the Summer | LN4

an: i’ve been trying not to just blow up the timeline with a bunch of smau but thanks to @isaadore and @diycriptheory i finally chose one thing to post!

synopsis: in which lando goes to the same resort each summer and he befriends the owners daughter who works there

fc: pinterest!

2019

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, maxfewtrell, yourusername and 592,362 others

summer break in full swing 🤘

*tap to load more comments*

userone: sun looks good on you

usertwo: look at those back muscles

userthree: WHO is that girl?

landonorris: her name is yn! she works at the resort we stayed at and was our personal guide, check out her dads resort @/resortname

userfour: just yn? 🤔

carlossainz55: why didn’t you invite me cabrón?

landonorris: “i don’t want to go on holiday with you, i see you too much” - do those words sound familiar?

carlossainz55: not at all, who said them?

landonorris: 😑

userfive: yn is us, reading on the beach

2020

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, yourusername, danielricciardo and 864,436 others

much needed break 😴

*tap to load more comments*

userone: is that yn?!

usertwo: did he meet up with the girl from last summer?!

carlossainz55: i was also on that holiday

landonorris: were you? i must have missed that

carlossainz55: gringo

danielricciardo: there is no way this beats an aussie summer

landonorris: oh but it does

userthree: carlos went on holiday with him 🥲 my carlando heart

yourusername: i was quite enjoying the idea of a summer not working

landonorris: but unfortunately for you, your dad loves me

yourusername: wrong, he loves your money

carlossainz55: lol 😹🫵

userfour: don’t shoot me but landoyn

userfive: 🔫

2021

yourusername

liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, yourbestfriend and 2,371 others

he got some hours in this summer - also check out this vase i started earlier!

*tap to load more comments*

userone: pottery queen

landonorris: child labour

yourusername: you’re 23

landonorris: exaclty 😞

usertwo: each summer i get excited knowing we get landoyn posts

userthree: if they don’t get together i may cry

userfour: and now they kiss

carlossainz55: best boat rider? driver? chauffer? ever!

yourusername: skipper! but thank you :)

carlossainz55: but you don’t skip?

yourusername: it’s a dumb name i know 😭

userfive: it’s the way she’s friends with carlos too

yourbestfriend: @/landonorris how does it feel to steal my best friend each summer?

landonorris: pretty good actually

yourbestfriend: 🔪

2022

landonorris

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, carlossainz55 and 462,382 others

finally was trusted enough to see how pottery stuff is done

*tap to load more comments*

userone: i come alive once each year for the annual post

usertwo: lando is a summer child

carlossainz55: don’t lie. you paid her €100 to let you in the room

landonorris: that was not meant to be public knowledge

userthree: lando is such a simp bc why did he pay €100 to watch a girl do some pottery

userfour: but it’s not just SOME girl

userfive: it’s THE girl

yourusername: €100 well earned

landonorris: you and i are no longer friends

yourusername: whomp whomp

2023

yourusername

liked by landonorris, yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri and 3,472 others

spent the summer saving the people’s favourite driver from drowning

*tap to load more comments*

userone: thank you for your service

oscarpiastri: not my favourite driver

yourusername: facts me too

carlossainz55: @/landonorris: shots fired

usertwo: parents

userthree: okay maybe not this year but next year 😞

yourbestfriend: *cough* i actually was on lifeguard duty most of the summer

yourusername: shhhh

userfour: help can lando not swim

yourusername: no

landonorris: she’s lying, i can

2024

landonorris

liked by your username, oscarpiastri, mclarenracing and 934,635 others

ahead of the hungary gp i had a personalised helmet created to fit in with the rich culture of the country, following the gp i will put this up to auction for a children’s charity - see you on track!🏎️🏁

*tap to load more comments*

userone: SHUT UP SHUT UP SHE DID NOT

usertwo: i am sick

userthree: landoyn is so real

userfour: 2024 is the year

yourusername: nice helmet! wonder where you got it from?

landonorris: some pretty, talented woman made it for me

yourusername: what a lucky lady, you speak highly of her

landonorris: ☺️

userfive: THÉ COMMA. PRETTY. TALENTED. KILL ME NOW

oscarpiastri: does the artist take commissions for next year?

yourusername: potentially!

landonorris: back off piastri

twitter:

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oscarpiastri, yourbestfriend and 6,422 others

this summer i learnt how to do a handstand

*tap to load more comments*

userone: don’t freak out calm down too late i’m freaking out

landonorris: that’s a headstand actually

yourusername: chat to me when you have a olympic gold medal

usertwo: THIS IS NOT A DRILL

userthree: THE LAST SLIDE

oscarpiastri: photo credits?

yourbestfriend: i took that actually

oscarpiastri: that’s from my sunbed actually

yourbestfriend: we were on the same bed dufus

userfour: 👀

carlossainz55: the son of a bitch did it

userfive: CARLOS HELP

landonorris

liked yourusername, oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 937,361 others

i love summer

*tap to load more comments*

userone: I LOVE SUMMER TOO LANDO

usertwo: the way she looks at him 🥹

oscarpiastri: @/yourbestfriend we are feeding the landoyn fans

yourbestfriend: that we are

userthree: someone check in on the landoyn fan base

userfour: miss rabbit has fainted

yourusername: i think i may love summer too 🤭

landonorris: 🥰

yourdad: i approve

[santaclaralocalnews]

The Santa Clara Bruins beat the Leland Chargers on Saturday with some old school flavor. Starting pitcher Sebastian McMahon allowed just one run, a solo home run, in a superb 5 and one-third innings on the mound. He did so while donning the high stirrup sock look, a rare sight in 2023.....Read more news at svvoice.

[alaskan-wallflower]

*deep breath*

KYLE FUCKING BROFLOVSKI

Does anyone have that one character in their fandom that’s basically a genius/badass/perfectly capable of defending themselves canonically but the fandom butchers them into “uwu cute and soft boy/girl that needs to be protected”

[wosoamazing]

Abandoned?

Warnings: Injury, serious chest injury, ambulance, hospitals, parental abandonment, mentions of death. A/N: In this fic the most recent international break was friendlies… This was a request from someone on wattpad.

It was the 25th minute when Fox kicked a ball, unfortunately for you it came hurtling towards you and before you could move out of the way it crash into your chest, the sound of the ball connecting with your upper torso reverberated through the stadium as you collapsed to the ground from the force, you immediately grabbed your chest as you rolled around the pitch clearly in agony, medics from both teams were on the pitch before the game was paused, there was no time to waste. 

Your chest felt tight, it felt like someone squeezed your heart every time it beat, you could almost feel bubbles ‘pop’ in your chest, and your chest heaved with every breath as you struggled to get air in, whilst also feeling incredible pain every time you sucked in the slightest bit of air.

The stadium was dead silent, it was like there wasn’t a single soul there. And when the ref finally blew the whistle after what felt like hours, the ambo cart immediately raced its way across the pitch to where you laid, surrounded by medics. Sheets were quickly brought onto the pitch and held up around you by various training staff of both teams to provide some protection against the various cameras that surrounded you, an announcement was made informing all media to seize action of cameras however that wouldn’t have stopped the public from trying to get photos.

-

Leah felt time slow down when you hit the pitch, she felt her body freeze, she was standing there staring at the spot you laid surrounding my medics, and paramedics, she didn’t know what to feel, it was almost like her body had forgotten to feel. All your fellow teammates stood there watching her, not knowing whether they should go over to her or not, however when they saw the sheets being brought out they knew it was bad, it basically never happened. Lucy started to make her way over to their Skipper, Kiera and Georgia followed behind her, knowing Leah needed support in this moment. They watched her fall to her knees as announcement was made, leaning forward, burying her face into the grass, her shoulders shook harshly as sobs wracked her body. A circle was formed around them by the USWNT as they tried to comfort Leah. Leah had absolutely broken down, she didn't know how to feel, she was just hoping, praying for dear life that they weren't resuscitating you behind those sheets. You lived with Leah, spending almost every second of every day with her, she didn't know what would happen, how she would cope if you left her.

Diagonally across the pitch from the circle, stood Lotte, who had her arms around Fox, the American cried into her shoulder, he body shook as her fellow arsenal teammates tried to comfort her, reassuring her that this wasn't her fault and that it would be okay.

-

A paramedic was running over to the crowd and waved a man down who was brought onto the pitch, he was one of the Trauma Doctors at St Mary’s and just happened to watching the game with his family on his day off, “Update us” he said as he made his way through the sheets with the paramedic, “pulse is thready, bpm of 163, clear respiratory distress, muffled chest sounds, GCS score unattainable,” “c-spine collar,” you were placed into a neck brace, “prep for an on field thoracostomy,” someone said, before your jersey was cut off and the cold air hit your skin as they disinfected the area, “this is going to hurt, stabilise her,” you felt a knife cut into you and you moaned out in pain, before something was stuck in your chest, and an oxygen mask was placed over your face, you felt a pair of hands leave your body, and heard the sound of heavy boots crunch in the wet cool grass, indicating someone was running somewhere. 

—

“Ready for transfer,” there was a silence, “on my count, 1,2,3,” your body was held straight as you were tipped on your side, the movement causing you to feel slightly dizzy and you could almost hear bugs in your ears, something hard and cold was placed against your back “and 1,2,3,” you were tipped onto your back again, now lying on the backboard, as the foam blocks were placed next to your head and secured your world started to go a little hazy, as someone readjusted the tube that was stuck in your chest.

“Stay with us y/n,” you tried to open your eyes further but you couldn’t and suddenly everything went black.

________

“And the parents are on their way? Or so I’ve heard,” you faintly heard someone say as they stood outside your room. You had just woken up, and everything was still slightly hazy.

You quickly came to at those words, you eyes widened, and you felt your chest start to get tight again, your heart pounded, you were shaking, your breath was ragged, “I-I don’t want to see them,” you stammered out as you shook your head, and tears started to fall from your eyes, Leah didn’t know ones heart could break so many times in one day but here she was, feeling her heart break for at least the second time. She quickly got up so she could be closer to you, taking your hands in hers, “No baby,” she shook her head, face etched with pain, no matter how much you hated your parents, she knew this was going to hurt. “It’s not them anymore, they, they,” she let out a heavy sigh, “they gave you up, they signed away their rights. When they got the call, they said that it wasn’t their duty to make the decisions or to take care of you, they, they said they didn’t want to be associated with you, they came to the hospital, purely to sign the papers to give away their guardianship,” Leah watched as a range of emotions crossed your face, you couldn’t believe it, yes they had already kicked you out and you barely spoke. But this was different. This was something else. This was complete abandonment, they didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. “I’m sorry baby, I’m so so sorry, I-” Leah was cut off my the loud alarm sounding on the monitor, your panic had caused your heart rate to get to high and your oxygen levels too low, your chest heaved with every breath again, and you could feel it burn as oxygen entered your lungs, but that pain was nothing, nothing could ever compare to the feeling of being disowned legally by your parents. Knowing they travelled all the way to the hospital, just to sign a piece of paper to say they didn't love you anymore.

You had just finished facetiming Kyra, Steph and Caitlin, when you turned your head to face Leah, who was sitting in the chair near your bed, her face seemed serious as she read something on her phone.

“We aren’t playing Bristol City,” she suddenly announced “well obviously,” you rolled your eyes at her, “no like the club isn’t, they forfeited,” “oh,” you paused for a minute, “I want to see Emily,” you blurted out, the thought having been circling your mind for the last however long.

“I don’t think that is the best idea, B-” “But why? It’s not her fault, she did nothing wrong,” “That’s not the reason why bubs, Emily is struggling at the moment, she knows it wasn’t her fault, but she feels like it is, because she kicked the ball, she didn't mean to hit you, but she does feel guilty, she feels like she just shouldn’t have kicked the ball.” You nodded your head, and picked up your phone, scrolling through instagram, when you came across statements from both Arsenal and England.

An update from the England Lionesses: Y/N is in a stable condition, she is awake and talking. Her recovery will be in the hands of her club and we wish her all the best. We ask that out of respect for the players and those involved that no photos or videos taken during/after the incident are shared, these players are people too and deserve privacy. We are thankful for all our fans' support and apologise for the abandonment of the match, all tickets will be refunded. 

Arsenal WFC have released a statement: After discussions with our players, staff, Bristol City and the FA we have come to the decision that we will be forfeiting our next fixture in the WSL against Bristol City, we understand what this decision means and how it affects our position in the table however we must keep our players wellbeing at the forefront during this time period and in no way would it be fair or right of us to ask any of our players to play a match in the coming days. The incident involving y/n has affected every single one of our players deeply and we want to be able to take the next few days to focus on their wellbeing and health, something we could not do if we were to have a game. We would like to reassure the public that y/n is in safe hands and is in a stable condition. 

As you finished reading the statement from Arsenal you felt your bottom lip start to quiver, you looked over to Leah who was once again looking at her phone,  “I’m sorry,” “for what?” she softly asked, “for scaring everyone, I-I didn’t mean to,” you quietly spoke as soft tears fell from your eyes, “hey, hey, none of that, it wasn’t anyone's fault okay, we all just care about you and want to make sure you’re okay,” she reassured you as she moved to sit with you in the bed, “okay” you said as you moved to lean your head back on her shoulder, “I love you so much, we all do, never forget that,”

[silentscrying]

🎸 out of my mind ! 💿 track five: the battle of the bands

guitarist!ino x drummer!reader

summary: it's the annual battle of the bands at the fix, your college campus's iconic live music bar, and this year you're taking the stage as the drummer for indie rock group cursed technique. you know the competition is strong, but no part of you is ready for lead singer and guitarist takuma ino. you lock eyes at the edge of the stage, and something starts—something that might make you feel alive even more than the beat of the drums.

warnings: language, alcohol, DOGGOS, yuji literally is just a ray of sunshine 24/7, mentions of drunk driving, so much fluff, ridiculous amount of kissing tbh, short time skip at the end, FINAL CHAPTER! || sfw. 8.8k words.

FOR THE FIRST time in a long stretch of busy days, you wake up not to the chirp of your alarm but to soft rays of Saturday morning sunlight seeping through the cracks in the blinds, painting your eyelids orange-gold. You crack an eye open and find Takuma stirring beside you. Right.

“Morning,” you whisper. For a moment, when Takuma opens his eyes, he looks surprised, and then he seems to remember why and how you got here and his expression melts into a soft smile.

“Morning, Skip.” He yawns. “Time’s it?”

You shrug. You’re pretty sure your phone is dead.

“Eh, it’s Saturday,” he mumbles. “S’fine.” You chuckle, daring to reach out and ruffle his hair. You don’t know what this is, the unspoken thing in the thin slice of air between you. You know what you want it to be, though.

For a while you both lie in comfortable silence, letting the sounds of the awakening house float up the stairs toward you. Murmuring, clattering around in the kitchen, the front door opening and closing, cars outside.

“Hey,” you say eventually, making eye contact. His eyes are a very deep shade of brown, dark but warm in a way that reminds you of old bookshelves or tree bark after the rain.

“Hey back.”

He’s relaxed, every part of him unhurried, and you take the image of it and stamp it into your mind over the memory of the night prior. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Takuma smiles. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Maybe it should be more awkward, the fact that you’re here in his bed in his clothes and you haven’t named whatever it is that stretches out in the silence. But it’s not. It’s just… easy.

“Skipper?”

“Hm?”

“I really, really like you,” Takuma whispers. The words wrap themselves around you, warm when you didn’t know you were cold.

“Yeah?” You bring a hand up to his face, trace the line of his jaw. His cheeks are a little colored in the mix of light slipping through the window and the cracked door. “I really, really like you too, Takuma.”

He cups your face in both hands, pulls your lips to his, and your whole body responds, pressing up against him in the too-small twin bed. Your hand goes to hold the back of his neck, deepening the kiss, and this is what people write love songs about, you fucking get it now, all the metaphors and cliché words you thought were exaggerations but no, they’re not, because you’re feeling all of them all at once and you don’t ever want to leave this moment in time.

“Like” doesn’t feel strong enough, not for this. You’ve only known him for a month. Is it really possible he’s already become so integral to the structure of your heart?

You’re kissing in the early morning light and it’s hungrier than you thought your next kiss would be, because even though all the rest of your days are rolling out before you, you don’t know how many there are. He twists so he’s above you on his knees, one of them between your legs, and it’s like a reversal of that night on the roof, like you can feel the night air even in the golden midmorning hours.

“Kuma,” you murmur between kisses, and he grins against your mouth, takes your next breath and makes it his.

At some point you’re interrupted by the startled growl of your stomach, and you break apart, unable to stifle the giggles rising up in your throat. “Well.”

“Well,” Takuma echoes, grinning. He stands and offers you a hand. “Breakfast?”

Downstairs, the house is alive with idle chatter and the clinking of silverware. Kirara is seated atop the counter, legs swinging as she eats a plate of eggs, and Hakari stands beside her leaning against the cabinets. Megumi scrolls absently through his phone at the table, the dogs looking up at him expectantly from either side, and Yuji is digging through a bunch of take-out boxes. When he sees you, his whole face lights up.

“Morning!” he practically sings. “Here, eat food.”

“Where’d this come from?” Takuma asks.

“My friend dropped off breakfast,” Yuji chirps, pushing a Tupperware container of pancakes toward you. If it weren’t for the brace wrapped around his wrist, you’d have no idea anything happened. He’s his usual golden retriever self.

You smile, forking one of the pancakes onto a plate. “That’s sweet.”

Your phone buzzes, and it’s Tsumiki sending you the link to the news brief. You frown at the headline, not out of any disrespect for the writer who stepped up to cover it, but more at the fact that it’s unfortunately true.

JU senior issued DUI after crash on 34th and Olson Blvd Friday night

“What’s up?” Takuma asks, immediately noting your expression. You slide the phone across the counter, watching its screen catch the light from the kitchen window. Kirara leans over it as well and starts reading off Junpei’s story halfway through.

“Zenin, who according to a campus police report was driving under the influence of alcohol, was on the phone with an ex-girlfriend when he swerved into the opposite lane.” Her dark brows knit together in some combination of anger and disbelief. “Jesus.”

“That’s fucked,” you murmur.

Someone’s phone rings, and Megumi glances at his screen and blinks, seems to hesitate. Then he gets up and disappears down the hall. You glance at Takuma, but he just shrugs. It’s probably Gojo.

The rest of you eat and eventually make your way to the living room, scattering yourselves across the couch and carpet and chairs.

“That single last night,” Takuma says, letting Kuro jump up beside him on the couch. “Concept. Make it the title track of an EP.”

You blink for a second, startled. “Wait, for real?”

“Yes!” Takuma says, sitting up straighter. “Think about it. Cover art is one of those name tag stickers, you all sign it, wrinkle it up and crease it and take a grainy film photo. And you put the song on it with Next Fix and a couple of your older singles you and blow up.”

“Or you print one off that says hello, our name is,” Kirara pipes up, seeming excited by the idea. “Ooh, you can have an intro track like that.”

“All caps. Just to match the energy,” you say, picturing the EP cover in your mind. “HELLO MY NAME IS. No punctuation either.”

“I like it,” Kirara nods. Takuma’s got that excited shine to his eyes, and you realize he’s very in his element in this conceptual space—he really will be a good producer. He has the mind for it.

Megumi slips back into the room looking a little haphazard, disgruntled, looking anywhere but into anyone else’s eyes, and Yuji cocks his head in question. Not Gojo, then. “Who was that?”

“No one,” Megumi lies, waving him off and turning back toward the kitchen to avoid everyone’s questioning gaze. Hm.You know better than to ask, and it seems that’s the consensus, because nobody pushes it—Megumi will open up in his own time. You hope he figures it out soon.

For your part, it’s a lazy Saturday, hanging out with Takuma, Yuji, Megumi, Kirara, and Hakari, gaming and talking and generally just existing in each other’s presence. After the chaos of last night, it seems to be exactly what all of you needed.

It’s not until late afternoon that Kirara broaches the topic of the band.

She gestures at Yuji, a flapping motion that misses the mark a little because Kirara is sprawled upside-down in the beanbag in the corner. “Itadori, can you, like… drum with that?”

He shrugs, looking down at his injured wrist. “Yeah, probably!” You frown. So much of drumming is in the wrist, and you kind of figured Kirara’s question was rhetorical. You realize abruptly that Shibuya Incident is still going up against Black Flash in the finals on Friday, and if they don’t have Yuji, they’re fucked.

“Psh, don’t look like that, it’s fine,” Yuji insists, grabbing two Wii remotes and wielding them like drumsticks. He goes to bang them around, mimicking a rock beat, and you watch as his face twists into a grimace and he drops one of them. “Okay, so, update: never mind!” He grins sheepishly.

Kirara is the first one to look at you, and by the time you’ve processed what exactly it is she’s trying to say, everyone else has their eyes locked on you—including Yuji.

Oh, shit.

“Whaddaya say, girl drummer?” Kirara asks, pointing a finger gun at you.

“Oh, guys, I don’t… I don’t know, it’s your band. Yuji—”

But Yuji is the one who seems the most excited about it. He’s abandoned both Wii remotes on the floor and is now looking up at you with bright eyes and his eternal grin. “No, Skipper, please? It would be so fun! I can still do aux and stuff. But we could play together! It would be so awesome!”

“Is that even allowed?” you ask, glancing at Takuma, who’s trying and failing to hide a boyishly excited smile. “I mean, I already got eliminated.”

“Hang on,” Hakari says, pulling out his phone. It takes you a minute to realize who he’s asking. “Yeah, no, Panda says it’s whatever. Better that than not have a battle at all.”

Takuma nudges you with a knee, looking at you with steady eyes. It’s your choice, he seems to say.

“I think,” you say slowly, “I should talk to my band first. But… I’m not opposed.”

Yuji whoops so loudly you flinch a little and Takuma grins, putting his arm around you and squeezing your shoulder.

“I probably should head out,” you say, a little reluctantly. “Kinda left the roommates high and dry last night.”

Kirara salutes you, her face red from the blood rush of still being upside down, and Yuji chirps out a happy see ya!

“I’ll walk you out,” Takuma says, standing when you do. You say bye to the band and the dogs and he follows you to the front door, going as far as to step just outside with you. The door stays open just a crack as you linger, his hand coming to rest on the small of your back. He pulls you in and kisses you right there on the front step, and you smile against his lips.

“Are we, like…?” Takuma murmurs when he pulls away, cheeks flushed from the question or the cold, you can’t tell.

“Are we what?” you tease, shoving lightly at his chest.

“You know.”

“Well, if you don’t say it I’m gonna beat you to asking—”

This seems to zap whatever hesitation Takuma had right out of him, and he cuts in, “Willyoubemygirlfriend?”

“Sorry, what was that?” You know you’ve got a shit-eating grin on your face, but you can’t stop it. “Couldn’t really hear you—”

“Oh my god. Will,” he says slowly, drawing out the word, “You. Be. My. Girlfriend?”

You can see your laugh fanning out before you in a puff of warm air, and you tip your head forward into his chest, grinning. “Yes, Takuma, I would love to be your girlfriend.” You pull back and look up at him, lacing your fingers together. “I was kind of trying to get you alone all week so we could figure out what the fuck was going on. But it worked out, huh?”

“Yeah,” he grins. “It worked out.” He reaches up and ruffles your hair, laughing when you go to swat his hand away. “I was trying to get you alone, too,” he admits. “I like spending time with you, Skip. I’m pretty sure you’re the coolest person I’ve met, like, ever.”

“Ever,” you echo. “Those are some pretty lofty expectations to live up to.”

He shrugs. “You meet them all.”

Despite yourself, heat creeps up to your cheeks again.

“That was less scary than I thought it was gonna be,” Takuma confesses. Your phone rings in your pocket, and you glance at it and see Maki’s name sliding across the screen.

“Think that’s my cue.” You plant one last kiss on Takuma’s lips and turn around, throwing a “bye, boyfriend” over your shoulder. You glance back and catch him mid fist-pump, and he sheepishly shoves his hands into his pockets when he realizes you saw.

You’re still wearing his clothes, you realize as you answer your phone. Guess it doesn’t really matter, since they’re your boyfriend’s.

“Hey,” Maki says in your ear. “You comin’ home anytime soon? No rush, but we’re making lunch so we figured we’d ask.” In the background, you can hear Toge singing what you think is a dramatic rendition of Kristoff’s song from Frozen II, but you aren’t entirely certain because none of the words are right.

“Yeah, I’m literally walking through the door in thirty seconds,” you say, and Nobara’s face appears in the kitchen window. She waves excitedly and you raise a hand in return.

“Oh, sick.” The line goes dead as you open the front door. “Hey!” Maki shouts when she hears it click, and you slam it closed against the rush of cool air trying to sneak inside with you.

“Hi!” you call back.

Yuta pokes his head around the corner and grins at you. “Welcome home, our favorite breaking news reporter.”

“I didn’t actually report on anything,” you admit, kicking your shoes off and padding into the kitchen. Toge is somehow balancing cross-legged on one of the high stools, and Maki is making tacos. “Conflict of interest once I realized who it was.”

“Yeah, I saw the article,” Nobara chimes in, glancing up from her phone. “Yikes. Frickin’ Naoya Zenin. What an asshat.”

You snort. What an understatement.

“Hope he rots in jail,” Maki says in a sing-song voice, not even looking up.

“I love family,” Toge says.

You fill your friends in on the crash and the aftermath and Yuji’s wrist, leaving out some of the details about Takuma, because that feels a little invasive. And then Yuta asks the big question: “What about the band?”

“About that,” you say, taking a deep breath. You’re not exactly sure why this makes you so nervous. Maybe it’s just that these are your people, your band, and you all worked so hard and then went down together. It doesn’t seem fair that you get to go back on stage and try again and the rest of them don’t. “So. They asked me to fill in—“

“Yes!” Nobara shouts, pumping a fist in the air. “Oh, that’s so awesome!”

“Well, I didn’t say yes yet—”

“What? Why?” Toge asks incredulously. You laugh, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders. Of course they’re okay with it. These are your best friends. They’ll always have your back.

“I wanted to check with you guys,” you say, feeling silly about it now. “Just—I don’t know, to make sure. Since it’s not our band, and I didn’t want you guys to feel like I was, I don’t know, like…”

“Musically cheating?” Maki chuckles. “Skipper, this is great. You should say yes.”

Yuta solemnly puts a hand over his heart. “Avenge us.”

“Thanks, guys.” You grin as you hop up on the counter next to Nobara, pressing your shoulder to hers. “I love y’all.”

“Sap,” Maki says, which means love you too.

—

Using a drum set that isn’t yours is always a weird experience. You feel like everything is just ever so slightly off, and Yuji’s kit is an absolute patchwork of different brands of heads and shells and cymbals. You have to lower the stool because he’s taller than you. But it’s just for rehearsal, at least—you can use your own kit at The Fix.

It’s your first time in the shabby basement of Takuma’s house, and it looks distinctly different than your own. They’ve pinned old rugs to the walls as a type of sound deadener, not dissimilar to your own setup, but their lighting is a collection of Facebook marketplace floor lamps and a little disco ball that’s apparently Yuji’s. Your basement has string lights and a bunch of stools and beanbags, and this one has extra blankets all over the floor where Yuji and Kirara have made themselves at home.

Learning Shibuya Incident’s songs isn’t difficult—you’ve heard enough of their music to anticipate what’s coming, and Yuji’s there to give you pointers. Their three-song set for the final performance isn’t actually done, because they don’t feel like they have a good enough finisher, and after you’ve run the first two songs several times you mess around with potential chorus lines.

“What about that?” Kirara says after plucking out a new melody. “It’s hype enough, I think. Or it will be, once we add the rest of you.”

“I like that.” You tap out the rhythm on the snare rim, humming. “You have lyrics?” You look at Takuma, who’s staring at the ceiling like it might have all the answers if he just squints hard enough.

“Somethin’ about, like… losing your head a little bit because you caught feels,” he says. “Like, you’re down so bad you can’t function, to be dramatic about it. That triplet at the beginning of the chorus, Kirara—”

She plucks it out again, down-up-down. “On my own,” Takuma echoes, down-up-down. “Every little move I can’t pin down…”

The words tumble past your lips before you can stop them, because they’ve been circling your head for a week now. “Friends with all the dead in my ghost town.”

He spins around to look at you, a grin spreading across his face. “Yes! It’s like I’m going…”

“Going,” Kirara echoes, and they go back and forth—going, going, “out of my mind!”

“Whoo!” Yuji cheers, pumping a fist in the air. “Holy shit. That was crazy.” Takuma grabs the nearest beat-to-hell spiral notebook and starts scribbling.

Megumi starts laying out a bassline, subtly driving the beat forward a little, and you clamp the hat down on two and four to keep time. Kirara comes in with something that must be the verse, and Takuma reads off, “You left in the morning after eight, I got into work two hours late, I can’t see the sun without your face.” Bass, bass, bass. Megumi nods along and Yuji is practically dancing from his spot on the floor.

“One day and I run fresh out of light…”

Hm. You add, “Twelve hours without your hand in mine.”

“I’m dizzy and overworked and tired,” Kirara sings lowly. All three of you sing the chorus again, and you feel just like you’re at home in your own basement, writing a song in real time with Nobara and Maki and the boys.

“Oh, that slaps,” Takuma practically shouts. “Jesus. We’re gonna win.”

“Don’t get cocky,” Megumi warns, a wry quirk to his lips.

Kirara glances at her phone. “Food’s here. Break time, freaks.” She bounds up the stairs and Megumi follows to help her grab the bags—you DoorDashed Taco Bell, since Yuji never got his beloved crunch wrap on Friday.

You leave your sticks on the snare and move around the drum set, flopping down on the ground beside Takuma. “You’re good at that,” you tell him honestly, pulling the notebook away to read what he’s writing down. I met you across the darkened stage, you shook up my life, you got me made, you’re drivin’ me crazy night and day.

You can’t help thinking of the night you met him, locking eyes while he sang from the edge of the low stage at The Fix, lit up by purple-red stage lights and putting you in a trance. You scribble a few more lines after his and hand the pen back.

“You’re a poet,” he tells you, and you laugh.

“I’m a journalist.”

“Woman of many talents,” he says, echoing Maki’s words from that first night you met.

“Itadori!” Kirara shouts down the stairs.

“Coming!” Yuji leaps up and disappears up the rickety basement staircase, leaving you and Takuma alone.

“Hey,” he says, tapping the pen on the page. You glance up at him, nodding for him to keep going. “Can I take you out? Like, on an actual date?”

Something light and quick kicks around in your chest, a hummingbird loose in your ribcage. “I would not be opposed,” you say, as if the idea doesn’t make you want to kick your feet like a little kid. “When are you thinking?”

“Mm, you’re in night class prison tomorrow,” he says, tapping the pen against his lip now. “Tuesday?”

It shouldn’t make you so irrationally happy that he remembers your schedule, but logic seems to go out the window where Takuma Ino is concerned. “Tuesday’s good. Where do you wanna go?”

He shakes his head adamantly, tapping you on the nose with his pen. “Leave it to me.”

—

The only things Takuma’s told you about your date tonight are dress warm and bring your board. He meets you outside your place at four, his bag definitely bulkier than usual, his own skateboard under one foot.

You’re wearing a denim jacket over a hoodie and your favorite cargo pants with your boots, and you tucked a beanie and gloves into your bag just in case, but it’s surprisingly balmy out for late October. The wind is the worst of it.

“Hey, pretty girl,” Takuma says when you coast down the driveway and come to a stop beside him. The greeting makes you blush as much as his smile does, and he chuckles as he pushes off. “This way.”

“Where are we going?”

“Crazy,” he says. You roll your eyes. Sounds like the kind of dad joke Yuta would make.

“Well, then.” The two of you make your way down the street and around the bend, and you realize he’s taking you to the skate park. But at the entrance he keeps going, around the pit and a few of the ramps and to the largest one, back in the corner—not the one Sukuna deals under, but the one opposite. And you stop in your tracks, your longboard making a protesting schkk under your feet, when you see it.

Battery-powered string lights loop around the posts and down the underside of the ramp, and blankets and pillows are spread out across the ground. The area is sheltered from the worst of the wind, and you know your jaw is hanging open a little as you watch Takuma unload his bag—JBL speaker, two thermoses, and a bunch of food.

“Takuma,” you say, not knowing what other words suffice. “I—oh my god.” You did not peg him as being this romantic.

Then you think about his song lyrics and think maybe you should have.

He grins at you from where he’s sat down on the blankets, holding out one of the thermoses. You leave your board by one of the poles and sit down beside him, taking it and letting the warmth seep into your hands. “What is it?”

“Hot chocolate.”

“Mm.” You scoot closer to him, staring up at the layers and layers of graffiti and marker art covering the underside of the ramp. “This is maybe the sweetest thing ever.”

“I’m glad,” he says. “I had no idea what I was doing.”

“I wouldn’t know.” You take a sip of the hot chocolate—still warm. “It’s romantic. Big fan.”

“Really?” He points to where somebody drew a dick on the far side of the ramp.

“Okay, well, you didn’t have to point it out,” you smirk. “You ever done graffiti?” Looking at his mischievous smile and the beanie tugged over his head, the skateboard abandoned a few feet away, he does look like the type.

“Tagging?” He shrugs. “No. I would, though. Maybe we should.”

You hum, staring up at the arcing bubble letters and jagged black lines all over the ramp. You think you’d be horrible at graffiti, but you’ve always appreciated it, the way it sends a message and doesn’t ask for anything in return.

“This is like… alternative aesthetic stargazing,” you muse, lifting a finger and tracing the sharp lines of one of the illegible words in the air. You could stare at all this art for hours and never find all the intricacies of it.

Takuma digs around in his bag and produces a Sharpie with an “aha!”

“You’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie?”

He throws it at you and you catch it in one hand, instinctively twirling it like a drumstick. “We’re gonna graffiti with a Sharpie,” he corrects.

And so you do.

The nearest part of the wall is covered in bright pink paint outlined in black, and it takes you a moment of squinting and tilting your head to realize it says LEAVEYOURMARK. Seems as clear of an instruction as any. So you do—scooting forward, you start to draw flowers into the thick bands of pink lettering, and soon they’re shifting to music notes, percussion notation, aimless squiggles. Takuma queues up a laid-back playlist with a few artists you recognize and many more you don’t, and you pass the pen back and forth, adding tiny notes to messages around the ramp, doodling in the empty space.

You’ve been on dates before, but this feels wholly different. With Takuma, you’re not stressing over conversation starters, worrying about commitment, wondering if you picked the right outfit, trying to gauge your shared interests with carefully planned questions. It’s just easy, existing with him like this.

After a while, you’re on your back in the mess of pillows and blankets, staring directly up at the massive painting of a skateboard with a face. Takuma is drawing something on the wall behind you.

Squinting, the green streaks under the skateboard look like that loss meme Toge sends you at least twice a week. You take a photo with the intention of showing it to him later, though maybe you shouldn’t—he gets way too proud of himself for versing you in what he calls Reddit culture.

You crane your neck to see what Takuma’s drawing and find the thick, dark strokes of a city skyline, towers and domes and boxy apartment buildings.

“Artsy,” you tell him, smiling when he appears in your line of vision upside-down. “You sure about this computer science thing? You’re too creative.”

“That’s what my mom said,” he chuckles, capping the Sharpie and sitting down beside you. As you sit up, he leans back on his hands and glances over at you. “I told her about you. She’d love you. I mean, I’m pretty sure she already does.” He hesitates. “Is that weird? Too soon?”

“No,” you grin. “I—that’s really sweet, actually. I would love to meet your mom.” Your gaze softens at the relieved smile that crosses his face. “Gotta thank her for raising a guy like you, anyway.”

You realize you want Takuma to meet your family too—you want to show him all the corners of your too-small town, show him the place you grew up. It made you who you are—it led you here, to him, after all.

“So,” you say, tilting your head. “When you say you wanna be a producer. Where do you mean? Like, LA?”

He shrugs. “Probably. But I’m sure it’s more competitive there than anywhere else. I feel like the major hubs are there and New York, but I wouldn’t mind somewhere quieter, either.” He loops an arm around you, and your head finds its way to his shoulder. “What about you, world-class journalist?”

You grin, thinking of all the places you haven’t been, all the places you want to go. “Anywhere and everywhere. I just wanna see it all. I wanna travel.”

“You should!” He sounds genuinely excited about the concept, and you lift your head, taking in the expression on his face—he looks the way he did when he was talking about making an EP, like the world is full of possibilities and he wants to see them all play out. “You’d be so good at it. Being a travel writer or international correspondent or whatever.” He clears his throat. “I read some of your stuff, y’know.”

“What?” Suddenly you’re racking your brain for every piece you’ve published in the JU Journal, overly critical of your own work in hindsight. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s good. Really good, Skip, seriously.” He reaches out and tugs a wayward strand of hair behind your ear, and you find yourself leaning into the contact.

You aren’t sure what to say, so you settle on a soft, “Thank you.” Somehow, the idea of Takuma going out of his way to read your work feels personal on the same level that writing a song together does. Taking in your words, your ideas, internalizing them. What is intimacy if not that intellectual exchange?

“I think you’re going to be a really good producer.” It’s his turn to blush. “I mean it. Not everyone has the perspective for it, or the ear. But you do.”

“Ah, well, I—”

“Am not good at taking compliments?” you cut him off, raising a brow. “Mm, we’ll fix that.” He laughs, and you’re leaning in to kiss him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it is the most natural thing in the world.

It’s late October, and you are not the least bit cold.

—

Your hands need to stop sweating before you lose a drumstick or something.

Shibuya Incident has about twenty minutes before you’re all due on stage for the finals, and The Fix is alive with students and lights and drinks and music and chatter. You’re out on the floor tonight, off to the side for easy access to the stage once Black Flash clears out.

“We’re kicking off with the reigning champions of the Battle of the Bands,” Panda booms, throwing an arm out as the band takes the stage. “You know ‘em, you love ‘em, they’re every genre and no genre, covers and originals, brass and wind. Give it up for Black Flash!”

You whoop just as loud as anyone else here, grinning at Nobara’s animated cheering from closer to the center of the floor. Miwa walks right up to the mic and takes it off the stand, the neck of her white electric in her other hand. “Hey, folks!” She brushes her bright blue hair out of her face and shouts, “Y’all ready to hear some good music?”

She has the sort of infectious enthusiasm that could work on pretty much anyone, and before you know it you and Kirara are spinning each other around to the beat of a synth-heavy pop song that sounds like it came straight out of the 80s. The instrumentals are simple but tight, and Miwa jumps around, engaging the crowd, belting like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

“They’re good,” you catch Megumi saying lowly, probably to Yuji, but Takuma’s the one who answers.

“If I tell you the power of friendship will lead us to victory—”

“No.”

“Well, okay, you’re no fun.”

Kirara turns around and plants a hand on her hip, looking at Megumi. “Fushiguro, we’re fine. We’re going out with a badass new single and not one but two percussionists. We’ve never sounded this good.”

“Just being the token pessimist,” he sighs, cracking a reluctant half-smile. “I know we’re good.”

Yuji elbows him playfully. “Mr. Realist.”

Black Flash segues into a second track, an ABBA cover that has you dancing without thinking, and Takuma catches your eye and grins, moving along with you. And all too soon it’s over, a third song come and gone, and Panda’s back up on stage and the five of you are hopping up over the side to make your way to your places. Hakari and another tech have already swapped out the kits, and you settle yourself in the comfort of your own throne, your own pedals, flipping on the snare and pounding the kick a few times.

Yuji’s bouncing on the balls of his feet, grinning at you. “You got this,” he mouths, shaking his tambourine at you.

You truly have no idea where he got a tambourine.

“What happened in Shibuya? Who the hell knows?” Panda shouts, riling up the crowd. “Give it up for Shibuya Incident!”

That’s your cue. You look at Kirara, who nods with a conspiratorial smile, and then Megumi, who plucks out a few notes in answer. Yuji’s already giving you a grin and a thumbs-up. And Takuma… he’s already stepped into his on-stage confidence, all relaxed, easygoing performer, and the look he gives you has energy coursing through your fingertips like an electric shock.

You hold your sticks above your head, clicking them loud on the lower end of the shaft, and shout, “One, two, three, four!”

You are alive.

The first track is another pulled from their EP, and you’ve listened to it probably an embarrassing number of times—you know Yuji’s part down to the sixteenth note, the roll, the rest, but you don’t hesitate to put your own spin on it, and he’s alight with the same energy beside you, messing around with a tambourine and a few other aux instruments near a mic of his own, since he’s also doing backup vocals tonight.

Your hands are moving fast, your feet pumping the pedals of their own accord, an instinct, and it’s over before you know it, a sheen of sweat already forming under the stage lights. You grin, catching your breath, wiping your hands on your jeans as Takuma introduces the band.

From your place near the back of the stage, you get more of the low feedback than anything else, but you definitely hear when he says Shibuya Incident and the crowd responds raucously in kind.

“That’s Kirara Hoshi on guitar and vocals,” he says, pointing to her as she does her little riff.

“Yeah, Kira!” You have no idea where Hakari’s voice is coming from, but it’s unmistakable.

“We got Fushiguro back there on the bass,” Takuma continues, and Megumi gives the crowd an unbothered nod, showing off his own instrument for a moment. “Itadori’s back here on aux and vocals.” He pauses to let the crowd shout for Yuji and then adds, “And filling in for him on kit, we’ve got the legendary drummer from Cursed Technique. Everyone give it up for Skipper!”

You do a quick roll, laughing as your own band goes crazy—you can’t see them in the glare of the lights, but you (and everyone else) can definitely hear them.

“I’m Ino, we’re Shibuya Incident, and this next one’s gonna slow things down a little.”

This one starts with Megumi, a laid-back track with a similar vibe to the first song you ever heard Shibuya Incident perform, but a little smoother. It’s over before you know it, and then you and Kirara are launching into the new single. Even Yuji looks like he’s having the time of life on backup vocals.

“On my own,” he and Kirara harmonize, Takuma taking the lead, and you nail the next two lines with punchy cymbal-tom hits, “all the shadows look like a death threat, everybody’s waitin’ to get hit, it’s like I’m going (going) going (going) out of my mind!”

All your worries melt away as the beat drives your movements. You’re not thinking about dropping a drumstick, missing a measure, losing the competition. You’re doing what you love with people you love, and that’s all you’ve ever wanted to do.

“Think I’m seein’ double in one eye, startin’ to think this air is spiked, no one told me that’s what love is like.” Takuma lets the guitar hang and grips the mic in one hand and the stand in the other, leaning with it as he engages the crowd, and you definitely hear Nobara screaming. “You got me going (going) going (going) out of my mind, yeah, yeah.”

It’s over so fast you can barely breathe, and you’re laughing before you know what’s happening, Yuji throwing his arm around you and shouting, “You killed it!”

Takuma turns around and locks eyes with you, and you see that same adrenaline high in his gaze that you know is in yours, and when the band stumbles off stage in Panda’s wake, he grabs your hand and pulls you into a hug. “That was crazy!” he practically shouts, which is probably good, because your ears are ringing so much you probably wouldn’t have heard him otherwise.

“Guys,” Megumi says, deadpan as always, but you can see the effects of the performance even on him, his usually stoic expression unable to mask his own excitement. “I think… we might have a shot.”

“Holy shit,” Kirara says. “Skip, write the story. Resident pessimist breaks vow of negativity—”

“Oh, shut up.” Megumi elbows her as she dissolves into laughter. In the wings, you can hear the indistinct sounds of Panda’s instructions as he starts voting, and music kicks up over the speakers. Ten minutes. Ten minutes.

It’s the longest and shortest wait of your life, and then you’re back on stage with Black Flash and Panda, and it’s fucking time.

You wonder if everyone else can hear your blood roaring, too.

“Once again, an insanely tight vote,” Panda says, a hush falling over the crowd as they wait for the verdict. “Phenomenal performances from both of our final bands, but someone’s gotta win. Give it up for the champions of this year’s Battle of the Bands…”

You imagine Maki hissing under her breath for Panda to hurry it up, Nobara’s hands clasped together as she anxiously bounces on the balls of her feet, Yuta biting his lip and trying to get Toge to shut up.

Takuma’s hand is on your shoulder, Yuji on your other side, Megumi and Kirara behind you. You glance at Miwa, and she gives you a knowing look that you can’t interpret.

You almost don’t hear it.

“SHIBUYA INCIDENT!”

You don’t know which screams belong to who—maybe one of them’s yours—but you’re swept into a massive pile of musicians drunk off victory, and you’re laughing, and Miwa’s jumping up and down and saying how that was insane, guys, you were amazing, and even Mai nods at you in congratulations, and Yuji is abruptly on Todo’s shoulders, and as the stage lights turn down a bit you finally catch sight of your own band, losing their minds on the floor.

“That’s our girl!” Maki hollers, and Yuta whoops as Toge pumps a fist in the air. You realize you can’t see Nobara, and two seconds later your questions are answered when she somehow materializes on the stage, launching herself at you with a massive grin on her face.

“You did it!” she shouts. “Holy shit, Skipper!”

Everything around you is chaos and laughter and noise, but something in the center of your being is incredibly still, and you think maybe it’s contentment. In this moment, you would ask for nothing else. It is perfect.

Nobara detaches herself from you after more profuse congratulations, turning to Miwa, and the bands make their way gradually off stage. Takuma’s hand is in yours—you don’t know when that happened—and he pulls you past the band, past the wings, all the way into the drum storage room backstage.

“That was fucking amazing,” he says. “You’re fucking amazing.” His beanie is off, tucked into his pocket, his hair as wild as his eyes as wild as your heart.

You close the door.

It’s a pulse. That’s the only way you can describe it, the rush of living energy that comes with kissing Takuma Ino behind the stage of a shitty campus bar, the heat shooting through your veins in time with the throb of the bass from distant speakers. Breath on your teeth and hands in your hair, the warmth in your gut from skin-on-skin proximity, ears ringing with the sound of your name on his lips and love-blind eyes, you’re alive and addicted to a feeling you know you’ll chase forever.

—

TWO MONTHS LATER. DECEMBER 19.

The house is alive with laughter and chatter and Michael Bublé’s Christmas album spinning from the record player. The semester is over, and tomorrow you’ll scatter for winter break, home for the holidays. Nobara insisted on throwing a party before all the inevitable road trips and flights, and the main floor is strung with multicolored lights and tinsel—Yuta’s plant, Rika, even has a tiny Santa hat on.

In addition to the actual residents of the house, Takuma and the band are here, as well as Hakari, Panda, Tsumiki, Miwa, and a handful of other friends. Megumi’s even brought the dogs, who have both taken a liking to the loveseat by the window and claimed it as their own. You’ve informed Megumi that they’re going to stay here with you forever (he said no, but you don’t take orders from him).

“Okay, I’m dropping you off at ten, right?” Yuta quadruple-checks. You’re huddled in the kitchen with him and Maki—Toge was here a minute ago, but he heard someone in the living room mention Just Dance and ran off to assert his dominance or whatever.

“Oh my god, yes,” Maki answers for you. “Yuta. You wrote it down. It’s in your calendar. You live in the same house as Skip, you’re not gonna forget.” She bumps her shoulder with his and he sighs in admission.

“I know.” He smiles at you. “Just gotta make sure she gets home for the holidays. Can’t have you turning into a sad Christmas cliché on us, Skip.”

You salute him with half a gingerbread cookie. “Appreciate it.” He’s taking you to the airport tomorrow for your flight home and refuses to take your gas money, so you’re already planning on beating him to paying for the first grocery run when you get back.

“Things with Mai are good?” you ask, glancing at Maki. She shrugs noncommittally but doesn’t correct you, which is a good sign. She and her sister met up the week after the Battle of the Bands for coffee, which you genuinely thought was a joke when she told you about it. They’re both going home for Christmas and have apparently decided to try and like each other a little more openly. And she actually showed up tonight, which you have to admit you weren’t entirely expecting.

“Yuta!” Toge hollers from the other room. “You have to come do Rasputin with me!”

Yuta groans, looking pleadingly at Maki like she can get him out of this, but she just grins. “You heard him.”

“You hate me.”

“Yeah,” Maki says fondly. Yuta, defeated, goes to join Toge in the dance of death. Maki whispers to you that she’s going to record it for blackmail and slips out after him.

Tsumiki appears beside you, drink in hand, and leans against the wall. She tilts her phone screen toward you and you see it’s the Journal website analytics.

The top story right now is yours. You grin. “Oh, wow. I didn’t realize.”

“I expected it,” she admits, tucking her phone back in her pocket and gazing out across the room. “Look, I’ve been meaning to tell you. We won’t start the application process until spring sem, but, if you want it,” she glances at you, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “I really think you should apply for editor-in-chief, Skip.”

Your mouth opens and closes without anything of use coming out, and Tsumiki laughs. “You don’t have to, but—”

“No!” you blurt, grinning. “I—I want to. I would love to. I was planning on it. I just didn’t know you… wanted me to.” Kusakabe’s just the advisor—when it comes to actually hiring the next editor, Tsumiki has the final say. Her endorsement is as good as a job offer. “I… thank you, Tsumiki.” You look down, suddenly overwhelmed by the words. “Big shoes to fill.”

“Aw, none of that,” she says, stealing a cookie from the tray on the counter next to you. “I literally can’t think of anyone better.” With a wink, she disappears through the doorway, where Kirara and Nobara are talking animatedly. Nobara gestures to you when she catches your eye.

“Dude, our listens are shooting up!” she says, shoving her phone into your hands. Your EP dropped mid-November, six tracks recorded in the studio with Takuma and Hakari, and you’ve performed better than you ever expected. The analytics show a sharp uptick that’s probably in large part due to Panda playing your stuff on the radio station.

You whistle, leaning on Nobara’s shoulder. “Awesome.”

Kirara leans against the wall, considering. “You guys thought about what you’re gonna do next year?”

Truthfully, you’ve really tried not to. The idea of Maki and Yuta graduating is so bittersweet. But graduation means Shibuya Incident will have a hole in their band, too. Kirara will be gone.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Nobara muses. “We could join forces. If we lose Maki and Yuta and Kirara, the only thing we’re doubled up on is drums and lead.”

It’s not a bad idea. And if Yuji is track captain next year and you get that editor job, neither of you will have as much time for the band—switching off could actually be very helpful. You hum, considering. You’ll have to talk to the others.

“Oi,” Kirara says, reaching out to poke you with a socked foot. “Your boyfriend’s in lost puppy mode over there.” You glance into the living room to see Takuma scanning the room next to Megumi and the dogs, probably looking for you.

“Dumbass,” you say fondly, and nod goodbye to Nobara and Kirara before making your way over to him. The boys are halfway through Rasputin and Yuta is, much to Toge’s chagrin, kicking ass. Toge looks like he’s just run a half marathon.

Takuma lights up when he sees you, a mischievous smile appearing on his face as he intercepts you by the hall entrance.

“Oh, wow, what is that?” he asks cheekily, and tilts your chin up to see a piece of mistletoe hanging from the ceiling. That was definitely Nobara’s doing. “Crazy that we just happened to—”

You cut him off, dragging him in by the shirt and kissing him, and makes a surprised sound that has you smiling against his lips.

“Crazy,” you repeat after you pull back, relishing the flush on his cheeks. Even after dating him for two months (as of today), every reaction you get out of Takuma makes your heart rate bump up a few beats. “Oh!” he says, suddenly remembering something. “Wait, c’mere, I have something for you.”

“Takuma!” You swat at him. “I told you not to—”

“Boo hoo,” he says, sticking his tongue out and dragging you toward your room, where he dumped his stuff earlier. You quietly close the door behind you as Takuma digs around his bag, standing up with his hands behind his back. “It’s Christmas and it’s been two months. You have no defense. Close your eyes.”

You do, giggling a little as he grabs your hand and presses something into it—something soft. “Okay,” he says, and you open your eyes to see a little stuffed penguin perched in the palm of your hand. It’s fucking adorable.

“Oh my god!” you cry. “Oh, he’s so cute! Takuma.” You cradle the penguin to your chest with both hands, grinning.

“It’s you!” he says, laughing. “Not official Madagascar merch, but I thought it was pretty cute. Your own lil’ Skipper.”

“I love it,” you say, making the penguin do a little dance in the air. You grab its tiny wing and poke Takuma on the nose with it. “Thank you.”

“Merry early Christmas.” His nose scrunches up a little in thought. “Early Merry Christmas? What’s the right way to say that?”

“Happy early nondenominational holiday of your choice,” you say teasingly, because the public university won’t actually say Christmas despite the decorations all around campus.

It’s a running joke among the entirety of the student body that the massive tree in the arts lobby is not a Christmas tree but a secular modern art installation. There are variations of insane alternate tree names on the school meme accounts. The knockoff JU Barstool page even got in on it, and the student groups hosting the Hanukkah and Kwanzaa celebrations.

Takuma’s answering laugh is bright and it follows you as you cross the room to your desk, pulling a box out of the second drawer. “Your turn.”

“What?” He has the audacity to look confused. “Skip—”

You hold up the penguin. “Objection denied!” The box is light and square, and you watch excitedly as he opens it.

“Oh my god,” he says when he realizes what’s inside. “No way. These are the exact ones—how did you even—?”

You had to do some investigating to figure out the precise guitar strings he uses, but what's your journalism degree for if not this?

“Who knows?” You shrug playfully. “Maybe it’s the psychic powers, maybe it’s the housemate I begged to sneak into your room and find out.”

Kirara was more than willing. “Good thing you came to me and not Itadori,” she laughed. “That kid can’t be subtle to save his life.” Takuma’s strings have been on the brink for a while, and you’re honestly shocked none of them have given out yet.

“They’re perfect,” Takuma laughs, setting the box back on your desk. “I love them. I love you.”

He says it so easily it takes you a moment to realize what just happened. He freezes, mouth opening and closing like he doesn’t know what words he’s looking for.

“I—uh,” he says eloquently. “It’s—I mean. I didn’t mean to—I mean, I didn’t mean to say it like that but I did mean it, you don’t have to say it back, if it’s too soon or you—”

Instead of cutting him off verbally, you grab him by the shoulders and press your lips to his. His eyes are wide when you pull back, despite the way he relaxed into the kiss on instinct.

“Hey,” you laugh, one hand trailing up to the back of his neck. “I love you, too.”

The excited smile that spreads across his face is slow and hesitant, like he can’t believe you reciprocate. You pull him back in and feel his grin against your lips, his hands coming to rest at your waist, warm.

“Thank god,” he murmurs between breaths. “Because I keep almost accidentally saying it, and it was gonna happen sooner or later.”

“Least it didn’t happen over the phone,” you grin, your hand skating down his arm and coming to rest in his.

Sheepishly, he admits, “Almost did. Yesterday.” Your laugh is bright and so is his answering one, and you perch your little stuffed penguin atop the guitar strings and tug Takuma toward the door.

“Okay, lover boy. Back to the outside world.”

“Lover boy, huh?” he teases. “Kay, pretty girl.”

“Couple of cheesy ass romantics we are.”

“Mm.” He presses a kiss to your temple, the action so casual and unthinking you want to melt. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The second you step back into the living room, Yuta grabs you by the elbow and presses a Wii remote into your hand.

“Oh, no. Yuta—”

The song’s been chosen for you, and Toge has passed the remote to Maki, who looks like she’d rather die than give a rousing performance of TiK ToK by Ke$ha.

“Well, at least it’s you,” she says. Toge tries to discreetly pull his phone out, but Maki gives him a death glare that could send a grown man to his grave. He nearly drops it in his hurry to shove it back into his pocket.

You snort, patting Maki sympathetically on the shoulder. “Let’s kick ass.”

Three hours later, everyone has somewhat settled down, sprawled across furniture and countertops and the carpeted floor. Yuta’s grabbed an acoustic from the basement and it’s being passed around, goofy Christmas songs overlapping with the still-spinning record player.

You enrolled here with the intention of building a new life, finding a new purpose—new faces, new music, a new place to call home. And you feel like you’ve found it. This is the point of college. You’re surrounded by the best people you’ve ever known, and your heart is practically overflowing with how much you fucking love them all.

After all, your heart is not a finite thing. You’ve just got an endless supply of affection, and you’re not scared of it.

Love is the right word, you think, letting your head fall onto Takuma’s shoulders, legs tucked up beneath you on the couch.

“I love you,” you whisper, just to say it. When he whispers your name, your real name, in the shell of your ear, something in your chest sparks a little. He makes it sound like a song.

“I love you, too.”

directory | prev.

jjk taglist open: just send me a message!

@shutuppeter @mikikkoo @reactwithjan @theclassbookworm @lilactaro @bisforbuse @risararelywrites @idkidk32 @gojodickbig @stargazing-with-choso @anonymity-222 @honeyyhuggs

a/n: that’s a wrap on out of my mind! ahh! i loved this one a lot, and it has so much spinoff potential i’m going a little crazy with it—keep an eye out for the megumi spinoff dropping soon. if you want to be alerted when it drops, lmk and i’ll put you on the jjk taglist. also, greta wrote a sukuna spinoff here—go read!

@bitchkay i need you to know your reblog tags give me life and you were fucking RIGHT ON THE MONEY with these developments

i’m not sure if i’ll start writing other fandoms or not—if y’all would want to see attack on titan or blue lock do let me know!

[amuyyi]

recess .

synopsis; you were an ideal student. obedient, quiet, educated, and experienced. oh haewon was not. immature and childish, yet still above you academically and with everyone wrapped around her finger. everyone except you. you refuse to be reeled in by her natural charm and hope to make it out of this project alive, with or without her.

trope; non idol!haewon x fem!reader, sort of academic rivals to lovers, uni au, fluff,

wc; 5.1k

cw; some swearing

a/n; just wanted to write something a little silly :3 seeing haewon with kids is so </3 didnt proofread again and im zzzz

“… and Song y/n, your partner will be Oh Haewon.”

“WHAT?!” A pair of shrill voices rang out throughout the classroom, causing not only the students but also the professor to jump at the sudden sound. 

You wildly grip at the pen within your hand, the plastic material beneath your fingers creaking and threatening to break at any second. No. There's no way you’re paired up with her.

Oh Haewon, second year university student, business major, and the bane of your existence. 

She is loud, immature, annoying, always out partying, a chronic class-skipper, never pays attention during lectures, and never actually talks about the material during discussion. She claims that everything she does is a form of “networking,” but you don't buy it. It's all just an excuse to keep on slacking off. Despite this, almost everybody who came across Oh Haewon’s path practically fell in love with her at first sight. 

Everyone except you. 

The worst part about it all? Was the fact that she was seemingly the best performing student out of all the classes you two ended up taking together. She somehow managed to even beat you. No matter how good you do during exams or projects, or how long you dedicate to studying, Haewon always manages to get a higher score. You don’t think she even studies!

You, Song y/n, were a perfect student. Business major, second year, and valedictorian of your graduating high school class. You were quiet, but confident, you always turned your assignments in on time and dedicated many hours of rigorous study time for all of your classes. You held a paid internship on campus as well as an executive board position within a business club on campus and a volunteer organization as well. The odds were entirely in your favor.

Your horrified gaze slowly shifts towards the other girl from across the room, who sat in her seat with her hands dug deep within her dark bobbed hair. Seems like Haewon wasn't all too fond of the idea of being your partner either.

Timidly raising your hand, you try to speak up, try to fight for better treatment for you and your sanity, but the professors ice cold glare cuts you off as he speaks,

“As of now, partner assignments are final. If there are genuine issues between partners that hinder either one's ability to create an effective marketing strategy, come to me in a week. No sooner. I specifically hand picked your partners for a reason.” 

You silently slump back down into your seat, defeated, and you can hear a faint thump from across the classroom. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Haewon’s face buried within her desk. Must’ve slammed her head into the table at the news. You would have done the same if you cared as little for your image as Haewon did.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The sound of snickering and nails quickly tapping against a phone screen was all you could hear within the silent study room. Your eyebrow twitches irritably as you try to focus on the powerpoint slide in front of you, but the words on the screen seem to melt into one another as you hear the girl slam her hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh. 

Unable to subdue your temper, you slam your laptop screen shut, the sound bouncing off the rooms walls as Haewon jumps within her seat, nearly dropping her phone as she stares at you with comically wide eyes. 

“Are you serious right now, Haewon? I haven’t even seen you actually add anything to the presentation since we got here.” 

The shorter girl rolls her eyes as she leans back in her chair, avoiding your gaze as she responds, “We already established who’s doing what, I can just do it later,” She shrugs, and the careless sight irritates you to no end. “You do the more technical stuff like research, budgeting, or whatever,  while I do the stuff that actually matters like target audience analysis and promotion– ‘cause I highly doubt you know how to actually charm potential investors with that stick up your a–”

Heat rapidly rushes to your face as you lunge forward across the table, hand slamming onto the table as you stick your finger in Haewon’s face to cut off her sentence. “That is just… So… Disgusting!! How can you even speak to me like that?!” 

You knew how to socialize and talk to people…! It's just that nobody ever wanted to stick around, that's all… And you preferred it that way, actually. Nobody can drag you down if you simply stick to your numbers and graphs, no people involved.

Haewon snickers at your response as you sit back down, rubbing your temples as you try to steady your breathing, a bit embarrassed that you allowed yourself to snap like that in front of her of all people..

“Look, if you were just going to do it all at home, why are you still here?” You try to speak in a neutral tone, but it was difficult to remain composed after your outburst. You can feel your eyebrow twitching once again as you speak.

A sinister smirk forms on her lips as she finally looks you in the eye. “‘cause I know it pisses you off.” 

You have to firmly bite the inside of your cheek to the point where you worry about drawing blood in order to hold yourself back from tackling this girl and beating her to a pulp right then and there. Taking a deep breath, you simply open your laptop and get back to organizing the format of the presentation in silence. Fine then. She can go on and be that way and be uncooperative. What did it matter to you? It seemed like you had to do most of the work, as always. From above the top of your laptop, you can spot Haewon rolling her eyes once again and resume texting whoever may be taking her attention away on the phone.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

Unfortunately, Haewon was not as incapable as you expected her to be. She actually put some effort into her parts of the project, and they were actually pretty good. She knew exactly what people wanted, and even proposed ideas you never would have thought to be effective on your own. Haewon was a people’s person, and people with that kind of natural charm make it far within the world of business. Asking to change partners would prove inefficient for you.

You’d never tell her that to her face though. 

For the rest of the month, you and Haewon had come to a mutual agreement. Meet once a week on Wednesdays, around 2-4 PM at the business building on campus. Work on the project, then leave. More often than not, the two of you would work in silence, and you simply chose to not make any comments if she happened to be on her phone giggling to herself during the session. She wasn’t worth it. Besides, you had other things to worry about. Upcoming midterms, exec board event planning, your internship. It was a lot, but you could handle it as long as everything went according to your precise and calculated schedule.

Haewon had been pretty respectful of your established meeting time for the past three weeks, but of course, something had to come up when week four came around. Right when you had another major presentation for your business club to prepare for as well. You had been settled down into the study room you always rented out every Wednesday tapping away at your laptop when your phone vibrated. Unusual. You had do not disturb on. 

Oh Haewon [13:55] – hey

Oh Haewon [13:55] –  i wont be able to make it to the business building on time today

Oh Haewon [13:55] – i would ask to rain check but i know ull throw a fit bc i ruined ur schedule or sum

Oh Haewon [13:55]  – so can u just meet me at the child development lab instead?

… Child development laboratory? Your eyebrows knit together as you stare at the text on your screen. What could she possibly be doing there?

Come to think of it, you don’t really know much about Haewon to begin with. You tried to rack your brain for any information about your class partner outside of the obvious, and… Nothing. You knew nothing of her hobbies, interests, actual activity outside of her public outings. Not that she really mattered or interested you in the slightest, but the idea of simply being out of the loop with someone who played a major part in your weekly schedule made you a bit… Uncomfortable?

Sighing, you begin to pack up your belongings. She could have at least told you this before you already arrived and got settled in the private study room. That's what you get for being 30 minutes early to everything, you suppose. You now either have to move everything in your schedule back, or do a whole revamp of the entire week. You take a breath. It’ll be fine. 

If your memory serves you correctly (in which it always does) the next bus that arrives will take you near the lab. An annoyed huff leaves your lips as you zip up your bag. So much for routine.

Your phone rings out one more time.

Oh Haewon [14:07] — skasdkfj apple kjj k

You’re convinced Oh Haewon has officially gone crazy.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

After hopping off the bus and walking in whatever direction Google Maps told you to go, you eventually found yourself at the doors of a building you’ve only ever occasionally passed by on walks. It had a mural of multiple colorful images along its walls, from a giant sun with a smiley face to different kinds of flowers and other doodles scribbled on the brick. Your eyes shift towards the side, where a fenced in play area lay. The sounds of multiple children laughing and screaming made a small smile form on your lips, and you couldn’t help but approach the edge of the fence to watch the young ones play.

You weren’t all too big on kids, more focused on your own academics and staying afloat while in university, but the sight of them still managed to soften your harsh demeanor. They were so innocent and pure, you sometimes wish you could go back in time and relive your childhood once more. You catch sight of a little girl chasing another, flower in hand. The both of them laughing excitedly before one screamed out, “let's go show Haewon-unnie!!” 

Haewon-unnie?

Cocking your head to the side in confusion, you watch as the pair of girls scamper towards the wall of the building, where a very preoccupied Haewon remains, squatting down while a horde of children literally climb all over her. One of the kids had a hold of her phone, and another was choking her, his arms wrapped around her neck in an attempt to dangle off of her like some sort of monkey bar. 

You would’ve laughed at the sight if it didn’t look like Haewon was on the brink of actually getting taken out by a mass of children.

“Haewon?” You call out.

The smothered girl’s head whips towards the direction of your voice, though she struggled to exactly spot you as one of the little girls started to cover her eyes very aggressively as she begged for a turn to play with Haewon.

“Y-Y/n?” She squeaks out, gently shaking the climbing kids off her as she meets you at the fence, one of the kids in her arms as the rest of the kids flock after her. It almost looked like she was a mother duck with her little ducklings. 

The child in her arms was holding a rolled up pillbug, and you find yourself incing away at the sight of the isopod, a bit deterred from bugs. “Hey,” Haewon simply greets, looking a bit exhausted, but you couldn’t tell if it was from the kids or the sight of you.

“Hey…” you greet back awkwardly, looking down at all of the kids by Haewons feet. You had no idea how old they were— honestly you had no idea how kids of specific ages were supposed to look like, but with how these kids were acting, you assumed they were possibly around kindergarten age? 

Each and every kid had something very interesting to say.

“Haewon-unnie, can you please play pretend with us? We need a dog!!”

“Haewon-noona, look at this dead mantis I found!!”

“Haewon-unnie, who's that?? She's reaaallllyy pretty !! Can she play with us?”

“Yeah yeah!! Can she? Huh??”

Haewons face immediately flushes red as she uses her free hand to cover one of the little girl’s face in its entirety as she goes, “Hyunjoo, shush!”

You cover your mouth with your hand to hide the smile forming on your lips, “So… Is this what's stopping you from being able to meet today?”

An exasperated sigh escapes Haewons lips as she nods, “I can't leave until one of the workers or researchers on shift turns up and it's been like an hour and nobody has shown.”

A small frown tugs on your lips as you listen to what Haewon has to say, watching as multiple children tug at the hem of her shirt from every direction, and one was even trying to untie her shoe. Haewon looked.. Helpless, albeit a bit desperate as well. None of this was your problem really, worst case scenario you just had to do Haewon’s half of the work that was meant to be completed today. Yet you still find yourself looking between the overwhelmed Haewon and the kids and feel a sense of familiarity towards the circumstance… You can't believe you were doing this. 

“I.. Can probably help you out until someone arrives.”

Haewons eyes widen as the kid in her arms tries to feed her the pillbug, in which she arches her head away as she speaks, “Really? I wont be messing up your perfectly punctual schedule you have for today? I bet you had to make some sacrifices to come here.” She teases near the end of her sentence, and you feel your face heating up once again.

“I don't….!” You exhale, “Have a schedule…” You lie through your gritted teeth before shaking your head, “Look, do you want my help or not? The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get back to–”

“The project, yeah yeah I know. That's all it is with you, isn't it?”

Offended, you open your mouth to retort until Haewon opens up the fence gate to allow you in, immediately sending around two or three children your way, tugging at your hands, shirt, and pant legs as they guide you inside.

“Don’t be too rough with her, guys!”

For the next hour or so, you had learned a lot whilst working with the children at the lab.

For starters, you had learned that Hyunjoo had a crush on Jeonghyun last week, but now has a crush on Hwan after Jeonghyun accidentally spilt grape juice on her dress. Also, Bora and Somin are best friends, but only one of them got invited to Kiwoo’s birthday party on Saturday, so there's some unresolved tension in the air.

Alongside the lives of these children at the facility, you also learned a bit about Haewon. 

“Yeah, I spend my free time volunteering here when I don’t have class. There's not a lot of teachers here who research, and there's even less students majoring in child education or anywhere else in a similar, so I figured it’d be nice to help out while my schedule is still free,” Haewon says while sat down in a comically small chair, watching as a small girl pours muddy dirt water from a toy teapot into her even tinier toy teacup. 

“A lot of parents within the town need a place to drop their kids off while they work their usual nine to fives, and the children's education department needs all the help it can get. Sometimes I skip class to cover shifts just so these kids aren't alone… And sometimes I just skip because I’m hungover,” she chuckles.

You feel your heart melt a bit at Haewon’s words as you hold one end of a jump rope, aiding the two girls from before in their game. Haewon was actually… Sweet? At least with kids. They all seemed to naturally flock to her, and she had no problem talking and interacting with them in return. You on the other hand were a bit awkward with the kids, but it was alright because kids don’t think anything is awkward at this age. This wasn't the lazy, inconsiderate asshole you’ve been despising for the past year.

Staying silent, you nod as you simply listen to Haewon ramble on, sharing little tid bits and stories of her life you never would have heard otherwise.

“I tried to get my roommate, Jinsol, to join me one day and it went to actual shi– I mean, it went horribly,” Haewon corrected herself with a very indiscreet cough before continuing on, “They all ignored her! When she tried talking to them she made the kids cry. She didn't even do anything and they already didn't like her!” She laughs out as she makes her way to tend to another kid, a little boy latched onto her leg as she goofily limps her way across the playground.

“Still, I’m surprised they like you so much. You’re normally such a stick in the mud. Maybe the kids see something I don't.”

Furrowing your brows, you look back at Haewon, but she was already preoccupied trying to separate two boys that were trying to make beetles fight in a plastic bucket. See something she doesn't? What does she even mean by that?

The children had the both of you running around like headless chickens. A pair of girls wanted to play house with you two, and assigned you and Haewon as “mom” and “dad.” Needless to say, it was awkward, the first interactions between you and the shorter girl being rather stiff and tense– but you also learned that you are actually an incredible child actor once you got into it, and played the role of “mommy” perfectly in (all of) their eyes.  

Another pair of boys wanted to use you and Haewon for a piggy back ride race. Apparently, being cooped up inside studying all of the time did not make you the most fit person, and Haewon quite literally left you and your piggyback partner in the dust. You couldn’t be mad about it though, she the kid looked happy.

In due time, a fellow university student finally arrived, apologizing profusely for the tardiness as Haewon simply waves her off, insisting it wasn’t a big deal and she wore out the kids to make things easier for the next shift.

The pair of you wave goodbye to the kids as you close the fence gate behind you, dusting off your hands as Haewon lets out a sigh of relief, taking a moment to relax and stretch as a cool breeze picks up. You decide to close your eyes and take in the peace as well. You don't know when was the last time you really did anything “fun” or even let loose for that matter. The kids were a lot, but it was refreshing. Different.

The sound of Haewons stomach growling breaks the comforting silence, and you open your eyes, looking at the shorter girl with a quirked brow.

“Have you not eaten yet?”

“Ahah… No.” She sheepishly comments, “Normally I grab something to bite between my shift and our study sesh on Wednesday, but I’ve been helping out for hours by now.”

Unexpectedly, a wave of concern washes over you as she speaks. 

“It doesn’t matter though, let's find somewhere to finish up the last part of our project and we can finally leave each other alo–”

“You’re going to eat.” The words almost seemed foreign coming out of your mouth, or perhaps they felt that way because you were speaking them to Haewon.

Confused, Haewon stares at you as if you’ve grown a second head. “What?”

“You’re going to eat,” you repeat matter of factly, “You can't focus on the project if you’re hungry.” 

Quickly tapping into your phone and looking into google maps, you were quickly able to find a restaurant nearby for the two of you to dine at. 

“There's a restaurant about a 10 minute walk away from here. It closes at 7. We’re going.”

Before Haewon can even get a proper response out, you had already grabbed onto her wrist. You really didn’t want to think too hard about what you were doing… What are you even doing? Shaking your head, you drag her down the street, the bob haired girl nearly tripping on her own two feet before she falls in line next to you, just about as confused and unsure as you were.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The walk to the restaurant was… Fine. Albeit a bit awkward. Haewon wasn’t really expecting you to take her somewhere to do anything but study, and you weren't really expecting yourself to do that either. Apparently Haewon was the type to strike up conversation when things become awkward– unfortunately for the both of you, you were the complete opposite. So for the next 10 minutes, Haewon would make some off comment and you would simply mumble or hum in response.

Soon enough the two of you arrive at the restaurant and its definitely more on the high-end side. Dark yet warm mood lighting illuminated the interior, and the pair of you were seated near a quiet corner of the establishment, a charming bell shaped light hovering above the two of you as you blink. This setup was a bit more… Romantic, than expected; but if the food was as good as the place looked, you decide it was worth looking past.

You were handed menus as well as lemon water, and you peek over the paper to look at the girl across from you.

“Order whatever you want, I'll pay.”

A dry laugh escapes Haewons lips as she places the menu back down on the table, “oh no you’re not.”

Her response catches you off guard, and it 100% was shown in the contortions on your face. You were certain she would have jumped on the opportunity for free food. This girl was simply full of surprises, wasn't she?

“You helped me out today with the kids, I’m paying you back like the gentlewoman I am.” Haewon’s statement was firm, but you were stubborn.

“Oh yeah? With what money?”

“Hey!! I work for my money! You don't know me as well as you think you do, y/n.”

“Uh huh… so tell me then. Who is the true Oh Haewon?”

After placing your orders (you had gotten malatang while Haewon very stubbornly got herself an order of galbi and a strawberry lemonade) Haewon props her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands as she smirks, “what do you want to know?”

You guys then proceeded to spend the next two hours eating and chatting. Turns out Haewon wasn't all too bad company when she wasn’t existing to purely spite you. Haewon shared many interesting things about herself, like how she actually doesn’t like drinking at the endless networking parties she attends, or how she was actually fluent in spanish, or how she had no idea what she wanted to do the first year of college, but ended up transferring into business because it was the only thing that simply clicked for her. After some pressure, she even caved in, reluctantly admitting to be… Envious of you?

“Me??”

“Uh, yeah! I mean I do well in my classes and stuff, but you practically reek of academic perfection— it's actually kind of sickening,” she snorts, taking a bite into the meat on her plate as you roll your eyes. “You’re basically every professors favorite ideal student.”

“Me?? The favorite??” You scoff, “I thought you were the favorite! You act out and talk about anything in class and the professors still love you regardless! You get nearly perfect grades on every exam and have a million friends in every department, you don’t even have to try!”

“Seriously? No way. I know I'm funny and all, but I know the professors are disappointed I wasn't involved with any extracurriculars or anything. Probably think I'm wasted potential.”

“Well I know for sure they were concerned I have like, no friends or connections. That's wasted potential.” 

“Wait— do you think—“

A moment of realization hits both of you like a truck.

“Ohhhh… that's why professor Wang paired us up.”

“Yup.”

A short pause passes between the two before you snort, holding back a laugh as Haewon giggles, running a free hand through her hair as she shakes her head, “That's so dumb…”

Allowing a comfortable silence to pass, you finish up your food. It was good, and you kept your eyes out for the server to approach so you could pay. Haewon had excused herself to the bathroom, and you paid no mind to it as you absentmindedly scroll through your phone, remaining attentive to your surroundings as you do so. 

After a few minutes, Haewon returns, a very untrustworthy smile curled on her lips as you squint at the sight. What is she trying to get at?

“Alright, let's head out!”

You look up at Haewon from your seat in confusion, “but I didnt pa—“

That familiar smug grin was plastered on Haewon’s face again. “I paid for it already.”

“What?! How? When?” 

“I didn’t actually use the bathroom.” She snickers while leaning on the table, arms crossed in satisfaction.

Haewon seemed to have more manners than you expected as well, it seemed. She beat you at your own game, as she always seems to do. You’re left there shocked for what felt like a whole minute before you shake your head, chuckling dryly as you get out of your seat. 

“Okay Oh Haewon, you win this time. Let's go.”

Haewon wiggles her eyebrows teasingly as she follows you out the doors, “‘this time,’ huh? Are you implying there will be a second time?” 

You raise your hand to silence the shorter girl, and she can't help but laugh at the gesture. You bite your lip to hold back your own laughter, but a silent puff of air still manages to escape your feeble attempts.

Her eyes light up as she notices this. “Aha! I saw that! Come on now, y/n. Why are you holding back on me? What? Are you afraid to show any signs you might like me a little now?”

Under normal circumstances, you’d find yourself seething with rage at the other girl's comments. You’d think to yourself: who was she to poke fun at you? She's nothing but rude, childish, and every other insult above. Under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t be allowing yourself to laugh freely into the air, the sky above you and Haewon slowly morphing from blue to orange as you finally release all of the tension pent up within you. 

But this wasn’t a normal circumstance. You honestly had no idea how you even really ended up here to be honest. You were supposed to be at home by now, typing away at yet another project for some big club or company in your large sea of responsibilities. Instead, you find yourself walking down the sidewalk on the outskirts of campus with no other than Oh Haewon, your (now seemingly one sided) academic rival, laughing away, and actually thoroughly enjoying her company.

The pair of you find yourselves back at the lab, but the air was quiet this time, the stars above beginning to emerge from the blanket of night. You lean your back back on the fence, arms propped up behind you as you look back at Haewon as she stands in front of you. You weren't that much taller than her, maybe by an inch or so, but the fact that she had to crane her neck ever so slightly in order to make eye contact with you gave you a teeny tiny ego boost. 

You can’t believe you were smiling right now, and it was because of the girl in front of you. “Y’know, I thought I had you pegged, but turns out I was wrong. You’re not all too bad when you decide to be.”

Haewon grins playfully back at you, absentmindedly fiddling with her fingers as she nods, “You’re not as prissy and snobby as I thought you were either.”

You simply hum in response, taking a moment to look back up at the stars scattered throughout the sky. If you didn’t go out tonight, you would've missed all of this. You can't remember the last time you actually took a moment to enjoy the night. It was beautiful.

“So… About this ‘next time’ you mentioned…” 

Your gaze shifts back down to Haewon, and you notice she's inched closer. Smiling, you remain leaning on the fence, undeterred. “What about it?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, y/n. Are you saying you want to see me again even after this project is done?”

It's finally your turn to be smug. “And what if I am?”

Haewon is caught off guard. “...Then… I would also like that.”

Your smile softens as you take one of her hands in yours. Haewon’s hands were surprisingly small, and also quite soft. You slowly raise it to your lips and plant a soft kiss on the back of it, letting the feeling linger for a moment before pulling away, still holding her hand in yours as you look at Haewon. Her pale skin turns bright red for the second time today. A soft laugh leaves your lips at the sight. 

“Cute.”

Unfortunately, your romantic gestures are met with a punch to your side and a flustered groan as Haewon twirls around in an attempt to hide her face. “You really are annoying, you know that?!” She exclaims, already walking in the opposite direction as you chuckle. When was the last time you had fun like this?

“So. Same time next week?” You call out, and you’re very charmingly met with a childish middle finger stuck into the air. With that gesture alone, you already know she’ll make it to the next project meeting right on time.

[bettertwin1]

YES 😭😭😭 YES 😭😭😭😭😭 YURI INFODYMPING ABOUT BUGS AND ANIMALS TO ANYA OUGH IM SICK IM SICK HE NEEDS TO GO TO HIS LOCAL LIBRARU, SEE THAT BOOK FROM HIS CHILDHOOD AND REACTIVATE THAT HYPERFIXATIOJ NOWWWWWWWW

Moot completely unrelated but related to Yuri do you ever think about how he had an intrest in bugs as a kid...I KNOW HIS HOME CANONICALLY HAD LIKE...PICTURES OF HIS SISTER <- ("DO IT FOR HER" 😭😭😭) BUT I LIKE TO THINK...HE COLLECTS AND HAS FRAMED DISPLAYS OF BUGS ON HIS WALLS... PLS SEE MY VISION. <- (HIS SPECIAL INTREST IS BUGS THAT HE CAST ASIDE IN MY FUCKED UP MIND)

I THOUGHT ABOUT SOMETHING SIMILAR TO THIS!!!!!! he is a little animal nerd. A little insect and bug and arachnid nerd. Imagine him doing some inner child healing and picking up his old interests again☹️‼️‼️‼️‼️ Him going outside and looking at insects with Anya and telling her interesting facts about them. (I am getting way too emotional about this cuz i was also that neurodivergent kid who had a special interest in insects and nature. I annoyed the shit out of my elementary school classmates with bug facts, haha)

[chaotic-toasters]

Boomerang

Alanna Kennedy x Teen! R

-----------------------

You don't know why you didn't say anything. You don't know why you didn't tell your mum that you were running out of your ADHD meds, but now you didn't have any more and you'd have to go to training without them.

"Y/N?" She called from the kitchen, voice echoing around the house. "We've gotta go, kiddo."

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," you grumbled. "Hold your horses, mother."

The defender flicked your ear teasingly. "Grumpy today, are we?"

You couldn't help but smile at the goofy grin on her face. "Only when you start yellin' for me even though we're not gonna be late."

The two of you slipped into the car, listening to the radio in an unusual silence.

"You alright there, baby?" your mum asked, glancing over at you where your hands were shaking in your hoodie pocket. "You're quiet today."

"Yeah, I'm good," you dismissed her concerns, twiddling your thumbs under the cover of your comfortable top. "When do you leave for the next Matildas camp?"

The question caught her off guard, making her forget about her previous statement. "In two weeks. You're on the roster, silly."

"Oh," you giggled sheepishly. "I forgot."

The rest of the drive was uneventful, though your mum did take offense to you jumping out of the car before she finished parking once you arrived at training. "Oi! Where you goin'?!"

"To find Hempo!" You yelled back, sprinting into the building to find your best mate at Man City. "She's fun!"

You could practically feel the offense radiating off your mum. "And I'm not?!"

"Eh."

"You cheeky little—"

"Hiii, Hempo!" You jumped on the older girl's back in excitement as she made her way to the changing room, a shit-eating grin on your face as she grunted from the sudden weight.

"Hiii, Y/N," the forward mocked, pushing the door open and carrying you into the room where some of the girls were already gathered. "How are you?"

"I'm good!" You chirped, jumping off of Lauren's back and somersaulting on the floor.

Your teammates paid you no mind, simply thinking you had a bit of extra energy. But as the day went on, you became more hyper and more restless.

"RAHHH!" you screeched, sprinting at Laia. "TIM TAMS!"

A hand snatched the back of your jersey, causing you to jerk back.

"Y/N," Steph scolded. "Calm down."

You grunted, hiding your ever-twitching fingers behind your back. "You and Mum are so boring."

"Her fingers are wiggling." Leila deadpanned.

You spun around, annoyed. "Shut up, Leila!"

Steph tutted disapprovingly. "I think someone didn't take their meds this morning."

Luckily, the whistle blew as the trainers called for a scrimmage, saving you from any further investigation.

Steph opened her mouth to say more, but you ran off to your position and clapped for the game to start. The skipper just shook her head, amused. She'd bring it up to your mum later.

-------------------

It hadn't even been ten minutes. To Steph's defense, you had been much calmer before the scrimmage, but you and Hempo were on opposite teams and your will to beat her only fueled your uncontainable energy.

"WAAAAAHAAAHA!" you yelled, sprinting down the field. "I'M A GONNA WIN!"

"Woahhh, slow down, Waluigi," Chloe reached out to grab you, but you just dodged her hold and continued your charge towards the ball. "Alex! Grab the kid!"

The Brit tried in vain to snatch you by the collar, but you only shook free and shrieked, "SHE'S A RUNNER SHE'S A TRACKSTAAAAR!"

Lauren screamed as you chased after her, leaving the ball abandoned in a futile attempt to shake you off. "WHERE'S ALANNA?! WHERE'S ALANNA?!"

"Seeing the physio," Demi said. "For her ankle."

Lauren screamed again, running like her life depended on it (it did). "GO GET HER! GO GET HER!"

"ARARARARARARARARARUFF!" you barked, your ADHD taking total control of your limbs and vocal cords. "AIAIAIAIAIAIAIAAIAIAIAI!"

Lauren jumped onto Sandy's back, scrambling away from you in a panic. "HELP ME YOU SHITS!"

"Hey, hey, hey," your mum rushed towards you before you could react, arms wrapping around you and holding you in place. "What's the matter, baby? What's going on?"

Your head whipped to the side. "Boomerang!"

She smiled at you worriedly, waddling off to the sidelines with you trapped firmly in her hold. "Yeah, kiddo. You're exactly like a boomerang, flying all over the place."

Steph jogged over as you babbled nonsensically, eyes meeting your mum's. "She didn't take her meds this morning. She was acting like this earlier, and she hasn't had any sugar."

"Aww, kiddo," your mum ran her fingers through your hair, trying to calm you down. "Why didn't take your meds? You know they're important."

Something in your brain briefly turned off the hyperactivity long enough for you to hear the slight disappointment in her voice. "I- I ran out."

"You've gotta tell me before that happens, sweetheart," she murmured, rubbing your temples. "You scared the hell out of Hempo today."

You buried your face into your shoulder, suddenly tired from your rampage. "'m sorry, mum."

"It's okay, kiddo," she assured, suddenly smirking. "It was hilarious."

[pfhwrittes]

have a chunk of tradie!141 for your reading pleasure.

it's fuckin' pourin' down, has been for the last 3 days and the forecast ain't getting any better. thick, claggy muck sucks at the soles of simon's boots, threatening to pull 'em straight off his feet as he crosses the quagmire to slip into the portakabin-cum-office where he knows his skipper'll be.

price is fumin' under his hard hat, his ancient brick of a phone glued to his ear as he barks out demands to whichever poor sod is gettin' an earful off the boss today (probably nik, who straight up refused to drive onto site, stating bold as brass that the wagon would get bogged down, fuck the delay, captain. i'm not hurting my girl for your timetable).

with a disgusted snort price throws the offending phone onto the cluttered desk sending a sheaf of papers careening onto the floor.

"fucks sake, riley. what d'ya want?" price growls out in his direction and simon just lifts a battered eyebrow at the tone. no point gettin' his knickers in a twist over weather but price has always thought himself better than acts of nature and god himself.

"told the lads to put the tools down and go 'ome."

if looks could kill, simon would be buried in a shallow grave under the portaloo. price's face is as stormy as the sky rumbling ominously outside.

"well tell 'em to pick them back up, for fucks sake! we've got a fucking job to do here, simon." price snaps, his patience well and truly gone and it isn't even dinner time by simon's watch.

simon's hi-vis jacket creaks forebodingly as he straightens up.

"no."

there's a beat as simon squares off against his skipper, the unstoppable force of john price smashing against simon's immovable iron will. simon's known john a long fuckin' time and he'll play dirty to keep the crew safe if he has to. john's seen him walk off jobs for less.

price sighs noisily, ruffling the ends of his moustache.

"right then. who're we losing?"

"gaz can't work with the humidity, ale and rudy can't paint if gaz ain't finished the plaster, don't trust soap not to fry 'isself, and flash is sat in the van dryin' out." simon counts off on his fingers.

price's eyebrows hike up to his hairline at the mention of the plumber's apprentice.

"'s matter with flash?"

simon chuckles at the memory of flash covered head to toe in mud after an unfortunate tumble.

"debuted 'is mud-wrestlin' career f'r us."

price snorts out an amused sound and shakes his head. poor sod'll be miserable for the rest of the day without any spare kit to change into.

"right, go on then. tell 'em they can fuck off for the day." price reaches for his abandoned phone, probably to tell the client, some jumped up property developer-slash-social media wanker, that the job's been delayed by the shit weather. (simon doesn't envy him in the slightest, last time he met her she looked him up and down like he was scum and he was tempted to "accidentally" score the side of her flash car with the end of a length of 22mm copper pipe.)

simon offers price a nod and turns towards the door of the 'kabin, hooking the flimsy hood of his jacket over his head.

"oi, riley. you better not have stuck flash in my van."

"nah, stuck 'im in with soap and gaz. i ain't gettin' that shit on our seats."

price's barking laugh follows simon out the door into the pissing rain.

[thetarttfuldickhead]

And say it’s the first summer after Ted left, and it’s one of those rare afternoon when they can all three of them meet up for coffee in that way that they’re doing now, in that way that they’re trying to be:

Friends. Roy and Jamie and Keeley.

So they meet up for coffee, Roy and Jamie arriving together from training to find Keeley already waiting with lattes on a sunny sidewalk not far from her office. “Hello, boys,” she calls. “Almost went across the street for vodka instead of coffee, you wouldn’t believe what this total cock of an agent put me through today—“

And sure there are little silences still, tentative pauses as they each search for the right words or feel for the boundaries yet to be defined. Here, the occasional stillness of an aborted touch; there, the quiet where something just a shade too two-of-them might have been said.

But mostly there is laughter. Fondness and familiarity, both new and rediscovered. Joy in whatever it is that’s taking shape between them.

Jamie needs to leave first – meeting up with the lads at Isaac’s, mandatory bonding, innit, skipper said I couldn’t skip it – and he tosses a couple of notes on the table as he rises from it.

“Have another one on me, yeah?” he says, grinning cheekily and winking at Roy and it really is almost entirely unforced.

“Bye, babe,” Keeley says and her smile is bright as she turns towards him for a hug.

Jamie presses a kiss to her cheek. “Bye, Keeley. Love you.”

Casually, unthinking, because that’s just Jamie’s way, isn’t it, when he’s not busy proving what a soft boy he is not; easily affectionate and expressive. Not trying to make a point, not trying to start a(nother) fight.

Roy knows that. Roy knows that, and so he keeps his mouth shut and his eyebrows calm as Jamie’s eyes flicker towards him when the younger man realises what he’s just said.

A beat, a breath held. Keeley’s gaze on both of them, watchful and wary.

Then Jamie’s eyes clear, taking on a wicked glint as he moves over to Roy’s side and leans down to smack a loud kiss on his cheek.

“Bye, Roy,” he says. “Love you.”

And grinning as gleefully as if he’d just scored an absolute scorcher of a goal, he swaggers off (turning away from Roy quickly enough that his coach won’t have time to see the faintly pink tinge of his cheeks).

Keeley laughs, wide-eyed and delighted. Roy shakes his head, “What a fucking prick.”

He thinks it maybe comes out sounding a lot like I love you too. He's only slightly surprised to find that he doesn’t mind.