#so he's not a friend anymore. he was kinda imaginary in the first place due to being a fictional character though

[fanvoidkeith]

bill cipher get the fuck out of my dreams, man

[brooooswriting]

can you write another tara x reader story!! maybe some fluff or something having to do with ghostface coming back

Trust

Tara Carpenter x reader

This is kinda all over the place but enjoy

You’ve met Tara at college, she immediately fell for your playful but shy personality while you had a resting bitch face sometimes and you were just way to scared to talk to her. The first time she talked to you at the College gym, she needed someone to spot her and you, while you were brushing like crazy, stood behind her and tried not to look at her. From then on she started to randomly show up next to you on your way to class or the cafe. To the point where you finally started being yourself around her and you guys became unbelievably close, at least when it was just you.

Tara’s friends and sister thought you were imaginary, they hadn’t really ever seen you and Tara together and even when they smiled at you you were quick to turn away and power walk away. It made them suspicious of you, which you kinda got but you got anxiety attacks around them so you just kept doing it. “Y/n, we gotta talk” Tara said as she sat down next to you on your bed. “Oh oh” you grinned and looked at her making her smile too. “Sam and the others said that they don’t want me around you anymore, especially with the whole ghost face thing happening” she told you her hand softly grabbing yours, “but I have a plan. We will act like we had a disagreement and that we don’t talk anymore and then, bam, we can meet in secret” she was proud of her plan and you had to be honest it was the best thing that could happen right now so you agreed.

That night Tara went home and threw her backpack around the room before stumping towards the kitchen, “uh, what happened to you Mrs. Grumpy pants?” Mindy laughed causing Anika to poke her, “y/n and I had an argument, she was so rude. God, I’m done with her” she grumbled, “I’m sorry Tara, but there’s something off with her” Chad said placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, “he’s right. But I’m still sorry that it ended like this” Sam added and Anika agreed, the only once’s who didn’t say anything where Ethan and Quinn.

“They totally believed me, can I see you tonight?” -Tara

“Can’t, Ethan decided to invite himself in. I’ve talked to him like twice, don’t have a clue what he wants here”- you

You were really confused what he was doing here, you guys weren’t really friends. “I heard about your fight with Tara and I wanted to see if you needed comfort, she’s a very… specific person” he told you holding out a tissue, “thanks, yeah she is. It was stupid” you answered hoping that he’d leave soon. He didn’t. He kept trying to get you to talk about your opinion on Sam and Tara which seemed weird.

“He only left now, I guess it’s too late for you to come now?” You texted the small brunette who immediately answered, “be there in 10” and she was, she was quickly throwing herself onto your bed after grabbing a hoodie of yours. “What did he want?” She asked as she cuddled into your side, “see if I’m alright after our fight” you answered and kissed her head. “Tara?” You mumbled out as your hand stroked her back, she mumbled a ‘yeah’ which made you continue, “do you trust me?” You asked her, your hand stopping it’s movement on her back, her head lifted so she could look at you. “Of course I do, why?” She asked testing her chin on your chest, “just wanted to know” you shrugged and kissed her softly.

The next few days you kept it on the low, you’ve met in secret so nobody would see you two together, it was working out okay, but due to the ghostface attack it was getting harder and harder to meet up, especially since Ethan was constantly around you.

“Finally” Tara mumbled as you slipped into her dorm immediately attacking your mouth with hers, while pushing you on to the bed. Your hands glided over her body but were interrupted when her phone rang, “it’s Ethan” she mumbled out as she looked at it. “Ignore it” her lips immediately found yours again. So she did, if she had the option to kiss her or talk to Ethan it was obvious what she’d choose. You were sitting in her bed making out when you heard a knock, followed by a “it’s me” from Ethan causing Tara to groan. “Go hide” she mumbled before calling out to the boy “give me a second” she used the time you needed to hide yourself to fix her hair. When you were hidden in the closet she finally opened the door.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” She asked him not moving to let him inside, “well you weren’t answering your phone and i was bored so I decided to come and look for you” she cursed herself for not answering the phone. “Oh, I’m sorry but I don’t really feel good and I still have school stuff to do. Maybe Chad has time?” She tried to be polite while making the conversation end as quickly as possible. The boy just grunted, “it’s smells like y/n’s perfume in here” he mumbled looking around the room. She froze for a second before finding a lie, “really? Ive got a new room spray, the guys next door are constantly smoking weed and it smells terrible in here then” he seemed to believe her lie and said his goodbye.

“He’s gone, you can come out” she said as the door closed, the closet door opening. “What did he want?” You asked and sat on her bed, “wanted to hang out. Why does he know exactly how your perfume smells?” She asked with a raised eyebrow, “I don’t know. Why?” It wasn’t hard to see that you weren’t really telling the truth. She only answered with a stretched okay, looking at you suspiciously.

The next day the core four sat at the dinner table, Tara constantly being on your phone as she tried to reach you. “I’ve been sleeping with cute boy from next door” Sam suddenly said causing them all to cheer and laugh until they all got send a picture from an unknown phone, it was Quinn getting stabbed. All of them sprang into action, Tara immediately running towards the room but Chad pulled her back and out of the door while Mindy, Sam and Anika were left inside.

You only answered your phone an hour after the attack, nobody died but it was close. Anika nearly fell and had severe injuries, she nearly bled out on scene. “It’s not your fault Sam” cute boy said as he stood next to Sam and Tara, “someone took out knives so we couldn’t defend ourselves. Thank god you send us that picture” she mumbled throwing the cigarette to the ground. “I didn’t send you a picture, I only noticed when you guys were screaming” The sibling looked at each other, confusion written all over their faces, if it wasn’t him, who has it been? The younger carpenters phone rang making everybody flinch, “sorry, just a text from a classmate” she lied, it was a text from you. Asking what she wanted from you as she had texted you several times.

“Where have you been?” Chad screamed at Ethan as he pushed him against a wall, “I had Econ, you can ask everybody from that class. Here, let me call y/n” he said quickly raising his hands in front of him. It made Chad let him go.

“Wanna meet up later? You can tell me what happened” you texted the brunette the next day, sitting at the edge of some park bank on campus. “Can’t. I have a lecture right now and Gale wants to show us something, Kirby and Sam also aren’t letting me out of sight” she texted back making you sigh, “alright be careful” you were about to go to your dorm when you met Ethan. “Y/n, I gotta tell you something”

“Tara” you called out as you saw her and her friends on campus, she turned confused. “So you’ve been fucking him the whole time behind my back huh? That was the fucking reason you wanted to ‘keep it on the low’ wasn’t it!? I can’t believed I ever wanted to be with someone like you” you screamed at her, hurt lacing your voice, “y/n” she mumbled out trying to shush you, there was a crowd forming around you. “No, god I wish you and your psycho sister would have stayed on woodsborow and killed the people there and not the ones here. It’s been you guys all along hasn’t it!? God, I bet you also cheated on Amber with him. No wonder she wanted to kill uoi” There were tears forming in Tara’s eyes but you just kept going. But the slow blinks and the way you tapped the rhythm of her favorite song on the back of your hand made her suspicious. “I don’t ever wanna see you slut or your boy toy again” you turned and walked away, happy that Kirby held Chad back and Gale held Sam back. Otherwise you’d probably be dead.

Tara didn’t talk to anyone the whole day, she looked terrible and it hurt Sam to see her like this but she told her that you’d be bad news all along. “I’m sorry about what happened” she mumbled as she fell into step next to her, “it’s okay. I should have listened to you” she mumbled wiping her tears away. “You guys ready?” Kirby asked from the truck where she had all her stuff ready to track the call.

“Hello Sam” the voice from the other side of the phone said, “why are you doing this?” She asked looking around for anyone who could be the person. “Why are you being so unfriendly? I thought we could chat a bit, I mean, how’s your boy toy from next door?” Sams face fell, “and how is poor Tara? She lost her precious girlfriend didn’t she? They were cute when they were sneaking around, thinking that nobody would notice it” Tara’s eyes reared up again while sams jaw clenched. “Who are you?” She asked again making the person on the other side of the line groan. “You’re no fun” then the line went dead. “I got it, it’s somewhere on the west side” Kirby said, “Gale”

When they arrived Gale was already on the edge of bleeding out but the doctor still found a pulse making them let out a relieved sigh. “We gotta figure out who this is” chad said as all of them sat at the hospital. “He wants me, maybe I should just give myself to him” the older carpenter said making everybody jump up in protest. “Not happening” Tara said, Mindy and Anika nodding in agreement. “Can’t we just go somewhere safe?” Ethan asked, “no, he’d find us everywhere” Tara said, “but we can use that” she continued and explained her idea, quickly calling Kirby. Everybody was so focused on Tara that they didn’t notice Ethan also texting someone.

They decided to use public transportation as itd be harder for ghostface to attack them. And it was, at least until they got separated due to cute boy. But Ethan texted Chad that they’d be in the next train and would arrive 10 minutes later. When the first part arrived and Sam finally explained to Danny that he’d have to stay outside they met Kirby on the inside. “Let’s go look around” Tara said to Chad as Sam tried to get a hold of Mindy. “Uh look, Candy” Chad laughed as he pulled some old ass candy from the counter making Tara laugh, “you want these” she grinned unbelievably close to him, “nah, you can keep them” she mumbled looking up at him. “I’m sorry about y/n” he said as he looked down at her. “It’s okay, some things just aren’t meant to be” she answered before she was suddenly pulled back by ghostface. She whipped around and hit him before Chad and her took off trying to find Sam. “Ghostface” Tara said grabbing Sams hand and pulling her with them. They ran through several corridors trying to find a way out until a second one appeared cutting Chad off. Both of them started aggressively stabbing the boy causing Tara to scream out, Sam pulling her away. Once they found a bit of peace the older girls phone went off, “it’s Kirby Sam, she isn’t even with the FBI anymore. Went crazy they said” Wayne informed them.

Shortly after a ghostface appeared in front of them, then a second one and suddenly Kirby who pointed her gun at the two masked killers. “Don’t even act like it Kirby, we know you’re with them” Tara said, her voice breaking but before someone could say something the FBI agent was knocked out by one of the ghostfaces who then circled around the sisters. “Well well well” the sound came from the entrance showing officer Bailey. “This is nice isn’t it” he said as he walked closer, both ghostfaces coming to stand next to him. “It’s you” Sams mouth fell open in Realization. “Of course it’s me” he grinned “and this one here” he pointed to the right “is my son”. The ghost face pulled his mask off revealing Ethan. “If… that only leaves… Mindy?” Sams voice broke when she said her friends name. “Surprise” Quinn suddenly said, causing both of them to gasp as they believed she was dead. “How?” They asked causing the three of them to laugh. “Well, you know. Some fake blood and a different corpse. You wouldn’t believe the things they let you do when your daughter just died. But this isn’t even our best surprise” he said as a third ghostface appeared and again Sam feared that she’d find Mindy under the mask. “Look, when you Tara chose lovely Chad by cheating on poor little y/n, who did everything for you, we decided to choose y/n” and with that Tara’s biggest fear was confirmed. She has never felt so betrayed in her whole life, the person she loved so dearly and who knew about her trauma was doing something like this to her. It was you who hid under the mask a wicked smile on your face. “You should have listened to them, remember what I told you a couple of days ago” you said, your left eye twitching giving her a sign.

“Well, you’re probably asking yourself why we are doing this” Wayne started his speech looking up at the screen where a video of young Richie played. Quinn was watching it with him while Ethan watched Tara, making it your place to watch Sam who glared at you so hard you’d think she could actually kill you like this. You circled the girl, slowing when you were in front of her turning the knife in your hand so the handle showed her way. She looked at you confused but then quickly grabbed the knife while you pulled a second one out so they wouldn’t notice. “He was a limb dick” Sam started making fun of Richie which made his sibling walk towards her giving you a second to check on Tara who was looking at you with hate and sadness. You circled her, waiting for some kind of signal from Sam. The signal came as Sam stabbed Quinn, you acted like you were so perplex that you lost Tara cursing a bit when you noticed. “Go get them” Wayne screamed making the sibling run to them. They carpenters were climbing a railing when the police officer suddenly fired a gun causing Tara to slip and hold onto sams hand. She was slipping more and more while Ethan stood under her, “I’ve always wanted to stick something inside of you Tara” the sentence made you snap. You ran towards him kicking the weapon out of his hand, shortly before Tara jumped down into his arms. “Die a fucking virgin” she stabbed him into the mouth twisting the knife slowly. “Are you alright?” You immediately asked when her feet touched the ground, “don’t you dare even try to speak to me” she growled as she looked up to Sam who just shot Quinn in the head. “Tara come on” you tried but quickly figured out that Sam was in trouble so you ran up the stairs and tackled Wayne to the ground before he could hurt Sam. You were wrestling with him on the ground, “go Sam” you screamed trying to keep the man with the knife down but it was no use. The moment Sam was out of your vision you gave up, causing the man to stab you several times to the point you became unconscious. The last thing you remembered was a blonde woman knocking him off of you.

“Guys guys I figured out who it is” Mindy called out as she arrived at the scene, “it’s Wayne and Ethan” she said proudly, “and Quinn. Long story” Sam added, “and Y/n” Tara added with a small voice. “Well, you know I wasn’t really a big fan of her but she wasn’t really a part of this. She was the one who gave me the knife and she saved me from Bailey” Sam told her with a hand on her shoulder while Tara teared up. “She’s dead now anyways” she was sad, even though you betrayed her she loved you and she will never have the chance to tell you that.

“We got another one, barely alive. We need to go now” the sisters turned to find you on a Carrier, unconscious with several stab wounds and bruises. “Wait” Tara screamed out and climbed into the ambulance. You guys had a lot to talk about.

You woke up a day later, “am I dead?” You mumbled out as you looked around the white room until you heard someone chuckle. “No you’re not” Tara said with a small smile. “I guess we should talk huh” you said as you saw the tears in her eyes.

You had a lot to explain…

———————————————————————————

Part two with the “explanation”?

[huenjin]

the study of relationships.

summary — college team's volleyball captain and your roommate-cum-best friend, hwang hyunjin argues with you over guys being better than girls in relationships to help you out of one. or in which hyunjin is in love with you for years now and he finally decides that maybe he doesn't want that best friend tag anymore.

pairing — hwang hyunjin x reader, ft. minho

genre — fluff, angst | volleyball!au, f2l!au, roommates!au

rating — nc-17

word count — 15k words

note — kinda excited to post this very long plotted fic on here because first long fic for skz !!! this fic is brought to you by hq, hyunjin's long blond hair and b me mv that we never got. please please do send me constructive criticism so that i can improve on my writing for this community. happy reading!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa."

Your best friend, Hwang Hyunjin yells at the top of his voice, pitch lower in precision as you open the door and slam it shut forcefully, the sound loud enough to bounce to him clearly. Your feet storm hard against the wooden flooring of your apartment, sound bouncing off from that again and Hyunjin pauses his video game to look at you.

It's a familiar sight. Hyunjin sighs.

"Hey," he tries catching your attention but he fails. You storm into your room, hair flailing behind you in your anger, eyes blurry with the angst you feel that wraps slowly around your heart. You walk into the room and slam the door shut, so loud that a chip of wood breaks from the top of the door and falls down.

"Jesus Christ! Y/N—" Hyunjin yells to no one in particular. However, he drops his controller to the side of the couch and jumps to his feet only after pausing his game. He takes big strides to your room and in high contrast to his rash movements, his knocking on your door is very gentle.

"Can I come in?" He asks, scratching the door absentmindedly. He presses his ear and head against the door to hear a response but all he hears are your soft cries and it makes him sad.

"Y/N—"

"Go away, Hyunjin!"

"Y/N, let me in," he stresses, his leg kicking the air slightly, dangling before that. "I—"

"You're going to make fun of me."

"Will not." Hyunjin knows where this stems from and he won't deny. However, at this minute, he just wants to be there for you. Teasing could wait for an hour or so after you've calmed down. "So please?"

You hum and Hyunjin waits for a sign of protest. When he hears none, he takes it as an approval to open the door and the sight before him hurts him ever so slightly.

You are wrapped in a cocoon of your white blanket and your head is buried in the sheets outside, not ready to look up at your best friend. He frowns as he walks towards you, letting himself to sit by your side. He stretches his arm out and stops when you declare,

"I'm a world class dumpee."

"You are," he shrugs, voice tainted with a slight tease and you look up at him, glaring with your red, puffy eyes. You try shoving him but the cocoon you are wrapped in slightly falls forward too in impact. Hyunjin laughs and stretches both his arms forward to prevent you from falling forwards.

You pout, mumbling with a voice that is strained and is your proof of the urge to cry, "You promised you wouldn't."

"I'm your best friend," he shrugs and pushes your body wrapped in the thick blankets backwards, your head hitting against the pillow. A soft whine leaves your lips, followed by an oomph. "You knew I was going to tease you at the very first opportunity."

And then Hyunjin pounces on you, tickling your sides over the covers and your tickle sensitive being rushes in sensation as you laugh your heart out, chest heavy and mind focussing only on your best friend that you forget about the boy who broke up with you an hour back.

"Stop," you laugh. "Hyunjin," you whine. "Stop, you idiot," you laugh again. "I'm going to kill you—"

Hyunjin's laughter fills the air along with yours. In your perspective through your watery eyes, you see a boy with no worries and all smiles and you want to be like that. You desperately want to be like that. You push your wrapped body upwards to shove Hyunjin to the side and it works. He laughs, slowly receding with yours and he lets out a loud relieved sigh as he looks at your face with less creases and tears that now fall due to laughter.

"Hey," Hyunjin says and you turn your head to face him. His face is rigid, the childish gleam that he had just a while back long gone.

"Yeah?"

He sits up, running a hand through his hair and folding his arms soon after. "The guy was a jerk," he tells, helping you up. His hand finds the end of the blanket and unwraps it slowly from your being. "He was a mighty jerk, okay?"

"He is your teammate, Lee Minho," you stare, dead into his eyes and he shrugs.

"I know," he sighs before shrugging, giving you a nonchalant look. "What was it this time? Let me guess, he broke up with you for no reason again."

You hit the blankets that cover your thigh hard and send imaginary daggers in Hyunjin's way, "Yeah! I just don't understand why he'd break up with me."

"Uh, possibly because—"

"Is it because I'm on like close friend terms with everyone in the college volleyball team? I mean, Lee Minho always said dating—"

"Dating you would be hard, Y/N," Hyunjin continues, mocking your ex-boyfriend's voice. "You hang out with so many guys and all your best friends are dudes that it makes me jealous," Hyunjin pauses, placing his hands flat on the bed from behind as he leans back. "Ah, Lee Minho, that bastard. He always did say that to you."

You look down, fidgeting with your fingers and you roar out in anger. Hyunjin looks at you amused until you say, "Why can't guys be more like girls?"

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin's eyebrow is raised and he laughs mockingly. He lifts his arms from behind, stretches his back before sitting up straight. He kicks his legs and raises it upwards to sit cross legged, looking straight at you and laughs again. "You are totally kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not, Hyunjin," your eyebrows furrow. "The reason behind most, if not all, break-ups is the guy."

Hyunjin agrees with you deep down. Okay, maybe not completely but at least a ninety percent and that's a good one. However, he knows how competitive you are and if there's something that can get your head out of this post break up blues, it's this.

A competition. And so just to entice you a little, he sneers, "If anything, girls should be more like guys."

"Bitch, no," you laugh, head falling back at the sheer stupidity that rolls out from your best friend's mouth. "Men are so conceited that they had to make a whole word for treating women equal."

"Not all men simp. Plus, it's an AAVE and that people should not use it. In my defense, I've treated you like a guy my whole life," he shrugs. Lies. Lies. Lies he spews out endlessly because at one point, without him even knowing, things did change and he's seen you as a woman; as a woman he now has feelings for.

Hyunjin, to prove his point, hits you on his back like you've seen him do with all his teammates and your torso bends forward from your hips on impact. "See!" He stretches his arms, tattoos on display in the loose half sleeved black top he wears and you wince, stretching your hand back to rub only for Hyunjin to stop laughing quickly and rub your back, mumbling, "Sorry."

"Hyunjin," you shrug, mumbling, trying to guide your best friend. "Don't ever use the not all men tag, please."

He slaps a hand over his mouth, realising his error, again apologising and you stretch your hand forward quickly to protest, "No, no," you tell, "You don't have to apologise. I just hope you know how it sounds."

"I do," he falls back, lying down against your mattress. "I do and I hate that I accidentally said it."

You follow suit, and fall on the bed, hair splaying around, some falling on Hyunjin's face. He groans, moving the hair away and whining, "It got into my mouth, ew." You laugh.

Hyunjin speaks out, staring at the ceiling, "Whose fault is it that a relationship goes astray?"

"Still going to say the men," you look at the same spot he stares at. "They're—"

"It's a war."

"See!" You exclaim. "This is the issue with men. They cut us off all the time."

Hyunjin laughs, hand stretching out to hold your wrist to soothe you down and mumbling another apology, he continues, "This is a battle, Y/N; a battle that's aged long and has never come to a conclusion. The battle—"

"Get to the point."

"Look who cut me off now."

"Touché."

"Anyhow," he continues. "The battle between men and women."

"You definitely sounded like a prepubescent boy there," you look at Hyunjin. His skin is so clear, you notice, making a mental note to steal his skin care products later. He turns a second later to face you and he nods, "Don't care. Definitely going to win this."

"You wish," you let out a condescending laugh. "I'm going to beat your ass, Hyunjin."

"Kinky," he smiles that stupid, toothy grin of his, "I likey."

"You gross pubescent boy," you shove at his arms only for him to quickly hold your hand, interlocking his fingers with yours in the midst of the squabble. You let him, still laughing lightly, lungs light and mind free from all the sad thoughts.

"I see that I've got an upgrade."

"You did."

You're about to thank Hyunjin for this small gesture that probably seems to be nothing when his phone rings from the other room. The scary unexpected track to Tokyo Ghoul's opening – Unravel – that you can't help but accept that you've grown to like, plays.

He lets go of your hand and jolts upwards, jumping off the bed. A small whine leaves your lips unexpectedly and Hyunjin smiles at that. He pulls up the blankets over your body that he shifted, mumbling, "You should sleep early. You had a tough day."

"No," you whine yet again, "Let's talk more—" His phone rings louder, the scream part of the ringtone jolting you up and your hand falls on your chest in shock. "Hate when your phone does."

"And yet you sing along to it," he sings, humming the tune.

"Pfft," you scoff, holding onto the blanket, scrunching it in your grip. "Go. It's probably about the practise match against Yonsei University."

He hums in agreement, folding the blanket again carefully, right below your neck, his cold hands brushing against your clavicle and the temperature difference runs a shiver down your spine.

Hyunjin switches off the light as he walks out, gently closing the door shut and you watch your best friend throwing a small smile at you before leaving. Did you really deserve all this care? Perhaps not.

Hyunjin, on the other hand, dashes out to get the phone before the caller cuts the call in frustration. He's definitely not spending the money to call back whoever it is. That shit is expensive. He jumps a couple of steps and grabs his phone, accepting the call before looking at the name of the caller.

"Hyunjin…" It's Lee Minho. "Can you come over?"

"I really want to throw a punch at you, you bastard."

And Hyunjin does. Virtually, of course. Over the game they are playing. He couldn't afford to injure a fellow teammate when the preliminaries are right around the corner.

"Bro," Minho sighs. "Can you go easy on me?"

His game character hits Minho's again, the energy bar of the other drastically going down on the screen. Hyunjin can't stop. The frustration that he has pent up over the last hour after seeing you cry and crumble over being dumped by his other friend drives him to the edge and he delivers another punch. Minho's character dramatically collapses as soon as the energy bar is empty and he drops the console by his side, pressing his back against the sofa, arms wrapped against his chest, pouting.

"I—"

"Go on," Hyunjin glares at him. "You better have a good explanation."

Minho runs a hand through his hair and sitting up straight, turning his torso to face Hyunjin, he tells, "I don't."

"You're lucky that we have a match soon, else you'd be six feet underground," Hyunjin sighs, throwing his hands over his head and folding it behind. "I can't believe you did that to Y/N."

"I fell out of love with her," Minho says. He doesn't dare to look at Hyunjin because he fears if the glares would actually result in him six feet underground. "Can't that be the only reason?"

Hyunjin chuckles, moreso at himself than at his friend, mumbling under his breath so low that Minho thinks it's just him humming, "Is it possible to fall out of love with her?"

He wishes Lee Minho could tell him how.

Hyunjin stands up, patting his denim jeans and looking at Minho, he warns, eyebrows furrowing, "I'll help her out with this. Just don't be a jerk and start dating in like two days."

"I—" Hyunjin glares at him. "Fine."

"Practice at seven," he adds and grabs the key of his motorcycle from the table before him. "Don't be late and act normal around Y/N."

"Fine, sir," Minho rolls his eyes. He won't admit it ever but the man warning him could be the reason for his breakup. That and his insecurity and fear of you cheating on him. But it's mostly Hwang Hyunjin. He knows how he feels even if you didn't.

Hyunjin walks out of Minho's house, closing the door on his way out and getting on his motorcycle, he rides back home to you. Just as he had promised you.

He opens the door to your room as soon as he enters his house, removing his shoes and placing it to the side, only to find his ears listening to the soft snores that let free from your lips. Carefully he walks towards you, his thumb and forefinger holding your chin lightly and tilting your head upwards to help you breathe properly.

He pauses for a minute just to watch you. Your eyebrows that you dislike so much just because according to you, it's not thick enough. He loves it however, even though you would never listen to him. Your eyelashes cast a gentle shadow on your high cheekbones and he gasps because you're so beautiful. You're so near to him and yet so far.

He bends forward, pushes your fringes to the side and places a soft kiss against your forehead, mumbling the words he wishes he could tell you straight up. Even if he did, you'd probably laugh and scoff at him.

"Beautiful girl," his lips graze the skin by your forehead, "You are a fighter. You have always been a fighter. You are stronger than you think. You are braver than you believe. Every challenge that life has thrown at you, you've conquered every obstacle that has been placed in front of you. You've overcome every single one of them. You are unstoppable and unbreakable and right now, you are filled with more faith than you have ever been."

Hyunjin pulls away, softly caressing the hair by the side of your face, "So please believe in yourself. You're worth so much love. So much of it, Y/N."

"The jerseys came!"

Bang Chan screams, a huge grin on his face as he opens the door for you. He runs to Felix and holds onto his shoulders before jumping up and down in joy. He is so delighted. "It looks so good, dude."

Hyunjin smiles, running towards you and helping you with the cardboard box. "It's alright," you mumble. "I'm the manager. It's my job."

"Pfft," he scoffs. "And I'm your best friend. It's my job." He picks the huge box that covers your entire upper half, easily and places it down before the coach and the team.

Jisung rushes to your side, nudging you with his elbow, "We've got a pretty good manager." He bends down and rips open the box, taking his jersey in his hand, "Number 13, bitches. Nothing shows what an amazing libero I am like the number most feared." You laugh.

"Number 10 isn't that bad, I guess." You hear Minho's voice break through the cluster of voices and your movements still. You turn your head to look at the brown haired boy who towers over you, wearing a smile so pretty that your heart still skips a beat.

"Hey, Y/N," he smiles. "Thanks for bringing this over."

"Uh," you fidget with your fingers, averting your gaze everywhere else besides at Minho. "I guess. It's my job, yeah."

Hyunjin notices. He always does. The boy runs towards you with his jersey. Number 1 printed in big behind. The setter brings the jersey so close to your face that it's buried in the fresh opened shirt. "Number 1, of course," he laughs, scrunching the shirt in his hand as he raises both his arms above.

"Oh, shut up, Jinnie," you laugh.

"Yeah, shut up, Jinnie," Jisung echoes. The middle blocker, though not the tallest in stature, is excellent at his position and has the biggest love-hate relationship with your best friend. He folds his arms and mocks Hyunjin.

Hyunjin places his right hand down on Jisung's head, ruffling his hair after pressing down on it. He scolds the older boy, "Don't call me Jinnie. Y/N's the only one who gets to call me that."

"Stop gathering around people," The captain claps his hands together to gather all of your attention. You quickly rush to his side and he smiles at you warmly, before looking at his team and glaring at each of them as they gather around him. "Yonsei University was kind enough to arrange a practice match with us thanks to—"

"Y/N," Jisung shouts, pivoting his arms by their sockets before lifting them both high above his head, cheering for you.

"Don't cut me off, Han," the coach shoots daggers at him, frowning visibly at the disobedience. "One more time and you're running around the gymnasium twenty times."

Jisung groans, only after winking at you. You chuckle under your breath, covering your face with the notepad in your hand. Hyunjin rolls his eyes, nudging Jisung to 'keep it in his pants' in the scariest voice ever. You could feel the dark clouds around Hyunjin, the aura darkening for a split minute before he breaks out into a huge smile as he looks at you.

The coach instructs out commands; strategies to help the team win against Yonsei. Moves that he's studied after watching their matches. You know this because you watched Hyunjin do the same at home. He does it at odd timings though.

You would wake up at three in the morning to grab a glass of water and you'd find your best friend squatting in front of the television as he watches every single one of Yonsei's matches. He wouldn't listen to you telling him to go to sleep because, "Being the captain is hard, Y/N. The whole team's banking on me to set the ball perfectly at the right time. I can't..."

And you understand. You understand the worries that go around in his head, the anxiety of being the best because he's no genius. He got to the top, made a name for him all thanks to his hard work and if he needs to keep it — he won't have it any other way — he swears to god that he would practise and study till he drops dead. Hwang Hyunjin loves volleyball that much.

So, you do what any friend would do.

You would make two cups of coffee, one for him and one for yourself. You sit next to him and watch the match with him. Your head lays back against the soft material of the sofa, just watching Hyunjin's eyes fixed on the screen, studying each movement of every player, gasping occasionally at how the setter of Yonsei's team leans his head back to decoy the opposite team only to dump the ball.

You don't remember much from that night because you fall asleep way too quick in the silence and in the presence of a focussed Hyunjin, your cup of coffee half empty. You don't remember anything from that night besides the fact that you woke up in your bed the next morning, or more like, Hyunjin waking you up the next morning because you overslept. Either ways, you were back in your bed and for that, you were grateful.

And as soon as the coach is done with the instructions, the team members scramble before splitting themselves into two groups, first to do serves and then perfect shots and finally, have a practice match.

You sit next to the coach, watching each and every member. That's what the previous manager told you to do. To observe. That's what the manager must do. To observe so well that you know each member well enough to know how their mind works, how their personalities are and who they truly want to be.

This is exactly why you can't seem to ever hate Lee Minho. Because you've seen him on the court, at his very best.

He's the best darn middle blocker you've ever seen. He doesn't tower that much over people with his height but when he jumps, lifting off his feet, he is as good as a wall cemented and strong before the opponent. He has only got better with every practice match and you realise that he wants to be better. And that's how he truly is. The constant urge to do better than the person he was before and perhaps, to Minho, you are someone he wants to leave behind in the past.

There's no one to blame here and you realise that it's a lot better if you accept the truth before it hurts you more than it should.

But then, in a second, Hyunjin takes your attention away whole heartedly. The boy arches his body so beautifully as he sets the ball for Jisung who slams the ball over the net with such force that leaves you gaping, notebook slamming your thigh. The coach stands up, his heels slamming the ground first before his toes do and he is as stunned as you are, eyes wide.

Funnily, Jisung's surprised too.

"We did it!" He says slowly, his words gradually making sense to him and when it does, he rushes to him, holding his shoulders and jumping ecstatically, "Hwang Hyunjin, we fucking did it!"

"When did you guys practice that?" The coach cuts the commotion short with his question. Hyunjin turns to face him along with Jisung, scratching the back of his head. Jisung is so overjoyed that he rushes to the coach, "Today morning! It sounded delusional but we pulled it off, coach."

You look at Hyunjin, who turns his attention back to you as soon as the coach is scrambling off to tell more instructions to Jisung on how he should time it a little bit earlier to hit it with even more impact. You smile, giving him a thumbs up and Hyunjin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Are you guys finally dating now that Minho's out of the picture?" Chan nudges Hyunjin. The man stumbles a step forward on impact only to quickly look at the older with eyes so wide that he wonders if it were possible.

"What?" He splutters the words out, voice haphazard after the cough.

"Everyone in the team thinks you guys should," Chan shrugs and Hyunjin's face morphs into that of seriousness almost instantly and shoots the other male with, "Did Minho hear of this?"

"Perhaps," Chan catches the ball Felix throws at him. The coach claps his hands to bring the attention back to him, barking out orders to resume the game. Chan pats Hyunjin's shoulders, "You know what we always tell, Hyunjin, in this sport—"

"Take the shot when you see the opportunity."

"Exactly."

"Or someone's going to block again," Chan sniggers and looks at Minho, who was trying his very best to avoid your gaze, "This time round, it could be someone better than our middle blocker."

You're picking up the volleyballs lying around when the guys go to shower and change, dribbling them slightly and smiling to yourself. A figure towers over you as they drop a ball into the huge bucket. You turn around to look up at Minho.

"Can we speak?"

"Do we have more to say?"

"I guess," he shrugs.

"We can still be friends, Minho," you sigh, eyes closed. "I also won't be those annoying types to tell Hyunjin to stay away from you because you broke up with me. You should know better."

"I didn't mean that," Minho looks offended. "I wanted to apologise. I should have tried harder perhaps."

"You should have."

"I know," Minho sucks in his lower lip. "I really should have but you know—"

"Lee Minho," your voice is firm. "I've told you a gazillion times that Hyunjin and I are just friends, Minho. Somehow you made up this sort of weird thing in your head so don't drag me into this mess. This is yours."

Minho scoffs, "You're going to eat your words soon," and picks up another ball. You remember the task you had forgotten in the heat of the moment, rushing to pick up a ball to put it back. The rest of the team is slowly making their way outside.

"I doubt," you sigh, throwing the last ball into the bucket and dusting your hands together. Jisung's darting towards you, hands in the air. Minho moves to the side, gliding against the floor, making way for the shorter man to reach you, bubbling with such enthusiasm you wonder what the cause of it is.

"Felix is treating us!"

Ah, so that's the reason. You smile at Jisung, nodding your approval. You push the bucket to the side of the gymnasium with Minho's help and switch the lights off as the team exits the gymnasium.

"Lee Minho!" You hear a feminine voice through the air, your eyebrows quirking upwards automatically. Hyunjin walks to your side, sighing as he shoves his hands into the pockets of his sports jacket, mumbling so softly that you barely catch it, "I warned that asshole, God damn him."

Minho's face lights up in a way you haven't seen in a while and your heart is heavy. The woman, Irene — you hear Chan shout her name and wave at her — locks her arm with Minho's and walks with him, the man doing nothing to push her away. It shouldn't affect you. Not anymore now that the two of you have broken up and yet it hurts.

Hyunjin quickly pulls you away, preventing your eyes from lingering further even a minute more. His hand holds yours and he drags you to his motorcycle. You look down, biting the insides of your cheeks, alternating between the right and left every time you taste the copper of the blood.

"Your hand is so small," Hyunjin says. "Like look at how it fits into mine," he laughs, lifting your hand upwards as he clasps it tightly. He mumbles, "So small."

You break into a smile, watching Hyunjin tease you, momentarily drifting from the thought that upsets you and it leaves you wondering how Hyunjin does it all the time. He lets go of your hand, ruffling your hair as he bends lightly, "You've got this."

He quickly turns on the heels of his feet, pulling out the keys to his bike and igniting it. You hear Jisung scream from behind, "I thought you were taking me with you!"

Hyunjin screams back, "Carpool with the rest. I'm taking Y/N."

He lifts his leg, straddling the bike as he holds onto the handles, kicking the support free. He turns towards you and tells you to hop on and you do as he says. Your fingers hold his jacket, making sure you're not hugging him from behind. Minho's words run in your head and Hyunjin notices this small gesture of yours but he pays no heed. After all, it's been a while since he realised that what he has with you is better when it's platonic. He is too afraid to lose you.

"Jinnie," you tell him as he starts the motorbike, accelerating behind Jin who leads the way. You hear your best friend scream, "Yeah," through the loud winds that hit you.

You lean forward and speak closer into his ears, your jaw hitting his helmet, "Remember how I said the guys are to be blamed in a relationship."

"Yeah," he hints at you to proceed.

"Here's my first point. Minho back there," you point out. "It was that easy for a guy to move on. That easy," you stress your word. "While I'm here repenting if there was any way to get things back to where it was. However, there's no use in me trying because there's Minho with Irene like our relationship was a thing in the past."

"That doesn't mean he didn't care about you during the relationship. That's how guys are. They give it their everything when they're in the relationship," Hyunjin reasons and you laugh sardonically.

"You're kidding me, right? The girl definitely cares more. It almost seems so easy for the guys to break up and move on. Remember the time when you broke up with Lisa," you speak, raising your tone a little more so that Hyunjin can hear you. The motorcycle moving against the wind causes your hair to touch your mouth and you're spitting hair out facing the side. Hyunjin laughs, his grip on the accelerator tightening as he speeds up just a little bit, causing you to hold onto his jacket pockets a little tighter.

"Bro," Hyunjin mutters when you bring up Lisa. "I cried enough when she broke up with me, okay?"

"You did, for a day or two," you state. "The girl cried her heart out for a whole week. You went partying that Friday with Jisung!"

"Are we now using quantitative measurements to determine how deep our care and love is?" Hyunjin gasps, sounding very offended. "This reminds me why most relationships don't work. Because girls are shallow as fuck."

Hyunjin accelerates, missing sight of the speed breaker in front of him. It hurls you onto his chest, your arms wrapping around his waist to keep you safe. A soft scream leaves your lips as the side of your face buries into his broad back.

"Sorry," Hyunjin apologises quickly. "Didn't see that!" Hyunjin prays that you don't move your arms away but you do and he sighs, face falling. He is glad that you can't see him. Your hand is back to gripping his jacket and head back in this battle of words you're currently having with your best friend.

"It's okay," you tell him. "What's not okay is how you think women are shallow."

"They are!" He takes a turn to the left. Your thigh muscles tighten as it straddles the seat, fingers digging into his side for support. "I mean, let's be real, sweetheart. You take an hour or more to get ready for college."

"Because I want to look presentable!" You hit his broad back and he chuckles.

"Lies! You're shallow!"

"Says the person who walks around shirtless at home and stares at the mirror, lightly touching your abs and saying perfect," you tease and Hyunjin turns to look at you for a minute with his eyes wide before he turns his attention back on the road.

"You saw that?"

"Of course. I see that every day."

"But you're watching the television, how?"

"Reflections," you state.

He's gasping. The motorcycle slows down as it reaches Pizza Alvolo. The pizzeria is adjacent to a pretty park and you can hear the birds chirp lowly right before the sun is ready to set. You jump off the motorcycle, dusting the denims covering your thighs and Hyunjin removes his helmet, hooking it to the handle securely.

The rest of the team are seated in the pizzeria already waiting for the two of you, waving at you as soon as you enter the place. You rush and sit next to Jisung who has been aggravatingly patting the seat next to him. Hyunjin sits opposite to you, next to Chan. He snatches the menu from him and the elder male whines at the behaviour.

You look around and notice that Minho hasn't reached the place yet. Not that it mattered to you. You will slowly learn to stop caring so much for a man and you will soon be able to look at him and think of only the fond memories and nothing more.

Or so you thought.

The minute you see Minho walk into the pizzeria, although not with Irene, you feel the ground slip underneath you. Jisung is nice enough — albeit not knowing of the whole pickle you are in — to hold your wrist and turn your attention towards the stack of pizza boxes that come your way as he gleams, "Pizza! Pizza! Pizza!"

You look away from Minho and toward the direction Jisung points before turning to look at Hyunjin who lets out a loud sigh. You know that he's clutching at his thick thighs, nails digging into it at the sight of your uncomfortability. Hyunjin knows it will take you days to get over this break up, maybe weeks and that as a good best friend, he should wait. He should understand.

But it frustrates him so much. The sight of you being in pain, in hurt because of another man — his other best friend at that — pisses him off way more than he thought it should at first.

Hyunjin quickly takes his phone out and you narrow your eyes at him, mouthing, "Rude. Put it back into your pocket." In a second, your phone dings and you take yours out. Minho sits by Jisung's side in that second, a seat away from you and your heartbeat accelerates. You unlock your phone to see a message from Hyunjin and you lift up your head, raising an eyebrow at him and he eyes at you to open the message.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

Your eyes widen and your lips part slightly. You don't respond immediately, locking the phone and shoving it back into your pocket. You smile at Hyunjin, trying to signal that you were alright so far. Jisung opens the cardboard boxes of the pizza and squeals. Chan looks at the situation, analysing if it'd be bad for the team on a bigger approach. Hyunjin might be the captain but had it not been for Chan's guidance, the volleyball team would not have lasted a day more with the differences.

Felix announces, "Eat to your heart's merry! I might never treat again." He takes the first bite for courtesy's sake before telling everyone to join in.

The team laughs and Minho smiles, the skin by his eyes wrinkling and your heart stops to remember all the reasons you were so madly in love with this man. It is at this minute you realise it'll take you maybe a little longer than you thought, a little longer than a casual fling and a little lesser than a long term relationship. You should have known this is bound to happen the minute you allowed yourself to let your petty emotions take over.

And maybe, just maybe, it is the fact that you have to pretend to be alright with having Minho around you that makes this heartbreak pain ten times worse.

Surprisingly, Hyunjin already seems to know because he doesn't stop glancing at you after every bite of the slice he has in his hand.

You stretch your arm out to take a slice of the pepperoni pizza on the table at the same time Minho stretches his arms out to take one. Your fingers brush against his and you jolt your hand backwards, mumbling, "Sorry."

Jisung laughs without knowing and teases, "Why would you apologise for brushing your boyfriend's hand?" He takes a bite of his pizza and as soon as he finishes chewing, he continues, "I mean, you guys do nastier stuff and suddenly, you all are prim and proper, Y/N. Love the contrast you exhibit. It's beautiful. You guys could be at it every time I catch you in the gymnasium alone. Also, you're his longest relationship. You should pride yourself—"

Jisung is speaking and you won't look up. Hyunjin has dropped the knife slightly just to try and get him to stop, though in vain and Minho's looking at you. His eyes won't leave your frame and you just want to leave. It is too early for you to be alright with this. Way too early.

"Stop, Jisung," Chan tells him, reading the situation in the room.

"Why?" Jisung's laughing. Felix understands by now, seeing your face hung down and so does the rest of the team besides the man himself. You can't even come to be angry at Jisung because he seems so innocent, unaware of it all.

You spill the beans for your own heart's safety, "Minho broke up with me."

Minho doesn't shift his eyes at anyone else and Hyunjin holds the knife again, a little too tight this time. Jisung's smile turns instantly into a frown and he turns his head to glare at your now ex-boyfriend.

He doesn't bother to filter his words. "Why the fuck did you do that, you arsehole?" Minho turns to look at Jisung for a split second before his eyes are back at yours. You lift your head to lock gaze with him and you feel your chest tighten, eyes water and it hurts.

Everything seems so much more painful.

Chan says once again, his voice firm, ready to not listen to one more word of the conversation, "Stop it, Jisung. Read the room."

You stretch your arm out to have another bite of the pizza and everyone eats in silence. The room is pregnant with the most awkward silence you had been in your whole life. You take your phone out, unlocking it and finally replying to the message.

Jisung puts another slice of pizza onto your plate and you smile at him. Felix tries breaking the uneasy tension by talking about this dude he met in his neighborhood that was kind of cute. After sitting for another two minutes, you push your chair back to Jisung's surprise and stand up. Hyunjin stands up instinctively, his calves pushing his chair back and everyone at the table looks at the two of you.

Jinnie: do you want to leave?

"I just realised I have to do some grocery shopping," you laugh nervously. "There's absolutely nothing back at home. Not that Hyunjin would buy anything and keep, right?"

Hyunjin chuckles and everyone in the room knows quite obviously that you are trying to escape the scene. They are kind enough to let you. Felix asks, spilling the oregano seasonings on top of his pizza slice, "Is Hyunjin going with you?"

"Ye—"

"No," you cut your best friend before he can give his approval. "I'll go alone." You stretch your arm out, palm facing upwards, "Keys, please?"

"Don't hurt my baby," Hyunjin's sincerity is voiced and you laugh genuinely. Little did you know he meant both you and his motorbike. He drops the key to his motorbike onto your hand and you do a little cheer. Jisung mumbles, "Cute," before stuffing his face with pizzas.

"Have a good time, guys," you wish them and grab your bag, hanging on the chair. Jisung waves enthusiastically. Felix, Chan and the rest of the team waves too. You smile fondly at your team and walk towards the door only to find Hyunjin following you.

"What do you think you are doing right now, mister?"

"Can't I walk you out at the very least, woman?" Hyunjin gapes in dismay. He pulls open the glass door and you laugh.

"Sure thing," you say and walk towards his motorbike. Hyunjin leaves the door after stepping out, the glass door swinging back to shut itself. You swing your legs over his bike, straddling the automobile and dropping your chest slightly to balance the heavy vehicle.

"You sure you'll be alright?"

"Don't you trust your teaching? You taught me how to ride this thing. Don't worry."

You look over Hyunjin's shoulder to see Minho still looking at you, worry smeared all over his face and you feel your throat constricting again as you do your best to tear your eyes away from him.

Hyunjin takes a step closer, making sure everything's alright with the vehicle so that it doesn't endanger you. He places his hand over your wrist and you look at him in confusion, "Promise me you'll take care of yourself."

"I will," you laugh. "What are you? My daddy?"

Hyunjin stiffens for a minute before he lets go of all the inappropriate thoughts that fill him for a minute there before teasing you, "Do you want me to be your daddy?"

"Nah," you throw your head back. "You aren't that rich enough." You place the helmet over your head and look at him. Hyunjin taps your helmet and hugs you slightly.

"I'll see you at home."

You start the bike on ignition and look over Hyunjin's shoulder one last time to look at Minho, locking gazes with him before you pull yours away from him towards Hyunjin.

You look ahead, the clear road in front of you and turn the accelerator only after telling Hyunjin, giggling slightly,

"Sure thing, Daddy."

Hyunjin, on the other hand, is too caught up in his worry, eyes lingering behind the trailing presence of yours that finally disappears from his sight into a speck that fades away. In any other circumstances, he would have found your petite figure driving the huge motorcycle and you even calling him daddy, although in a teasing tone, insanely hot.

Right now, however, he just hopes you are safe. He wishes he could be by your side at every second.

Gaho's Stay Here blasts on the bluetooth speaker. Hyunjin pulls open the door only to find you lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling with the most emotionless face he has ever seen you with. His eyes dart towards the empty bottles of soju on the small table in the hall.

"Y/N?"

You sit up, looking at your best friend and your lip pucker out quickly pouting at the sight of him and you stretch your arms out wide, squealing, "Hyunjinnie. You are home."

Hyunjin walks towards you, plopping on the couch and sitting next to you. He quickly lifts his arm up, hand darting back and forth at the air to steer the smell away as he frowns at you, "You reek of liquor, dude."

You quickly hug him, wrapping your arms around his frame from the side and snuggling your face into his shoulder. Hyunjin stiffens under your grip and he looks down at your being with eyes closed and he realises that you might after all just be a small being in need of some loving. He wishes to be the person to do that. Hwang Hyunjin utterly and truly wants to be your person.

Hyunjin takes your phone to stop playing the music — Stay Here that's been currently playing on repeat for the twentieth time straight — and you whine against his skin, tickles running down Hyunjin's spine.

"Don't stop the music," you mumble and Hyunjin looks at you and your figure that hugs him securely, head snuggled by his neck, chin digging into the skin by his collarbone and all Hyunjin can focus on is his heart that is beating furiously against his chest.

"Y/N," Hyunjin's voice seems like an anchor to your woozy mind and you hug him tighter, gripping stronger on to his white shirt. You hum in response and Hyunjin continues, "Gaho's music doesn't seem very fitting for the minute."

You pull apart, your face morphing and changing into that of offense as you glare at him, mumbling, "Gaho is the only one that understands me." You play the music again, the bluetooth speakers blasting with the sad slow tune in the air and you feel the want to cry all over again.

You stretch your arm out to take a soju bottle from the table to down it all out when Hyunjin stretches out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrists. He locks his eyes with yours and in the softest, most caring voice you've ever heard from him, he says, "Don't, Y/N. It hurts me too."

"Can I hold you?"

In a split moment, the room is filled with just the soft beats of Gaho's Start Over playing, your raspy breaths and Hyunjin's lost stare. His grip on your wrist tightens and your mind is far too intoxicated to think if this friendship could be ruined. Your heart is heavy, chest tight and you want someone to free you. Anyone. You are clawing at the imaginary wall all by yourself and anyone could be a help. Anyone that is not Lee Minho.

"Yes," and you fall on Hyunjin at the exact same moment he pulls your hand closer towards him. The timing seems to have lapsed on to each other. Your chest on Hyunjin's, eyes looking up at him as your arms snake slowly over his torso. You snuggle forward, rubbing against his body slightly and Hyunjin sighs.

To Hyunjin, the scene is a lot dramatic just because of the soft music playing and because you are drunk off your head according to him, barely able to make decisions. He just doesn't want to do anything that will make either of your friendships but right now, in this minute with you almost on top of him, locking your eyes in his, your arms around his torso, close enough to feel every part of your being, he wants to be drunk too.

Hyunjin wants to be drunk so that he can make a mistake. Hyunjin wants to be so drunk that he can't think just because he is a coward.

"Do you feel better?" He asks and you snuggle into his chest, burying your face into it as you hold him. Your lonely heart being comforted by just his presence and in the back of your drunk head, you know you feel a little bit more that causes your heart to flutter when Hyunjin cares.

You and Hyunjin are both cowards — two small people in this big world with big emotions unwilling to risk one status for another, over the fear of losing each other.

But Hyunjin wants to risk it tonight. After years of pining, he wants to risk this golden friendship he has shared with you for years now. You are the trigger, however. You lift your face away from his chest and crawl slightly towards him, pushing yourself against him. You look at him, lips pressed together and you stretch your right arm upwards to hold his face in your hand.

"Jinnie," your voice lets out his name in such an airy tone that it seems to disappear away even before it reaches his ear. His eyes are glassy and his heart is in his throat, eager in nothing but anticipation that is risen from all his hoping.

It happens as he has imagined. You lean forward so slowly that he pictures every second vividly and in an instant, your lips are on his. Hyunjin knows it should have felt wrong but God, save him — nothing felt more right than this.

You kiss him and his whole world falls away. It lingers, like a memory that stays behind. Your lips are slow and soft against him, comforting yourself and him in ways that words would never be. Hyunjin's hand slowly lifts up to rest below your ear, his thumb caressing your cheek as your breath mingles only for a split second — one filled with hesitance and uncertainty — before you pull away, looking at your best friend.

It is just a second of a kiss. Something so small and insignificant to seemingly anyone else yet it means the whole world to Hyunjin. It is the whole world to Hyunjin because this is all that is needed to let him astray, hinge released of the stupid restrictions he has made up in his head over you.

Your small kiss is all Hyunjin needs to hold on to because in the next minute, he is pulling you towards him, hands cupping your face tightly and angling it to kiss you, encasing your lower lips in his as he moves against your coral ones. You let out a small gasp and run your fingers down his spine, holding him as close as possible until there is no space left between the two of you and you can feel the beating of his heart against your chest. Loud, clear and unknown to you that it beats for you in this minute.

Hyunjin's lips are slammed against yours, nearly knocking all wind from your lungs and you don't know if it is your feelings or Hyunjin himself. He presses his tongue to the seam of your lips and, the minute you let him in, he delves inside your mouth. Hyunjin kisses you like he thinks it is the last time he will ever be able to have his lips against yours.

Your arms move up his back and tangle around his thick, strong neck. In an instant, you pull away and arch up into his broad chest, moaning in the contact of body heat against your own, before you draw back into his lips. Hyunjin can feel the burn of hard soju in his mouth, thanks to you, and it rolls off your tongue into his, seeping down  his throat and he can't hate it. There is a thrill in its own that Hyunjin knows stems from you.

If it was possible, Hyunjin would slow down time.

You pull back eventually only to hug him, humming against his neck, lips pressed against the soft expanse of his skin. Hyunjin's hand is pressed against your back as he pats you in a steady rhythm, instinctively humming to a tune that could calm you.

"Jinnie?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you," and he feels your weight fall on to his shoulder as you snuggle closer into his neck, your warm breath fanning against him, sending shivers down his spine. "For everything."

Hyunjin holds you for a while, silence and nothing but your breathing that is soft music to his ears, till he hears your soft snores buzzing against his eardrums and he knows you have fallen asleep in his arms, against his chest.

The next morning, you find yourself magically in your bed, comforter on top of you covering every inch of you, head aching thanks to your reckless drinking last night with no memory of whatsoever that happened. Lightheaded you should have known better.

Hyunjin chooses to be a coward, the morning after.

The greens that cover the campus is the only other thing that keeps you sane in this university. The first being, the volleyball team. However, you don't know anymore if it is still, in the present.

You sit on the same bench before a beautiful fountain with a tiger head right in the centre, watching the vast basketball court. A place that holds way more memories to you now than it did a year before.

You shake your legs, feet pointing forward as you listen to music with about half an hour in your hand to waste before you head down towards the gymnasium to meet with the volleyball team. Besides few people that walk down towards their classes, the campus looks pretty stranded as you watch every single person stay happy in their sphere.

"Y/N," you hear your name being called out through yet another one of Gaho's songs and you lift your head up, to look at the person by your side, standing and providing you the shade they probably didn't intend to.

It's the man himself, the one who broke your heart for an explanation that made no sense to you. Lee Minho.

He stands tall, towering over you and your neck aches from looking up at him that you decide to stand up, removing the earbuds and placing it on the wooden bench, next to your phone.

"You're here." You gulp. "Aren't you supposed to be headed to the gym for practice?"

The fountain is everything you associate Minho with — moreover, it is perhaps the relationship with him that you associated the beautiful water fountain with. To see the very same man before you right now is needless to say surprising.

"I could ask you the same thing," Minho chuckles. He takes out a small cone of butterscotch ice cream and extends his arm, offering it to you. You smile softly, thanking him, sitting down back on the bench. "Can I sit here?" He asks and you nod, unwrapping the wrapping paper around the ice cream.

"Yeah," you tap on the seat by your side. You take a bite of your ice cream and Minho visibly flinches, mumbling, "Still the same."

"You broke up with me like two days back. What did you expect? A nirvana attained me?" You scoff. You take another bite of the ice cream, the sensitivity hitting your teeth and you hiss.

"Brutal," Minho chuckles darkly. You scoff, turning your head away and taking another bite of your ice cream. Minho opens his ice cream and you raise an eyebrow at him, mumbling, "You don't eat ice cream though."

"Thought you might want another one," he smiles and the thought of a second ice cream lights you up. "There you go smiling like a dork as always at the thought of it." Minho laughs and you bend forward to take it, your left arm stretching forward. Minho tugs it backwards and your body moves a little more to grab at it until it's too far for you, bringing you to your present position.

Your hand is on Minho's chest, his eyes locked in yours and you are surprised. This is not in your to do list and yet with Minho's grip on your wrist, you drop your ice cream as soon as he edges closer. His face is so close that you can see the perfect plump lips pout slightly, his face glistening in the bright sun and you gasp softly. It has been a while since he has been this close and he still makes your heart go livid within you, beating crazy.

He drops his ice cream in a second, his hands pressing forward to cup your face and pull you into him to kiss the living hell out of you. Your eyes widen, arms falling limp on either side as you stiffen.

"Can I try something?" He hesitates, iron grip on you.

"Try?" You look worried and the next minute, Minho is kissing you, his plump lips on yours for a while before he moves them against yours, taking hold of your lower lip.

It is an instinct. You choose to blame it rather on instincts. Your hand moves to grab the linen draping his arm as you hold it and kiss Minho back. It is as bitter as coffee thanks to all the memories that go along with it and yet — you find yourself drowning. You find yourself wanting more. You find yourself hoping if Minho could stay, if Minho could just pretend to love you, if not.

And it breaks your heart.

All over again.

A lone tear leaves your eyes and then another, till you are crying as you kiss him. A wet messy affair at its finest. Minho pulls back in surprise feeling the wetness against his skin. He cups your face and holds you, looking at you to check for damage — little does he know of the emotional one. Or maybe he does and he chooses to ignore. Typical Lee Minho.

"Did I hurt you?"

Your emotions take over, sanity pushed to the back. You are pulling yourself from Minho as he tries to hold you to calm you down. Your fist plummets down onto his hard chest once and then, for the second time till you are hitting him over and over again till you completely break down in front of him. Minho quickly pulls you into a hug, holding you close till you completely soak his white shirt with your tears.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you—" It's a repeated chant. Over and over again till you don't remember how many times you told Minho the same thing. Your mind goes insane with the overdrive of emotions. Did you like Minho still? You don't know. You don't know whether it's the familiarity of his hugs or his kisses or his whole presence that you crave or if it's his love.

"I'm sorry," he whispers and you accept because it's the first time an apology from Lee Minho sounded this sincere. "I'm sorry for breaking your heart." He snuggles into the crook of your neck, swallowed by guilt. Perhaps this is why one should never date their friends; because you lose something much greater.

"I hate you more now for kissing me here," you manage to say, throat rasp from the crying. "How could you stain this memory too? How dare you stain the memory of the location of our first kiss? It was supposed to be a bittersweet memory when I sit here and think." Minho is still hugging you.

"I'm sorry."

It is still bittersweet in a new way, you realise — the fact that Lee Minho kisses you for the last time, you swear to God, in the very same place he kissed you for the first time. The weather changed, the people around changed and the emotions changed. Even after all that, the fountain stays proud and mighty and bears witness to more new relationships and new heartbreaks. Nothing changes besides you. Nothing changes besides what we want.

You pull away from him. Sitting straight, facing the vast basketball court and the juniors playing the game, you make a decision, firm and determined. The soft pink petals fall down from the cherry blossom trees over the two of you and Minho looks at you, and then at the spilled ice cream. To see the boughs that were so bereft in the snow become so beautifully adorned should lift your spirits infinitely and it does slightly. Their scents diffuse in the warming breeze and you hold your head high to savour it.

"Let's stay away from each other for a while."

Minho's eyes shoot up, head lifting up to face you. He does not refute. After all, he knows he has to take a step behind after breaking your heart. What he does not understand is how the two of you could stay away from each other when your friend circles overlap to a large extent.

"How?" He finally asks. "How do I help you with that?"

"By doing just that. Give me space and time to get over you. I'll come back asking for your hand in friendship again," you smile. Your tear stained visage and the difficult smile you put forth is a funny combination but you manage to pull it off well, you'd say. "You don't have to take the first step this time. Let me do this on my own, Minho."

You stand up on your own, grabbing your earphones and your phone. Minho stands up, following suit and asks, "Are you leaving?"

"Yes," you turn only to look at him as you walk backwards. "And you have to head for practice. So get going. I won't have you mess up your performance by all means." You turn back and move ahead. From everything.

"You know I wouldn't," Minho screams back and the last syllable ends with a laugh. You lift your hand to wave and you leave, far, far away from him.

You now have an open wound to stitch back and you know you have to do it on your own.

Hyunjin's phone rings right when he decides to serve the ball. He drops the ball in surprise, the sphere rolling all the way to where his phone is placed. Chan groans, stopping his pace at the sound of the phone ringing, and yells, "Yah! Hyunjin, how many times should I tell you to switch off your phone?"

Felix walks in exactly at that minute, laughing, "Anyone from outside would totally think Chan's the captain!"

Hyunjin runs to his phone, his blond hair strands falling forward, ponytail swinging left and right. Felix laughs at the sight, walking towards the ball and picking it up before throwing it at Chan who catches it swiftly. Hyunjin sees your name on the phone, eyes lighting up instantly and a smile prominent only for Chan to announce, "It's Y/N."

"Of course, it is," Felix scoffs. "Where's the rest of the guys? I thought you said we were to come early—" Felix pauses, eyes widening and gasping, "Hold up! Y/N is late. Whoa!"

"They are probably running towards the gym right now," Hyunjin says before picking up the call. He mouths to the rest, "It'll be short, I promise," and pouts. Chan sighs, only to smile and wave his hand at him to take the call.

"Y/N," Hyunjin cheers up instantly. "Where are—" He hears a choked sob from the other hand and Hyunjin stiffens, face losing the smiling in a second. "Are you alright?"

"I am," you strain it out. You barely manage through with the chokes and that pain that ripples through in waves but you eventually find the words to tell him, "I won't make it to practice today. Yeah?"

"Where are you?"

Hyunjin is angry and he doesn't even know who it is aimed at. He is just beyond mad at the fact that you are crying and someone made you cry. The thought of the skin by your eyes aching and eyes red and burning over anyone made him so angry that he could punch a wall through.

"I'm not telling you," he hears you say and he clenches his fist.

"Stop being a brat, Y/N," he stresses and Chan gestures at him, asking if there was something wrong. Hyunjin nods. "Where are you?"

"Leave me alone, Jinnie," you tell him through the phone, "Please,"  and his eyes widen before he calms himself down, realising that you are trying to cope all alone, a pathetic self-destructive quirk of yours that he had learned to live with after all these years. He gulps and realises you truly needed time alone and he hums in approval.

"Please reach out to me when you need me," he begs. "Please, Y/N."

Felix and Chan are staring at Hyunjin in worry when the door to the gymnasium opens and Jisung rushes into the room. He is panting and he looks around, searching for someone. Hyunjin turns away, his attention back on the call in his hands and he ends the call quickly, making a note in his mind to check up on you after practise. Not that you would let him miss practise. (Not that Hyunjin would do it to himself in the first place. He'd kill for volleyball.)

He walks towards the rest when Minho walks in, black duffel bag on his shoulder. Jisung is quick on his feet as he runs towards the other man, hands on his shoulders and he shakes the living hell out of him.

"He's gone crazy, dude," Felix mumbles and Chan laughs.

Hyunjin stays at a comfortable distance still, looking at his phone in worry every now and then. The man lifts his head and brings his attention back to the present only when he hears your name leave Jisung's mouth.

"Whoa, dude. You got back together with Y/N?"

"What?" Chan is the first to respond. "You did what?"

"I didn't get back together with her," Minho says, his voice is monotone and lacks anything more than nonchalance and it pisses the hell out of Hyunjin who has his fists still clenched tightly.

"I saw you kissing her but. . ." Jisung drops the bomb all at once in such a lost way that he doesn't realise the impact it was to have in this large gymnasium.

Hyunjin is charging forwards all at once, yelling, "You bastard," as he throws a punch at Minho. The blond dyed man is quick to put two and two together and realise that you are after all, crying because of the black haired man before him.

He pushes him back, Minho hitting the floor and Hyunjin's on top of him, punching him with his clenched fist, mind void and painted in hot red anger. Minho has his arms, blocking his punches and chooses to play on the defensive side.

In fear, we are all monsters. Hyunjin believes that he would be afraid of himself had he astral projected and looked at himself in this minute, all unhinged because of one girl — one girl he would set the world on fire for.

All that rage comes out faster than magma for Hyunjin and is just as destructive. More so because he's the captain. It consumes all that he is, so delicate under that carefully ordered world and carefully put up feign that he is alright with Minho breaking the heart of the girl he loves. Minho shrivels before him but Hyunjin does not stop. He relentlessly keeps going, stopping short of physical violence but doing far more damage with the words that he throws.

Chan tries to pull Hyunjin away as Jisung drags Minho from underneath him. The black haired man is left with bruises and a busted lip. On the other hand, Hyunjin is still fuming, along with Chan, sporting a few cuts from Minho who decided to throw a few punches in the last moment.

"Can you all stop?" Felix sighs.

"Why would you bastard make her cry again?" Hyunjin raises his voice. He's yelling at this point, loud enough for everyone passing by the gymnasium to hear. "Why the fuck would you make Y/N cry again? I told you to leave her alone!"

"This wouldn't have happened if things went different—" Hyunjin tries to rush forward to hit him again upon hearing his words, but Chan and Changbin, another teammate, have a strong grip on him. His blond ponytail lashes in anger and he fights against the two, trying to let go of himself. Minho yells back, "I would have never broken up with her if you never liked her, Hyunjin."

"What?" He stops still in his tracks, limbs falling and Chan lets go.

"How am I supposed to think it's alright for you to randomly stare at my girlfriend with heart eyes? For fuck's sake, you guys hug way more than I hug her," Minho glares, chest rising up as he vents everything he has bottled up so far. "If you had always liked her, you should have told me! I shouldn't have overheard it from Chan telling you to ask her out." Chan's face pales visibly. "I would have tried making her stay. I would have made her stay. I would have," Minho's voice lowers. "I still did, but I was too late."

Hyunjin has no words to refute. His eyes widen and his heart is in his throat, barely being able to say, "You could have taken it out on me. Why would you drag her into this? She loved you. She still wavers because of you. Your faithless love was the only hoax she was forced to believe."

Jisung pouts in awe at the words Hyunjin spills and Minho mumbles, "I don't know. I couldn't think straight."

Felix drops the ball with force, suddenly. The ball squelches before raising high and hitting the wall with impact. He folds his arms and speaks up, "Stop acting like kids." He points at Minho. "You, stop putting the blame of your failed relationship on Hyunjin. Him liking Y/N did not ruin your relationship. You killed it yourself."

"But he—"

"I liked her even before you made a move on her. Nothing has changed, Minho," Hyunjin inhales sharply.

"It's because you're a coward, you arsehole."

Hyunjin closes his eyes, looking away, mumbling, "Not going to even bother denying that. I'd be dating her if I wasn't this scared of losing her."

Felix proceeds to point at Hyunjin, glaring sharply at him, "You call yourself a captain? We have a match in a few days and you decide to lose control and beat up your teammate? One of the best middle blockers out there! What in the world are you thinking, Hyunjin? Jesus Christ, when Y/N hears of this, she's going to beat you up so bad for doing this to him in the name of the team."

Hyunjin doesn't dare to look up at Felix, shuffling the balance of his body from one feet to another. He is embarrassed. He should have never let his emotions take control of his body and yet he did.

Chan walks towards Felix before announcing, "We'll start practice in five. I want the two of you to sort this out by the end of this day. If you haven't, I don't want either of you coming to practice tomorrow."

"I'm the setter!" Hyunjin protests.

"Jeongin can do a darn good job too, so shut up and listen to me well."

"Now," Felix claps his hand, smiling once again brightly before running to pick up the ball. "Let's practice like the perfect team we are!"

"And like I couldn't stop myself. It's like something dragged me to move forward and the next thing I knew, I was on top of Minho—"

"Fuck, that'd be hot."

"Y/N, focus. And like I was beating the crap out of him."

You dab an alcoholic swab over the small wounds on his face as he seethes in pain and you sneer, "Deserved it."

"Ouch," Hyunjin fakes offense. "Side with me at least now. You aren't dating him anymore." You stop, your hand midair and you dab constantly over his wounds till Hyunjins screaming, "Ow, ow, ow. I'm sorry," and holds your wrist and pulls it away.

"But you messed up your team dynamics just because of your anger," you frown. "You and Minho better sort it out quickly, Jinnie. Else, I swear to God." You glare at him.

"What will you do?" Hyunjin laughs, scrunching his nose and teasing you. You place the bandaids over the wounds and raise an eyebrow. Hyunjin prompts, "Bite me?"

"I will," you warn and Hyunjin scoffs, "As if."

You bite him. His shoulder, to be exact. Your teeth hold onto his socket for a good one minute tightly till he is yelping, hitting your back to let go of him as he hisses in pain. You let go of him and narrow your eyes at him. Hyunjin is shocked. So shocked that he blankly stares at you with his mouth wide open.

"Are you a dog?"

"I could be one if you taunt me too much."

"Wow," he blinks and you poke the insides of your cheek with your tongue. "Wow, you're truly one of a kind." And Hyunjin breaks down laughing, holding his shoulder with his hand and bending forward overcome by intense laughter.

"Buy me mint choco," he prompts. "Because now you injured me and I want compensation."

"Excuse me?"

Hyunjin pushes himself forward, edging closer to you, looking you in your eyes before saying, "You know you have to," in a low guttural tone that your heart does a whole somersault, triple axle and then lands with an ovation. "You hurt me."

You push him away and you leap onto your feet, your eyes wide and your hand over your chest. Hyunjin looks at you with a raised eyebrow. To change the mood of the situation, you quickly announce, "Fine. You'll get mint chocolate only if you get ready and come out in five minutes. Else you pay for it on your own."

Hyunjin stands up and holding your wrist, he pulls you with him to the door. You look at him in utter confusion and ask, "What are you doing?"

Hyunjin stops in his tracks and turns to look at you, blond strands leaving his ponytail to cover his eyes slightly and pink lips so plump that you wonder how they feel. The realisation that you have started viewing your best friend as someone more than just that hits you and you look down instantly. When did this happen?

"I'll just wear a coat and so should you," Hyunjin laughs. "Ice cream can't wait."

People think of laughing as a noise that comes from the mouth more often than not, but when Hyunjin laughed it was nothing like that. The laugh is in his eyes, in the way his face changes into that vision of relaxed joy and unrestrained mirth. And yet, in all honesty, it is not in his face either. His laugh comes from within, it is just the way he is wired with the instant ability to comfort someone. Just the sound of his gales, his snickers, his giggles, was enough to transport you far away from all your worries and the tension your life has in the minute.

Enough to make you forget that you have to tell him today about the decision you have taken.

Hyunjin and you walk down the stairs and off onto the road in five minutes as planned. The cool air of the night hits you and you hold yourself closer, the long coat held tightly to your body surface. Hyunjin laughs before wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close by just a little bit and yet enough to share his body warmth.

"Mint choco, here we come!" And he runs with you.

The thing with your stupid heart is that you don't understand why it is beating so rapidly in this moment, your heart beat easily jumping to more than 95bpm and all because Hyunjin holds you. You look at the man by your side, his blond hair moving with the air, exposing his face and you wonder — had Hwang Hyunjin always been this beautiful?

You have known Hyunjin for a long time now. Too long for you to realise that your heart had a change in its plans for emotions recently. You have known Hyunjin way too long to know that you want him for a lifetime by your side, as a best friend at the very least and the thought that if you did act upon your new emotions that you have just discovered in this cold, breezy night, you are screwed.

Hyunjin turns to look back at you after hearing absolutely no sound from you. His face pales when he realises you are looking far ahead and he wonders if you do remember now. If you remember the drunk night.

So he asks to put himself at ease, "Y/N?"

"Huh?" You jolt up to consciousness, looking properly at Hyunjin. "Yeah?"

"Do you remember the night a few days back?"

"Night? Few days back?" You ponder. "When I was drunk?"

"Yeah," Hyunjin mumbles and you raise your body in anticipation, finally wanting to ask about the magical teleportation.

"Now that we are on this topic," you fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at your best friend. Hyunjin shuffles his balance from his left to his right. "Did you carry me to bed that night?"

Hyunjin chokes on air, sputtering out incoherent words before finally forming one proper sentence, "You knew?"

"You're the only other person I live with and I don't have any recollection of going to bed so like I presumed," you look down, heat rising to your cheek and you fidget with your fingers. "That you carried me to bed."

"That's all that you remember?"

You lift your head up, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed, "Is there more?"

"Uh," Hyunjin turns back to face forward, his broad back in your vision again as he walks forward to the ice cream parlour by the junction.

"Hyunjin?" He walks quicker. "Yah! Hwang Hyunjin!" You follow him with quick, short strides, almost jogging up to him. "What did I do, Jinnie?" He opens the glass door to the ice cream parlour. "Yah, Hwang Hyunjin, tell me no matter how embarrassing it is." You follow him into the white aesthetically pretty place.

You finally catch hold of his coat and tug at it. Hyunjin turns, his cheeks flushed and you wonder what in the world happened that night. Yes, you have vague memories of hugging Hyunjin and passing out, but for him to act like this — wait, you didn't empty your stomach out on him, did you?

"Did I—" Hyunjin's eyes widens. He turns back, his attention on the man behind the counter and he points towards you.

"She's paying."

"Okay," the man nods and turns to look at you, waiting for your order. You sigh, glaring at your best friend before ordering one quantity of mint chocolate ice cream. Your eyes waver to the green ice cream and you frown in displeasure, something Hyunjin catches sight of your expression.

"How dare you?" He folds his arms, dramatically. "The only people that matter in this world are the one that like mint chocolate." The man at the counter smiles at the two of you.

You open your mouth, clicking your tongue, "I'm not paying money to eat toothpaste."

The man behind the counter laughs out loud and Hyunjin glares at him, scoffing. He takes the ice cream from his hand and waits for you to pay. The tall man looks at the two of you, again, before finally telling, "Good luck on your relationship. It's always fun to see couples have an argument over mint chocolate and still be so in love with each other." He turns to look at Hyunjin only, "For your information, I like mint chocolate."

Both Hyunjin and you look at each other, either of you waiting for the other person to disagree with the man but there is just silence. You can feel Hyunjin looking at you through the corners, waiting for you to refute like you always do. You don't and you do not even know why. The heat builds up beneath the apples of your cheek and the thought of being in a relationship with your best friend strangely brings about a wave of calmness within you, doing its best to shove the uncertainty of so many things away.

"Thank you for the ice cream," you say and walk to an empty table. Hyunjin thanks the man too, and follows you, sitting on the seat opposite to you and places the mint chocolate in between.

He watches you, unsure of the situation and you bite your lower lip nervously before shoving the cup closer to him and mumbling, "Eat. We came all the way here for you."

"You should have gotten another ice cream," Hyunjin frowns.

"It's past nine," you laugh, your hair falling over the chair as you lean back. "I can't let fat into my body after nine. You know that."

"Why do I know you?" Hyunjin puts his hand on his forehead looking at you and then he pushes the cup of ice cream towards your side. "Disappointment." You look at your best friend, disgusted and he won't take the disrespect though.

"It's a refreshing taste," he digs in and takes a big bite. "Plus, it's the right balance." He lifts the spoon with a small amount of the mint ice cream and shoves it right in front of your face. "The perfect amount of mint, chocolate and milk to make the world's most perfect ice cream."

You push his hand away and glare, "Why would you ruin two beautiful sweets," you raise an eyebrow, "Chocolate and ice cream by including," you fake a gag, "Mint?"

"Because mint balances the sweetness of the chocolate," he scoffs. "All you mediocre people won't understand. Mint chocolate was created for the elite class."

"Did you just call me mediocre?" your jaw drops and Hyunjin laughs. It's soft, airy and so carefree that you don't mind the fact that he is laughing at you and not with you. You don't mind one bit when you break down and laugh with him, unable to keep your face straight as you lean forward on the table, your head resting on your hands and you watch Hyunjin.

You decide to tell him of your decision in this minute.

"I'm going to make Seungmin manage the team," you tell Hyunjin and he stares at you, the spoon dropping from his hand and clattering against the glass rim of the ice cream cup. You continue, "He's always wanted to manage the volleyball team and I thought I should let him—"

"Why?" He sounds hurt. Disappointed, in fact and your heart plummets down.

"I thought it's time to move on."

"From the team or Minho?"

"Minho," you say, nibbling on your lower teeth. "I want to go back to him—"

"What?" Hyunjin feels his heart sink.

"Don't cut me off, hoe," you click your tongue. "I want to go back to him and be his friend. I'm not ready to ruin a friendship over this. I just won't."

Hyunjin looks down at his cup of ice cream. His spoon digs into the cold dessert over and over again till he realises that he'll do what he has always done for you — be right by your side as your pillar.

"Feed me," Hyunjin prompts and you stare at him with a void expression, mouth still open, wondering if he suggested this only and only to change the topic. Hyunjin stretches his arm out to shut your mouth. "People are going to think I'm starving you here."

"Whoa." You lift your head up. "And if I do that, people are going to think we're possibly the cutest couple out there still in our glorious honeymoon phase of it."

"Okay," Hyunjin shrugs and leans back against the chair, folding his arms against each other.

"Okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine with that."

You sit up straight and look down before finally saying, "Don't say that."

"Say what?"

"Those words that make my heart flutter. I don't know what to feel, Hyunjin." Hyunjin is too stunned to react and whine over the fact that you called him properly by his name in your conversation. The fact that he too can cause your heart to race a little bit just like you have with his all these years. "Don't say them to me if you won't ever be ready to take responsibility over them."

You place your thumb and forefinger on your forehead, squeezing the skin slightly to calm the slight ache you can feel, the vein throbbing slightly and you know it is your anxiety that kicks in because you almost spilled everything out. You quickly stand up and holding your coat tightly, you look at Hyunjin who is still seated and looking at you intently.

"I need to go to the pharmacy next door. I'll wait for you there. Finish your ice cream and come."

You don't turn to look at Hyunjin as you walk out, slightly embarrassed by your own behaviour. Between you and Hyunjin, you are the one who had to keep your cool, making sure you didn't slip up or make a mess so that you could at least have time to clean his spilt milk.

You push the door of the ice cream parlour and walk out, the doorbell ringing at your push and you hold yourself in the cold breeze. If Hyunjin did not respond to it, it is only safe to presume that he feels nothing more towards you. You could at least put two and two together. Or so you thought till Hyunjin is chasing after you, big strides and dark blond hair in the wind as his rubber band comes loose and slides off a bit.

"Y/N!" He shouts and quickly holds your wrist, pulling you so quickly that you stumble forward into him. Hyunjin grips your arms to steady you and he looks at you, his brown eyes trying to peep into your soul. He smiles, hand running through his hair only to bring more strands forward, covering his vision.

Falling in love with Hwang Hyunjin, you realise, is the easy part. He makes it so easy to fall for him — when he smiles at the sun, covering his eyes or when he is covered by the dogs in dog parks all eager to hug him because that's how he just is. You don't even realise when you fall for Hyunjin but when you do, you know you are already sinking and you are far too gone for saving.

It is, however, admitting to yourself that you fell for your best friend that is hard. The Hwang Hyunjin that you have seen since the five year old boy moved next door to you. The Hwang Hyunjin that would cross dress in your clothes. The Hwang Hyunjin that would steal your dumplings. It is the same Hwang Hyunjin that you fall for. You had all these doors with specifications that opened to only men like Lee Minho and yet like the rude asshole that you oh so adorably love he seemed to tear them down. Or perhaps those doors were meant for others and Hyunjin always had a door of his own for your heart.

You should have asked yourself why but would it have really mattered? You're here with Hyunjin by your side, whether he knows your feelings or not and you couldn't be any less glad, even if you are sometimes hiding, imagining a distance instead of seeing Hyunjin right there.

"I'll come back, Jinnie," you tell him, looking up at him and coughing slightly, trying to move back slightly to put some space between the two of you. "I'm not running away. I just need to buy some strips of paraceta—"

"I want to be responsible for them," His gaze doesn't leave yours. "I want to be responsible for you, your emotions and everything you are, if you let me."

You wouldn't dare to shift your eyes away, or focus on anything else. Just Hyunjin. Just your Hyunjin. Your heart beats so fast against your chest that you wonder if it ever had this much for any man or woman. And when Hyunjin pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around your frame, hand flat against your head that buries your face into his chest, you learn that Hwang Hyunjin's heartbeat is always your metronome — the beat your entire life seemed to have moved smoothly to.

You giggle against his chest, breaking into a smile, "Are you asking me out, Jinnie?"

"I guess," he chuckles into your hair, snuggling himself into you. He pulls you back to explain. "My original plan was to ask you out after the practice match that I'll make sure we win, but you could possibly not be there as our manager and what if I miss the chance?"

"You lovesick boy," you laugh, smiling stupidly at him. Hyunjin cups your face and presses his forehead against yours.

"I've liked you for so long, Y/N," and you blush, lips pursed and you smile back, heart fluttering.

"Thank you," you press a kiss against his cheek.

"For what?"

"For being you and for always loving me."

Hwang Hyunjin holds your face and kisses like he is capable of getting rid of all your worries, slowly bleeding into your marrows and cells and soaking you of the very essence he is. He holds you like you are a precious being — and to him, you are because he finally has you after all these years; he finally gets to call you his.

His lips are warm and tasted of mint; obviously from the mint chocolate ice cream earlier. His hands are wrapped around your waist and yours are locked around his neck pulling him down slightly. His strands of blond locks brush against your face, ticking you slightly and you giggle into the kiss. He laughs against your lips before kissing you slowly, drawing the kiss for as long as he could. When you break apart for air, you lean forward and rest your forehead against his, gathering some much needed oxygen. His smile tells you everything you need confirmation over and you smile back, sinking into his hold.

Hyunjin hugs with gentle arms that still gives the space to breathe; yet it is the hug of a strong pair of arms that tells everything that you are - every fibre of your being - that he is with you, and you wonder how he is capable of that. How he is capable of holding like you are his whole world — like he rather hold you than anything else.

Hyunjin does exactly that. He holds you tight and close to him in this cold night, ignorant of everything else around the two of you, like you and him only mattered in the place, like you and him are fireworks in this velvet dark, the blaze that dares to light up the night.

[seyenna]

Philza and/or Techno and/or Ranboo fic recs

just some of my fav dsmp fics, mainly phil, techno or ranboo bc i’m biased but also a bunch of sbi and others

this one goes out mainly to zablr discord my beloved

pls tell me if the links don’t work

all of these are on ao3

rating\status(complete/ongoing)\warnings\word count\misc tags

ichor flows free amongst the iron by summer_rising

T\o\violence\13k\series\gods AU

Summary:

A gods and goddesses AU of the Dream SMP, dramatized for all our benefits.

First work:

  "Two gods meeting on a mountaintop overlooking the stormy sea? Very classy, Dream, I appreciate your taste."

  Dream didn't turn to look at him, but the faint shake of his shoulders let Techno know he had heard.

  "Scar's healing up nicely, I see," Techno mumbled with a light nod of his head.

  "Mhm. Cut nice and clean. Not that I expected any less from you, of course."

   ~~

   The god of power and the god of luck meet on a mountaintop to discuss Luck's standing in the ongoing political disaster.

We're Only Young by ImperialKatwala

G\o\-\66k\series\Dream & Technoblade

It's easy to forget amid the chaos and bloodshed how similar - and how young - Dream and Technoblade really are.

And when the sun comes up, you'll find a brand new god. by SkyboxZoo

M\o\violence\19k\gods AU

Summary:

The wounds from the fight had healed nigh instantly, but the golden blood still soaked Techno’s shirt. His cloak had gotten torn off and his hair had fallen out of its pony-tail. Ichor pooled in his boots. The man left a trail of golden, bloody footprints in his wake.

old gods (new gods) by WriterWinged

T\o\-\9k\series\gods AU

Summary of first work:

Survival, Blood, Madness. Philza, Technoblade, Wilbur Soot. Three gods who have never cared for mortal life, who play with them when they want to, who kill their toys just as easily. How, then, did a mortal end up in their hands?

This House Is A Fucking Nightmare by SilverWing15

T\c\-\17k\series\sbi

Summary:

AU Where Phil isn't quite as willing to stand by while his sons drop like flies

Summary of third part (my fav):

Does lingering too long in the shadow of a god make you a god? The voices in his head seem to think so.

His brothers know he's older than them but they don't know how much

OR: Technoblade doesn't think his brothers realize how different they are from ordinary men. After all, ordinary men may fight the gods, but they don't win.

It's been a long day. by BecausePlot

G\c\-\3k\Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

Sides are bad: he knows that much. He’s seen it tear people apart time and time again, so when he decided to separate himself from Tubbo and keep his distance, he knew he was in the right.

Well. He thought he was in the right, at the time. Sitting all by himself on the steps to the Prime Path, he’s not so sure anymore.

Yes, the sides might have torn the others apart, might have made them so weak that they have no choice but to fold under Dream’s hand, but at least they aren’t lonely.

So are sides bad?

‘I don’t know.’

~*~

Or, Ranboo looks out at the ruins of L'Manburg, feeling more lost and lonely than he ever has.

But, as he soon finds, he's not as alone as he thinks.

the voices in my head, they say a lot of things by rosyasteria

-\c\violence\1k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

Some days the voices didn’t listen. They didn’t let up. They screamed instead of whispered, relentless, assaulting his ears until they bled.

tell them i was the warmest place you knew and you turned me cold by rosyasteria

-\c\-\2k\Techonblade-centric

Summary:        

Technoblade cared. But in the end it just fucked him over.

For the majority of his life, Techno felt like less of a companion, less of a family member, and more like a weapon to be wielded. 'The Blade' they called him; never 'friend'.

It Leaves Little Time for Anything Else by mirandible

M\c\-\1k\part of series\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

   A young man aims for the top, but fate has other plans for him. So does Technoblade, apparently.

   (Or: answering the question of “Why does Techno hide his scars if they’re supposed to be some sort of trophy? Why keep your point of pride a secret?”)

the best requiem is a bar of silence (and I'll sing it, even if I must hold back my tears) by jello12451

T\o\-\10k\Philza & Technoblade

Summary:

   He can’t help the noise of celebration that escapes him. Techno- this means that Techno’s free, and he got his horse back, and everything is alright-

  Tubbo, filled with rage at Phil’s cheers, turns and impulsively shoots an arrow.

   He doesn’t expect to hit his target.

---

  Alternatively: What if Phil didn't have a bucket of water when Tubbo shot him?

Change fate by being aggressively kind by sircantus

T\o\-\13k\sbi, Philza-centric

Summary:

   “You do understand that you’re caring for the thing meant to bring destruction and chaos to our world, right?” The woman asks, Phil looking behind him fondly as Techno grabs at the ends of his wings.

   “He’s just a child.” Phil answers distractedly, humming as his wings get gently yanked at.

   “He’s the first of three to destroy life as we know it! Shouldn’t we, well, get rid of him?!”

   “Oh, no.” Phil raises his eyes with a sharp glare. “Believe me, I have my own way of preventing the apocalypse.”

   ---

   Or, Techno, Wilbur, and Tommy are basically chaotic forces of nature, destined from birth to end the world and bring destruction. Most who hear of the tale of them are trying their best to track them down, and to end the monsters while they’re still young, still just children.

   Phil has a different plan.

   (In which Phil raises the minecraft equivalents of the anti-christ with love and support, so much so to the point where the world ending is really just a funny thought, and Phil has three kids who casually have powers that are bit more extreme than anything else in the world)

I promised you that everything would be fine by findingkairos

G\c\-\6k\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

   manifestation: (n.)

1.     an event, action, or object that clearly shows or embodies something abstract or theoretical;

2.     a version or incarnation of something or someone;

3.     an appearance of a ghost or spirit;

4.     the Blood God.

When he's young and still alone, still establishing his reputation as the immortal warrior, Technoblade makes up an imaginary friend.

Years later, the blood god is very real and very much a god: one that is prepared to do anything for their first and only friend.

the inner mechanism of a black box by Bee_4

T\c\violence, self-harm\Technoblade-centric

Summary:

   Technoblade lets himself get imprisoned for Philza’s sake. He doesn’t plan on being there long. Unfortunately, he’s underestimated Pandora’s Vault.

   There are things that will make even the Blade fall apart in due time, as it turns out.

carry all my sins by BananasofThorns

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo-centric

Summary:

Ranboo swallows. “All my armor and weapons and stuff are missing. Fundy and I were gonna go looking for them after the festival, I think.”

“I see.” Tubbo smiles again, but this time it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Well, I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s just a festival. We could probably find someone to lend you a sword or an axe or something.”

He starts towards the stage, waving at people when they call his name, and Ranboo follows. The original panic has dulled to a cold buzz in his chest, but apprehension still wraps itself around his body like chains. He doesn’t like being without his armor and tools; he feels too exposed, and if something happens, he’ll be helpless.

“Ranboo?” Tubbo calls, glancing back.

Ranboo shakes his head and hurries to catch up. “Yeah, it’ll be fine,” he repeats. “Everything’s gonna be fine."

Tubbo grins. “That’s the spirit.”

Rule 5: be loyal. L'manberg doesn't do well with supposed traitors. Ranboo deals with the consequences.

Sojourn by Lacy_Star

T\o\-\13k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

“Well…” Ranboo started slowly, “You see, uh… I kinda… don’t have a house anymore, obviously. Um… Phil found me in—“ He paused, cutting himself off and squinting at the floorboards— very discreet, “Phil… found me. And… um… He said I could stay by you guys. Like, um, by the dog house he wants to build?” He paused, then began to ramble, “But, uh, if you don’t want me here, I understand— and I’m sorry for coming in your house when you weren’t here, I swear I didn’t touch anything— it was just cold outside and—“

Techno just stared at him. And how, how was this the second time this had happened to him? How was this the second time he returned home after battle to discover an injured teenage boy waiting for him, seeking assistance with nowhere to go? And how badly had that ended last time, in nothing but betrayal and insults?

---

AKA: Phil drags a half-enderman home after Doomsday, and Techno decides that they can keep it. For now.

can an axe count as rent? by aboutfivebees

T\c\-\4k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

Ranboo’s struggling to settle into his new life on the Arctic Anarchist Commune, but at least he’s got bread.

or the struggles of an enderman hybrid to come up with a housewarming gift to give to his friends, who are just trying to adopt him

The Caged Bird Sings of Freedom by StarPrince_Punk

T\o\-\25k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

The Blade's stance was still tense, his body prepared to fight at a moment’s notice if need be. “What’s your name?” Phil asked “My… name?” The Blade asked. “Yeah. Your name isn’t actually The Blade, right? That’s like a stage name?” Phil tried to keep his tone light. “What’s your real name?” The Blade hesitated. “No one… No one’s called me by my name in a long time.” ------- When Phil comes across Ranboo in his panic room after L'Manberg's destruction, it reminds him of when he first met Technoblade. And just like when he met Techno, Phil's first instinct is that he has to help this kid. While living together, Techno and Ranboo learn that they're much more similar than they had previously thought, and Phil learns that it's not too late for him to be a better dad.

This already feels like more of a home by H3118ENDER

T\o\violence, death\18k\Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

As the ashes of L'Manberg settle the conflict continues to come to life setting the stage for a new wave of blood shed. Stuck slam in the middle of past and present friends Ranboo is coming to learn that even without nations to their names feelings and feuds don't die but people, people do.

A Shadow of a Shadow by unappetizingegg

T\c\-\4k\ Ranboo & Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

There were a few beats of silence, and then- “What are your plans, now? Do you need a place to stay?”

That caught him off guard. Surely he’d heard incorrectly. Phil was offering him a home, right after he’d orchestrated the destruction of his past one? It didn’t make any sense, none of it did. Why would Phil say that?

Then he remembered, he remembered Techno stopping him in the fight. He remembered being handed his book, the question in Techno’s gaze. He swore, in that moment, Technoblade, the Technoblade, had been worried about him. He remembered that he had been told to leave, to run, to get away and preserve himself. He had spared him, he remembered that Techno had spared him.

Techno had helped him. Phil had tried to protect him, to get him away from the danger.

They were there for him.

 ---

alternatively:

Ranboo is alone. But he really isn't.

Meritocracy by oddsbodkins

G\o\-\18k\Dream & Technoblade, sbi, medieval AU

Summary:

Dream is more successful than he'd ever imagined - but there's one thing that's been bothering him. Technoblade, his biggest rival, the Acolyte of the Blood God and King of the Arena, went missing last spring, just before Dream got the chance to duel him. Without that one achievement to pave his way, all the following victories have felt cheap.

So, Dream hired some goons to dig Technoblade up and pester him into coming back to the Capitol, for one last showdown. Easy enough, right?

Interlude I: "Promises to Keep" by Ozzyyy

T\c\-\1k\part of a series\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

These woods are lovely, dark, and deep But I have promises to keep

And miles to go before I sleep And miles to go before I sleep.

--

Techno has a plan. It's crazy. It's insane, it's actually just batshit bonkers. But if chaos cannot be enjoyed together, then what's it worth, yeah? There's a certain beauty in watching the world burn from the center of the flames. Phil intends to be there.

I Don't Want To Start A Fight (wouldn't you rather start a riot?) by KryOnBlock

T\c\violence, death\15k\Technoblade & Philza & Ranboo

Summary:

An universal ping rang out from behind him, the third and final he knew, and Phil sobbed, clutching the body tighter.

Techno didn’t move.

It always has been Technoblade and Philza, Philza and Technoblade. Take on half, and you shall never go back.

Sheltered by Lulatic

G\c\-\6k\Ranboo & Technoblade

Summary:

It was cold outside. But Techno never heard Ranboo complain.

That was the best excuse he could muster to keep him out.

Antarctic Princes 'verse by BirchWrites

T\o\-\15k\series\sbi

Summary:

Loosely-connected one shots set in an AU where the Antarctic Empire and the Dream SMP are in the same world. Ordered chronologically, but each fic can be read as a standalone thing

Summary of first part:

Oh shit. Forget arrested; Dream’s going to have to tell Wilbur that he watched Tommy get stabbed for being terminally stupid.

May we cross paths again by QueenLunaFreed

G\c\-\1k\Dream & Technoblade

Summary:

“Even if tomorrow it’s just us versus the entire server, Dream, I’m telling you right now - I have confidence.”

---

Dream couldn’t comprehend the pacing contradiction in front of him, the weakness he could clearly see, but would never comment on. Because this man has been defying Dream's expectations since they first met, because despite them not being friends and having no reason to trust each other, Dream knew that Technoblade is the only person who he’d trust to do this right. To destroy L'Manberg alongside him yet again, this time for real.

leave me your starlight by findingkairos

T\o\-\18k\Technoblade & Philza

Summary:

For you the world, Phil.

Once upon a time, Philza Minecraft is the only person who does not shy away from the bloody teen that regularly turns the tide of war.

This cements a friendship that will last wars, empires, worlds, and lifetimes.

 ---

(Featuring: Back to Back Badasses, healthy relationships, accidental deification, intentional world domination, and Phil's past coming back to haunt his best friend.)

[samwrights]

Pining After You pt. 4 [hc]

Yall really love these?! 🥺 y’all are incredible. This one was requested by @xhanjisungiex thank you for challenging me out of my comfort zone and I hope you like it bb! 🖤

Kinda warning?: Semi is aged up so mentions of alcohol consumption!

Goshiki;

Oh this poor confused boy.

If y’all already thought he kinda acted a fool before meeting you, you can imagine how he is after he decides that his other life goal is to date you.

Obtaining that was the issue.

Shirabu lowkey thought he was pathetic that he couLDN’T TALK TO A GIRL IN HIS CLASS.

But it seemed his typical tactics of trying to be the center of attention just wasn’t working—no matter how many times he raised his hand to answer a question just to get you to look his way or trying to be lab partners.

All your friends snatched you up, proving to make the task more difficult.

So for now, he continues to just admire from afar. He paid attention to the way you interacted with your friends very closing, noticing you were a very physical person; touching people when you laughed or patting them on the head in mock comfort. Goshiki wondered how you would interact with him if ever given the chance.

He noticed little details like the way you would drum your favorite colored mechanical pencil against textbooks, drumming to an imaginary song or beat while moving your lips to sing lyrics that weren’t there.

Goshiki noticed when you weren’t your normal self. You would cross your legs at the knee from time to time, rather than resting them flat on the ground, when you were tense in your desk. There was no drumming or rapidly swinging your pencil between your fingers. Just arms folded over your chest as you stared out the window.

In second year, he noticed that the happy, touchy girl that he had found himself unabashedly staring at for a third of his day wasn’t herself anymore.

The bright shine of your hair had dulled and thinned, and your lab partner was no longer any of your friends, but a boy you had started dating at the end of first year.

Goshiki would be lying if he said he didn’t imagine punching the dude once a week.

Your smile no longer squished your cheeks towards your eyes—it was no longer genuine. Your legs were now always crossed at knee, no longer relaxing with your feet flat on the floor.

There was no more drumming or lip syncing to imaginary music, and your eyes had harrowed in more. It broke his heart to think that the girl he had initially fallen for no longer existed.

When you return from winter break, Goshiki notices that while your physical features had remained the same, you and your lab partner boyfriend no longer speak to each other if necessary. Perhaps a break up? He could only hope.

Or so he thought until he heard the venom in his voice when he spoke to you. You had miscalculated the needed elements in your current lab experiment, causing the contents in the beaker to boil over and release a foul order. “This is why I fucking dumped you.” Goshiki heard the boy snarl as he began cleaning up.

You tried not to cry.

That was it, that was all that Goshiki could take. He approached your work station, eyes locking with the boy. “Excuse me, I’m Goshiki Tsutomu. Would you like to switch lab partners?”

“Dude it’s the end of the year, little late for that.”

“I don’t care.” Goshiki snapped before turning to you, the look in his eyes softening by the slightest calibre. “My partner would like to switch places with you. Would you be okay with that?” Who was this angel swooping in time save you??

The science teacher actually approved the switch, considering your grades were not exactly where they used to be. Maybe Goshiki could help bring your grade up by the end of the year.

On the first day of the two of you being lab partners, you thanked him profusely for rescuing you from the situation, which made his swell immensely.

He still may be a ways away from succeeding in his goal to date you, but having to interact with you for the rest of the year was a step in the right direction.

But more importantly, he had come to terms with the fact that while you dating him may never happen, Goshiki finally got to see your trademark smile return to your features, your cheeks squeezing shut slightly at the genuine gesture. Your feet were planted on the ground.

He would be okay with whatever happens, as long as you never lost that smile.

Semi;

I totally should have used Semi for my Punk!AU series that I’m writing 🥴 Hindsight is 20/20

SO we’re gonna go a little left field with this one, bare with me friends.

You and Semi are in a band together—with Semi Semi as your drummer and you as the vocalist.

While you two don’t hate each other, you have a strange rivalry over trivial things. Your band HATED it because they really just wanted you two to get over the sexual tension and bang.

He had to better than you at everything else besides singing.

You shotgunned a beer? Semi’s gonna do two in a row.

You got a high score in guitar hero? He was gonna play the same song and break the record.

Y’all went out to a buffet as a band and you cleared 5 plates? He was gonna have 7.

You get the point.

He would never admit to being in love with you first—it was the one thing did he didn’t want to beat you in.

But there were nights when it took everything in him walk away from his drum set in the middle of a show or practice, grab you by the waist and just give you a big ol’ smooch for hitting that high note that you had been struggling with.

Sure, he was in absolute denial about his feelings, but he could never not watch you, especially during shows.

The way you would sway around and move on the stage, the smallest wriggle of your hips, or the way you would stand back to back with your guitarist as the two of you harmonized. Made him regret offering to be the drummer when he could play guitar just as well.

He definitely imagined fucking you on his drum set

Band practice was always at his house due to the fact that he had his drum kit there and it was a pain in the ass to transport. Some days, you’d show up to Semi’s house before everyone else just to have some peace and quiet while also having access to multiple instruments.

Today was one of those days, but you were early. Like by hours. For a minute, Semi thought someone broke into his house until he heard your voice accompanying a soft ballad he had never heard before.

Quietly, he tiptoes down the steps in hopes the stairs don’t creak and give away his position. Despite the genre in which you guys were classified, your voice was the most hypnotizing thing to Semi.

You’re still lost in song when he joins on the couch, cautious so as not to disturb you while you concentrated. When you finished playing, he reached for the guitar, already memorizing the simple chords you strummed.

“Do it like this.” Semi’s voice was soft as he nestled the body between his chest and leg as he strummed the same chords, but with a half-step difference. He nodded towards you to sing, before he joined in harmonizing. By now, you were somehow in harmony with two completely different lines overlapping, his words a product of his own creativity.

As the song ended, the two of you just stared at each other, knowing full well your feelings were intertwined with every word.

He couldn’t fucking take this anymore—he had to kiss you, had to let you know that despite the petty competitions, he was in love with you.

But you let it happen with ease, allowing Semi to set the guitar down before cupping your cheeks to pull you on top of him. “You lose.” You tease when you pulled away for a breath.

“Nah, I win. I’m not in denial anymore.”

“No, I win. I never was.”

Futakuchi;

When Futakuchi became captain, he really regretted how much of a dick he was when he was “younger”.

Included in his list of regrets was how he treated you back when you used to come watch matches for Moniwa.

As the captains best friend, Futakuchi used to treat you like the team lackey.

“[name], why don’t you go be useful instead of gawking at Moniwa and fill up our water bottles?”

“[name], instead of just standing there, you could help us clean up the gym.” Etc. Even if he was technically your kouhai, he literally could not stop himself.

But when you stopped coming around, thanks to the third year’s retirements, Futakuchi realized he missed the one sided banter.

He supposed he missed it because you never gave in to his coaxing, only fueling him to try harder to bait you to fight back. All he wanted was to see you get flustered and red because of him.

Why, he didn’t know but all he did know was that he wanted to see your perfect skin covered in warmth and embarrassment. Ofc he knows why

“Maybe she stopped coming because she didn’t want to see you anymore.” Aone had told him once when it was just the two of them cleaning up after practice.

“No, her friends aren’t here anymore. Why would she come here when she has no reason to?” Was he trying to bait Aone or himself? He was unsure.

“You’re an idiot.” Was all he said in response.

During the spring high preliminaries, you decided to join your retired third year pals to watch the tournament. “Y’all really decided to give the team to Fukatuchi?” You asked in surprise.

“As shocking as it is, he’s actually doing quite well.” Moniwa says from beside you. While you hadn’t seen Fukatuchi since your friends’ retirement, you had a tough time believing his word.

After the loss to Aoba Johsai, you joined the other third years in saying hello to the team, though you would have been fine if you could have avoided the new captain.

You take the time to introduce yourself to the first year, Koganegawa, encouraging him that he did well despite being new and made sure to congratulate Aone as well. You did always like him.

“Oh? What about me?” Fukatuchi said from behind you, for which you were grateful because you were free to roll your eyes without him seeing. With the fakest smile you could muster, you turned around to greet the new captain.

As you opened your mouth, finally ready to give him a piece of your mind since Moniwa technically no longer needed to deal with him, you stopped when you noticed the serious expression on his face. “I’m sorry.” Was all he said.

“W-what?” Fukatuchi looks to his team and they all seemed to understand what he was silently telling them: leave.

“I’m sorry for the way I treated you when you used to come and watch.” What. WhaT. You.exe program not responding.

The two of you are just awkwardly standing there, alone, with the sounds of the current match running somewhere in the distance. Fukatuchi is unsure if he continue what he intiallity prepared himself to say. Biting the bullet, he caves and continues speaking. “You never took my hooks. They’re the only way I know how to pull people in.”

“Fukatuchi, that’s so stupid.”

“Wow thanks, [name].” Was all he could reply with a grimace.

“What else am I supposed to say? ‘I miss you picking on me—‘“

Fukatuchi used Kiss. It was super effective!

“Ah, so that’s how I’m supposed to get you all hot and bothered.” He smirks, noticing the blushing cascading up your neck. He may have apologized, and he may have missed throwing little quips your way.

But now that he had finally seen the way you looked when you’re embarrassed, it was his end game to see it over and over—prompting him to kiss you again. “What the hell was that even for?! You’re so confusing!”

“Aw come on, you know how the saying goes. Boys pick on the girl they like.”

Wanna see a specific character? Or a different head cannon? Want to see a whole story?

Send in requests!

[imagining-supernatural]

The First Paparazzi Ambush

Part 16 of Seventy Percent

Series Summary: When you left on your trip to Vegas, you’d planned on letting loose for one last weekend before heading back to reality and getting your affairs in order so your best friend wouldn’t be left cleaning up your mess when your cancer finally ended your life. What you hadn’t counted on was waking up married to a celebrity who has a knight-in-shining-armor complex, connections with an oncologist, and amazing insurance…

Chapter Summary: Reporters ambush you outside of the hospital

Word Count: 2,225

“Babe, it means something if you’ve slept in his bed for the last week,” Jasmin was saying in your ear as you left the hospital.

You waved at one of your nurses when you passed her, waiting until you were out of earshot of everyone before replying. “It means he took your advice about cuddling very seriously. That’s it.”

She huffed. “I swear, he could kiss you and you’d think he was just being friendly.”

Okay, no one said anything about kissing. And there was a very good reason. Reason being that your heart wouldn’t calm the fuck down. “Cool theory, Jaz.”

“Not a theory. My aunt’s psychic abilities just transferred to me and I know things. He wants to kiss you. Trust me on this. But you’re so damn closed off to romance. Sweetie, if you’d just open up—”

“Cute how you’re thousands of miles away and think you know what’s happening over here.” Before stepping outside, you paused just long enough to shrug on your jacket. It was starting to get chilly, and you were especially susceptible to getting sick, due to your treatment. As a result, Seb constantly made you promise to take every single extra precaution you could to avoid that. “Anyway, I’m heading out of the hospital right now, so I’ll call you tomorrow. Enjoy your date tonight!”

“Third date, bitch. I’m gonna get me some, especially since you’re too stubborn to take a bite of that fine piece of—”

Before she could finish that thought, you hung up. You didn’t need any more of her matchmaking efforts clouding your mind. It was hard enough keeping your feelings in check without her voice bouncing around in your head.

You took a deep breath before walking out of the hospital. Sean was leaning against the car, waiting for you. Over the last five weeks, you’d gotten to know him pretty well. Which is why you knew something was up when his eyes flickered away from you once you were halfway to him and he pushed off his car, ready for action,

“Y/N Y/L/N!” The shock of a stranger calling your name froze you in your tracks and you turned just in time for a microphone to be shoved in your face.

“How do you respond to the allegations that you are responsible for your mother’s death?”

“How do you live with yourself for giving up your nephews?”

“Does Sebastian know you’re using him for his money?”

More microphones were grappling for best position as you were blinded by camera flashes.

It was like sleep paralysis: watching the demon at the foot of your bed but not being able to move. There was nothing you could do to stop this assault. Your biggest fear, at the moment, was coming to light in a very public way.

“Hey, hey, HEY!” You watched from underwater as Sean elbowed his way through the sudden crowd and tucked you under his arm. “Who the fuck do you think you are, accosting someone outside of a hospital?”

“America deserves to know the truth,” one reporter snarled.

Sean ignored them and manhandled you to the car, not stopping until you were safely in the backseat behind tinted windows. The rush of trying to get to a safe zone made an abrupt halt, and it was as if the entire world convalesced into the air between your feet. Your world seemed to spin as you stared at the carpet on the car floor.

“Fuck,” you muttered as he pulled away from the hospital.

Responsible for your mother’s death…

Using Sebastian for his money…

“You okay back there?”

For a long minute, you didn’t answer. Hell, he knew you weren’t. It was obvious. So obvious that you didn’t answer his question. Instead, you said, “I better call Seb. Give him a head’s up if he doesn’t know already.”

“You’re allowed to take a breath, you know?” Sean said. “I’ve driven a lot of people, and scenes like that are never easy. It’s okay to not be okay right now. Sebastian will understand if you take a minute before calling him.”

“We knew this was coming,” you said, flipping your phone over and over in your hand. “It’s not like it’s a surprise.”

“It is today. For you. Right now. Just because you knew it was coming didn’t mean you were prepared for it right now.”

Your eyebrows drew together as you regarded your friend. At your silence, he caught your eyes in the rearview. “Sean, are you, like, a psychologist?”

He laughed. “No, just married to one. I’ve picked things up over the last few years.”

“Your wife is one smart woman.”

“That she is.”

“Would she say I’m calm enough to call Seb now?”

He nodded, giving you a reassuring smile.

With that, you dialed Seb’s number, trying to remember what he was doing right now. Meeting with his agent? Is that what he said this morning before you left? Maybe skyping with his mom? He had mentioned something about his mom today.

And suddenly you were worried what she would think of everything that came out. You’d spoken with her a few times to assuage her worries regarding her son’s sudden marriage and she was so nice and understanding. God you hoped this didn’t—

“Hey Y/N.”

“Hey, uh, how’re you?” Your voice sounded so false, and you knew Seb would pick up on it. “How’s your day going?”

He paused before slowly asking, “What’s going on, sweetheart? You sound worried.”

“There were reporters. Outside the hospital.”

“Oh shit, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said before reevaluating. “I mean, no. But Sean was there. He got me to the car and… and is now driving in the wrong direction? Sean?”

“Just driving around for a bit in case someone tries to follow you home.”

“He’s kidnapping me,” you relayed to Sebastian.

“As long as he gets you back before your treatment tomorrow,” Sebastian said, trying to sound casual, but you could hear the tension in his voice from your earlier revelation.

You, however, relayed a different message to Sean. “Seb says good riddance.”

“I’m putting up the privacy glass so you can’t use me to put off this conversation any longer.”

“Fuck you, Sean. You don’t know me.”

“What was that?” he raised his voice as the glass also raised. “I can’t hear you over the sound of your procrastination.”

The glass closed you off from Sean and you slumped back in the seat. “He’s ignoring me now. Put the glass up and everything. Totally cut me off. Some friend he is.”

“How are you, really? I know this is the last thing you wanted to happen.”

You sighed. “It was going to happen eventually. I knew that. And it sucks. I’m glad Sean was there. I, uh, I kinda froze.”

“Can’t blame you. Shit, I hoped they would draw a line, at least, at the hospital.”

“Yeah, well,” you scoffed. It was hard not to fall into your hole of self pity. Your first instinct was to say something like what in my life ever works out like that, but you somehow reigned yourself in. After all, your odds were all over the place lately. You couldn’t use a blanket statement of despondence for your life anymore. The last month sure had taken a turn for the better. Ever since you met Sebastian. “Hey Seb?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart.

“Will you be home when I get there?”

“I’m here now.”

“Okay. I, uh…” Your pinky slipped from the corner of your phone to your mouth and you bit at your fingernail. It took a second and a deep breath before you could admit, “I need a hug. So that’s good.”

“Have Sean drop you off in the garage by the elevator. I’ll be waiting.”

“Cool.” Cool? Who the hell responded to a hot guy saying I’ll be waiting for you with the word cool? An idiot: that’s who. “Anyway, I guess I should let you go so you can, I don’t know, call your PR team or whatever.”

“I can do that later. I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I’ll be fine. I’ve got Sean right now. His wife’s a psychologist so I’m sure he’ll enjoy psycho-analyzing me with all of his second hand psychology knowledge.”

“Okay.” You could tell he didn’t like it, but he accepted your decision anyway. “Promise me you won’t look anything up online yet, okay?”

“No, yeah, definitely. Unless you, Jasmin, or the hospital calls or texts, I won’t use my phone at all. I’ll just annoy Sean until he decides we’ve lost our imaginary tail and takes me home.”

“If you need me before then…”

“I’ll call. Don’t worry.”

“Okay. See you soon…” The way he trailed off felt like there was more he wanted to say. But after a moment of silence, you repeated the farewell and hung up.

After you took a moment to be by yourself, you tapped on the glass and Sean lowered it. He drove aimlessly for ten minutes more, then started taking pointed turns to get you home. Before you knew it, you were in the underground garage that was – thankfully – reporter free.

Sean parked the car and twisted around in his seat to look at you. “Tell Sebastian that, on days he’s not with you, I’ll make sure to walk you into the hospital and pick you up inside the hospital until things calm down.”

“He’ll appreciate that, thanks.” You went about gathering your purse and unbuckling your seatbelt. “I do too.”

“And, Y/N?” Sean waited until you looked up at him. “Whatever those reporters ask you, it’s all trash. I don’t know much about you, but I know you’re a damn good person and they’re just looking for some good clickbait. Don’t give it to them.”

“A psychologist and a media specialist,” you mused, a light smile on your face. “I’m learning so much about you today, Sean. And thank you. For everything you do. Seriously.”

He let the moment simmer warmly for a moment before jerking his head to your door. “Now get outta here. Your man’s over there looking anxious to see you.”

“He’s not really my man,” you muttered, opening your door. As soon as the door opened, Seb pushed off the wall and walked your way.

Sean called your name and you leaned down to peer into the car, only to be greeted by a teasing grin. “Keep telling yourself that lie if it helps. I’ve seen you two together.”

Sebastian wrapped his arm around your waist and leaned down to thank Sean before drawing you to the elevator. Once the doors are closed and the floor selected, he pulls you into his arms and leans back against the elevator wall. “You said you needed a hug.”

“Or two,” you mumble, cheek pressed against his heart. Standing this close to Sebastian made it nearly impossible to shove away Sean and Jasmin’s voices and opinions of your relationship with the man.

The soft whir of the elevator rising suddenly brought forward your memories of watching Grey’s Anatomy and a quiet giggle escaped your lips. A slight shift of his body prompted you to pull back just enough to look up at Sebastian’s questioning look.

“Sorry, it’s just… elevators. And emotions. Grey’s Anatomy. Ya’know.”

Understanding lights up his face before a spark ignites in his eyes. You were too focused on his eyes to notice his arms moving until he was gripping your hips. “If this were the elevator at Seattle Grace, I think we’d be more like…”

He used his hold on your hips to suddenly reverse your positions. The elevator was at your back, and he was caging you in, crowding your space.

You knew you should say something. Disrupt the suddenly heavy atmosphere that had descended. But his eyes were boring into yours, head leaning closer, tongue wetting his lips, and you couldn’t move. In a rare moment of honesty, you admitted to yourself that you didn’t want to move. Eyes closing, breaths drawing nearer, heart skipping…

Elevator stopping.

Doors opening.

Moment: ruined.

Sebastian groaned and turned to face the newcomer. His tee-shirt stretched across his back, tight across his muscles. As soon as your brain remembered it needed to work outside of the gutter, you realized that he was shielding you. Protecting you.

Not that it was necessary. A man entered, barking orders into a phone. It seemed as though he didn’t even register your presence.

Even as oblivious as he was, the presence of a stranger flung you back to the moment you heard your name outside the hospital. That fear. Their questions had unexpectedly reminded you of those days, years ago, when you’d felt so alone.

But you weren’t alone now.

To remind yourself, you slid your hands from where they were resting on Seb’s waist until your arms were wrapped around him, tugging him to lean back against you. The weight of his body on yours was grounding, as were his fingers tangling with yours. Neither of you said anything, instead, listening to the man yammer away about some business deal that was about to fall through.

Just before the elevator arrived at your floor, Sebastian brought one of your connected hands up to his lips and brushed a kiss across your knuckles.

Ahh!!! That almost kiss!!!! But now her past is starting to get out there for the world to see... that can’t be good...

CHAPTER 17: THE SURPRISE ILLNESS

[jemej3m]

radio silence (chapter 1: misunderstandings)

twinyards week - day 1!!!! im going to be compiling these all in an ao3 fic at the end of the week, because they’ll all be the same au, and ((mostly)) in chronological order. 

i hope u enjoy!  

tw warning for child sexual and physical abuse, self harm, canon-typical violence, swearing, homophobia (aaron and andrew ((and nicky))’s backstories)

*

Ever since Andrew could remember—which was pretty much forever—he’d had an imaginary friend.

Well, sort of. His imaginary friend was a very distinct voice in his head called Aaron, who didn’t like his mother because she would always hit him, and leave him locked in his room whilst she went off with needles and men. Andrew was sometimes perplexed at how specific his imagination could be.

Aaron knew about Samuel, and James, and Harrison, because Andrew had told him, hidden away in a small, dark closet with his body shaking and aching. Why do they touch you? Aaron had asked, sounding upset. Probably because Andrew was upset, too.

I don’t know, his seven-year-old self had whimpered, lost and scared and alone. I don’t know.

Imaginary friends fell out of fashion pretty fast when Andrew finally went to school: Andrew Doe, the foster kid. Andrew Doe, the weirdo who talked to himself. Don’t go near the short one: He’s a freak.

He spent his time instead in the small, decrepit libraries that those schools had to offer, hiding in the corner with a book that was probably too hard for him to read but he didn’t care: He waddled through it, Aaron asking about what happened at the end of every chapter. He couldn’t read as well as Andrew could. Probably because he wasn’t real.

It was the realisation that Aaron was most certainly a detailed, intricate figure of Andrew’s imagination that forced him to stop talking to him. This lasted for years: The silence was almost echoey in Andrew’s head as he moved from home to home, none of them any good.

Until Cass.

She was warm and gentle. She baked him cookies and taught him how. Richard took him to the movies and drove him too and from school. They were the kindest people Andrew had ever met, and Andrew clung onto them fervently.

Then Drake, their son, came home. He was tall and broad shouldered and smiled like a wolf: He pinned Andrew down into the mattress and Andrew wished his pillows would just swallow him. Mornings were spent squirrelling away bloodied sheets and staring at himself in the mirror as hopeless tears rolled over young adolescent cheeks. Why me? He’d thought, desperate. Why me?

Andrew, Aaron said, astonished after all the years of radio silence. Is that you?

“You’re not real.” Andrew whispered. “You’re not real.”

Is something wrong? Something has to be wrong. Are you hurt?

Andrew ignored him in favour of finding the razor tucked under the spare face clothes in the sink’s spare drawer. When he climbed into the shower, he watched the water dilute his blood, and thought of the way that everything had a cost.

*

Officer Phil Higgins was an overbearing man who knew Andrew from a program for troubled kids within his area, where he gathered them all into a circle and forced them into bonding activities. Board games. Backyard baseball. ‘Buddy’ forming activities. Andrew was required to go, due to his ‘lacking social skills’, but he almost never participated. The pig never pushed him, never asked why he wore black long-sleeves in the middle of a Californian summer and never encroached on Andrew’s personal space, which was why Andrew continued to put up with the man’s antics.

The only actual conversation he and the pig ever had was when the man held Andrew back after one afternoon session, much to Andrew’s irritation.

“I went to a baseball game on the weekend,” he said, like it was something Andrew wanted to hear. “I met someone very interesting.”

Andrew stepped out of his space and made for the exit: When Phil said “Andrew, please listen,” he stood, the revolted shudder making the entire frame of his body tremble. He glanced over his shoulder for merely a second, but the officer took his chance. “I met a boy just like you. He looked identical to you. I think you might have been separated in the system at birth. His name is Aaron.”

That was enough for Andrew, who sprinted away from Phil’s curious gaze. In a brief lapse of control, he silently yelled at Aaron: You’re real?

Yes. Are you?

Yes, Andrew thought, devastated.

I met a police officer, today. He said that you’re real, Andrew. That you’re here, in California. Are you? Can I see you?

Fuck off, Andrew snarled, wishing he could run away from the voice inside his own fucking head. He didn’t want Aaron anywhere near the Spear family, with Cass’s gentle hugs and Richard’s genuine laughs. He didn’t want Aaron near Drake’s malicious intentions, facing the same fate that Andrew did every night. Fuck off, don’t talk to me, don’t come near me.

Andrew—

Andrew shut himself inside his bedroom and made a feral snarling noise, wishing he could cut Aaron out of his head. Rain splattered carelessly against the small window of the bathroom, so uncharacteristic of California’s sunny skies and relentless cheer that he had to look away.

Everything was wrong. Everything was so wrong.

It wasn’t until the pig himself came over and explained to Cass and Richard what had happened that Andrew decided to do something preventative: From the hallway, Drake grinned, fisting a tuft of Andrew’s hair in his too-tight grasp.

“We’ll have so much fun together,” He whispered against the shell of Andrew’s ear. “The three of us. Won’t that be exciting?”

That night, Andrew crept out with a flask of gasoline from Richard’s shed and a box of matches before Drake could sneak his way into Andrew’s room, walking to his school under the veneer of darkness.

He watched the baseball pitch burn, sitting in the batter’s cage and letting the heat lick his sweat from his skin. When the police arrived he went gladly.

“Don’t let there be any more kids,” Andrew insisted as he was being shoved into a cruiser. Phil Higgins looked at him, perplexed. “Promise me that there won’t be anymore.”

“Andrew, what are you talking about?”

It was useless. He burrowed into the corner of the police car and let the cool metal of his handcuffs around his bloody wrists draw him out of his head.

He did it for Aaron. He did it for the voice in his head, who could be real after all.

If that didn’t make him insane, he didn’t know what did.

*

The first time Andrew and Aaron met—in the parking lot of the Seattle Juvenile Detention Facility—they’d just stared at each other. Their mother had been too sick to come all the way to greet him, something about a chronic illness that probably wasn’t very chronic. Instead Luther and Maria, and their squirrelly son Nicholas, welcomed Andrew with open arms.

“We’re very glad to have you,” Luther said.

“Let’s go home,” Maria insisted.

They sat in the back of the rental car, venturing back to the airport with Nicky sitting purposefully between the two brothers. Forever an ice-breaker.

Andrew? Aaron asked, hesitantly. Andrew looked out the window. Please—I just want to know if I’m actually insane or not.

I hate that word, Andrew said, scathingly. Aaron looked down to where his hands were entangled in his lap.

Sorry, he said, and actually sounded like he meant it. He was kinda pathetic. Andrew finally looked around Nicky at his brother, who caught his eye. Aaron was littered with bruises and sickly pale, even if he tried to cover it up with his loose polo shirt.

Does she hurt you? Andrew asked.

Andrew—

I asked you a fucking question.

Slowly, Aaron nodded. Andrew settled back into his chair and glared at the seat in front of him, Maria’s tangle of curls peeking through the gap between the chair’s headrest and body, wondering what kind of woman Tilda Minyard would be, to give up one son and not the other, and then treat the one she had like shit. Ideas wafted across the empty expanse of his mind, forcefully blank to avoid exploitation.

That was fine. Andrew would cross that bridge when he came to it.

*

“No.” Andrew said. It was the first time Andrew had ever spoken to Luther, six months since being initiated into the Minyard-Hemmick household. He’d spent that time convincing Aaron of his plan to get rid of their biological mother, who continued to hit Aaron even when Andrew warned her not to. Aaron didn’t want his mother to die. 

(She’s family, Andrew, he’d said silently. She’s family. Andrew had just looked at him and reminded him that he was family, and that they had always been there for each other, and that there was no way he’d leave Aaron now.) 

“No?” Luther inquired. “But Cass and Richard would love to see you. They were very shocked when you were arrested. They’d wanted to adopt you, Andrew.”

“No.” Andrew insisted, voice hoarse. “You do not let them anywhere near Aaron.”

Luther still wasn’t sold. “Why not?”

“Drake - he -” Raped me. Because someone always was. 

Luther’s smile was beseeching and patronising, and drained every last rivulet of energy from within Andrew, who was exhausted and angry at the world. He’d just found his family - why was fate so insistent on tearing it away from him again? 

“I’m sure it was just a misunderstanding, Andrew.”

Misunderstanding. Misunderstanding. Misunderstanding. 

Right. Of course. 

Andrew turned on his heel and marched out of Luther’s perfect little living room, where he was sat on the white linen couches with a cup of tea and his little wooden cross on the mantelpiece. By the time Andrew had grabbed his coat from the Hemmick’s pristine entrance corridor and ignored Maria’s inquiry about staying for dinner, the plan was already in place. 

People always underestimated the lengths to which Andrew would go to protect what little family he had: He supposed that lack of insight about Andrew’s limits would come in handy when orchestrating everything under their noses. The only person who knew him, really, was Aaron, but he spent most of his time hooked up on their mother’s shit to read whatever Andrew was up to now. 

Andrew would kill Tilda. Nicky would come back from Germany. Luther would forget all about the Spears, and Aaron would be safe. 

Perfect.  

*

twin telepathy!!!

(is dark rn im sorry but i promise we’ll get through all the canon stuff and then explore their relationship post-canon and get to that SWEET SWEET DOMESTICITY, i promise anon :ppp )

[donateliamitsuki]

The Sides' Realms [Headcanon]

So we know each side has their Realm/Room. We know that place will mimic wherever place Thomas is currently in.

But what the Realms actually look like?

Well first of all.

I imagine it working like the Crystal Gem's rooms,it's a single door but each Side can open it and go into his room or let others in.

Thomas is the only one with full access to every single room,which is why he was kinda the one "chosen" to be able to go into Virgil's room in Accepting Anxiety.

{{{{}}}}

Let's start with Patton.

Patton's realm actually looks like a house. It's clean and feels welcoming,a feeling of being at home.

There's pictures everywhere,both the Sides' and Thomas' each a wonderful memory,each a happy moment he treasures with the entirity of his being.

There's also toys and drawings and stories! All Thomas'! He can't throw them away,they made Thomas... Well,Thomas!

The pictures actually move,think it like the memories in Inside Out,they replay that moment over and over,Patton can sometimes just stare at it with nostalgia.

Since it looks like a house (a replica of Thomas' entire house) he has his room,a fluffy bed covered in animal plushies. And in his room there's the most special memories.

Like Virgil's card that one Christmas. Or simply a photo of the day Virgil became part of the family. When the whole YouTube thing started.

Yeah. It's nice.

But it reacts heavily to emotions. So the memories shown can change if a very strong emotion shows up. It can change to sad memories or scary memories.

But other than that... It's harmless.

{{{{}}}}

Next is Logan.

It also looks like a house. Maybe just a more school-like look but still a house.

He has his own laptop,he has Thomas' perfect schedule in a wall. There's markers,there's a whiteboard,yeah,school stuff.

He has his room,perfectly clean and everything in order.

Entering in his room makes you act more like Logan. That's it. You get logical,analytical,yeah. Actually just like in Virgil's room everyone slowly got eyeshadow,if Virgil is too long in Logan's place he'll start losing his eyeshadow and won't feel anxious at all.

{{{{}}}}

Now,Roman's.

His Realm... Is huge. And I mean HUGE.

You enter and there's this magical forest with a clear pat that eventually will take you to this huge white shiny castle. That's the place where Roman truly lives in.

There's fairies and unicorns and pegasus and everything. At the distance you can see a mountain with a cave,that's where the Dragon Witch lives... Her and other stuff,a prince needs stuff to fight!

Roman's place is interesting since everything you can imagine will become a reality there,you might be daydreaming and suddenly that daydream its just... There... Happening!

Sometimes stuff Thomas has imagined appear in there,there's probably a place with imaginary friends or unused ideas.

The other Sides can affect the place a lot. Patton being the one in second place when it comes to the most influence,he could make puppies and kitties he isn't allergic to,make clones of the Sides that are friends,he could go nuts.

Logan isn't that imaginative,and he probably would imagine pretty... Realistic and down to earth stuff. The Realm obbeys but it is confused with stuff that truly exists.

Virgil... Depends,due to the Split and not having Remus anymore,the Realm finds itself uncapable of making "bad stuff",not even disturbing stuff,just stuff it takes as bad. So who knows if it can do anything Virgil says or thinks.

Surprisingly,the place would welcome Deceit as long as it doesn't get out of hand. Lying CAN be imaginative.

And,Remus,the place rejects Remus' presence and ideas in every single way. It doesn't work. The only "bad stuff" allowed are bad guys to fight,and they are pretty Disney-like so,Remus can't do much.

{{{{}}}}

Let's see Virgil.

Surprisingly... It's also a house? But it looks... Old... Even abandoned. It looks like it's in the middle of a forest,a very dark forest. But it seems Virgil doesn't go in there either?

The place have adjustable lights,but it's still a bit dark. There's Tim Burton decoration,spiders and spiderwebs,actually all of it gives a Tim Burton vibe.

Virgil keeps it well hidden,but in his room,the place he sleeps in,there's all the precious moments he lived so far. Patton's card,the Christmas sweater,some photos.

... And thrown away somewhere in the middle of that forest... Everything about the past...

His Realm is... Hard to comprehend... Just like him.

{{{{}}}}

Deceit's shall we?

...

Nobody knows how it looks like.

It's a mystery.

His Realm is designed to instantly try to replicate the Realm of the Side or Sides inside of it. That's what visitors will see.

But how does it look when Deceit is alone? It's true face? Nobody has a clue. And even if Deceit agrees to show it as it is,how can they know it IS that?

{{{{}}}}

And last but not least: Remus.

Just like Roman's: is HUGE.

So alike yet so different. It's also a forest with a path leading to a castle.

But the forest looks out of a horror movie. And the castle is deteriorated,in ruins. Black,seems to be in an eternal storm. Remus lives in that castle... Somehow.

The path is not that clear,there's bodies and weapons. Blood,a putrid smell.

The place has banshees and a zombie graveyard,werewolves and vampires. Everything you can imagine as long as it's horrible.

Oh,yes,opposite to Roman's room... Remus' can only make horrible stuff,nobody could ever have the mind of Remus,but as long as it's bad it can happen. Don't try to imagine good stuff,the Realm will reject it and either won't make it happen or adapt it so it looks out of a nightmare.

Patton will be instantly rejected and attacked,no matter how much he tries to make sweet fluffy stuff.

Logan,again,confuses the place,everything is so... Boring,for it.

Virgil maybe can imagine stuff in here. But he doesn't want to and part of the place could be aware the harm it could make.

Deceit,again,is welcomed. And here he's allowed to go nuts. But I doubt Deceit really can imagine such nightmare fuel.

And Roman... Can't do crap. If anything,he can fight back,but he can't do anything.

{{{{°°°°}}}}

Aaaaand I'm done!

There we go. That's the whole headcanon. I apologize if at times I seemed to get lazy.

...

Okay I'll make my way out now.

[x-silver-x]

Game Night - San x Reader

San x Reader fluff 1.5K words

Y/F/B - Favourite Book Y/N - Your Name

Masterlist ——————— Saturday evening. You were laying on your bed reading F/B. The epic fight scene was just about to begin when- Ping! ‘It’s probably some stupid notification’

Ping! ‘It’s just a notification, keep reading’ Ping! ‘Oh my goodness, stahp!!’ Ping! ‘Can’t I have just one moment, ONE moment of peace and quiet?!’ You groan and reach for your phone. You unlock it and see 4 new messages from your crush best friend, San. Your heart flutters a little.

San Hey Y/N! So, we’re hosting Game Night tonight and we were wondering if you’d like to join us? Helloooo? Are you dead? Y/N Hi Idk if I can.. I’m kinda busy tonight

San Busy doing what? C’mon Y/N, you never hang out with us anymore! Socialise! Live a little! We have food Y/N Alright fine. I’ll be there in 10

San 😁😁

You quickly changed out of your sweatpants and t-shirt into some jeans and an oversized sweater and got ready to leave the house.

~Time Skip~ ~3rd Person POV~

“Y/N!! Damn, you got here quick!” San exclaimed when he opened the door.

“San. You should know me by now. I’ll do anything for food” Y/N said whilst taking off her shoes.

“Anything?⁓” San raised his eyebrow and smirked.

It took a moment for Y/N to realise what he meant by that and when she did, her eyes grew wide and her cheeks flushed red.

“GET YOUR MIND OUT OF THE GUTTER YOU-”

“What’s with all the noise here?” Hongjoong asked popping his head through the door. “Oh Y/N! I’m glad you made it! Come in, take a seat.” He smiled and gestured to the living room where Yeosang and Mingi were already seated.

“Where’s everybody else?” Y/N asked them.

“Hongjoong and Seonghwa are preparing the snacks, Yunho is trying to find some blankets and Jongho is looking for board games. I don’t know where Wooyoung disappeared to.” Yeosang answered.

“He’s in the bathroom, I think.” Mingi added.

After everything was set up, game night begun. The first activity was dividing everyone into teams and making up team names. Yunho and Jongho were ‘The Ho’s’, Hongjoong and Mingi came up with the name ‘Rebellious Rappers’, San and Wooyoung couldn’t think of anything so they simply combined their names to form ‘Woosan’, and Yeosang, Seonghwa and Y/N called themselves ‘The Memes’.

After a chaotic game of Charades, which Yunho and Jongho won, the group decided on playing Pictionary.

“HOW THE HELL IS THAT SUPPOSED TO BE A HORSE? That thing looks like a stick dog mixed with a t-rex?!” Mingi howled with tears rolling down his cheeks from laughing too hard.

“Oh as if you could draw it any better!” Wooyoung replied also laughing.

“Damn right I could!” Mingi retorted.

They argued for 5 more minutes before San suggested a Cham-cham-cham tournament which he ended up winning. His bright smile brought butterflies to Y/N’s stomach and caused her heart to palpitate.

They played a game of Would You Rather but Jongho started complaining that it was getting boring and brought forth the idea of playing Truth or Dare.

The colour drained from Y/N’s face.

“Hey is everything alright? You look really pale.” San asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll just go get myself a glass of water if that’s alright.”

“Sure, go ahead.”

And with that she stood up and walked away. Knowing the boys, they’re going to start exposing each other’s deepest secrets and will make each other do the most embarrassing things.

Y/N was scared about her crush on San being exposed so she was going to play it safe and only pick truths. If the question ‘Do you have a crush?’ comes up, she was planning on saying no and making it as believable as possible. She joined drama in her 1st year of high school so she was hoping that her acting skills were still strong. She can’t risk ruining their friendship. Y/N downed her glass of water and walked back to the living room.

“There you are! I was wondering where you disappeared to!” Hongjoong exclaimed when he saw her. “We were waiting for you so that we could start the game.”

“Ah, you didn’t have to.” Y/N scratched the back of her neck nervously when she noticed everyone was looking at her.

They all sat in a circle on the floor. The group agreed that Y/N should start since she was the only girl in the room.

“Hmm… Alright,” She looked around the room to choose her first victim. “Seonghwa. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.” He anxiously replied.

“Is it true that you have an oppa kink?” Y/N smirked.

“I-what? W-Why would you think that?” He turned red.

“Your recent V-live.” She chuckled. “So do you?”

“It’s not a kink, okay? I just-”

“It’s okay, we won’t judge you Hwa, this is a safe place.” Y/N reassured him while laughing.

“Uhh… I guess it’s my turn then.” Seonghwa’s eyes shifted around the room. “Wooyoung, Truth or Dare?”

“Dare.” Wooyoung confidently stated.

“Hmm… I dare you to mix orange juice, milk, and ketchup and drink it.”

“Fine.” Wooyoung went to the kitchen, mixed the ingredients and walked back into the living room. After taking a small sip of the mixture he gagged. “This is disgusting.”

“You accepted the dare. Now drink up, Wooyoung.” A sadistic glint appeared in Seonghwa’s eyes.

Wooyoung raised the glass to his mouth and proceeded to drink the mixture.

“CHUG! CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” Chants filled the room.

After he was finished he rushed to the bathroom slamming the door behind him. All that was heard was disgusting retching as he hurled into the toilet bowl.

The game continued for a while after that. Every now and then Y/N would sneak glances at San. She didn’t exactly know when she started having these feelings towards him but it has been a while now. She knew that he would never return her feelings but a part of her really wanted him to. She even started debating whether or not just to tell him already and get it off her chest. This way she wouldn’t feel like she’s been hiding this huge secret from him.

“Okay, San. Truth or Dare?” Hongjoong asked.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss Y/N.” Hongjoong smirked.

“WHAT?!” The two yelled in unison with beet red faces and eyes as wide as saucers.

“Come on you guys! I can see the way you two keep looking at each other! Just kiss already!”

“Yeah, there does seem to be a lot of romantic tension between you two!” Yeosang added.

“Love is literally in the air when you’re near each other.” Yunho joined in the conversation.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss,” Jongho started chanting quietly. The rest of the group joined in soon after.

San slowly started leaning in and just when his lips were about to touch yours, you panicked and turned your head to the side. His lips made contact with your cheek.

“Y/N HOW COULD YOU HAVE DONE THATTT?!” Wooyoung, who was now feeling better, screeched.

“Whatever, let’s carry on with the game.” San said trying to hide his disappointment. Little did Y/N know, San had been wanting to kiss her for the longest time. He noticed her staring at him from across the room so he thought that maybe she returned his feelings. He had a crush on Y/N from pretty much day 1 of their friendship but she never would’ve known due to San’s amazing acting skills. Now that he had a chance to confess, he won’t give up easily.

After another 30-ish minutes of playing it was San’s turn to ask the question again.

‘Now’s my chance.’

“Y/N. Truth or Dare?”

“Truth.” Y/N answered fidgeting with her sleeves.

“Did you want me to kiss you back then?” He asked, his beautiful dark brown eyes staring deep into hers.

“Dare.” She blurted out.

He leaned in ever so slightly, “I dare you to kiss me.” The rest of the group were intently watching the scene unfold, some were fangirling but trying to keep their squeals down as to not disrupt the moment.

“Never have I ever-”

“Y/N ThAt’s NoT tHe gAMe” Jongho screeched.

‘I have a chance now. I shouldn’t waste it. But it might ruin our friendship… What should I do?’

“Fuck it.” Y/N nervously bit her lip and leaned in, closing the gap between her and San. The room erupted into cheers and the sound of camera shutters closing was all that was heard. At first San was shocked that Y/N actually kissed him but he sure did enjoy the feeling of her lips on his. He kissed back and felt like his heart was about to jump out of his chest. Imaginary fireworks exploded around the two. The kiss was getting heated when-

“Alright Y/N, San, that’s enough. Go get a room already.” Yeosang scrunched up his nose in disgust.

The two pulled away from each other with flustered faces and giggled a bit. ——————— 

Hello, so this is my first fanfic ever, I hope you enjoyed it! :) I was thinking about posting on here for a while now and was quite proud of this so, y’know, might as well. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ In case I get any comments on ‘plagiarising’ another person on a different site I would just like to let you know that I have posted this fanfic of Amino previously but decided to move it onto here because I feel like more people use Tumblr and not Amino and maybe someone was craving some San fluff.

[sprydecreates]

wedding bells

requested by: no one :)

warnings: angst (break up), language

pairings: shawn mendes x reader

type: headcanon/list; gender neutral (doesn’t use any pronouns)

summary: after a brutal break up, shawn is there to pick you up, and then some.

a/n: i know.... i keep weaving in and out of tumblr...... oh well. had this idea in mind and i really liked it. hope it’s not too bad ♡

flash back friday

you and shawn met in elementary school due to a school project called flat stanley, where you send a little paper character to someone you know and have them take stanley through their lives for a bit.

your family knew shawn’s, and so you two were introduced for the first time.

since you two were kids, you didn’t really have a way to keep in contact with each other.

good thing for you, you two were reunited in middle school, when shawn’s family came in for a visit.

finally, you two were able to keep in contact, and you remained good friends until high school.

until meaning, you didn’t have anyone to bring to prom, and you invited shawn

which, of course, caused a whole cliche like “he saw me walk down the stairs and fell in love”, but deadass. like that’s really what happened. boy seen you all pampered and dressed up, and did the whole “..wow” with the little heart eyes and had that little blushy patch shining through

soon after, he asked how you felt about long distance relationships while on facetime.

hoping he’d take the hint, you said “there’s really only one person i’d see myself with that’s far away” and take him through a “well he’s like eight feet tall, has brown hair and brown eyes, kinda sarcastic but will cry if he thinks he hurt someones feelings, shall i go on?” 

and hes OblIviOus right. genuinely thinks you’re talking about some celeb you’ve stanned for a couple of months. so he’s just like “uh, if you want. you seem happy about him, so i’m glad you’re happy”

and you pull a “yeah, you do make me happy”

WHEW BOEH

this sweetie raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes, Finally realizing you’re going on about him, and he’s like, “huh..?”

“did you seriously think i wouldn’t notice you rubbing little hearts into the back of my hand on the way to prom?”

“i mean yeah but that’s on my side, i didn’t realize that you liked me back??”

“i was sure you’d take the hint when i said i’d love to have a boyfriend like you”

“y/n you Know how bad i am at taking hints”

“yeah, i know, now.”

and that started the talking phase, which only lasted Maybe a month and a half before you two started dating.

you and shawn dated from senior year up until freshman year of college.

you stayed in your own state because of the in-state tuition, and shawn stayed in canada to be closer to his family

because you two were now considered to be in the ‘real world’ and actually had to fend for your own in a sense, you two became super busy, and rarely got a chance to speak to each other.

this eventually lead to you two breaking up, as you couldn’t keep up with each other at this speed, and distance.

you both agreed to give each other some air, and continue talking when the other had enough time to heal.

but, out of fear that the other hadn’t had enough time to get themselves together, neither of you contacted the other and the friendship fell through.

present time

two years have passed, and you are now in a relationship with your fiance.

yes, you read that right. f i a n c e.

you didn’t necessarily think it’d happen, either.

after your friendship with shawn fell through, you downloaded tinder, and matched with (y/f/n). you decided “eh, why not” and now you’re here.

you didn’t really even want to marry this dude this fast, but he brought you to a popular and packed, expensive restaurant with his entire immediate family, and popped the question while using a microphone. how fun, totally not anxiety driven and absolutely not embarrassing :)

but, since shawn, you were having doubts of finding someone else. so, this was like a last shot for you, in a sense.

but, here you are, and it’s about four months from the wedding date.

nothing is written in stone, apart from the venue

you were going through your contacts, finding out who you were going to invite.

down the line, shawn popped up.

what were you going to do now?

you wanted to invite shawn because, hello, he had been apart of your life since  e l e m e n t a r y  s c h o o l. you couldn’t just marry someone and ten years down the road bring it up like “hey yea sorry about not inviting you :/ thought it’d be awkward ://////”

but then again, your fiance was well aware of your history with shawn. it’s not like he was going to leave you at the alter if shawn came, but you were still a bit iffy considering (y/f/n) is a little insecure when it comes to you talking to other guys.

despite feeling off about you, you decided to message shawn anyway, and inform him of whats going on

2:43 PM: “hey shawn!”

2:51 PM: “(Y/n)?”

2:53 PM: “yeah?”

2:57 PM: “Hey! I was just making sure this was still your number. I didn’t have it deleted on purpose, just got a new phone about two months ago.”

3:04 PM: “no problem, sorry we haven’t talked in a bit. how are you?”

3:10 PM: “Pretty good, how are you?”

3:13 PM: “i’m doing well, i actually just got engaged not too long ago!”

3:35 PM: “Oh, yeah, I noticed that. Congrats”

3:40 PM: “:( you okay?”

4:15 PM: “Just confused as to why I’m being told this like four months since it happened.”

4:20 PM: “I wanted to tell you, i just didn’t know how to bring it up in a normal conversation. that and my fiance is a bit weird about us talking.”

4:24 PM: “What do you mean weird?”

4:28 PM: “he just gets freaked”

4:33 PM: “Lol I don’t know why he’d get upset at you messaging me just to tell me that you’re getting married to him. Seems like he’s scared.”

4:39 PM: “idk. anyway, i was wondering if you’d like to be invited?”

the conversation went on for half the evening before you both said goodnight and went to sleep.

you were woken up by (y/f/n) standing over you with your phone in his hand.

“(y/f/n)? what is it?”

he had his eyebrows raised in a ‘caught you’ type of way, peering down at you and practically shoving your phone into your face, “what’s this about shawn?”

you let out a short but forceful breath through your nose, “what about it? and why are you in my phone-”

“‘can’t wait to see you’? ‘i think he’s scared’? what the fuck is that about?”

you were sat up in your bed by now, as he had spent the night at your place, “what the fuck about it, (y/f/n)? he used to be one of my closest friends, i’m not going to skip out on inviting him-”

“oh but you don’t back me up when he thinks i’m scared of him? or when he talks shit about my family?”

“all he said was he figured you proposed that way?! why are you freaking out over this?”

“why aren’t YOU freaking out- you know what. i’m gonna head out.”

and with that, he left.

a few weeks and after several arguments later, you officially changed your relationship status to ‘single’ on facebook.

shawn was one of the first to message and ask if you were okay.

you explained everything that had happened, and how you drunkenly figured out (y/f/n) had hooked up with his ex because “if you get to fuck someone else so do i”. even though   . you and shawn haven’t been face to face in like two years  . ok

not even a week later, shawn was at your front door with two weeks worth of clothes packed.

the first few days were reserved for him to kind of hold you, and make sure you were alright. you were sad it was over, and angry that he cheated and used an assumption to do so.

on the third day, though you finally opened up about the situation that lead to the breakup.

you and shawn were on your couch, and it was about midnight. you had been on the topic of busted relationships, and that’s when you felt like it was appropriate to complain, “i’m just, so, confused? like i don’t know what went wrong with it.”

shawn, who had always been real with you, decided to add his opinion in, “he wasn’t ever right for you, from what all you’ve told me.”

you sighed and shook your head, waving your hands in a defeated motion, “i know, he wasn’t ever my type. it’s just, we made a life together,” shawn made a disapproving hum, but kept his words to himself, “and yeah he was kind of a bitch, and his family was really weird and acted like they were better than me, and,” you continued for roughly fifteen more seconds before shawn interrupted

“(y/n), do you hear yourself?” he held his hand sternly against his half crossed legs. you didn’t speak, as you thought he would continue, “you sound like you were living in an imaginary jail cell. there’s more bad than good about him, and i get that usually happens after a breakup, but i’ve heard what, TWO good things about him since i’ve been here? if he’s as bad as you make him seem, which i completely believe, then you’re better off without him.”

you held your head down, staring at the floor while shawn continued on, and spoke softly when he was finished, “i know i probably am, i just can’t wrap my head around why he cheated. he was supposed to love me, and i feel like it was my fault this all ended-”

“it wasn’t ever your fault (y/n).”

“i just-”

“no, listen to me. this man proposed in front of his family because he knew you’d get nervous and say yes so you wouldn’t cause a scene. then when he realized you wouldn’t obey his every order, he didn’t want you anymore. he wanted you to say you were a fixer upper and that HE was the one to help you. but you helped yourself, and he hated that. he literally left you out of nowhere JUST because you invited me, someone you hadn’t spoken to but for mere minutes each year to wish me a happy birthday or new years. then he immediately went and hooked up with an ex, that didn’t you say he lied about talking to at the start of your relationship?”

“yeah but-”

“i don’t mean to interrupt all the time, but there’s not any buts to be had. he realized you weren’t going to be his trophy wife, and he resorted to his ex, who he knew would be there. you’re better off, (y/n). it might take some time, but it’s true.”

you sat in silence for a couple of minutes, taking in all that shawn had said. and, he was right. that piece of shit left you, YOU, all because you invited your ex to an event that bounded you and your fiance together. so, fuck him, and everything he made you go through.

the rest of the night was spent with you and shawn making fun of (y/f/n).

what the future holds

next thing you knew, you and shawn had graduated from college, and (y/f/n) proposed to his ex. but you hadn’t been thinking about him much, especially since shawn had gotten back into your life.

you two were actually looking through apartments up in michigan, and planned to move in with each other by july.

now, you two did this in order to ‘save money’. in reality, two months passed and you two started to catch feelings, again. whooooo would’ve guessed that was going to happen?

regardless, you didn’t mind, and shawn certainly didn’t either.

come to find out, your relationship status changed to ‘in a relationship’ with shawn not even six months after moving in with each other!

your relationship was really sweet, to say the least.

lots of reassurance from shawn, most of the time it was random

temple kisses while you were working on something for your internship to let you know he supported you

really careful and patient when you were stressing out

little “i love you”’s at the most random times. kind of like extra greetings from kurtis conner

tons of showing off, something (y/f/n) never really done

shawn was Extra. like he made a while ass snapchat story dedicated to you because he couldn’t get enough of you

his headers on his social media were always related to your relationship

just genuinely heart warming things

continuation of the heart tracing on your hand (you later on got a tattoo of a heart on the hand he held the most)

he’d get shy when you’d compliment his singing, which would usually happen when he’d serenade you in the floor at night, and he’d have that same blushy patch appear right before he’d hide his smile in the crook of your neck

while sitting next to you, if he couldn’t see your entire side profile, he’d always move your hair and tuck it behind your ear. he also liked to do this thing where he rubbed your ear after doing it

you knew you loved shawn, and he knew he loved you.

like, this dude has loved you for years. of course it dwindled and changed as you both grew, both apart and grew, but he always felt something.

so, it wasn’t a surprise when this conversation took place one night, you both sat on the couch as the background noise of the tv filled the room while you worked on a project, and he was writing a song that’d be for you when it was finished.

“hey, (y/n),” shawn said, a bit lower than the tv’s volume.

“yeah?” you answered monotone and focused on the finishing touches of your project.

he had been staring at you with those soft eyes, so his tone came out a bit more soft too, “let’s get married.”

[a-writing-bear]

[PruCan] Chapter 9: Soft-Spoken Calling, They Want Their Shyness Back

Ao3 Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159997/chapters/42689768

This Has been cross-posted onto FF & Ao3 under Aliases: BearBooper

You can read this Fic on Tumblr under ‘Keep Reading’ - Ao3 version is formatted, tumblr version is not. Ao3 is recommended.

Previous Chapter        Next Chapter

Fandom: Hetalia Axis Powers

Main Pairing: Gilbert Beilschmidt & Matthew Williams (Prussia & Canada)

AU:  College AU - Art Student Matthew and Media/Film Student Gilbert

Age Rating/Mature:  Teen And Up Audiences (12+ due to mentions of mature themes as well as swearing)

Trigger Warnings: Recreational Drugs & minor connotations of anxiety (Future addiction to mention themes such as addiction, rape etc.) WITHIN THIS CHAPTER - Mentions of Depression, Anxiety, Therapy, Counseling, and anti-depressants. (please note I am NOT anti-meds.) Family Issues are implied, Distance and abandonment suggested.

The world stiffened as strawberry blonde hair covered his tired eyes, Alfred had scooted much farther away as he let his brother gather himself. Racing, pulsing thoughts jumped in his head; everything felt slow and too fast at the same time and the unease of having someone else in this private session was more off-putting than he would have thought.

“I….I didn’t finish the painting.” Ms Paisley’s demure look did not falter, unsurprised but still polite, her scribbles of notes were no doubt some follow up questions about his inability to get something done- he felt foolish for bringing it up, his subconscious already tormenting him about his inadequacy to shush up. His brother, on the other hand, was lost; What does a painting have to do with Matthew’s health?

“What was it this time Matthew? ...noise? … distractions?” her voice trailed on but Alfred’s mind was hooked on her reasoning-

“Not noise this time. I was quite...fine. I was fine- I just can’t get it to look right and I feel…” He mind was smoothened a little bit as he tried to articulate his thoughts. Fiddly hands kept tracing the hemming of his hoodie edges, eyes strictly avoiding his brother’s questioning gaze.

“Lost. I felt like I was detached again. I couldn’t get it right and It’s just so difficult to stay up…” Closed eyes and uncertain breath faded into a hum, he almost forgot Alfred was there as he thought of the image of his childhood. Bright. Vibrant. Utterly simplistic in its approach.

“I’m on top of work. But that just means I sleep more... I'm tired. Very tired. I know I say that a lot but I am. It’s just so-” his voice breaks off into a bit of a laugh as he grimaces at his repetitious mantra, “I’m exhausted, Paisley.” He bites his lips; he’s been trying to get out of the habit of saying tired. The word was so addictingly bittersweet and had glossed over his lips so often that the definition of such a word had practically been imprinted into his personality. Dr Paisley looked up as Alfred patted a hand onto his knee, the gesture making the male almost jump as his eyes popped finally realising his brother was still in the room.

“Well. I’m sure the painting will turn out beautifully- Have you shown anyone your work, has Al-”

“It’s a surprise! It’s...not ready and I don’t want Alfred to be spoilt” The interruption let out another hiccup as Matthew slid his back down the couch, his head almost lolling straight into the couch’s depths.

“Okay. I think you should have some downtime while I Just chat with your brother, would that be possible Matthew?” He slowly got up, feeling ashamed for his messy rambling and eager to leave the room. “John could get you some tea while you wait..” the remnants of that sentence was lost on Matthew as he had already made his way out back into the little room from before.

“Hi Alfred, Long time no see, How have you been?”

“Alright, Uni is exciting as always...can we just get to the reason why I’m here? Matthew-- My brother says you want him on more medication?”

“Yes. He hasn’t been on anything for a while, and he’s made a lot of progress but recently...He’s been having trouble with our recent goals, and I don’t want to worry any of you and your family. From a professional standpoint, I would recommend this as it would help him just balance out his anxiety. He hasn’t been on much for a while now.”

“I trust you doc, but I’m still worried. He’s been kind of...really secretive I guess?

“How so? He’s told me he’s been chatting and unloading a lot on peop-”

“Well, obviously not me. Not..me. We don’t go out anymore, he always liked to sleep in but some days I have to genuinely bash his door down to get him up. It’s...a slump.”

Dr Paisley sighed, a knowing glint in her eye as she listened to the wistful way Alfred talk about his brother- knowing of what?

“Look. Mr Jones, I need to know if you’re planning on any big life changes.” Alfred seized up, caught off guard by the question, almost nervous of his own answer- “It’s just that Matthew right now needs some extra support, we’re assuming he’s just in a bit of a drop right now...he goes through it once…” her voice seemed to trail off as Alfred and his ever calculative brain were in the works of what to say: tell the truth or to wait for a better moment? Surely he could put off telling Matthew of his...no if he told the doctor now he could avoid a confrontation from his family later on…

“-Would moving away count as something big?” the professional paused in her sentence, concern out and open.

“Who would be moving?” Alfred explained his new course offer from some prestigious lab in Japan, the willingness he had to go there and the excitement was clear but the more he explained he had begun thinking of how’ll it affect his brother.

“...we spent enough time apart as kids. Last time really fucked him up and I just don’t...he lost trust in me and that’s okay I just... I- what if this is the thing that really...pushes it?”

The two stared at each other for a few seconds, both deep in thought before the doctor gave her insight: “Your brother will be fine. He wants you to live your life. He just needs time to know what’s going on. He needs to talk more. Do you know anyone he could talk to while you’re away?” There was Tim, their childhood friend of whom Mattie had always been attached to; the Dutchman always came to Matthew’s heed and Mattie always complied with the scarf-wearing weirdo. Alfred drifted, he had that new German guy, right? He never really liked Gilbert, always saw him at some trashy party- he was so different from Matthew, it would be difficult for his brother to open up to someone like that…

“Besides Tim, there’s this new guy. I think Matt would tell you about him. I don’t really trust the guy.” before the doc could synthesise a plan Matthew had knocked on the door rather meekly, sticking that fluff of a hairdo through the door and asking if he could back in.

“Of course. Matthew, your brother and I are okay with our new goals, would you like to go through with it?” the young man barely nodded, still in the doorway, leaning a bit off the frame as his eyes wandered in Alfred’s direction as if still asking if he could come in. Alfred got up, shaking off imaginary dust and he made his way out, ruffling his twin brother’s hair as they swapped places. He’d have time to think about what he wanted to tell him while he waited.

“I’m really sorry we can’t have our full 1 hour Matthew, Is there anything you’d like to talk about in particular today?” Matthew had cosied up on the chair, crossing his legs as he used to as a kid- Dr paisley had reassured him no harm would be done to her soft plush couch even if he brought his foot upon it.

“I’m just tired is all.” he had started picking at the seat fibres once more, his glasses sort of slipping off as he pressed the couch experimentally. “I understand, Alfred said you made a new friend? Wanna chat about that?” At first, Matthew was puzzled, confused as to who she had meant before realising that she probably referred to Gilbert.

“Oh. Gilbert. He’s...cool. I don’t want to talk about him. Do I ha-”

“You don’t have to do anything Matthew. This is about you.”

Matthew relayed his story about going to see Tim (minus the weed of course), how he had overstepped Tim’s boundaries once more by accident, ranting way too long and not getting anything done when he could have been doing something, anything, he never gets things done, why can’t i get things done, it’s impossi-

“Matt- Matthew breathe. Hey, hey slow down. You were taking a break right?” Matthew gulped. He didn’t realise he had been mumbling incessantly again. “I don’t think you overstepped. I’m sure Tim would have said something if you did. He’s been your...friend for a long time.” the blonde nodded, awkward to where this was going.

“Do you...pardon me if this seems inconceivable or rude...do you have feelings for Tim?” Matthew looked at her as if she had slapped him in the face-

“nO! OH Nonono- Tim’s my… he’s just a really...good friend, I couldn’t...I like someone else... I think?” his mind drifted to a pearly white smile and red eyes that really should be more intimidating than attractive. God. Gilbert’s got him good and it’s hardly been a day. He needs to stop. Paisley just smiled that ever kind smile, and it kinda sickened Matthew knowing at the end of the day she was paid to smile like that regardless of what he said to her. The rationale in his head reminded him she was genuine and that this was a good experience- counselling was better than hiding in a room getting high off his rock...that sounds more enjoyable at this point. The two chatted, Matthew once more relearning his breathing, noting to himself to write in his personal log once he gets home to keep the doc and himself on check.

“I’ll see you next Saturday? Afternoon at 1pm. 1 hour for sure Matthew.” with that the two parted, Matthew, worming his way out of the office and straight to the registering counter, prescription form in hand. Alfred had signed it. So had he. He’d have to pick them up tomorrow. Fuck me.

The two twins waddled back out, getting into their car and driving to their little detour: the diner just off campus. “Ahh loving the shoddy lights as usual,” Alfred commented as they got out the car and saw the overdone and tacky 60s light decor falter. Sliding into the opposite sides of a booth, the two sat in silence, obviously avoiding conversing about what was talked about during Matthew’s appointment. Or so Matthew hoped.

“So doc tells me ‘bout a painting.” Liar. Matthew knows Paisley wouldn’t have told him jack shit about that painting. “It’s nothing. It’s a surprise, Al, don’t go sticking your nose into my art and I won't question your phall-” Alfred burst out laughing before Matthew could finish his joke, he supposed seeing his brother laugh did brighten his moods. The waiter, dressed in a stereotypical apron, brought over some coffee (“it’s not Tim Hortons, but it’ll do”) and Alfred waved her off to get some burgers with a ‘thank you doll’ that only resulted in a tut. They talked about Alfred’s course and how his lab work was going, Matthew, in turn, talked about the next hockey season and how’d he hope he would get back on the team after his hiatus. Parents. They talked about their parents- neither of whom had called. Their father, ever the distant soul, last they heard, was back in London sorting out some legal case and hadn’t even texted Alfred the usual monthly check-in text. Matthew grimaced. If he didn’t even text Alfred...then he must still be mad about the two of them going to see mother last summer. The coffee was burnt and bitter, and this dinner was as rugged and worn out as Matthew’s weary soul, yet he couldn’t help feel comforted by the fact his brother was still here and not painstakingly somewhere ignoring him. Matthew hated being ignored.

*DING*

T @ 7:34 [Are you at the Diner? I see an oddly familiar car out here.]

Of course, Tim was here.

M @ 7:34 [Yeah Al’s here though. Just came back from Dr.P’s. Wanna join dinner time?]

T @ 7:36 [I’ve got Laura and Luca with me, I’m sure they’d love to catch up with your bro. Though you wanna chat out back for a bit?]

Matthew paused. Looked away from his phone to see Alfred once more chatting with a waitress, idly stacking up some creamer cups.

M @ 7:38 [Your sister would smell the shit on us. Tell the L duo to come in and I’ll come out.]

T @ 7:39 [I’ve got deo and we can blame it on smokers outside. They’re going.]

“The Van-de-bergs are here. I’m gonna go out just to chat with Tim for a bit. Please don’t hit on Laura again- Tim will murder you and I’ll tell Kiku.” Matthew got up quickly, making his way very quickly as his brother tried responding with a resounding “I’m not that big of a flirt-” Laura and little brother Luca in tow came bursting in, gladly waving at Matt as they made their way to the table.

“Tim says you two need to chat so he’s-”

“Outside.” Matthew pushed his way past them out the door. He’s not usually so dismissive of the kind girl but he wanted to get away from some of the noise for a bit. A smoke really sounded good right then. The air seemed nippy as he stumbled into the evening light. The fuzzy streetlights illuminated the tall figure that was Tim leaning on his car. With a head flick and a motion, the two moved, trekking to a dodgy avoided spot right behind the diner; smoker paradise as cigarette buds were littered across the gravelled area.

“..I’m assuming shit didn’t go well.” Matthew denied answering because he himself didn’t really know. Today went well. He just didn’t feel it.

“Well. Let’s chat then schatje.”

Gilbert had enjoyed Matthew’s empty bedroom for a while. But he found, no matter how charming the walls were and the strewn pieces of art- as captivating as they were, felt strange without Matthew actually being there. He had gotten out, leaving the room as immaculate as it did when he had first gotten in and wondered where the North American brothers had gone. Oh well. His work had occupied him for as long as he needed, and by dinner time he was truly starving. With his, worn out jeans and leather jacket snugly on, and his motorbike keys pocketed he decided he’d go off campus and get some takeaway. The food hall seemed a bit too dull for a Saturday night lunch right? And nothing was better than hunkering down on some takeaway and calling it a night early. With a resounding roar, his bike came to life, driving him down the quiet nighttime roads, running away from the campus that seemed to be riddled with late-night students wandering all over the place.

Unlike Alfred, Gilbert unironically liked the 60s vibe that the diner had possessed. It reminded him of his Grandfather who always liked the middle of nowhere businesses and of Ludwig and his avoidance of less than stellar looking establishments. The food was fantastic too and always made good 24/7 pancakes. Gilbert wouldn’t mind pancakes for dinner, he could get them half price if he sweetened that lady over the counter again. Just as he pulled up, and was busy stowing his helmet away he saw a familiar person walking behind the restaurant- Matthew. Matthew with someone most definitely wasn’t Alfred. I thought he said he was with his brother. Gilbert scolded himself...it’s none of his business. For all he knew Alfred was there too...behind the diner...where cute Matthew was walking with a shady looking tall dude. Yeah, not awesome. Gilbert began walking.

He’s just making sure his new friend Matt was safe. A good samaritan keeping someone safe. Gilbert's inner voice was spouting bullshit.

[bubble-tea-bunny]

down for the count 

[steve harrington x reader]

author’s note: i always enjoy writing fics like this one, w/ a more fun, sort of sarcastic tone but i find it kinda difficult. i can’t force it; just gotta let it happen. listened to this on repeat which def helped get me in the right mood. hope y’all enjoy fanboy steve lol

word count: 2,103

Steve has kind of… sort of… always been a fan. But then again, who wasn’t? The Hawkins High School girls volleyball team is one of the strongest, if not the strongest, in the league, and has gone undefeated this season. There had been some close calls, neck-and-neck games with a rival team who was also vying for the number one spot. One doesn’t have to ask who ended up winning the whole shebang this year, because there’s a shiny new trophy sitting in the glass case in the hallway, behind which rests a picture of this year’s team. You’re in the front, balancing yourself on one bent knee and atop the other you keep the volleyball, holding it in place with your hand.

The team owes a lot of its success to you, as captain, and in more ways than one. Perhaps the most obvious reason is the skill you exhibit. You play club, meaning you live and breathe the sport. Everyone’s pretty sure that’s your full-ride ticket into college. But you neither confirm nor deny that, not wanting to show off (admittedly all the attention does make you a tad uncomfortable). The second reason you seem to be the source of the team’s undefeated season is that you’re the glue that holds everyone together. During the more intense games, the stress on your teammates’ faces isn’t difficult to miss, and you’re there in an instant, just as high-strung, but pushing them on, pushing you all on. You believe in every single one of them, in their ability to do so much more, and maybe it’s a bit melodramatic to say these things in the context of high school volleyball, but it goes beyond that. Your encouragement follows them off the court, and they know they will always find a friend in you.

All these things taken into consideration, perhaps it’s not so hard to tell why Steve is as big a fan as he is. And if someone asked him to admit it, what he thought of you, he might not do so out loud, but whenever you walk past him and he catches a whiff of your lavender shampoo and his eyes follow you, unabashedly staring as you continue down the hall, and his friend has to tap on his shoulder to let him know he’s bordering on the creepy side, well, that’s how he confesses the way he feels. He thinks you’re perfect. Too perfect for him, in fact.

Which seems ass-backwards, as he has been told multiple times by close friends when they catch him giving you heart-eyes, thank you very much. He’s Steve fucking Harrington—he could have any girl he wanted! (Their words, not his.) But it’s only met with a roll of his eyes so hard he’s surprised they don’t detach from the sockets. And he scoffs and tells them you’re [Name] fucking [Last Name], star athlete (this is accompanied by a sarcastic sweeping motion of his hand) and there’s no way you’d be interested in the likes of him, Harrington charm (“—and hair!” he adds quickly, because he can see one of them is about to say it) or no.

He’d like to consider himself your number one cheerleader, showing up to all the home games, cheering whenever Hawkins gets a point and cheering just a little louder when it’s you who’s made the shot. You glance over at the bleachers during those moments, smiling at what he would like to think is him, but it’s most likely aimed at your friends sitting a few rows behind him. Sometimes he wonders if you remember his name. Being in the same PE class and all, it’s a name you’ll have heard daily during roll call. Then the next thing to cross his mind is if you could pair the name to his face. Hearing it is one thing, but matching it to him is a whole different matter. He doubts you’ve so much as glanced his way, the longest you ever have being during dodgeball and with your sights trained on him, you’d chucked the ball in your lithe hands straight at him so hard he could swear it whistled through the air. (It nailed him in the stomach and he clutched at his torso the whole shameful walk over to the bench.)

When the teacher announces that today you’ll all be playing volleyball, Steve automatically glances over at you on the other side of the bleachers, where all of you sit for roll call. You don’t look overly excited or anything, just a small smile on your face, but that smile always seems to be there. He can hear some people around him muttering they hope they’re on your team. But this is followed by groans when the teacher draws an imaginary line down the center of the class with an outstretched hand, splitting the teams that way. That puts Steve on the opposite side of you, and while he doesn’t voice it, he can’t help but silently agree with the others on his team that they’ll most definitely be losing by a landslide.

���Maybe she’ll go easy,” someone says.

It’s met with a laugh. “I bet you we’ll still lose.”

You definitely don’t play with the same force as you do during games, but even your casual pace is hard to keep up with. There’s a gap between your scores (your team in the lead) but nothing huge. It’s a realistic gap they can close. The current point has you and Steve in the center spot of the front row. You both stand with feet apart and all Steve can think is how pretty you are. You’re smiling at him, for it’s easy to spot his staring when he’s right across from you, and you don’t break eye contact. Your team has the serve, and when you hear your teammate bouncing the ball in preparation, you bend your knees slightly, keeping your back straight—textbook ready position. And because Steve has been watching you all the while, he mirrors it subconsciously, but he’s sure his form doesn’t look nearly as good (and he does not—does not—mean that in a perverted way. No siree).

The subsequent rally is probably the longest one yet. For most of the game thus far you’ve tried to open up opportunities for others on your team to hit the ball, setting up shots for them, and that’s no different for this point. But when someone sets the ball up high, it lines up right in front of you, which pretty much means it’s your shot. The whole time you’ve avoided spiking (at least not hard), but when the ball is falling back down in a perfectly straight line, instinct kicks in, and you meet it with a jump, wrist snapping down to drive the ball into the glossy gym floor. Except it doesn’t hit the glossy gym floor. It hits Steve in the face.

All he can think when it makes impact and he’s falling to the ground in a crumpled heap is that this is most definitely his fault. He’d been too distracted watching you that he hadn’t even processed the ball was coming straight for him, and he’d failed to even put up his arms to block it. The ball rolls away but no one is paying it any mind as they all look at him worriedly—you most of all. You cover your mouth with your hands, eyes wide in concern and guilt quickly festering. You duck beneath the net and approach him, sitting on your knees next to him where he lays on the ground.

“Oh my gosh, Steve, are you okay?” you ask. His nose has started bleeding and you feel even worse. He’s looking up at you with squinted eyes, clearly dazed.

The light shining in from the windows behind you makes you look like an angel and Steve wonders if he’s died because that’s the only way he thinks he’d be graced with such a sight. He’s owing his use of overly poetic (and cheesy as hell) language typically absent from his vocabulary to his maybe-concussion. And immediately after considering he might actually be concussed, he realizes you said his name. You remember it. You know who he is. He’d be more excited if the blood from his nose hadn’t just reached his lips and if his head weren’t pounding like a motherfucker.

Upon the teacher’s instruction, a fellow classmate leads Steve to the restroom. You watch them walk off with a small frown on your face, and when the game continues, you avoid anymore spikes. Truthfully, you’re not paying much attention anymore. All you’re thinking about is Steve and how you really hope it’s not anything too bad. You’ll need to find him later to apologize. Profusely.

Luckily it’s not a concussion. Just a killer headache. Steve emerges from the nurse’s office and sighs heavily, pausing a moment in front of the door to set a hand on his temple, waiting for the throbbing to ease up so he can walk without feeling like he’s about to tip over. That’s where you find him, and you rush up to him, cringing slightly as you watch him rub his forehead.

“Hey, not too bad I hope?” you inquire softly so as not to startle him.

Steve opens his eyes to find you standing before him in normal clothes once again, your brows furrowed. Your cheeks are flustered as well, an obvious sign you’d just been in PE. He smiles and nods, appreciative of your concern. “No concussion.”

“That’s good.” You smile back, more at ease now but not any less guilty. “I’m really, really sorry about that. I wasn’t aiming for your face, I promise.”

At this, Steve can’t help but laugh. “Don’t worry about it. I should’ve been paying more attention.”

“Still… I shouldn’t have gotten carried away like that.” You sigh.

“You know, this might just be the almost-concussion talking, but I feel sort of honored that you spiked me in the face.”

This elicits a laugh from you, and Steve likes the way it sounds. A lot. A part of him can’t really believe he’s having a conversation with you, even if it is due to you having injured him, and it’s one that’s a lot easier to carry than he thought it would be. You’re just so friendly. It makes him wonder why he was so scared in the first place. And when he tells himself this, he can’t help the way he continues speaking, and before he realizes just what he’s saying, the words are already out in the open, as if he’d momentarily been possessed by someone else. It’s like even otherworldly forces are rooting for him and when he didn’t have the balls to do it himself, they ran out of patience and did it for him.

“But if you really wanted to make it up to me, maybe you could let me take you to the café downtown?”

You almost don’t think you heard Steve right, but he’s smiling nervously and there’s hope flittering in his eyes and you know you’d heard him perfectly fine. At least you can owe the flush of your cheeks to the fact you’d just been in the gym for PE. But it’s difficult to excuse your goofy smile, which you try to keep down by biting your lip. (You’re failing.)

“Sure.” You nod. “What time did you have in mind?”

Steve doesn’t answer right away, mostly because he’s transfixed on your cute grin. He wants to tell you he likes when you smile and he doesn’t want you to hide it, but he figures he can always bring that up later. “Is after school today all right with you?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Great.”

“Great.” You purse your lips and your smile is the tiniest bit shyer, if Steve isn’t imagining anything. He’s fairly certain he’s not, but at the same time he can’t be too sure since that ball to the face is still making him a little woozy. “I’ll see you later then.”

“You will.” Steve smiles and watches as you proceed to walk down the hall, and at one point you glance over your shoulder at him, pink lips curled up slightly in a smile almost feline and pink cheeks making you glow. The end of the school day can’t come fast enough, and all he’s seeing in his mind’s eye as he goes from class to class is your dimpled beam, bright and beautiful as the sun.  

[midnightuglystepsister]

(/ω＼)ﾟ.+(〃ﾉωﾉ)ﾟ.+°50 More Interesting Questions

Rules: fill this out and tag at least one person you’d like to know more about! Or just fill it out! Or don’t! Answer only some of them! Make up your own questions! “What kind of requirement is that”, you ask? A reasonable one! Who am I to tell you what to do? Anything goes!

tagged! by @kakihoden Thanks so much :D

1. What kind of food can’t you stand?: Really spicy food. I can’t do it bruh I cannnnn’t

2. If you could choose one minor inconvenience to never have to deal with again, what would you pick?: minor...inconvenience, hmmm...I guess to have a longer battery life on my phone, like....i can heavily use it for more than a day and still be good lol. 

3. Have you got any useless talents?: I uh, acting? It’s useless because I have stage fright now so I only use it for evil. Like, pranking someone. 

4. If you could be really really good at one thing, what would it be?: being proactive

5. Name a few people you think are extremely good-looking: there are a lot but I will list the /obvious/

Matsumoto Jun:

all of Arashi actually

GD

TOP

CL

ok i should stop but there’s a long list of these hahaha

6. What was your favorite way to pass the time as a kid?: watch TV, play video games, write stories, make comics

7. What is something you’re proud of?:  I’m proud of Arashi bc they’re a bunch of good guys that went through so much and now they’re successful and still humble and i have a lot of feelings im a proud arashian

8. What’s one character flaw in people that you just can’t tolerate?: Entitlement. Seriously, cut it out. esp amerikkka, and then there’s my older bro

9. Do you consider yourself to be more of a leader or a follower?: Both. At first, I let people lead, but if they can’t lead properly, or that no one is stepping up, I will take over.

10. What kind of student are/were you?: Pretty average I think. In the Philippines, I was average af, but I was outgoing and had a lot of friends. Then I moved to the US, and the education was much....uh lower? I was suddenly the smartest in class, and teachers favored me, and people hated me, but I just did my work. Then, I got older, I wasn’t as outgoing anymore and I just stuck to my group of friends and stayed quiet in class. Went back to being an average student also.

11. Butterfly effect question! Has there ever been a seemingly minor decision you’ve made (at the time) that ended up having a profound influence on your life?: Idk? I guess when I first started drawing? I didn’t think I was going to take art as my career at first.

12. Name your most irrational fear/aversion: People/Socializing? I stay at home to avoid socializing with people lol. I mean, I have social anxiety, so yeah

13. Are there any fictional characters you find especially relatable?: yes~ There’s always going to be relatable characters.

14. If you drink, what kind of drunk are you? Alternatively, what sort of person are you at parties?: I don’t drink alcohol. I hate the taste of it. At a party where I don’t know people? I find a nice corner and stay hidden. Probably on my phone at all times. At a party where I am friends with everyone? I speak to whomever is beside me. At a party with people I know and don’t know? I desperately stick to the people I know and only talk to them.

15. Do you fall in love easily? Or does it usually take a long time for you to trust someone?: I don’t think I have fallen in love. I’ve had crushes ofc. I have trust issues, I don’t trust anyone 100%.

16. Would you rather have one close friend or 100 casual friends?: one close friend

17. Do you consider yourself to be more of a slob or a neat-freak?: Man...in the middle? I can be a slob in my room, but I can’t stand messiness anywhere else? And at one point, I do clean and organize my room, so idk.

18. Describe a place (imaginary or real) that you would find incredibly cozy: a quiet area around nature. Like greens, or beachy, or just blue skies. Basically a Ghibli setting.

19. Do you have kids? If not, do you want them someday?: I don’t have kids and don’t want kids. I grew up caring for lots of kids, and I’m actually pretty good with them. I just don’t want one of my own.

20. What was your favorite book as a child?: I had a lot. I would seriously go to the library often, and borrow a giant stack of books. And the librarians knew me and never question me about being able to read all of them by the due date. They even had a limit of books you can borrow at a time, but they made me an exception hahaha. But I guess my first real obsession was Harry Potter...and then A Series of Unfortunate Events.

21. Name one thing you just don’t get what all the hype is about: lol yes despacito, fidget spinners, bottle flipping, and jake paul hahahaha

22. Name one thing that you think is tragically underrated: artists. Yes, I know there are many successful artists, but even now I hear stories of these successful artist getting ripped off, or getting low offers.

23. If you had to be glued to a person for a month, real or fictional (who you have never met), who would you choose?:  Real: Ninomiya Kazunari from Arashi. Because we both like to play video games and are very indoors-y lol. Fictional: Nico Meier from MidCin. Just think he would be really fun to hang out with, and his cheeriness will be contagious.

24. What’s something you’d like the chance to do someday?: Have my own art exhibit? And to also travel.

25. Do you typically speak your mind when you have a controversial opinion? Or do generally prefer to not rock the boat?: I’m straightforward, and will speak my mind on things I feel strongly about.

26. What’s the dumbest fad you’ve been caught up in?: I don’t think I’ve ever got caught up in a dumb fad.

27. What’s something you thought was cool as a kid/adolescent, but now cringe at yourself for?: I used to RP in real life with friends when I was a kid hahahahahaha hahbshasahahah ahaah

28. What’s a trait you consider to be very admirable?: Confidence. I admire confident people so much, and I wish to be confident and not this hot mess of self-hate.

29. Is there a particular kind of item people always tend to give you as gifts? (For instance, people always get you things with ducks on them because you like ducks, etc.): It varies on what these people know about me. For instance, I have one friend that gives me things from animes I like, another would give me art supplies, another would give me skincare products/makeup, my bro and his gf would give me shoes/handbags. It honestly varies on which of my side I show to each person.

30. Do you speak multiple languages? Which ones?: I speak Tagalog, English, I’ve taken classes on Japanese, American Sign Language, and trying to learn Korean and Mandarin.

31. Would you rather live in the big city or the countryside?: Can it be somewhere in the middle? ^-^; Like suburbs? lol. But if not, then big city.

32. Has there ever been something you were certain you’d hate, but ended up loving?: hmmm....I used to hate sushi when I was a kid. Now I eat it like 3x a week.

33. Do you mind being the center of attention, or do you prefer the spotlight to be on someone else?: It depends. In a big place with lots of strangers, I prefer the spotlight on someone else. In a group of people I know, then I want to be the center of attention. Ijustwannafeellovedlol

34. Favorite holiday?: Christmas.

35. Are you a more go-with-the-flow type of person, or do you need to have things planned meticulously?: I go-with-the-flow, but I’ve had instances where the flow was super messy and I got irritated and planned out the thing.

36. Is there something you loved so much you wish you could forget it and experience it all over again? (A tv show, book, series–anything.): Going to Hawaii to go to an Arashi concert lol

37. What hobbies do you have?: Drawing, playing video games, watching videos, listening to music, singing, playing with the dogs, writing, eating, traveling

38. If you could have a superpower, but it was only mildly useful, what ability would you want to have?: mildly useful...like it doesn’t work fully? Or it has some kinda flaw? I guess....teleporting? Like, my ideal teleporting kind of superpower is teleport anywhere in the world, but I guess if this is only mildly useful, then I can only teleport within a mile radius or something lol.

39. Something people are always surprised to learn about you: My age. Like, legit, every. single. time I say how old I am, everyone gets a shock. People think I’m waaaaay younger than I am lmaaaao.

40. Something that took you way too long to figure out: Not to have high expectations.

41. Worst injury you’ve had?: I don’t get injuries bc I avoid them lmao.

42. Any morbid fascinations?: uh i dont think so

43. Describe your sense of humor: self-deprecating humor, dark, sarcasm, and perverted humor.

44. If you had to be born in another era/place, which would you choose? I wouldn’t change my birthplace or year, bc every year or place has it’s shittiness. But if I /HAD/ to...I guess Japan? I have always liked their culture, aside from a few negative things from it. 

45. Something you are irredeemably bad at: sleeping, having motivation

46. Something that sucked but you’re glad you went through: Losing a few friends/my fam getting scammed, because I’ve learned something about people from it

47. Would you rather have a really godawful ugly tattoo in a place that is only slightly inconvenient to conceal with clothing (upper arm, thigh, etc.), or the coolest, most beautiful tattoo ever in the middle of your face? (Neither tattoo can be removed or concealed with makeup, and the ugly tattoo will deeply offend anyone who sees it.): Ugly tat, bc I can conceal with clothing.

48. Are you more of an optimist or a pessimist?: Realist, but borderline pessimistic

49. What would be the most flattering compliment someone could give you?: when people say I’m funny and witty. I was also strangely happy when someone said that I would have made a really handsome guy lmao. 

50. Something you feel people often misunderstand about you: Sometimes people find me scary, though sometimes I can be--when provoked, usually it’s just my face and my silence

Tagging: I want to know more about all of u, so if you do it, please @me! 

[allmymisters]

Missed Beats

I was foreign to jazz when I met you, it was only used as a tool to portray coolness at parties. If you had it on vinyl, extra points. It was the millennial equivalent to sneaking Johnny Cash onto the playlist. I didn't know dick about jazz, nor was I really concerned about the amount of pretentiousness I could display. I looked at music the way I listened to art, if it made my ears happy I didn't care. When I met you, I was going through a musical transformation. I had a pretty mixed bag of tunes on my playlist, but I kept mainly to the basics and, as all things men, I wasn't unpredictable with the migration to new musical genres, the latest was the immersion of techno and it's quick omittance after a breakup which would bring me back to---goth, punk, industrial, you know the usual suspects.

When I met you, you had just gotten back from Berklee School of Music in Boston. Apparently the winter there was too much for you and I think you had a healthy fear of the Music Theory class. Much to my newfound happiness, you would be pursuing those endeavors at Virginia Commonwealth University. I honestly had no idea anyone could major in jazz percussion. All I kept imagining was you in a penguin suit at the back of the orchestra banging that really big bass drum --- how silly you looked in that image, but like most things of that time, I was a young adult trying to find her way through ramen, a breakup, and who my BFF was that week. 

I had listened to music my whole life. My parents were avid fans, and weekend mornings were filled with the crackle and pop of Motown, the Blues, Zydeco, Latin music, and power ballads...yes, my dad, loves the power ballad, nicely juxtaposed between Glen Campbell and Scott Walker and my mother had a massive crush on Neil Diamond and could sing ABBA's "Fernando" til her voice gave out. The point is, I was no stranger to music, but it was rather routed in my blood from early on.

When I was in third grade I was given the xylophone, made of steel pipes because our school couldn't afford a real one. In 4th grade, I migrated to this little organ my parents got for playing Christmas songs around the house. In 5th grade, I surrendered to peer pressure and joined marching band. We all had to pick which instruments we wanted to play. I did not hesitate in my want to play the drums. I loved the drums. "You can't choose the drums. You're too small for the drums," I was told. My music teacher did not think I was apt enough to carry a snare drum and march at the same time, even though I could place First doing a gymnastics bar routine at the Junior Olympics. "Flute?" He responded with, "No, you don't have the lips for flute and there are a ton of flute players already, how about trombone." I stared off into space on that one. Trombone? How is a girl to look remotely cute carrying a trombone?? It wasn't until I got to the cliche clarinet that the excuses stopped. 

So, you wanted to play drums huh? Yeah, I mean who doesn't want to learn drums? Well, I know a good drum teacher if you are ever looking to learn.

And that's where it all began with you and I. Between paradiddles and double flams, I fell in love with you and in love with jazz. You taught me so much about the construction of music. I have never listened to it the same again. We would listen to Miles or Coltrane in your room and talk about different movements in a composition. It fascinated me, as it was "math" I could understand. It wasn't just because I was crushing on you hard, but it deeply changed my listening capabilities. You were a great teacher and it was difficult to have to stop learning. I had discovered that all these "flirtings" I was experiencing were imaginary, for you, I discovered had a very real girlfriend. It was too intimate and romantic for me to be listening to jazz with you and having you teach me proper stick holding technique. I adapted quickly and decided to have a friend who loved music as much as I did and would soon become a fan of your playing instead.

I've always gravitated towards men in bands. It wasn't something I seeked out, but rather a product of my environment. In high school it was skaters and in college it was musicians. Right after we met, I had one break my heart. It was fortunate that his band dissolved shortly after. It made things easier going to their shows because I loved that band. It has been rare, if even at all, that I've dated a band member whose group I didn't like. Ultimately and honestly, I tend to choose music over men. Robert Smith won a place in my heart long before I started dating, and would always be there with every breakup.

During the early 1990s, as emo started taking over the aggressive hardcore scene here, I was getting introduced to some new sounds and your band was no exception. I have to say it was a bit more civilized than the environment I was coming from --- less wifebeaters, more cardigans. I also retreated from said "scene" due to some unfortunate circumstances and it left a very bad taste in my mouth. Let's just say, boys will be boys and I didn't believe in the cause anymore.

I started going to post-punk shows during this time with reunited friends while attending Goth dance night at the local spot. You would casually tell me when you were playing, and I casually made my presence known. You guys were good. You guys were tall. I didn't have to get punched in the stomach listening to you, so that was nice. So there you were, a jazz percussionist in a post-punk band. I asked you about it, what it was that you were aiming to do, and you plainly said, "Play drums." You aspired to be Elvin Jones, but you would have to settle for Matt Chamberlain if you wanted to see any real success. It wouldn't be until a year later that I would learn just how dedicated to your craft you were, but I was your biggest cheerleader from the beginning. I enjoyed watching you play and picking out certain mannerisms that had become quite common in your playing. You were infamous for sticking out your tongue! 

You showed me a whole different side of you one night in Bogart's backroom. I got to really see your talent as you sat in with a jazz quartet. You could really play. I was proud of you in ways I'd never been proud of a friend before and although I enjoyed your rock shows, the jazz ones were the ones that got me. A year would have to pass before you and I made any kind of music together and within that, we we found our rhythm.

Emo. The first time I ever heard this term for music was in 1991. The first "emo" band I was witness to were a quartet from New Jersey called Policy of 3. Emotional punk rock. Meh, it had some build to it and instead of barking there was wailing, but I did love it! What music that was deemed "emo" after 1995 was, in my opinion, not emo. Semantics I suppose, but you and I grew up with skateboarding, punk rock and good hip hop, we didn't give the glammed up kiddies any street credit for these things. I think you and I were also entering an age where we were being exposed to new bands constantly. Richmond had become a haven for bands, touring and residing.

You started playing and touring with some notable bands during this time. I never thought that it was serious business. I just thought, all of you guys, in your Vans and corduroys, were having a good time. I know, I was having a good time. I loved going to shows at that time and I love going to see you play. I was always up front, rockin' out and of course always with the perfect outfit. If Gwen Stefani did anything for us girls at the time was allowed us to don chokers, baggy cargos and show off our midriffs or was it us who did that for her? 

That year you and I remained close. You kept teaching me, playing for me, exposing me to develop my relationship with music. It was a hard fight not to fall for you. You were smart and I felt more comfortable with you than I did with anyone else. You had become beyond a boyfriend. You had become my friend who I adored and wanted good things for. That was the most resistance I ever allowed myself in my life. I am always the person who visualizes success in her endeavors and I tend to make them happen, but with you, there was something in the way and I respected that. 

You entered my bedroom in a huff. My heart literally fluttered at the site of you. Tall, hovering over me. I hugged you and welcomed you home from your cross country trip with your boys. You had sent a postcard or two and inside me, I knew you cared. You handed me a tape.

Listen to this. I made it and put some new music on there for you.  Wow, thanks! I gotta go, but hey, have you ever been to New York? What? Um, no, why? We are touring there in a couple of weeks, you guys should come with us.

Before I could answer, the tape was in my hand and you were gone with nothing more than a "Later". How mysterious, and I was kinda upset that you left so quickly. I immediately and religiously listened to that cassette. My roommate came home and I tackled her with the request we go on this mini-tour. She agreed, as she was gaga over the guitar player. I felt like this was one of those moments like in Some Kind of Wonderful, where Keith (Eric Stoltz) is chasing after Watts (Mary Stuart Masterson) because he's realized that he's in love with his best friend, but instead of John Hughes I got Aaron Spelling. New York is another story for another time. 

I would soon see you share the stage with Jimmy Eat World, No Knife, Fugazi, Piebald, and other notables of the time. You continued to open up my world musically and I continued to pine wishingly, but as the universe weaves it's plan, we would have to wait for our song to be written. I never missed your band play and it is you who gave me the spectator sport of watching drummers play. I don't listen to jazz anymore, but I still hear you on your practice pad --- Left-Right-Left-Left Right-Left-Right-Right...and the beat goes on.