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serenityseventeen · 3 years ago

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Joshua (홍지수) & S.Coups (최승철):

“I'm in Love With Someone Else”

synopsis: You have been in a 4-year long distance relationship with your boyfriend, Seungcheol, but that's about to change when you meet Joshua, your new apartment unit neighbor.

genres: angst, fluff, romance

characters: potter!neighbor!joshua x fem!neighbor!reader x boyfriend!taekwondo athlete!seungcheol, ft. landlord!jeonghan, taekwondo athlete!soonyoung

warnings: phonophobia, love triangle(?), pottery, sports, long distance relationship, cooking, food, cheating, emotional affair, I guess this is also considered cheating in some aspects but I don't really know since this is a first time for me that I'm writing something like this

word count: < 12,400

a/n: okay so over my long hiatus I, of course, could not stop myself from the ideas flowing into my head, and i just ended up writing this. it's the first time i wrote something like this and i don't have a lot of knowledge about cheating so forgive me if things are strange; plus, I didn't break it into parts because I was lazy; and also, attacca comeback was amazing!!! I've been streaming it nonstop!; technically, this is a declaration of the end of my hiatus but I will not be uploading/writing every day </3

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Hello, Cheol!

How are you doing, baby?

How are your taekwondo practices? Is the training hard or does it feel just right? Are you eating lots of rice and drinking lots of water?

I watch your competitions whenever I can but now that you're overseas, it's hard for me to search for your next competitions on the internet; which is a bit ironic considering how I'm running an online shop now haha.

I'm always cheering for you! Make sure to take care of yourself!! I love you, Seungcheol!

P.S. I heard that someone is finally moving into your old unit! I can't wait to have a neighbor again!

P.S.S. I got my very first order!

~ your girlfriend <3

With a slightly hopeful grin on your lips, you set down your skinny graphite pencil and neatly folded the lined piece of paper into rectangles, fitting it inside a small envelope. You had always been more of a ‘letter sending’ person than a ‘texting’ person and ‘in-person’ than ‘online’.

However, without much money on your hands, you had decided to open up an online shop. It was the only choice you had, or the best choice you had, according to your boyfriend, if you wanted to sell products. With the help of your taekwondo athlete boyfriend, you were able to set up the shop and get materials for the products.

The products you wanted to sell seemed childish as they were things like beaded bracelets, necklaces, little charms that dangled on bags or backpacks, cute rings, things that look to be for children but could make cute collections. You design all of your products yourself and all of them are made by you as well, through knitting, sewing, or on a 3D printer, which is technically, not made by your hands.

After carefully placing the letter into the envelope, your peel off a cute, childish cherry sticker and stick it onto the envelope, sealing it. You picked a black pen from your mug of pens and pencils that sat at the corner of your desk, opposite of the lamp that emitted a yellow-tinted glow. With soft gentle strokes, you wrote, ‘TO: CHOI SEUNGCHEOL, FROM: Y/N’.

Choi Seungcheol was your boyfriend. You two had been dating for 6 years. You met him in your junior year of highschool, in a taekwondo class. He had been taking the taekwondo class ever since he was a young boy, and according to the instructor of that class, he was a taekwondo prodigy. He competed in many competitions and you admired his continuous winning streaks.

Seungcheol was the popular kid. He was manly and way too freaking handsome. He was the school's pride, the taekwondo athlete who was gaining popularity in all of South Korea. He was getting offers for colleges, training programs—they wanted him on a national team because he had potential.

You, on the other hand, weren't the best at taekwondo. Being a junior in high school who spent most of your time sitting around carving pencils, scribbling in notepads, and reading comic books, kicking your feet and throwing your arms around was definitely a challenge.

But, how bad you were at taekwondo was what eventually led you to be the lucky one among all the other girls.

After six years of dating, the memory of how you two met became something you and Seungcheol often bickered about. You recalled the meeting being of him laughing at you as you tripped over your own foot while doing a failed kick but Seungcheol remembered it as when you accidentally bumped into him while walking in the hallway because your nose was in a manga.

You were going to forever insist that you two met through the taekwondo class since it was quite obvious that it was through that taekwondo class that you two got closer.

After high school, Seungcheol had been scouted into a professional taekwondo training program that would help him become a national taekwondo athlete. You, of course, didn't want him to let that opportunity pass, so you encouraged him to go. Now, Seungcheol was attending a sports oriented college as a taekwondo athlete after winning a scholarship.

So, yeah. You two had been in a relationship for 6 years, 4 of which were long-distance. You and Seungcheol were still in a long distance relationship. Getting in touch with him wasn't easy. You liked to write him letters, and you did so consistently, at least every two weeks—for 4 years.

He did reply often but now, he barely did, which broke you inside. You didn't want to show that pain though, because you knew he probably had better things to do than write a letter to his jobless girlfriend who was, without any knowledge, trying to be an entrepreneur.

That's why, in each letter, you tried to remain cheerful for him. You would send him texts from time to time and of course, you two would video call, or call each other too. Around once a year, usually during the summer, he would come visit during his short vacations.

You didn't know how you managed to come this far in the relationship. The memories and happy times you got from being with Seungcheol was what kept you waiting patiently for him to come back.

You didn't even know when Seungcheol was going to come back. At first, he confidently gave a specific time, and that was “after I win the youth competition”, which, after he won, ended becoming indefinite.

Sometimes, it felt like you were holding onto a loose rope.

“Are you sure you don't need help with that?” Yoon Jeonghan, the landlord of the apartment complex, asked Joshua Hong, the new tenant in room 221.

Joshua was holding a large box that was filled with his many pottery tools, including molds, and clay that was wrapped in a paper bag. He was a potter who had opened a business a few minutes down the block, beside a flower shop. He had taken many pottery classes and decided to go professional with it when others began to realize he had a talent for making plates, cups, and vases.

Joshua flashed a smile to the landlord as he struggled to wrap the key to room 221 in his palm. “I think I'm fine, thank you though.”

With his head poking out from above the box, he made his way toward the elevator, and pressed the button for the 2nd floor. The apartment was around 5 stories tall and looked pretty old on the outside, with the slight rust and vines dangling from the sides of the building walls, but the inside of the apartment was actually modernly furnished and kept clean.

Joshua waited patiently for the doors of the elevator to open and once they did, he took his time stepping out. Working out for the past year had finally paid off, he guessed.

He walked pass units until he came across unit 221. When he saw his new apartment door, Joshua smiled, and opened his palm, using the muscles in his large hand to try and hold the key, but ended up dropping it on the floor. The golden key made clinking sounds as it hit the cold, flat floor.

Joshua didn't really mind it and was about to set down the box, which took around 15 minutes to get into his hands, but stopped when he heard a gentle voice call out from the opposite side of the hallway where he came from. “I got it for you!”

Joshua turned his head to see a beautiful girl quickly jogging over. You bent down and got the key for him. Joshua moved out of the way and watched as she quickly opened the door of his unit for him. He watched your every move, from the quickness of your steady hands, to your kind and focused eyes.

“Thank you,” he managed to say after you opened the door even wider for him.

“Yeah, no problem!” you replied, smiling brightly. He almost got lost in that beautiful smile.

Joshua quickly went inside and set down the box on his living room coffee table, and then hurried back to the entrance, where you were still waiting for him. You held out the key for him and he quickly took it, bringing out his friendly grin.

“You must be the new tenant,” you said, smiling still. You were dressed pretty comfortably, wearing a plain white t-shirt and plaid red pants. In your hand was a book that Joshua didn't recognize. It had fancy writing and cartoons on the cover. “I'm going to be your next-door neighbor, girl who lives in unit 220. My name is Y/N, you?”

“Joshua Hong is usually what I go by.”

“Joshua Hong?” you repeated to yourself. Your eyes wandered around as you continued to engrave the name into your mind. Joshua couldn't help but find that action cute, watching your eyes travel so slowly as you processed his name made his heart skip a beat.

“Nice to meet you, Joshua,” You said.

“Nice meeting you too.”

A short silence followed but you quickly broke it by saying casually, “I'm going downtown for some coffee, so, if you ever need any help, or want to know something, feel free to come over to my unit and ask me.”

Joshua nodded and watched as you busily flipped the pages of that book and walked down the hallway with your head buried in the book. His warm hand clenched onto the key and the right corner of his lips gradually lifted as his eyes followed you, up until the elevator doors closed.

He let out a soft, breathy chuckle, and closed the door of his unit.

Around a week after you met your new tenant neighbor, living in the same place that used to be your boyfriend's, he invited you to see his little shop.

Business for you was still slow since your business had just began. You were still working part-time as a reader who recorded the audiobook versions of books online.

The job wasn't a part of your plan but after reading to some kids in a park, you were found and offered the job, and the pay wasn't bad so you took it; not to mention how you could do the work from home. All you had to do was read the book and make sure that you read it well. At times, you enjoyed adding emotions to your voice, and apparently, a lot of people liked that, so there were usually two audiobook versions you would make, one of a normal read and the other with emotions that could be slightly exaggerated.

Joshua had yet to open his shop, he said, because he was still preparing the products. He didn't plan to open his shop for at least 4 months from now, which didn't surprise you.

On some days, when you two coincidentally met in the hallways, Joshua would always give you a gentle smile and a warm greeting of “Hello, Y/N.”

There was something about the tone he always used to say your name and the way he warmly smiled and the slight wave of his hand that always made your heart giggle. You liked greetings, you always had, so you'd always reply, “Hello, Joshua.”

You didn't know Joshua was a potter until the fourth day after you two met.

You were outside of the apartment, enjoying the autumn weather while your hands cupped a mug of apple juice. You had your back leaned against the brick wall at the edge of the apartment building, near the parking lot. The day was gloomy with grey storm clouds decorating the sky. There was barely any wind whatsoever, at most a tiny breeze would brush past once every 10 minutes.

Joshua closed the door of his car with a gentle placid thud. It was early in the morning, around 9 am, and he didn't want to be waking someone up with the shutting of a car door. Even though Joshua would usually be up before 9 o'clock, he knew there were others that needed to be up way later than that.

He had gone to visit his shop earlier that morning, settling the decor, setting up display tables, etc. He was excited to be opening his own pottery shop that sold his clay makings, ranging from bowls and plates to cups and figurines.

His store was his workshop, where he'd make things behind-the-scenes, but he often liked to be molding things at home, so Joshua would leave most of his tools at home; and this, was why Joshua was making his way back to his new apartment. He had forgotten one of his tools in his unit, and it was probably lying around on his living room coffee table.

As Joshua walked toward the front entrance of the apartment, he noticed you, who was sipping something from a mug. You looked peaceful as your eyes stared at the cloud-filled sky. Joshua couldn't help but take a glance for himself what you were looking at, but found that there was nothing extraordinary. The day was gloomy and it looked like it was going to rain any second.

Seeing you had already distracted him from his initial mission. Now that clay mold that was somewhere in unit 221 had to wait a little longer.

Joshua slowly approached you with gentle footsteps. “Good morning, Y/N.”

His voice caught you by surprise as you gulped down a sip of apple juice. You lowered the mug from your lips and replied with a smile, “Good morning to you too, Joshua. What are you doing out here?”

“Well, I have the same question for you, Y/N,” Joshua replied, making his way next to you. He leaned back against the cold, red bricked wall. “I just came back from my workplace to fetch something, how about you? Why are you out here?”

“Well, I just wanted to enjoy the weather, but it's not exactly enjoyable, is it?” You chuckled softly and turned your head to face Joshua. “You said you came to fetch something?”

“Oh, yeah, but it's not urgent. I guess I can stay here for a little while.”

You casually continued the conversation by asking where his workplace was and what it was like, since he had mentioned work.

You were, honestly, a little bored just waiting for someone to place an order for your products, and watching the cars zoom wasn't any fun at all. You had considered stopping by the bookstore and picking out a new comic to binge but decided against it for no reason. So, when Joshua came along and seemed to want to engage in conversing, you decided that it wouldn't hurt to get to know your new neighbor.

The talk went on for longer than the two of you thought. Your mouths began talking away and in a matter of minutes, the conversation had both of you fully engaged. The topics varied; it began with careers and jobs, to hobbies, then how school was like. It was like an introduction to each other that went on for way too long.

It wasn't until Jeonghan, the landlord, came out from his den and told you with his eyes barely open and his hair a mess, “Stop babbling about every little thing out here and go inside before I kick the both of you out!” that the two of you dispersed.

Joshua made his way to his unit and you, to avoid embarrassment, said you were going to the library. You did end up heading to the library afterward and Joshua picked up his waiting clay mold and took his sweet time walking to his unopened store.

While in the library, you thought that maybe, you should try reading non-fiction books, but each one you picked up only reminded you that you had learned enough for one day.

Joshua was a potter. In high school, he was in an arts and crafts club, and he learned to play the guitar. Joshua's workplace was called “CLAYSHUA” because it put his name “joshua” and “clay” together. He was born in America and raised there. He's an only child and his parents live in the US. He came to Korea to take the pottery classes because they were offered to him for free. He took classes after high school. His hobbies were playing guitar, singing, watching movies, and he read from time to time. He had also recently picked up cooking as one of his hobbies.

Those were all the things he told you.

You also learned that he was nice. He was handsome. He was creative. He was artistic. He was a hard worker.

He had way too many things in common with you and now that you were visiting his shop, from the interior to the exterior, you could tell the two of you had even more things that could be of common interest.

You changed the lock screen of your phone to one of your sewn figures instead of keeping it a photo of you and your boyfriend, Seungcheol. You texted him while waiting for Joshua to come to open the door of his shop, asking if he was doing well. At this point, it came to you as no surprise if Seungcheol didn't answer for days.

“You're here?” Joshua said, fumbling with his keys.

You nodded and commented, “It looks like such a great place!”

Joshua had invited you to come over to his shop on the day you two had your first in depth, full length conversation. You said that you'd be there in three days as a joke but after seeing that Joshua may had taken that joke too seriously, you found that you wanted to check out the place too.

Joshua showed you around the place and though it wasn't fully furnished yet, it already looked good. There were tables against the walls and shelves. Plus, the large window that went from the wall near the entrance to the other side of the wall was like a glass display for all of the items Joshua would soon be selling. There were columns upon columns of tables and Joshua explained that he planned to host a few pottery classes as well.

You began to admire him.

He showed you to the back of the shop, showing his little workplace. It was dirtier back there but even so, everything seemed to be nicely organized. What amazed you the most though, was the shelves of all his pottery, there were cups in all different sizes, plates of all different designs, and tiny figurines that looked different from one another.

“I want to make each one of my creations unique,” Joshua commented, upon seeing the sparks in your fascinated eyes. He smiled, feeling an edge of confidence hit him from behind. “I haven't made any vases yet but I plan to in due time. Would you ever like to make something?”

You turned to Joshua. Your eyes had widened slightly. “Make something? In here? Me?”

Your flustered tone made Joshua chuckle. “Yeah, that's if you want to. I can teach you a thing or two about pottery and who knows, maybe we can make a cup or play or vase... If I work all by myself, the creativity would eventually run out.”

You stayed quiet for a moment as you thought about the offer. You couldn't help but stare in awe at his many tools, along with the many different pottery that were being displayed on the shelves. Joshua was a bit nervous at your sudden silence but then it struck him.

“Oh—of course, I'll give you credit.”

You waved your hand dismissively and shook your head. “That's not it, I was just wondering, if I learn how to make different kinds of pottery, maybe I can sell them on my online shop as well.”

Joshua let out a relieved breath with a quiet “ahh” of understanding. “I'll be glad to help you if you ever need me or want to learn.”

After an exchange of smiles, you left Clayshua and headed in the direction of the apartment. Joshua offered to walk you back but you declined, explaining that you had a book that you wanted to return to the library first. The book was in your bag that was hung around your shoulders.

On the walk to the library, you checked your phone and saw a text message from your boyfriend.

CHEOL: Sorry for my late replies, baby. I'm doing fine these days, how are you? How did your first order go?

You smiled at the text and your fingers began tapping.

Y/N: I'm good too, Cheol! My first order went well, the package was sent and received, and the customer was really satisfied so that made me happy...^^

Y/N: How are your competitions so far?

CHEOL: Have you been watching my competitions?

Y/N: I already told you in the letter that I'm having a hard time searching for a broadcast of your competitions

CHEOL: Oh, did you?

CHEOL: Sorry about that, I must've skipped over that sentence.

You felt a small lump form inside your heart, knowing that he probably didn't read your letter. At most, he did a quick skim and put them inside a drawer, telling himself he'd read it later, but never did.

Even without him in your presence, you forced a smile as if he was there, right in front of you, saying those words.

Y/N: It's okay. What are you up to?

CHEOL: Me?

CHEOL: I'm just in bed.

CHEOL: These lonely nights remind me that I have a beautiful girlfriend waiting for me~❤️

Y/N: Gosh~~~

CHEOL: How about you, baby? What are you doing??

Y/N: I'm on my way to the library!

Y/N: I'm returning a comic book

CHEOL: ohh, really?

CHEOL: That makes me miss seeing you even more, like when you used to read to me while I lay on your lap.

Y/N: When are you coming back?

CHEOL: I think after the Nationals.

CHEOL: You better watch it! I'm training hard for it!

Y/N: Okay, I will.

Y/N: Make sure you read my letters!

CHEOL: Of course!

Y/N: I love you.

CHEOL: Love you too❤️

‘After the nationals...’ You thought to yourself as you walked past the tall brick building that was your apartment. The sun was out and happily dancing in the sky alongside the clouds that speckled the blue sky. ‘When will that be?’

You did a quick search and found out that your boyfriend wouldn't be back for another three(ish) months.

‘Why did he make it sound like he was coming soon?’ Your smile was gone as you walked closer to the library.

After knowing each other for two weeks, you and Joshua had finally exchanged numbers. It came out randomly but you two decided that maybe, sometime in the future, you'd need to call or text each other.

At that time, you both had met coincidentally while on your way to the coffee shop at the corner of the block. So, you two walked and talked, sharing funny and serious stories, laughing and nodding in understanding. Though the walk to and from the coffee shop was usually a ten to thirty minute walk, you wondered how it ended up extending to an hour.

You wrote another letter to Seungcheol that day.

TO: SEUNGCHEOL, FROM: Y/N

Hello, Cheol!

How's practice so far? Are you doing well?

I hope you are doing okay!

The new tenant in your old unit is a guy by the name of Joshua. He's really nice and is a potter, isn't that so cool? Of course, he'd never be as cool as you, because you're my boyfriend~

I think we are getting along pretty well. When you come back, you should meet him!

P.S. I haven't gotten any new orders but I'm not letting that get to me! I'll be patient for a few more weeks!

P.S.S. I love you! If you see this letter, text me and say ‘cherry’ <3

~ your girlfriend :)

Another week flashed by. The letter had to have arrived at his place. He called you once and texted you twice.

No text from your boyfriend ever mentioned a cherry.

A month after meeting Joshua, you visited his store with some desserts you baked and were giving out. You had already given all of the tenants you knew some cookies and donuts but Joshua was the only one who wasn't home. You figured that Joshua was in his little workshop, since you had come to notice that that must've been his favorite place to be, and when you arrived at Clayshua unannounced, the few knocks you left on the door made Joshua jump.

As he walked over to open the door for you, his posture was good and everything but his hands were neat. His hands were held up, like he was about to conduct a surgery, but instead of being cleaned, it was messy, smudged with a light brown substance.

“Sorry, it seems like you were busy,” You said, as his messy hands left a stamp of clay on the door handle.

Joshua shook his head and smiled. He hadn't see the paper bag you were holding behind your back just yet. “It's fine but what brings you hear in the middle of the day?”

You gave him an affable smile and pulled the bag from your back in front of you. He gave a puzzled “oh?” as his princely smile began to form on his pinkish lips. You smiled even brighter and explained, “I baked some sweets and handed them out to everyone.”

When he heard that you handed out sweets for everyone, he was disappointed in himself for thinking otherwise. He glanced into your beautiful eyes before looking down at the bag of sweets again, putting the thought behind him.

“And everyone happened to be inside their homes but you weren't answering the door. I waited a few minutes for you, to see if you'd come back soon, but you didn't. I was afraid that the sweets wouldn't be good later and grow stale if I didn't give it to you now,” You said, the long explanation causing you to go out of breath. Joshua was smiling with his ears wide open, taking in every word. He found you so cute again. “So, I figured that you'd be here, in Clayshua. Well, my guess was right, wasn't it?”

He giggled a bit and nodded, making way for you to step inside. He closed the door to the shop as you set the bag of sweets on one of the tables Joshua set up, for pottery classes in the future, you remembered him saying.

“What were you doing?” You asked, watching as Joshua locked the door with a satisfying click.

“You remembered how I told you that I hadn't made any vases yet?” Joshua replied, quickly disappearing into the bathroom, his voice echoing against the partially empty walls of Clayshua.

“Yeah.”

You could hear the tap water run.

“I was making some vases, you know, spinning it around, while shaping it.”

Joshua's voice echoed from the bathroom.

“Oh, that's cool. Is there anything I can help you with?” You replied, waiting for him to finish cleaning up his hands. “I do feel a bit bad for disrupting your work.”

“I should be the one feeling bad— you came all the way over here with snacks for me, I should definitely be the one to feel bad,” Joshua said, wiping his hands with a towel as he stepped out of the bathroom.

Talking with Joshua could either be you two beautifully and easily conversing, or bickering, going back and forth between who was more sorry when really, you two were just overreacting.

“Well,” you proposed, “You said that you were always open to creativity, right? How about letting me help with making a vase? I'll pay you for the materials I use.”

The offer was deadly tempting. Joshua never want edto be too accepting of your kindness and he even made promises to himself while he lay in bed at night thinking about you that he, Joshua Hong, would no longer be the accepting your overly kind acts if he had nothing to repay you.

Yet, his mind and heart added a selfish offer to the table.

“Fine, I'll show you how to make one,” Joshua said, in defeat as he grabbed one of the donuts with a brown paper towel. “Follow me.”

If you were so persistent with your kindness, he could take advantage of that.

He could have you with him longer.

So, Joshua led you to his little workshop in the back of his store. The lights were on, a nice yellow color, and the floor was hard concrete. The place looked a bit more like and untidy garage than a pottery workshop but you didn't even know what a pottery workshop was supposed to look like.

Joshua glanced over at you and saw you with your familiar lustrous eyes as you looked at his glistening pottery. He was glad that he could make your eyes sparkle like that, it made him feel proud and happy. He caught himself smiling and immediately retracted the curve of his lips as he sat down on a stool, in front of his unfinished vase.

“Come and take a seat,” He said calmly, patting the wooden stool beside him. “I'll show you how to make a vase, after that, you can do whatever you want with this jumble of clay. I'm assuming you don't know anything about making pottery, right?”

You smiled and nodded, taking a seat beside Joshua. “Are you going to get your hands dirty again? You literally just washed your hands.”

Joshua looked down at his hands that were already reaching toward the unfinished vase. He tilted his head slightly and amusedly chuckled.

“Right... but it's okay.”

Joshua taught you how to make the vase and the steps were surprisingly simple, but you quickly realized that it took a lot of body control to make a beautifully shaped vase.

What lingered on your mind after you left was how Joshua taught it to you. He apologized a million times for slightest physical contact you two encountered but somehow, that made it even more memorable for you. Whenever he apologized for having to teach you by putting his hand on top of yours, you just laughed because, to you, it wasn a big deal.

Well, it shouldn't be a big deal.

He placed your wet hand on the muddy clay and with his hand behind yours, he slowly guided you on how to make the vase. His hands were very delicate, you observed, and he was like a professional potter. His hands were warm as they were on top of yours, and though it was messy, you both didn't mind it.

You don't even remember how the vase looked like, no matter how hard you try to recall. All that could come to your mind was Joshua, his endless polite apologies, and his large, warm hands.

Over the course of the month after the pottery session, you and Joshua began spending an immense amount of time together, and you didn't see anything wrong with hanging out with your neighbor who was like a new best friend.

Though, sometimes, if you were honest, you did disregard some things that you felt you shouldn't be doing with Joshua. However, the happiness that you felt around the presence of Joshua was no joke. You had never for the past 4 years felt so happy to be around someone. Hanging out with friends, family, and even possibly your boyfriend—you hate to admit—did not make you feel different.

Joshua was different.

In the second month that you and Joshua met, the weather was always gloomy. Rain was always pouring from the dark skies and angry clouds were always looming above. During those shadowy days, you spent most of your time inside and Joshua balanced his life in and out of rain.

You worked on your cute little products inside your house and Joshua would make pottery inside his house too, but sometimes he'd venture outdoors and take a nice long walk under an umbrella with pattering rain toward Clayshua for work, enjoying the chilly breeze and smell of autumn rain.

You've always had a fear of loud noises but no one seemed to remember that, even your busy boyfriend. The loud strikes of thunder would always jump you awake when you're in the middle of slumber. Usually, the roars of thunder wouldn't be loud enough to frighten you, but one night, even earplugs and headphones couldn't keep the sound away. Being a sensitive sleeper, you always woke up shivering in fear whenever you heard loud noises.

So, to try and get rid of the noise, you left your apartment on one of the higher floors and headed to the ground floor, where the front desk was.

The landlord was nowhere in sight and the office only had the clerk, who had his head back against his chair, drool dripping from the corner of his lips. You were hoping you'd find someone to talk to in the middle of the night, someone who couldn't sleep because of the loud thunder just like you.

That's when you had heard a soft calling of your name resonating from the stairway. You had taken the elevator to the first floor, a long, fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders to prevent the cold from touching your skin.

You turned around toward the stairway and saw a familiar broad figure. It was Joshua.

He was dressed comfortably, one hand in his black sweatpants pockets, wearing a loose white t-shirt showing. He seemed a bit shocked to see you in such a state but then kindly smiled.

“What are you doing here with a blanket?” Joshua asked, closing the door to the stairway as he walked toward you, who was still standing and staring in the middle of the clean lobby as if stunned. “Why aren't you asleep at this hour?”

“I could ask the same thing,” you replied.

You and Joshua sat down in the chairs at the lobby that were against a wall where a painting gifted from one of the tenants to Jeonghan hang.

“I couldn't sleep well,” Joshua said, smiling softly. His hands were clasped in his lap as he sat beside you. “What about you?”

“I have a fear of loud sounds,” You replied, awkwardly and shyly smiling to yourself. You looked down at the ground. You didn't want to sound lame but that's exactly how it sounded. “So, I thought that someone might be awake at this time. I wanted to distract myself a little from my fears.”

Joshua nodded in understanding. “Then...”

You looked up at him and your eyes met. His eyes looked like they held the galaxy in them. Your heartbeat started jumping, racing, accelerating from staring into his eyes.

“Want to talk for the night?”

You could never look him in the eye, ten seconds would be your limit, maybe even less.

Yet, you could talk with him endlessly, no matter how far you two went into the night and comply to his request when he asked you to read him a book.

Thunderstorms would continue for the following week and every night, before bed, you'd hear a single knock on your door. You didn't even need to open it. Joshua was always at the other end and you two would exchange words between the closed door with your ears pressed on it. He was always telling you that he was sorry to be interrupting you, but also asking if you were alright. You would have to assure him many times that if the thunder was unbearable, you'd be the one to knock down his apartment door.

He would chuckle.

Joshua also came over many times to your apartment unit and you two would do the simplest things. At first, Joshua didn't like to be with you alone in your home, but soon, he began to feel comfortable. You let him in and told him that he was always welcome. You two would share the slightest happy moments with each other but also the hardest burdens and worries you both had.

One time when he came over, you taught him to make bead bracelets. You were originally making bracelets for some new orders you got and Joshua was stopping by to check up on you. Curiosity got the best of him eventually as he watched your beautiful hands slide a bead onto a string, create a pattern, and close off the bracelet. You didn't mind letting him use some of your materials because you didn't have a large franchise yet.

The bracelet he created was made up of some of his favorite colors, blue and pink, with the letters SHU spread among the beads.

“I didn't want to use up too many of your beads,” Joshua had said as he handed the bracelet to you. “You can keep it for me.”

He also talked about how enjoyable it was and how he was going to incorporate it as a hobby, which made you feel proud, butterflies swarming your stomach.

Within that same month, Joshua went out one night with his friends for a drink. He had been feeling sick since two days before but couldn't deny because apparently, they all wanted to meet up and catch up with Joshua. Those friends had gone to college or started working and Joshua was the only one among them who began his own business. His friends were either clerks, office workers, or managing part-time jobs while going to college.

After a festive night drinking out with friends, Joshua had a bad hangover. He was feeling dizzy and nauseated, lazy and unmotivated, and he didn't want to leave his bed. Aside from his already worsening flu, his head hurt like crazy and the memories from the night before were still vivid. He regretted drinking so much and even agreeing to playing all those drinking games, that he lost to most of the time due to his lack of knowledge in them.

Thankfully though, you showed up at his door with a bracelet, that ended up with you making hangover soup for him at his place while he sat at the kitchen with his head down on the counter, mumbling countless apologies for making you go through so much trouble.

After he said that, he ate the hangover soup you made, and ended up passing out while you did the dishes. You were worried, of course, and ended up staying at his place even longer after you realized that he was battling a lava temperature fever.

You stayed with him until he woke up, tapping a cold wet towel from his forehead to his neck and nape.

While he slept, one side of his face against the cold surface of the counter, you gazed at him. You admired his long eyelashes, full lips, and every aspect of his face that you never got a chance to look at close-up before. The more you stared at his features, the more your face subconsciously drew closer to his and the more your heart fluttered.

As you stared at him, your heart was already speaking but your mind continued to wonder, ‘What's with me being around you? Do I like you?’

You just sighed and stared at him even more before shaking away the thought and backing your head away from his.

‘No. I can't.’

‘I'm in love with Seungcheol.’

Those words played in your mind but your heart continued to race as you looked at Joshua.

He apologized once again when he woke up, embarrassed that you got to see such a sight of him.

You just shook your head, saying that it was okay.

Earlier that day, you had received a letter in the mail from your boyfriend, Seungcheol. You hadn't got the chance to read the letter because you were so preoccupied with Joshua.

Even when you returned home, you ended up forgetting about that letter, despite having nothing to do at home at all.

It was because there was only one thing on your mind.

Joshua.

Joshua Hong.

And you once again, ended up in Joshua's kitchen not long after making him hangover soup. This time, you were cooking a soybean paste stew for Joshua's parents because they were coming over and according to Joshua, after having tried your soybean paste stew once, claimed that you had the best soybean paste stew recipe ever. He wanted to learn it and cook it for his parents, if that was okay.

After rummaging through your drawers to clean it out, you had found the unread, unopened, long-awaited letter from Seungcheol. You wanted to read it and write back before he came back home—which you realized was only about a month away—but that was when Joshua appeared at your door with his puppy eyes and soft smile.

For Joshua, you forgot that a rejection, denial, and the word ‘no’ existed.

So, that's how you ended up with Joshua again. Alone. In his apartment. With him.

It didn't seem right at all and your mind was finally realizing that. You waited for Joshua to finish cutting up the vegetables, your hand against the brim of the counter, waiting for the radish and brownish broth to come to a boil. You kept your eyes on him, like you were analyzing his every move.

Your mind was finally telling you that it wasn't right and you had finally realized that all this time, your heart was the one guiding you with all of your actions. A heavy load was burrowing itself inside your heart, making you somewhat nervous, guilty, and scared.

‘Seungcheol,’ You reminded yourself. ‘Choi Seungcheol is my boyfriend.’

Yet, upon remembering your boyfriend, you realized further the limited contact you had with Seungcheol and that made you feel even worse. When was the last time you two contacted? You two were boyfriend and girlfriend, yet it seemed like months since you two had a heartfelt conversation. He had a letter for you, for the first time in what felt like ages, and it was just sitting on your desk untouched.

Then, thinking about letters made you remember the ones you sent. Out of the many that you sent, how many did he return? How many of them did he actually read? How long had it been since you last sent a letter to your boyfriend?

“Why didn't you tell me that the soup was boiling?” Joshua asked frantically, quickly sliding all the vegetables off the cutting board, into the boiling pot of stew. He then picked up the pieces of tofu he cut and added them as well.

“Oh, sorry about that,” You replied, quickly brushing off the thoughts of Seungcheol. “I was just... in a bit of a daze.”

“Oh? Are you okay?” Joshua asked, wiping his hands with a towel that hung beside the oven mitts.

You nodded with a short smile. “Just a bit of things here and there, but I'm fine. When are your parents coming?”

“They'll be here by 7 pm, we still have around 30 minutes left, which is plenty.”

You nodded.

Talking with Joshua should have made you more concerned about your relationship with him. It should have made you feel even more guilty because you were in a relationship with Seungcheol, yet, you were constantly spending time with Joshua. Joshua made your heart flutter with his sweet words, dazzling smile, and twinkling eyes. You two shared wholehearted conversations, were each other's support, and helped each other out. You had fallen for Joshua and you knew it deep inside but there was still a wall of warriors, fighting back the feelings, denying the reality, because you were in a relationship. It should have made you feel guilty. Yet, the more you and Joshua talked, the more refreshed you felt.

“Here, let's have a taste test,” Joshua said after a few minutes passed and the stew began to boil again. He grabbed a ladle and scooped a bit of the bubbling, boiling broth. He gently blew it and slowly took a small sip.

Immediately, his eyes widened and he smiled, his eyes sparkling with fascination. “Woah, this is insane.”

“Really?” You asked, feeling a sense of proudness sweeping over your body upon catching the sight of seeing Joshua amazed. You quickly lean in and take a sip of the hot broth, slightly numbing your tongue.

It was delicious though, so you squeezed your eyes shut and smiled, savoring the taste of the delicious soybean paste stew.

“I'm sure my parents will love it,” Joshua said, smiling as he gazed at your expression, before turning away.

Just then, you both decided to lean in for another sip. Your lips were already on the ladle and Joshua's paused upon seeing your mouth reach for it first. He could hear his pounding heartbeat drumming against his chest as his eyes could do nothing else but focus on your lips.

His hand gradually lowered the ladle.

You had nothing else to look at but Joshua.

So that's what you did.

You gulped down the stew and watched in a frozen stance as Joshua's stare approached a place right under your nose.

“Your hair looks nice today,” He said.

God, he wasn't even looking at your messy bun that you put in a hurry.

His large hand hesitantly placed on your neck, you could feel the warmth spreading through his body. He was so close now, you could feel his breath against your lips, tempting you to bite it or press it away so that he couldn't lock his lips against yours.

Yet, you didn't move because everything just felt so right.

“Can I kiss you?”

That question snapped you back into reality.

You backed away while stumbling.

“I-”

You look at him apologetically, feeling the guilt that hid away building up even more ferociously.

“I have a boyfriend.”

You could remember Joshua's gaze as you walked away from him and out of his apartment unit.

He didn't look angry or sad.

He didn't even look disappointed.

He looked embarrassed.

When you walked to your apartment that was right next to his, you felt even worse, because of you did, and what you were going to do if not for Joshua's question that brought you back to your senses.

After lingering at the door for a while, your eyes closed, trying to control your breathing, heart, and mind, you walked over to the white, rectangular envelope that sat on your desk.

TO: Y/N

FROM: YOUR BOYFRIEND CHERRY <3

How are you doing, my baby?

I know it's been a while since I last replied to one of your letters. I know just how much you love sending letters back and forth like this, so I'm sorry that I couldn't keep up with it.

I always use the excuse that I'm busy. All. The. Time.

I'm sorry for not being able to spend time with you. I promise that after I win the Nationals, I'll come stay with you for a long time. I want to take you outside and light up fireworks together, kiss under the moonlight, and go on dates that we never got the chance to do.

A long distance relationship surely is hard, right?

I promise it'll be over soon, just hang in there a bit longer for me, okay? I promise that when I come back, we'll have enough money to move out of that apartment and get your business dolled up.

Then, we can get married, okay?

I know we don't talk, text, or see each other often, but I still love you, okay? I love you, baby.

I love you, my beautiful lady.

Just a month left by the time this letter arrives.

I miss you.

I love you.

~ sincerely, your boyfriend <3

The letter was sweet but you felt a bit bitter. You had even forgotten that he had his competition at the Nationals soon and if that didn't make you feel bad already, what he mentioned in the letter just made your heart sink.

You were afraid of fireworks popping in the sky, even if it looked beautiful.

And that only made you feel worse.

So you decided to give Seungcheol a call, but he didn't pick up.

“Why am I not surprised?”

You sigh to yourself as you dropped your head on the hard wooden desk.

The next day after you and Joshua bumped into each other on your way out, Joshua apologized for what he did in the kitchen the previous night. You said it was fine because it wasn't and the pain from seeing Joshua's expression made you hurt even more.

Joshua had fallen for you so hard that he forgot to ask the most important question: do you have a boyfriend?

So, that night, when you backed away and said that you had a boyfriend, he just wanted to laugh at himself for being so stupid. You were such a wonderful, amazing, beautiful woman, what were the chances that a woman like you wouldn't be in love with someone else?

Yet, even now that he knew you were in a relationship, he wanted to keep you close. He didn't want to let the friendship you two created as neighbors shatter.

So as the third month of knowing each other drew closer, Joshua acted as if nothing happened. He continued talking with you, sharing stories with you, and telling you that you looked beautiful. He gave you a mug that he made because it reminded him of you; he was so undeniably in love but he was trying to cover it up as friendly affection.

Platonic affection.

You, on the other hand, wanted to push Joshua away. Your resolve was that if you removed Joshua from your life, you'd stay in love with Seungcheol, and Joshua wouldn't be a part of your life. Everything would be complete, you'd have a happy family, relationship, and Seungcheol wouldn't have to know anything about you and Joshua.

But, you couldn't do that. You didn't want to lie to Seungcheol, because, no matter how much you tried, everything, this or that, it couldn't change.

Being away from Joshua only made your heart ache.

Soon enough, the only thing in your head was Joshua. Whenever you made bracelets for fun while waiting for customers to come in and order—though you did see a bit of flourishing of your online shop—you ended up making a bracelet out of his favorite colors, blue and pink, putting letters from your name across the bead bracelet. You didn't want to give it to him but you ended up giving it to him because seeing that bracelet you made while thinking of him lying around for so long made you annoyed.

When he received the bracelet, Joshua couldn't help but smile. He caught the bracelet he made for you on your wrist, hiding under the sleeves. He took the bracelet and began wearing it almost every day. He loved it so much but he would always have to remind himself that, no matter how much it seemed like you like him in a non-platonic way, he was just a neighbor and friend. You were in a relationship.

He had to convince himself nearly every day that you weren't feeling the same way. Sometimes, Joshua would slap himself while looking into the mirror, thinking, ‘you have fallen too hard, Joshua. Way too hard.’

You quickly sealed the envelope and delivered it to the post office, hoping that the letter would arrive at Seungcheol's dormitory before he came back. You wanted him to see the letter but when Seungcheol texted you the next morning that he had won the National Taekwondo Competition in the States and was going to come home as fast as possible, you were positive that he wouldn't be able to see the letter.

That made you partially relieved, because if he saw that letter, you would be deemed a true coward. It also made you feel bad because he would have to know the cold truth. The betrayal that you had decided to face with honesty. You didn't want to lie to Seungcheol anymore. You didn't want to put him through hell because he just won the Nationals, his life-long goal, and was probably waiting to excitedly celebrate it with his beloved girlfriend, only for her to tell him that she's in love with someone else.

You buried your hands in your face, sitting with the desk in front of you. On top of the desk was scrambled pieces of yarn and a box of sewing supplies, along with a mug that had a small rabbit engraved on the front, gifted from your next-door neighbor, Joshua.

Seungcheol was going to arrive any second. He probably had hailed a cab and was on the road to your apartment.

You thought about delaying the breakup.

After 6 years of dating Seungcheol, two years in-person and four years long-distance, would it all be ruined just because you met this man you fell in love with after around 3 months? After supporting each other for so long? After being in love for so long? Was it really going to be worth it?

You thought that maybe after spending a few days with your boyfriend again, you'd realize your love for him and love only him again. Seungcheol would be the only man in your life.

But that wouldn't be as easy as it seemed.

Truthfully, those three months you spent with Joshua felt the equivalent to or even more than those four years you spent in a long-distance relationship with Cheol. Being together for 6 years, you thought that it was normal for couples to contact each other less and still be in love.

All you could do was sigh in frustration, guilt, and anxiousness.

If you delayed the breakup, that would be the equivalent to hiding your probably mutual feelings toward Joshua. You didn't want to do that. You didn't want to lie to him. You didn't want to hide.

Just then, the doorbell rang, causing you to jump.

From the knocks that followed after, you could already tell who it was, even though it had been almost a year since the two of you last met up.

You quickly walked and opened the door, greeted your boyfriend with a warm, welcoming hug, and then shut the door behind him. He didn't saw much as he came in, only a short and comfortable “hey baby, I missed you”.

You immediately sat in the living room with him and didn't want to hesitate with the breakup. You sucked in a deep breath and let out an even heavier breath.

“Is something wrong?” Seungcheol asked, leaning toward you a little. He reached his hand out toward you but something inside him made him stop halfway.

Seungcheol was tired from the long flight and wanted to go to sleep but he knew that you probably missed him like crazy, like you would always, and you'd want to cuddle while watching TV or catch up and talk for hours until midnight would strike.

“Seungcheol,” you said seriously, the sight of him already making your eyes look apologetic. Your heart was already suffocating. You wanted to continue sounding serious like how you began by calling his name, but when you asked the question, your voice became weak and struck with pain. “Can we break up?”

Your eyes were teary, causing Seungcheol to feel confused.

“What? What are you talking about?” Seungcheol asked, cupping your face and wiping the tears that were flowing down your cheeks slowly. You tried your best to control them but you couldn't after knowing what you were doing to Cheol. He didn't seem to realize the seriousness of the situation just yet and it pained you to know how he would feel.

“I want to break up, Seungcheol,” you replied, amidst your tears, placing your hand on his. “I'm sorry. I'm not pranking you. I'm not trying to be funny... I... I genuinely want to break up.”

“Why?” He asked, the tears beginning to crawl up his throat, making you feel even worse. His happy smile from when he first entered turned into a saddening frown as his eyes began to well up with tears unstoppable. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, I did,” you continued. “I was the one who did something wrong. I'm sorry. I want to break up.”

“No, no, I bet it was because of me,” Seungcheol said, forcing himself to smile, his hands weakly slipping away from your face. “Even I know what type of boyfriend I've been for the past four years. I don't know how you managed it, Y/N.”

You stayed silent as he swallowed back his tears and continued.

“I took you for granted, I acknowledge that much. I wanted my dreams to come true so I left you to go accomplish those darn dreams. You stayed with me for the past four years that I was away, clinging onto those two years that we spent before I left. You don't even know how much I've changed while I was in the States and I don't even know what you do here,” Seungcheol explained, wiping away his tears.

“You know all of those letters that you send me? I only open a few of them and I've always told myself to read one of them every day, but I always end up going out with friends, studying, or practicing taekwondo late at night. When I look back on it, I realize that the you that I know and love may not be the same. The little amount of contact that we keep makes me frustrated too but then I realize that it's because of me that our contact is limited.”

You wanted to bury your head and cry.

“So, you can blame me for the breakup. Now that you can't take it, you can tell me that now. I'm sure you've been sick of it, right?” Seungcheol reached out his hand to you and gently stroked your hair, smiling away the pain like he always did.

“I am a little sick of it,” you replied honestly. “I hated it so much but I didn't want to sound like I did because I love you and that was the only reason I needed to keep going. I tried to understand, Cheol.”

You gulped and looked into his eyes, wiping away his warm tears. “I won't blame you though, Cheol. I just want to break up because I...”

“You don't have to say the reason.”

Seungcheol smiled softly.

“Just let me sleep here for the night. I'll leave tomorrow. You don't have to ask me to break up, if you want to, then we can. I know how much you must've been hurting.”

Seungcheol turned away to hide, his hand slipping away from yours.

“Have you showered? Eaten?” Seungcheol asked, sniffling.

You covered your mouth and tried to hold in your tears as they began to fall again.

“Yeah, I have.”

“Okay, that's good. Are you getting ready for bed now?”

“Yeah.”

“I'll sleep on the couch tonight. Don't worry about me, go to bed first. I'll take my last shower here and eat my last meal. You can go to bed first.”

“But—”

“Please, go.” His sudden plead was a shout of desperation, anger, and sadness.

Seungcheol hated himself for the kind of boyfriend he was. The only thing that made him feel happier was the fact that he was finally setting you free despite all his love.

When you went into your bedroom, Seungcheol took a quick shower and ate a quick meal that your prepared for him earlier that day. He cried while eating, noticing that that may have been the best meal he ever had in his life despite it being simple. You had always been a great cook, preparing all of his lunches whenever he went to practice.

While Seungcheol ate and reminisced the memories, he was smiling between his tears.

Even when he laid on the couch and looked up at the blank ceiling, he cried, thinking back on the times that you and him cuddled while watching television, then realizing that that was the only thing you two ever did on that particular living room couch.

The next day, you saw Seungcheol off. He boarded a taxi and said that he would be going to visit his parents and siblings.

When you went back into your apartment you stared at it for a while. You packaged some of your customer's orders and sent them to the post office and proceeded life unlike every other day. Your heart was now aching to let him, Seungcheol, go, but you knew it was for the better.

When you returned from sending off the packages, you boarded yourself up in your room for the next few days. Joshua seemed to be worried, always knocking on your door here and then, but after hearing no reply, he'd assume he came at the worng times. It didn't really matter to him that you two didn't talk for around 3 days because he still saw you around, wandering in the lobby, or by chance outside, through the window by your living room.

On the fourth day after the breakup, you decided to head out of your apartment for the first time. You took a walk around the block and stopped at Clayshua. You didn't plan on seeing Joshua there, just stopping by to take a look, but when you arrived, you saw Joshua placing pots and bases for display.

You stopped and stared for a while before knocking on the window to catch Joshua's attention.

He turned to you and smiled as he went to open the door for you.

“What are you doing here?” He asked, clapping his hands together to get rid of the traces of pottery that sprinkled his hands. “The weather is getting colder, shouldn't you have worn a thicker coat?”

You smiled softly and took a step closer to him.

“What's with your eyes? Why are they swollen?” Joshua took a step closer to you to inspect your eyes that cried all night. You tried to change the topic.“Y asou said that your shop is opening soon, right?”

You put your hand behind your back and smiled, trying to hide your swollen eyes. “I hope your shop does well.”

“Thanks,” he replied. His simple words were enough to get you smiling. You could tell that he was still inspecting your eyes, wondering to himself if you had late-night ramen or if you cried.

So, you decided to tell him the truth.

“I broke up with my boyfriend, that's why my eyes look bad.”

“No, they don't look bad,” Joshua reassured, trying to meet your gaze. He sounded concerned in his follow-up question, “Are you okay though?”

“Well, yeah. I just wanted to, you know… I didn't want to hide my feelings for you from him.”

The calm tone as you said that bluntly and your innocent smile left Joshua stunned. He didn't know what to say or do with your sudden confession but he felt somehow delighted deep inside his heart. His heart was stilling skipping rope just from the sight of you.

You made your way to the door, telling that you were just stopping by to say hi. Joshua laughed at that.

As you were about to leave and blend into the crowded streets again, Joshua called out your name. Your head peeking from over your shoulder, you listened intently as Joshua said with a bit of nervousness, “I'll wait for you. You don't have to come to me right away. If you still need time after your breakup, I'll respect that. Okay?”

You smiled gently but brightly at Joshua and nodded slowly before making your way out and back to the apartment.

“Hey Cheol,” Soonyoung, Seungcheol's roommate and a member of the national taekwondo team, called out while holding an envelope. He had gone to collect the mail like he did every end of the month and noticed a familiar white envelope and writing on it. “I think it's another letter from your girlfriend that you broke up with.”

Seungcheol was playing games on his computer when Soonyoung dropped the envelope on his desk. Around two weeks had passed since you and Cheol had broken up.

“We don't get much mail anymore and the only one who did send us mail was your girlfriend. Do you even read her letters? Wait—you two broke up, right?” Soonyoung babbled while chewing on a piece of gum and throwing on one side of the wireless buds.

“Mind your own business, Soonyoung.”

“But talking about your breakup, are you doing okay, man? You seem a bit out of it but you also seem to be coping with it better than I thought.”

Seungcheol, annoyed at the continuous mentions of his breakup, turned to his roommate and good friend Soonyoung while glaring. “Do you have a death wish?”

He looked at the letter and knew that it was probably sent quite a bit ago.

He didn't want to read it but when Soonyoung was asleep, sometime near midnight, Seungcheol tore the envelope open while sitting on the floor against his bed. His lamp was on and reflected a dim light that was bright enough to read but not bright enough to awaken a sleeping tiger.

He stared at the ‘TO: CHOI SEUNGCHEOL, FROM: Y/N’.

He stared at it for a while before he decided to unfold the letter, being met with your familiar and neat handwriting, each stroke looking delicately engraved on the paper.

Hello, Seungcheol.

It's been a while since I last wrote a letter to you. In fact, I don't remember the last time that I did, though I'm sure it wasn't a super long time ago.

I'm sure that all of my letters are probably stacked up in a drawer somewhere but I'm hoping that you would read this one. I'm a complete coward for writing this before I can tell it to you but now that I look at it, this letter may not be looked at until after the breakup.

Now, you may be wondering, ‘what breakup’?

I'm going to break up with you, Seungcheol.

Now, please don't blame yourself for anything. This is all my choice. I want to break up.

Those six years that I spent with you were precious.

I can still remember the days that we spent together. Some of them are more memorable than others but each of them special.

Do you remember when I needed help with my taekwondo kicks in high school? You held the punching bag for me and I accidentally kicked your shoulder really hard. You told me that you were fine but your face was so red. I was laughing so hard but I still brought you to the hospital and that's where we had our first kiss; to shut me up from rambling on and on about it.

I don't want to go over our love life in a letter. Sorry, writing letters has always made me nostalgic.

I just want you to know that I love you, Seungcheol.

But I'm in love with someone else even more.

You probably haven't met him yet but I've talked about him before, in a previous letter I wrote to you, though I'm unsure if you read them. I know that you don't read my letters and that's okay with me, just hurts me a little, but I understand.

The man that I have fallen for is such a simple man. You don't have to worry about me. He's caring and kind-hearted, he's strong and intelligent, you can trust me on that, Cheol. He talks with me and tells me all of his problems and also listens to me.

I was afraid that you'd be worried for me.

I'm sorry, Seungcheol.

I'm sorry for being in love with someone else.

Now, this letter is probably all over the place, because that's exactly how I feel. It's not easy for me either but I'm unable to help this feeling. I'm a mess and I'm in love with someone else.

I hope you understand.

~ Y/N.

Seungcheol rubbed his forehead.

“Gosh, you dummy, why did you have to repeat it so many times?” Seungcheol said to himself, holding back tears.

That's when he decided to spend the rest of the night reading through each and every letter you sent, from four years ago to the breakup.

Soonyoung just sighed in his bed, watching his friend from afar, wanting to lend a comforting hand, but not moving an inch. He shook his head and closed his eyes gently, unable to bear the sight of his crying friend.

‘He has it worse than I thought.’

Soonyoung badly wanted to shout at his friend who was sobbing in the dark with a dim light, thinking no one knew of his pain. He always hid away his true feelings of hurting and that largely frustrated Soonyoung.

However, those thoughts of anger quickly faded as Soonyoung recalled just how much he loved you. His girlfriend was so precious and he talked about her a lot despite not having much contact with her, or so he said. He knew who you were and he knew that you were special to Seungcheol.

“She opened up her online shop today, I'm going to win the finals and give her the prize money!”

The excitement as he said each word...

“Look! My girlfriend just got her first order on her online shop! When I get back to Korea, I'll make sure I'll help her make bracelets and plushies!”

The happiness in his voice…

“I miss her so much, agghhhhh...”

Every single time that he whined about missing her but still managed to smile while looking at their old pictures together. Seungcheol would tell stories from highschool with his sweetheart, you, and Soonyoung didn't mind listening.

The love in Seungcheol's voice was clear.

But now, all there was left in that voice of his was the broken-hearted, shattered, leftover love.

Soonyoung flipped around to look at Seungcheol, who was now wiping his tears and getting up from the floor, endless white envelopes and folded letters scattering the dark wooden floor.

“Hyung,” Soonyoung began.

“Huh? You're awake?” Seungcheol asked in surprise, hastily wiping away his tears that were still on his cheek while sniffling.

“Do you want to go clubbing?”

“What? At this time?”

“To forget about her.”

Seungcheol sighed and dropped on his bed, laying flat against it with his body facing the ceiling and his legs dangling at the side of the bed. “Did you see everything?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung replied, not getting up from his warm and cozy bed. “I never knew this day would come and honestly, I hate to see you like this. I know just how much you loved her and how much you risked for her. It makes me angry, hyung.”

“Don't be angry,” Seungcheol replied, frozen while staring at the ceiling, his arms spread widely against the bed, as if offering the wall above a hug. “I think that the breakup was a good thing for me and Y/N, no matter how much it hurt. She's in love with someone and that's all that matters to me. For some reason, I'm not even angry, because, after reading all her heartfelt letters and looking back on that night we broke up, I finally understand everything.”

Soonyoung listened intently. Soonyoung always listened to Seungcheol.

“This new guy she fell for probably has all the time for her and showers her with all the attention that I didn't give despite my love. This guy that she loves probably supports her in all ways that I couldn't. This guy that she loves is probably a kind soul who wouldn't dare eat up all her love until she's broken, unlike me, who fed on her love endlessly.”

“Stop, that's not true!” Soonyoung interrupted, jumping up from his bed. “You risked just as much for her! You pursued taekwondo because you wanted to fund her shop! I know that you never wanted to be a taekwondo athlete but you gave up becoming an actor because you thought that being a taekwondo athlete was the easier route to earn money. I don't even know what she gave up for you, hyung!”

“Shhh,” Seungcheol hushed, placing a finger to his lips. Soonyoung fell silent to his best friend's hush and waited for him to speak.

Seungcheol sat up in bed for a bit and then turned off the lamp without a word. The silence was eerie, with the static of nothingness filling their ears. Moonlight was bright that night, shining through the open window, on a cold autumn night.

Seungcheol finally let out a soft sigh.

“We could have talked,” Seungcheol said. “If we talked more, about our worries, problems, and didn't hide the truth that didn't need to be hidden, it all would have been better.”

Soonyoung lay down on his bed and heard his best friend whisper again, this time, with more pain in his muffled voice.

“If only we spent the many chances we had to engage in a nice, long talk.”

Seungcheol forced a smile in the darkness, just wondering and hoping that the man you loved was decent. Thinking about you being happy made his forced smile turn genuine as he said quietly,

“I bet that's what he does with her best.”

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

date finished: sometime in mid october

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aggressive-positivity-network · 4 years ago

Note

mercs and nightly rituals? 👀

Those are the kind of off-the-wall asks I live for!

Spy:

The Frenchman has a very strict retiring routine.

It might have been because of his meticulous nature, or maybe because of his time at the academy, but he had almost a sixth sense for his bedtime as a result.

No one was really sure why he was so strict about it.

He has left in the middle of card games, arguments, and chats just because it “time for him to sleep.”

After a bit of prodding from Engineer - whom Spy trusts more than any of the other mercs - he reveals that the spy school he went to had alarmed halls that activated at a certain time. A few students had even died as a result. The habit had come from a place of pure terror.

Engineer is slowly trying to break the habit. Spy can now wait ten minutes after his usual time.

Spy puts his pajamas neatly on his bed, which he makes each morning, and turns on the fan so that his pillow can cool while he’s getting ready.

He makes sure all of his disguises are in the right place, takes off his mask and puts it on his coat hanger, brushes his teeth for two minutes exactly (again, an academy habit), and then changes completely into his pajamas.

Finally, he flips the switch next to his bed to activate his alarm system.

Spy goes to bed, sleeping on his back, and barely moving until morning.

And Scout learned the hard way that Spy keeps his butterfly knife in a makeshift pocket carved into the mattress.

Scout:

Can and will just konk out wherever possible.

He’s fallen asleep in Engineer’s workshop, outside, in his doorway, on the floor, against the wall...dude has even fallen asleep in the middle of hitting someone with his bat (NyQuil coma).

He will sleep anywhere, usually not his own bed.

His sleep schedule is also all out of whack, which is why he drinks so many Bonks.

He doesn’t have ADHD - his bloodstream is just pure caffeine and sleepy giggles.

If you get close enough to him, you can actually see dark circles under his eyes. He tells everyone they’re bruises.

“This...uh...Soldier punched me in the face! Yeah, that’s it!”

Boston boy, I love you, but please take a nap.

Take two. God dangit.

He very rarely changes into pajamas, he just strips and jumps in bed. He always brushes his teeth, though - he takes special care of his teeth.

Scout says their his “bread and butter.”

He also literally jumps in bed because he has a fear of somebody reaching out from under the bed and grabbing him if he gets in bed too slow.

Sometimes he even takes a running start.

He’s broken several bedframes that way.

Heavy:

Heavy has the standard fare: putting on his pajamas, brushing his teeth, and washing his face.

When he gets in bed, though, he picks up a book he got at the nearby library and starts to read it.

He has these small reading glasses that barely stay on his nose.

This is mostly to help him read and speak English, so he occasionally reads sentences that he doesn’t understand out loud.

He also has a legal pad next to his bed, which he uses to write down any words he doesn’t understand.

In the morning, he usually goes to Miss Pauling or Medic and asks what certain words mean.

He is currently at a middle-school reading level, and his favorite novel by far is The Giver.

He even bought the Russian audiobook so he could better understand the message.

He’s also a big fan of To Kill A Mockingbird, but he had an incident where Miss Pauling had to explain why their word for black person was so hurtful and why it should never be used.

Heavy didn’t understand at first, so Miss Pauling had to relate them to Russian slurs. Heavy understood really quickly after that.

His copy now has all the slurs blacked out in ink.

“What if Demo reads? I need to...disappear them.”

Sniper:

He almost always practices his shot before he goes to bed.

It helps him relieve all the daily stress.

You can tell if Sniper is having trouble sleeping because of the gunshots.

“‘Old on, mate, one more round.”

One time, after being ghosted for a date, he stayed up shooting until six in the morning.

The only reason he stopped was because he had tears in his eyes and couldn’t see the target anymore.

He ended up just sitting on the floor and cleaning his gun while trying to not get tears on the muzzle.

No one knew what had happened, but they did notice that Sniper stabbed his enemies a little harder and more violently that afternoon. He even broke a Scout’s spine because he walked on the body after withdrawing the knife.

Do. Not. Anger. The. Aussie.

Demo:

Demo drinks so often and so much that he usually doesn’t sleep during the night.

This has scared his teammates on multiple occasions, since you can’t exactly see uniform color in the dark.

He has been shot and/or trapped on multiple occasions, especially by Spy, who is a very light sleeper.

It got to a point where he now has to wear fluorescent bands so that people know he isn’t an enemy.

He also has a “sleeping eyepatch” that’s made out of the same cloth as his pajamas.

It has blue stripes and a little black X in the middle.

Engineer:

He tends to turn his light on and off many times before actually going to sleep.

Engineer also does this with his lamp, and if anybody ever walks by his room and asks why, he says that he needs to turn it off and on until it “feels right.”

He also checks every alarm system before he goes to bed.

And if there is a single update, virus, or false alarm, he has to get up and fix it.

He also tends to get very anxious at night, especially if he’s overtired or recovering from an injury.

If he and Scout are up at the same time (Scout gets nighttime anxiety as well) they make each other hot chocolate and watch MythBusters.

Engineer likes the explanations, Scout likes the explosions.

They either fall asleep on the couch or wait until Spy comes and makes his complaint known.

Since Spy’s so quiet, he has been known to move Scout, cloak as Engineer, and then scare the living daylights out of the Texan when he wakes up.

Engineer more than gets him back come next day’s battle, though.

Soldier:

Soldier has his own room on the other side of the base

And there is certainly a reason.

He fights with his pillow until he goes to sleep, making all sorts of ungodly noises.

At first the mercs thought Soldier was having some overzealous “private time”.

One night they walked in on him to find a triumphant Soldier body slamming his pillow.

He even drew Hitler’s face on it with a Sharpie.

I mean, he could be into that.

Honestly, no one knows.

Pyro:

As stated in a previous post, Pyro catches fireflies to use as a nightlight in order to go to sleep.

However, while the sun is still setting, Pyro winds down by sorting their shell and trash collection.

She sorts by color, then shape, then material.

If there are any new additions, he cleans them and put them in their own drawer.

They have a little plastic dresser they keep everything in.

Their favorite additions are pieces of broken glass from beer and whiskey bottles, bonus points if they are tinted a cool color.

They also have these sheets with a bunch of sheep and cows in nighcaps.

If they are feeling scared or overtired, however, they sleep in a unicorn sleeping bag surrounded by beanie babies she has collected over the years.

Fun fact: they sleep with their mask off, and for that reason, they usually sleep with a pillow on their head and their comforter on top of that to hide their face.

If they are in their sleeping bag, they zip it as far as they can upwards without struggling for air.

Medic:

You think you have a bad sleep schedule?

Hah! How cute.

He will run on energy serum and cocaine for an entire week, then disappear into his room for a few days.

And yet he always makes it to battle.

Some think he may have a clone, some think he has the ability to see the future. Neither would surprise anyone.

When he does sleep, though, he is fully clothed and usually holding either an organ or his bonesaw.

He has lost many specimens that way.

Archimedes usually wakes him up if he falls asleep at his desk, as Medic trained him to do. However, this doesn’t work very well if his head is down on his desk because of a mental breakdown. But hey, you can’t win them all.

Heavy has slowly been trying to change Medic’s sleep schedule. He’ll offer him tea around nine, or ask if he wants to go for a walk at eight. He’s trying to link relaxation with night.

It’s been working so far, but there’s only so much you can do.

Ms. Pauling:

What’s sleep?

@uprisist

#tf2 #tf2 demoman #tf2 miss pauling #tf2 engineer #tf2 medic #tf2 pyro #tf2 heavy #tf2 spy #tf2 scout #tf2 ask blog #tf2 headcanon #tf2 headcanons

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honey-dewey · 4 years ago

Text

Random Dewey Finn headcanons (?) I came up with while eating my breakfast

Before Dewey wanted to be a big rock star, he wanted to be an astronaut.

His aunt gave him his first guitar for his 10th birthday, thus sparking his love of rock music.

One of the major reasons he never quit music was because of that aunt. She passed away early, and was constantly the only member of his family that truly believed in him.

Dewey’s mum was kind of absent, so he was raised primarily by his dad.

Dewey and Ned met on the first day of high school, and were inseparable for all four years.

Despite both of them liking both, Dewey likes Star Wars more, while New prefers Star Trek. They have debates of epic proportion over which of these preferences is better. Dewey somehow always wins.

One of the reasons Ned let Dewey live with him is because Dewey is an amazing cook. He never eats what he makes though.

His specialty is breakfast foods

While he may be an amazing home cook, he’s an even better baker.

Dewey is highly sensitive to textures, especially food and fabrics.

Because of this, he rarely tries new foods, sticking to a decently firm schedule. (He really likes hard boiled eggs)

It’s also why he likes sweater vests. The actual sweater doesn’t touch his skin, but he can rub his hands up and down the knit when he gets overwhelmed.

He’s also sensitive to criticism. Along with that, he cries easily.

After the whole School of Rock incident, Dewey did some quick online classes on teaching. When a music teacher position at Horace Green opened up, he was the first one contacted to fill it.

During SoR shows, Dewey has a tendency to get very hyped, and this eventually leads to a collapse, usually on the bus ride home. It happened once on stage, where he just went still and quiet all of a sudden and then began to panic.

All of his kids know exactly what to do during his collapses.

They made him (yes made him) a stress doll. It weighs about twenty pounds and looks like a panda. They lay it across Dewey’s chest and let him lie down on a blanket. The kids then surround him to make a protective barrier. It’s a very effective method.

It took almost thirty years for Dewey to get diagnosed with mild autism, anxiety, ADD, and seasonal depression. His mother was a firm believer that mental illness was a hoax.

He did try and take medication for it, right when he started teaching full-time. It made him nauseous and tired and so unlike himself that he quit after three months, a decision that was fully backed by his students.

He eventually did go back and get a new prescription for his ADD. It works surprisingly well and doesn’t make him act any less like himself.

This isn’t even a Headcanon. It’s straight up actual canon from the Broadway.com Stick it to the Man video! Dewey stims! He knocks his wrists together and does the raptor hands! (I don’t think his hands were truly by his side at any point during the entire show) He taps his feet and shakes his hands! His facial expressions are always on 10 and he scronches his face when he’s excited! His head go bop! He’s a stimming Boi!

Also have you ever seen a neurotypical person dress like that? Ever? Nope. Sweater vests and jeans and sneakers (that look like heelys) is not a neurotypical outfit.

Dewey doesn’t like rainy weather, nor does he like the cold bite of winter. He has a heater and a happy light in his classroom for rainy and/or cold days.

His favorite season is fall. He really really likes to step on leaves and hear that satisfying crunch.

Dewey also has a weakened immune system, and is pretty vigilant about his health. He takes vitamins and vitamin D supplements, and yet always ends up with some kind of illness in winter. Despite this, he refuses to get any kind of flu shot.

Dewey’s list of phobias includes: needles, heights, clowns, and the dark.

He’s dead terrified of the dentist. Ned has to practically drag him every time. It’s not even that he has poor dental hygiene or has actual odontophobia, he just hates the experience. The combination of strong smells and uncomfortable touches and horrible noises overwhelms him so much.

For much of the same reasons as his hatred of the dentist, Dewey dreads getting his hair cut. Social interaction mixed with weird feelings on his surprisingly sensitive head and the constant background noise and the hair spray-y smell make it an experience Dewey’s hated since childhood. Now, Ned usually cuts Dewey’s hair because he’s really not picky about how it looks, and Ned knows exactly how to go about the job without causing Dewey to hyperventilate and cry.

He uses a night light! It’s the fun kind that projects stars on the ceiling.

Dewey is the king of field trips. He’s always just as eager as the kids to go, and he loves to learn niche facts. His favorite field trip location is the aquarium.

Dewey quit drinking after his 23rd birthday, when he blacked out and woke up in some random girl’s bed. She promised they didn’t do it, but ever since then, he’s terrified it’ll happen again.

Speaking of which, Dewey’s a virgin.

Once, one of Dewey’s female students came to him and said an older man was following her to and from school every day. Dewey was later suspended from work for a week for punching a man and putting him in the hospital. Once they knew why, the school board unanimously decided not to punish him.

Dewey absolutely insists all of his kids call him Dewey and not Mr. Finn.

He’s the most supportive teacher in the entire school. He’s got name tags on every desk with each kid’s preferred name and pronouns. When Billy comes out as non-binary, he makes the pronoun switch immediately and puts a beautiful stained glass-esque progress pride flag in one of his windows.

Someone hatefully vandalized said pride art project and Dewey actually cried. His kids all banded together to make a new one.

Sometimes, the kids purposefully ask Dewey to sing certain things because his voice gets so damn tender and beautiful, as opposed to the usual bombastic singing they’re used to. (Think like. Some of the 35MM songs)

Dewey has a routine with his drinks throughout the day. Two cups of coffee in the morning, one at home and one at work. One water bottle before lunch and one after lunch. A Gatorade or some other fitness drink after school, usually during band practice to make up for how sweaty he gets. And one cup of lavender citrus tea with extra honey after dinner.

He broke his only water bottle about four months into teaching full-time and started to use a plastic one every day. Ned decided that wouldn’t do, and got him a Mandalorian water bottle. Dewey loves it to bits.

Dewey doesn’t celebrate any one version of a holiday. He’s equal opportunity for any and all holidays, but he grew up Jewish. That doesn’t stop him from helping Ned put up his Christmas tree every year. Nor does it stop him from celebrating Yule with his online friends.

Despite being Jewish and mainly celebrating their holidays, Dewey loves Christmas music and starts playing it as soon as he can. The kids dare him to hit those ridiculous Mariah Carey high notes in All I Want For Christmas. He does it.

He also once sang ‘Little Drummer Boy’ to his kids the day before holiday break. He only played his guitar softly and by the time he was done, each and every kid was fast asleep. (He played Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer as well)

Dewey absolutely collects soft blankets. He has four halloween ones, two Tim Burton ones (a Beetlejuice and a Corpse Bride), eight winter holiday blankets, and three miscellaneous. He brought them all into class once and built a blanket fort to teach his kids about ancient civilization.

Speaking of which, his teaching methods are unorthodox at best, and at worst downright crazy. But he always teaches and he always makes it memorable. His class has the highest test scores in the school.

Dewey usually teaches using music or hands on activities. He plays soft background music during every class no matter the circumstances, and said screw the building’s lights and uses primarily lamps and strings of Christmas lights.

He also kind of forgets that he teaches essentially middle school, and he swears every so often when he’s super passionate. Like when he taught the kids about the US Presidents and called Andrew Jackson a racist bitch and Richard Nixon a lying bastard.

After getting bullied throughout all of high school, Dewey came to terms with what his body looked like, and now he really doesn’t care. (He did have a lot of fun smashing the scale his mother got him for his birthday once)

Dewey was supposed to teach his kids about mental illness for a suicide prevention thing the school did, but got about halfway through before he had a breakdown and the kids declared the rest of the day a bust. They watched cute animated movies instead of learning for the rest of the school day.

Speaking of animated movies, Dewey really loves Studio Ghibli.

The first time one of his kids called him ‘Dad’ he cried. Then they kept doing it and now he’s had to accept that he’s basically a father to about 30 11-year-olds.

If you ask any kid in the school who their favorite teacher is, they will not hesitate to answer ‘Mr. Finn.’ Even if they aren’t in his class, he’s their favorite.

Dewey’s classroom is always open for lunch. It’s quiet and calm, usually with a movie going in the background.

He also stays after school for about an hour every day, helping kids with homework. He hates math with a passion but that didn’t stop him from trying to figure out Katie’s math homework with her.

Even at home, Dewey cannot stand the quiet. He either has his headphones on or the radio going. Silence just isn’t an option.

Dewey once got pneumonia and tried to come in to work anyway. The kids made him go home. He didn’t really put up much of a fight.

The first instrument Dewey ever learned to play was the piano. He started to learn when he was super young, and that was how he learned how to read music. His kids didn’t even know he knew how to play until they walked in on him practicing one day.

Dewey says ‘fuck gender roles’ and wears the girl’s skirts to a few SoR concerts. He likes the way it makes his legs look.

Some jerk parents constantly tried to get Dewey in trouble for months because they didn’t like him and thought he wasn’t ‘high class’ enough for their kid’s education. Dewey was so stunned when they showed up during one of his classes that he couldn’t speak and just started to cry. Said student stood up and called their parents out. Two days later, those parents were off the school board.

Meanwhile, on the other end of the spectrum, Dewey found out a new kid he’d received was being abused at home because they weren’t getting high enough grades and he yelled at the kid’s parents in front of all the other staff members.

Essentially, Dewey can’t defend himself at all, but will not hesitate to protect his kids.

Dewey has said multiple times he would die for his kids. He’s always 100% serious, especially during lockdown drills.

Once, the school had a lockdown that wasn’t a drill, and Dewey managed to keep his entire class silent and calm while mentally preparing himself to lay his life down for his kids. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that.

Dewey’s also said he’d seriously consider adopting any of the kids if their at-home situation was that bad.

When he finally could, Dewey moved out of Ned’s house and into his own cramped loft apartment. He’s in love with the apartment, even though it’s tiny and kinda smells.

Dewey has almost no concept of volume control. He’s slightly deaf from constantly doing very loud shows and sometimes shouts because he thinks that’s a normal speaking volume.

As one of, if not the actual, youngest teachers at the school, Dewey is universally adored by the rest of the staff. It took a while for all of them to get on board with him, but now they all really like him.

Dewey’s favorite fruit is pomegranate. There’s just something super cathartic about cutting into a pomegranate and slowly de-seeding it. Plus, it tastes super good. But he only likes them if he can de-seed them himself.

One of the ways Dewey grounds himself is by pressing things to his mouth. He usually just puts his hand up on his face or the end of a pen in his mouth, but whenever he has a blanket, one corner is up against his lips. The same goes for stuffed animals. They’re always against his face. Most of the time, he doesn’t even know he’s doing it.

#school of rock #dewey finn #school of rock the musical #alex brightman #my headcanons

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hqprotectionsquad · 4 years ago

Text

Mr. Number One (Ennoshita x Reader)

Title: Mr. Number One Pairing: Ennoshita x Reader Summary: Ennoshita’s always the top of the class, much to your dismay. And he’s practically perfect in every other section of his life too! What would you do to get him down a notch? Word Count: 3.6k A/N: our classic rivals to lovers plot!!! hope you all enjoy <3

“He’s really going to be number one in the class, again, after this test,” you grumble your complaints to your friends, as you always do. You’re sitting in a triangle formation, with your two friends making the other points of the shape. “How is he so perfect?”

“Well, if he was even more perfect, he’d have a starting position on the volleyball team,” Yuna says, patting your back. It’s the third time you’ve cried over a test result this year. Fortunately, nobody has come to the roof today during lunch to see you sob. “It’s one test, don’t worry. You can get him back next week!”

“Not everyone’s good at sports, so that I get.”

“He’s your rival, yet you defend him in every way; do you notice that, (Y/N)?” Satoko scrunches her eyebrows.

“He’s not a bad person!” You say, wiping the tears from the contours of your eyes. “I just hate him for being so good at everything.” An angry bite of your sandwich prompts your friends to lean away from you.

“I’m sure he’s not good at everything. You could probably find his weakness if you wanted to.” Yuna grins and you know that is her devious smile. All of your worst decisions are a result of this baring of her teeth, but there are also many things that have turned for the better because of her scheming.

Today, her smile wins you over.

Ennoshita doesn’t realize any of these things. In fact, he keeps his head down while he grinds towards better grades, because better grades will bring him to a better future. There isn’t much space between classes, tutoring, and volleyball, and when he does find free time, it goes to storyboarding a new script he’s written. Nothing’s perfect; in fact, he’s lucky that he’s got his head treading above water at times, gasping for the sweet respite of fresh air.

“Tanaka, how did you get a failing grade...again?” Ennoshita rolls his eyes when he looks over the test paper. "You could’ve fixed this easily, and this one too,” Ennoshita says when pointing out problems that were marked wrong.

“I’m not as good a student as you. All I think about is Kiyoko-san and volleyball.” Tanaka stands in the classroom of stragglers who didn’t want to leave for lunch. He’s fortunate Ennoshita’s homeroom teacher doesn’t mind Tanaka coming in and out of a classroom that isn’t even his. Tanaka puts his balled fists on his hips. He looks to the air above him and grins like nobody’s business, all until his friend smacks him on the head.

“You won’t be able to get into a university if you keep failing,” he warns his teammate. “Even if you’re that good at volleyball,” Ennoshita begrudgingly adds underneath his breath. If only he hadn’t taken time off, maybe he’d be as good as Tanaka. They even share the same position in volleyball, but Tanaka is on the starting lineup, deemed as one of the strongest. Ennoshita stands on the side and acts as a referee or score keeper for practice matches. What good comes out of being on the volleyball court, but not being able to play?

Tanaka doesn’t hear him, but instead switches the topic to someone else. “Hey, I don’t want to get tutored by you anymore. Are there any cute girls in your class that could help me?”

“What?” Ennoshita widens his eyes. “What do you mean you ‘don’t want to get tutored by me anymore?’ What’s that supposed to mean?”

Tanaka grimaces, pulling on the fabric of his school uniform. “You always yell at me like this. I want a nice girl who will cheer me on when I get two points higher on a test. You don’t think a forty is good enough,” he complains. As he drifts off into his own imagination, he dreams of a girl in a short skirt, teaching him algebra. Oh, how that must be the life. Too bad Ennoshita waves away the puff of smoke from Tanaka’s head.

“I don’t know any girls in my class that do tutoring, or any one for that matter who would want to tutor a horny guy like you.”

“Well, what about (Y/N)-chan? She’s your rival, isn’t she?” He sinks back into his chair and props his head on his hands. With his elbows on the desk, Tanaka inches closer and closer to Ennoshita’s face, wiggling his eyebrows. Luckily, she’s not in the classroom. She’s out with her friends for lunch, Ennoshita assumes.

“She’s not.”

“Then why doesn’t she like you?” There’s something on Tanaka's face that makes Ennoshita's elbows tighten against his sides.

“She doesn’t not like me.” When Tanaka gives him a look, Ennoshita huffs and shrugs his shoulders. He’s never really thought of you that way, or in any way. You’re just a fellow classmate in his class. He’s never had a group project with you and he’s not one to mingle with some of the girls in the classroom. Maybe you don’t like him, just like Tanaka says. “I don’t know, I don’t know her well.”

“Then could you ask her for me?” There’s something about the smile on Tanaka’s face that makes Ennoshita’s insides curl in disarray.

But Tanaka’s persistence prevails today, and with another exhale, Ennoshita folds. “Okay, fine, I’ll ask her. But tomorrow, okay? I don’t want to bother her today.”

“I don’t think you could even bother a fly, Ennoshita.”

“Hi, so I have a question to ask you.” Ennoshita tentatively approaches the side of your desk at the end of classes the next day.

“Sure, but make it quick, will you?” You don’t look up at his figure while you put away your items into your shoulder bag. All you want is to curl up on your bed after a long day of school and this cute rival of yours is disturbing the balance of your routine. You blow a stream of air into the strands of hair that block your vision and you look into his eyes. He looks different from this angle, but whatever. He’s still in the way between you and your bed. “Well?”

“My friend, Tanaka, wants you to tutor him.”

You stand to be more level with his gaze and his chest is pretty close to yours, you’ll admit. You take a step back, masking your space-building tactic by pushing your chair into the empty space underneath your desk. “What, number one in the class isn’t good enough for him?” Your words come out harsher than you expected, but you don’t deal out an apology and instead wait for his response.

Even if there was malice on your tongue, Ennoshita doesn’t say anything rude back to you. “I’ve tried,” he admits. “But he’s adamant on choosing you as a tutor and asked me to ask you. I don’t know why he couldn’t ask you himself, because I don’t even talk to you myself, but—”

“What’s he having trouble with?” For what you remember, he’s one of the spikers on the volleyball team and the kid who has trouble keeping his shirt on at times. That definitely raises a concern, but if you can get paid a sum for your services, you could over look that and make sure he has his shirt on for the entire tutoring session.

“Um, basically everything.” Ennoshita doesn’t know why he couldn’t push the words out of his mouth when speaking to you, but he is not grateful for this right now. He licks his dry lips in attempt to draw moisture to them.

“Did you get paid? Because I’m not tutoring someone I know for free.”

“Well, he’s my friend, so no, not really. I’m sure he could arrange something.” Your gaze makes Ennoshita squirm like he’s underneath a hot lamp and microscope, but you don’t realize that. After his statement, you walk away, telling him to ask first before you can agree to anything. It’s not like you to charge, but you might as well start now, right?

Later that night, Ennoshita calls Tanaka to tell him the news. “You have to pay or she won’t tutor you. By the way, she doesn’t seem like the type to get swayed by just any guy; that is if she’s into boys.” Maybe Tanaka was right when he said (Y/N) hated him. Was there something inherently wrong with him, like his hair or his face?

Tanaka groans. “What incentive can I give her without paying her? You don’t make me pay.”

“I don’t make you pay because you’re my friend and you and Nishinoya would yell at me,” Ennoshita interrupts before he can say more. “Look, I don’t know what you could possibly offer for her to tutor you.”

After throwing out some ideas, Tanaka doesn’t know what to say anymore because his head hurts from thinking too much. He’s massaging his temples while Ennoshita’s going on and on about the volleyball team. Looking around his bedroom, Tanaka’s wracking his brain for more thoughts when he stops in his tracks. “Wait, Ennoshita—huh, why didn’t I think of this before? I’m so smart, aren’t I?”

Ennoshita all but yells into the receiver of the phone. Being the wrangler to the second years pays a price that is much above his pay-grade.

“What if (Y/N) needs help in something, so you tutor her, she tutors me, and we’re all happy?”

“That sounds really dumb because I’m sure she’s going to say that I can tutor you and there’s no reason for there to be a middle ground.”

“That’s not a bad idea actually. I’m struggling with physics, so maybe you could help me with that.” You cross your arms when you lean back on the sill of the window, feeling like the cool protagonist of the story. You’re probably as far as you can be from that, but it’s just wishful thinking. Ennoshita’s sitting in his seat beside you — lucky man, he has a seat by the window — and his jaw lowers when you agree with Tanaka’s thoughts.

“Wait, you’re not going to say anything about it being stupid that Tanaka could be tutored by me and we wouldn’t have to jump through hoops to get him to study more?”

When you laugh, it’s the first time Ennoshita’s seen your smile up close; it’s beautiful. “I mean, you said he wants to be tutored by me, so if I get help on my worst subject and he gets help on his subjects, I think it’s a win-win.” Your admission twists your heart a little because it’s like admitting defeat and confirming Ennoshita is smarter than you. “I’ve got to go, I’ll talk to you another time.”

You go to slip out of the classroom and you just hear him scramble for the words, “O-oh? Alright, I’ll talk to you later, I guess.” It feels good to have the upper hand this time, and you want to share your victory with Yuna and Satoko right away.

“No way. He asked you to tutor Tanaka? That’s the baldie on the volleyball team, right? I always knew that guy wasn’t good at schooling. He just seems like the type. It’s nice that he’s at least good at volleyball, though.” You have always admired Yuna’s candor, even if it’s not the kindest way of expressing her feelings. Stopping in her track of words, she looks to you with a questioning face. “Wait, you just came from talking to Ennoshita. Does that mean you, like, left right away or something?”

With a laugh, Satoko smirks, saying, “Knowing her, she probably left him in her dust, like she does all the time.” You cover your eyes with a hand to avoid their playful glares. Along with the bottom of your foot, you lean against the hallway wall.

“I may or may not have left right away,” you admit with pursed lips. Holding your hands up in resignation, you try to justify your actions. “Look, I’ve got to keep number one on his toes. I mean, yeah, we aren’t friends, but we could be. He’s going to tutor me in physics in exchange for me tutoring Tanaka in his subjects.”

“You’re surprisingly happy for a person who’s not going to be paid for her services.”

“Yuna, she didn’t even have to try! Lucky girl, huh?” Satoko pokes you in the stomach and your body crunches at the unexpected touch.

“I’ll let you guys know how everything goes. I have to discuss things with Tanaka and Ennoshita. Like I said, it’s just discussion. I’m not friends with either of them—”

Yuna corrects your statement in the middle of your sentence. “Not friends, yet.”

During the next day, you sort out all of the logistics for tutoring with Tanaka and Ennoshita. While it’s the first time you’ve introduced yourself to Tanaka, he acts like a friend immediately, which puts you at ease. He tells you joke after joke, but in reality, he’s trying to postpone actually talking about school.

“Okay, so about the tutoring—”

“But what about volleyball? We can talk more about that.”

“But I’m tutoring you. I’m not even asking you to pay, but we need to discuss what you need help with.” You tap your toes on the library floor while you wait for his response. His lackadaisical approach could work for someone else, but on you, never. “Alright, show me your past test scores.”

He gives in eventually, but you have to coax him with the donut that’s in your lunch box. Tanaka’s eyes flit between your expression and the papers between your fingers. At last, you set down the stack on the table and tell him, “It could be worse.” The buzzed boy pumps his arm into the air, opening his mouth to release phrases that might not have been invented yet. “I’m not saying they’re good. You need to do much better if you intend on being on the volleyball team next term.”

Begrudgingly, he pulls at the zippers from his bag and initially tosses the notebooks, but when you glare at him, Tanaka gingerly handles his belongings. You dive right into the eye of the storm, flipping through pages and your former notes to get a grip on the whirlwind of material.

“I’ve got to get to practice now.” Tanaka’s voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it so you need to ask him to repeat what he’s said. Apparently, he doesn’t want to leave when he’s actually understanding his algebra homework. When he packs up everything, there’s a smile on his face. “Thanks, (Y/N).”

“Don’t mention it, just let Ennoshita know that I’m tutoring him tomorrow afternoon. And we’re still on for the day after tomorrow, don’t forget that.” You stand to see him off in a way, but he doesn’t budge like you believed he would. “Didn’t you say you have to get to practice?”

“I just wanted to say that I can see why Ennoshita likes you.” From the sight of your furrowed brows and dropped jaw, Tanaka lets out a big-bellied laugh, not caring for the sight of the students who scowl in his direction for ruining their precious focus. After one last wave, Tanaka takes his exit. Even when you lower into your seat, you’re amazed at what he said and his ability to leave after the damage has been done. Well, wouldn’t he remind you of someone you know?

“Tanaka tells me you’re a better tutor than me,” Ennoshita grumbles when he finds you outside in the courtyard. The sun beats down on the tops of your heads, but at least the wind takes pity on your bodies. You’ve never seen Ennoshita so grumpy before; you have a change in scenery in all kinds of ways. He plops on the opposite side of the bench, parallel to you, and sets his bag aside to take out his physics textbook and notebook. When he opens the cover of the notebook, you peer at his handwriting; it’s neat and concise, as you expected.

“So,” you sip on the juice box you were nursing before continuing your sentence. “You’re going to help me, right? Because I get some of the concepts, but not all.”

“Sure, but I’m also having trouble with it, so I was hoping we could help each other out?” Ennoshita shrugs.

You tilt your head. “Really? I thought you’d be good at it.”

“Not everyone’s good at everything.”

“But you’re number one in the class.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean I don’t struggle.” He breaks open the chapter of the textbook you were working on in class this past week. “I don’t really understand any of that stuff.” Ennoshita points at example problems on the pages. “I think I can do them with help, but otherwise I’m not doing too well.” He rubs the back of his neck and doesn’t look to you, but rather the trees in the distance. He hands over his notebook when you ask for it and you start grinning.

“This is my favorite part of physics! I love all of the math equations, they’re so much fun. I can actually understand that, but not some of the other stuff.” You even begin flailing your hands when you speak about it. If there’s one thing you were proud of, it would be math. You might not be the best at everything, but math comes easier to you than most subjects.

Then you set your hands in your lap, clenching your intertwined fingers. You shake your head at yourself; he’s not a friend like Yuna and Satoko. He’s simply a classmate. He’s your rival. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to get excited there.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Even though you wanted to review the parts you didn’t understand, you proceed in reteaching him the base material so he understands every single part and why you’re using this specific equation. It actually clears up where your recollection was fuzzy. Soon enough, you can see the lightbulb going off in his head when he solves a problem on his own. “That wasn’t so hard.”

“You did it,” you reassure with a small grin on your face. It’s hard not to see him in a different light when you’re up close. After working through problems together, you take a break so the both of you can relax.

“Sorry, I was supposed to be tutoring you. It seems that you took the reins. I’ll get us something to drink to make up for it.” When you don’t deny his proposal, Ennoshita slips away to get the two of you drinks from the vending machine, so you’re left with none other than your battling brain. How can you possibly go on if part of you is begging to let your guard down and the other continues to build up your walls? It is emotionally exhausting to keep this facade running and repatching the holes in the walls.

“Is everything alright, (Y/N)?” Ennoshita asks when he returns to the table. He gingerly places the green tea bottle to the side of your work while he snaps open the bottle of Potari Sweat.

“Yes, of course, why wouldn’t it be?” Same old smile on your face, the same one that you show to teachers and acquaintances in the stairwells.

“Then, can I ask you why you don’t like me?” His voice is exceptionally even for a person who is attempting the first strike of the war.

“What do you mean? I like you fine.”

“I don’t think you do, though. You seem a little bit peeved whenever we talk in class, and even right now too. I don’t understand.” Even though his eye shape is downturned, that doesn’t overbear the fact that his eyes are fiery.

You roll your eyes and fold your fingers on top of the table. “If you want my honest opinion, then I think we’re just classmates. We aren’t friends. We haven’t done anything that warrants friendship, don’t you think? I have my friends. You have yours. We don’t overlap.”

“So, what? You think we’re just classmates, rivals?” When he runs a hand along the line that parts his hair, the strands don’t return to their natural spot and you notice it’s the first time you’ve seen him physically disheveled. He’s usually put together, yet in this moment, he’s human. He’s all human. “I can’t believe I like someone who doesn’t even think we’re friends. I’ve been classmate-zoned.” He mutters these sentences underneath his breath when he watches the box of his foot kick pebbles.

“What?” Ennoshita’s head snaps up when you say this and for a while, everything is stuck in time.

Nobody moves.

You just look at him.

“I like you, so tell me why you hate me, (Y/N).” He’s bold for continuing the conversation instead of running away. He knows what it’s like to abandon everything he’s known.

“I don’t hate you.” You pause. “You like me?”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Your body moves before you can think. The tentative steps take you closer to Ennoshita, and again, you find yourself nearly chest-to-chest with him. When you place your hands on his collarbones, you don’t leave time for hesitation.

You gravitate towards him and brush your lips against his for a brief moment. There’s a nagging thought in your head, because what if it turns bad? But what if it turns good? All of the worries absolve when he responds to your kiss.

Pulling away is a task on its own. You scan his face, the delicate features that make all of him. While you do this, he does the same to you.

Now, Ennoshita asks, “You like me?”

“I think I do.”

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srhlsx · 5 years ago

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Rewritten & Reposted March 23, 2021

MASTER | Ch. 7 |CHAPTER 8 | Ch. 9

A few days after your encounter with Bokuto at the corner mart, you were on your way home again from practice. A few girls from your team and a few members of the boy’s team were walking off campus, practices having ended around the same time.

“Absolutely not, that is completely false!” You laughed, looking at Daiki with a shocked expression as he tried to convince you that what he was saying was correct.

“I swear!” He yelled, looking to one of his teammates for reassurance. “Tell her, Shouta! Fukurodani locker rooms literally have attendants manning them.”

The teammate he was looking to, Naguri Shouta, looked bored with the conversation but nodded nonetheless as he walked next to you. “Haven’t seen it,” He said, shrugging casually, too cool as he always was. “But wouldn’t be surprised by it though, with their bourgeois lifestyle over there.”

“Fancy words will not win this argument,” You tugged a lock of his styled hair teasingly. “Plus, they are not all that over there just because they are an academy.”

Daiki continued to argue his point, insisting that the rumor he heard was true even though he himself couldn’t confirm it either. Shouta just continued to nod along casually, walking next to you to keep a safe distance from Daiki’s erratic motions, making little side digs at his captain under his breath that made you laugh.

“Proof or it’s not real!” You exclaimed as you all continued to walk through the streets, a few people from the group breaking away to their homes as you went.

“How am I supposed to get proof?” Daiki laughed, then his face lit up like he had the greatest idea in the world. “Hey, text Bokuto and ask him!”

You gasped, agreeing that it was in fact the greatest idea in the world, and pulled out your phone to do just that. You didn’t notice the way the other boy standing with you bristled slightly at the mention of Bokuto’s name, but when you looked up you did notice his expression quickly clear from a furrowed brow to his more typical blank expression. You gave him a closed eye smile while he returned with a half smile of his own.

“Can I walk you the rest of the way?” You tore your eyes away from the crosswalk sign to look up at Shouta waiting for you to respond.

“Ah, no no!” You waved him off with a grand smile. “It’s so out of the way for you. I will let you guys know what he says!”

After crossing the street on your own, you waved at Daiki and Shouta as you turned to leave. The two of them went their own direction, Daiki slinging an arm over Shouta’s shoulders and pulling him close to probably tell some kind of joke as they walked.

The further you walked, the less crowded the city around you became. You let your feet move on auto-pilot down the alley, and through the mostly abandoned park.

New Message: 5:22PM

Bokuto: Yeah right! I wish! You offering??

To clean up after a bunch of gross high school boys? I’d rather run the hill ten times!

Bokuto: No! Just me! Be my lil helper~

Bokuto: we can get u a cute outfit

Bokuto: like a maid cafe!!!!!!!!!!

Bokuto: BUT WITH MY NAME AND NUMBER

Absolutely not.

You rounded on a house, nothing fancy but obviously well taken care of, and took the steps leading up to the front door two at a time. You knocked out a familiar rhythm and waited patiently as a thundering of small feet met your ears from beyond the door.

Greeted by a pair of grey eyes, weathered with age, you crouched down to meet the height of your little sister, Yua, as she politely pushed past the older woman who opened the door to you. She started spewing off about things she had accomplished that day before you could even get a word out to her.

Further into the house, you could see your little brother packing up his school things into his bag. “Baba helped me with history homework today,” He called out as a form of greeting, walking past the old woman to start your short trek home. “She said she was there when it happened.”

“I said I remembered it happening, I wasn’t there Eiji-kun.” The old woman laughed, handing over your little sister’s bag as your two siblings began their descent down the stairs.

The older woman’s eyes crinkled as she looked up at you, tired but still happy. You appreciated this woman more than you could ever express.

When things began to go downhill with your mom you’d had to move homes to accommodate for the extensive bills that were coming one after another. Your own grandparents lived in different cities, but when one of your grandmother’s friends who lived in Tokyo heard what was going on she sprung into action like it was a second calling for her, even though you’d only met her a handful of times.

She was adamant about you calling her family, hence Eiji calling her Baba, and would accept nothing but thank-yous and dinner together once a week in exchange for helping your family when you needed it most. Between the time school got out for your siblings and you being able to leave volleyball practice, they would be safe at her home until you were able to collect them - every day.

“Thank you,” You nodded at your elder. “Tomorrow we have a practice match, so I may be a bit late picking them up.”

The woman waved a hand in front of her face absently, brushing off the extra time you had loaded on her suddenly. “No mind,” She said, rubbing your arm comfortingly. “I’ll make sure they have dinner then.”

You gave her hand a tight, but gentle, squeeze and turned to where your siblings had gone. You followed them to the apartment complex just a few houses down. Graffiti littered the lower walls, nothing too obscene but also nothing that was supposed to be there in the first place.

Unlike most apartment buildings, yours did not have any indication of who lived where via buzzer system. All the homes opened up to the outside, marked with floor numbers and unit letters, some were upside down so it could get a little confusing. It wasn’t the most glorious of living arrangements, compared to where your family lived before your mom had gotten sick, but it was home and you would make out of it what you could.

The small, digital clock on your desk let out a soft beep as it shifted over to midnight. You rubbed under your glasses at your eyes, blurring your vision slightly before focusing on the words of the book in front of you again. You had gotten a good amount of work done that night, knowing that tomorrow you’d be home late from your practice match and wouldn’t have nearly as much time to fit in school work after.

New Message: 12:01 AM

Bokuto: You didn’t tell me you had practice match w FA girls tom?

technically today… Slipped my mind! Forgive me!?

Bokuto: w kiss?

shoot your shot!

Bokuto: meet me after!!!!

Ugh fiiine - twist my arm…

Bokuto: oh hell yeah, gonna walk you home SO hard~

You’re disgusting?? - but curious about how you walk someone home “hard”

Bokuto: involves aggressive chivalry, you’ll see

The following message was an animated sticker of an owl tipping off the top hat he was wearing. You muffled a laugh behind your hand, glancing over your shoulder to make sure your siblings were undisturbed in their bunk beds. Satisfied you hadn’t woken them up, you said your goodnights to Bokuto and locked your phone after making sure you had an alarm set for the morning.

Down the hall, you could hear a set of keys jingle. The door to the apartment opened and shut, if you hadn’t been listening so intently you might not have heard it at all. A deep sigh echoed through the walls and you almost thought about getting up to greet your father as he finally arrived home, but something stopped you. Instead, you silently flipped the switch on your desk lamp and let the darkness flood the room once more.

As you sat motionless at your desk, holding your breath while a shadow passed beneath the door to the bedroom. The figure paused, hesitating a moment - you could imagine your father’s hand hovering at the doorknob, wondering if he should enter to see his children or not. The shadow continued to move, opening the linen closet and rustling around for what you knew were blankets and a spare pillow.

There’d been many previous nights over the last seven months when you’d woken up to your sister asking for a snack or a drink, and when you’d gone to the kitchen to fetch something for her you’d caught your dad sprawled out on the couch under a makeshift bed of old blankets. At first it made you sad, the thought that your dad couldn’t even sleep in the same bed he once shared with your mother.

Over the months though, as his work hours grew longer and longer, you started to form a routine of folding up the linens in the morning before your brother and sister could see that their dad was sleeping on the couch.

When the hall light finally turned off, you took that as your opportunity to get up from your desk and finally go to bed. You unclenched your hands, which you hadn’t even realized were in fists tight enough to turn your knuckles white. Since you shared a room with your siblings, you pulled the thin futon out from under their bottom bunk and spread out the blanket you had tucked away within it.

As you pulled your own blankets up to your chin, getting settled into your comfortable nest of warmth, you heard your little sister grumble sleepily. “Neechan?”

“What is it chibi?”

“You haff good dreams ‘kay?”

“You have good dreams too, babygirl.”

#bokuto koutaro #koutaro bokuto #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu!! x reader #bokuto x reader #fukurodani #hq!! x reader #hq!!#hq

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2idiots · 5 years ago

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Keep Yourself Alive

pt. 6 // pt. 7 // pt. 8a

word count: 1,667ish

NCT Frat Social Media AU // College Athlete & Fratboy Lucas x reader

warnings: not really any, kind angsty, more than just mentions of chronic pain

(I don't know how but the second paragraph got deleted when I first uploaded. I have since added it in. So if you see something new that's why)

---

Getting Johnny from outside the building to inside your room was a lot more difficult than you expected. This was partially because your best friend was much drunker than his texts suggested and partially because each step was sending a pain reverberating down your legs and up your abdomen. A pain that you knew the mild over-the-counter pain meds would do little to numb but you had taken them with false hope anyway. Before your best friend had forced you into letting his drunkass in you were curled into your bed with a heating pad pressed into your abdomen, hoping eventually exhaustion would win over excruciating pain.

This was the real reason you bolted out of Jet Lag the minute your friends were off in different directions distracted. The pain had triggered before Mark's open mic night started but you were not about to miss the night you friend had been talking about for weeks. This was so important to him and you had to be there. So you sucked it up and promised yourself to duck out the moment it was clear and Mark had performed. Woo noticing and staying over for a few hours was just a welcomed surprise. And the leftover baked goods he brought were another plus side, not that you had any appetite. At least your blubbering fool of a friend would benefit from the pile of pastries sitting on your desk, if you could make it past the giggling desk attendant.

The first time you walked passed her with bleary eyes, focused on only the task ahead she called out something about the “cute Oppa” at the door. Immediately a gag raced up your throat at that, Johnny? A cute Oppa? Gross. He was like your brother, actually more like your overprotective mother. Sure you joked about Johnny being a daddy, but it was all shits and giggles to make him mad with Mark. He wasn't actually one. The second time she made some sort of pass at him that you blocked out and stifled another gag. You didn’t need to see or hear that child making passes at your best friend.

That wasn’t the only thing she was giggling at though. You and Johnny were quite the sight. He was a stumbling, stuttering fool and you were wearing pajamas that had been picked out in the dark, not even your shoes matched. These were things you had thrown on when Johnny begged you to let him in but your headache was pounding too much to turn the lights on, which was also the reason for the sunglasses.

Speaking of Big Foot, he was using you almost completely as a support and he weighed a lot more than his bony ass looked. How he managed to make it to your building from 7th Sense was beyond you, he could barely make it three steps without giggling and sliding around. Honestly this made you more than a little nervous for Mark, usually he was the giggly one after a few drinks. If Johnny was this drunk, then Mark could very well be dead.

Overall the hardest obstacle for Johnny to maneuver around was your actual room. He tripped over everything. Maybe it was his long spindly legs combined with the alcohol, but he even fell just trying to walk over your rug. You had to catch him before he face planted. Of course he just contiuned blabbering about the night and how well it went the whole time, even while laughing at his clumsiness. “Then Mark fell! Kinda like how he is falling for sunflower boy but like fell… on the actual ground… like how I just almost fell!” To which you just nodded, handing him a pastry and an ice cold water bottle. “And Jae was so funny, he was talking about the basketball team and one of their parties last week where someone drank beer from a ball that had been cut in half. Isn’t that gross?”

“Yeah babe, real gross,” You nodded, trying to push him toward your bed. You might not have been asleep before he messaged but you were still in bed ready to sleep and you wanted to be back there. “Can you get in bed, Jojo? I'll tired.”

Following your direction like a lost lamb, Johnny swiftly removed all his out layers and climbed into your bed continuing to talk about the basketball team and how pretty and funny they were, all the while giving you very pointed looks. Or at least he was prattling on until he went completely silent and tense before screeching, “THERE’S SOMETHING WARM!”

Arms crossed and irritation pulsed through you at the scream, you leaned over to pull the heating pad out from under him and wiggled it around in your outstretched hand, “Johnny you’ve met HP before, HP meet Big Foot.”

“HP? You named your heating pad?” He questioned already snuggling back into your sheets like he owned the bed. This happened every time he was over, sober or drunk it didn’t matter; Johnny took up every blanket and pillow in your entire bed: partially because his size, mostly because he was an asshole. One of the many reasons you were hesitant to let him stay over anymore, even though you always ended up letting him stay.

“Might as well, he’s in my bed so often,” You grinned before grabbing another water bottle out of the mini fridge in the corner of the room and tossing it his direction. While this wasn’t a common occurrence, drunk Johnny, you did know that he would wake up in three hours whining about a dry mouth and you didn't want to deal with it.

“I mean he wasn’t on Halloween.” Luckily you flipped the lights off before you could see his suggestive eyebrow wiggle. Here was the worst part, talkative drunk Johnny taking an interest in your life and trying to lay down his tips on life.

Grabbing an extra blanket for yourself you slid in next to him and laughed that thought off, “Actually HP was, ALSO I thought we agreed to not talk about Halloween, leave the past behind us and all.”

“Behind us? Is that how you like it y/n?” He let out a slight whimper when you turned over enough to give him a solid kick to the shin. This alcohol was giving him far more confidence than normal and you didn’t like it. Throwing his hands up, Johnny tossed out a worthless apology and whined, “I deserved that ok. But you know I wouldn’t call it the past, don’t you tutor the dude?”

That elicited a quiet response from you, a simple, “Yeah.”

“Isn’t it like two or three times a week?” He didn’t stop his incessant babbling long enough for you to answer, adding on, “You’re quite popular, my friends keep asking about you too.” Then a switch suddenly flipped in Johnny’s mind, evident by how he practically climbed over you to switch the lamp back on and give you his best mom glare, “Wait, you’re sleeping with HP?” You let out a few weak protests as the light flooded your room and his bony ass arm squished you down into the bed digging into your side. Drunk friends sucked. Too bad you loved them too much to leave them on the street. “So you’re in pain? You’re in pain and you didn’t say anything? You just went home alone and lied to Mark and me?”

“Johnny I always sleep with a heating pad and I’m always in pain. It's not a big deal.” Tonight just happened to be bad, still was, but you left that part out. “Also Jungwoo just left; I wasn’t alone.” That was accompanied by a successful effort to push him off so you could flip the light off again and snuggle into the heating pad again. “Now go to sleep, I'm tired.”

There was a brief moment of silence before you heard sniffling and an occadsional shuffle.

“Are you crying?” You asked incredulously, flipping over to see him hastily wiping away his tears in the ambient light filtering in through the window. Sure enough, your bitch-ass best friend was laying on the other side of the bed using his white undershirt to wipe his tears away. At least he was smart enough not to use your sheets as the tissue. “Stop crying.” This was new. Your friends probably knew way too much about how hard your days were getting, in fact Johnny had driven you to the ER one too many times over the past year and a half, but they had never cried in front of you. At least not about you.

You hated it.

His immediate response was denial, no he wasn’t crying. These weren’t tears, they were allergies. "Leaks in my face." But you still heard him mutter a muted “I just want you to be happy and not in pain” as the alcohol running through his system finally knocked him out.

You were struck silent, not sure how to respond. Sure he was your closest friend and that meant he had to like you, but this affection made breathing a little hard: your chest not quite expanding like it should. You felt a warm tear roll down your cheek as you turned to face the other side of the room, an effort to get away. This was exactly why you didn't tell them about tonight, you didn't want them burdened with your pain. They should have to suffer just because you were.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you blindly reached out for where you set your phone on the bedside table. You still may not be able to sleep but you could get some reading done and maybe forget the sound of Johnny's tears. And maybe, just maybe, the words would lull you into some dreamlike state so you could rest. It was only a few minutes into reading that a text interrupted the chapter.

summary: College is hard enough, right? Coursework, two jobs, a social life, and the state of your mental health. As if that was enough now the school’s no.1 athlete won’t leave you alone after a one night stand. And maybe you like him back but you have a tendency to run when life gets too difficult especially now that undiagnosed chronic pain just seems to be getting worse with each passing month.

(I've decided updates will be Thursday at 6pm. I hope you enjoy this chapter)

Taglist: @princeofshenzhenuwus

#nct imagines #nct social media au #nct xuxi #lucas nct #lucas nct imagines #wayv yukhei #wayv imagines #wayv social media au #wayv x reader #wong yukhei #yukhei imagines #yukhei x reader

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riveires · 5 years ago

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fight club

@twentysixdegrees

JOOHYUK

It's insult to injury. It may or may not be the right metaphor...or, simile? Shit, he's always been bad at this kind of stuff. Add another language to the mix and things all get jumbled up in his brain, especially when he's in this kind of mood. The bus ride back had been full of tension, and he'd practically jumped down the stairs of the thing, only barely remembering to grab his gym bag before heading back to the dorm.

He's half hoping Joonho isn't there--a part of him knows he needs time to cool off. But the other half just wants to--"What the fuck." It's like he can't throw the bag hard enough against the wall, but he hears something clack against the concrete blocks before it drops down harmlessly onto his bed. "Where the hell were you today?" His hands are balled up at his sides and he's practically shaking. It may seem silly but--Joohyuk needed this. He needed them to do well today and he needed Joonho there because he's--his person.

You'll never hear him admit it though.

"We lost." The tiny space of their room is suddenly too large. "We got our asses handed to us and you were supposed to be there. You fucking promised, and, and, here you are on your ass doing nothing. Nothing." He feels suffocated. He wants to grab Joonho by the collar. He wants to run far away but he can't help himself, either--"You're such a shitty fucking best friend. You couldn't even do this one thing for me?"

JOONHO

the current circumstances have been everything but forgiving lately: if their semi-packed room is looking like something of a shit show right now, joonho's own state of presence is giving it a run for its money. a glance at the wear and tear of the past week is one hell of a revelation: dark circles marked in, coffee of breath, patches of stubble thanks to none other but his negligence. and it's indeed negligence that's to blame this time. diving head first into some logistics project had rendered everything else that mattered completely and utterly lost to him.

so when joohyuk's voice cuts through the air, all he can say is,

"what?"

it takes him a minute for joonho to gather himself: day, time, event. a friday, he notes. upon giving the digital clock a closer look does the second realization drop down like a catastrophic bomb because god fucking damn it, he wasn't supposed to be here but at the soccer field.

but there's no time to salvage the damage, not when it's already done. between them simmers a third presence, the other's anger threatening to boil over.

“christ, that completely slipped from my mind, i—" and he can only flinch, because the next string of words that would fall from his mouth suddenly sounded like the most insensitive thing he could say right then and there: "i'm so sorry, dude."

JOOHYUK

how bitter the realization was, when he scoured the crowd for a familiar face and didn't find the one he was looking for. it was almost like adding salt to the wound; he could have used joonho's nauseatingly affable disposition right after the loss.

for a few seconds, joohyuk breathes in deep through his nose and wonders if he's overreacting. he looks at joonho's face, at the figure he cuts against the harsh lighting of their school desk lamps, and he feels like a fool. this kind of thing has happened before. joonho is prone to getting lost in whatever he's put his mind to, and in many ways that's an admirable trait but in situations like this...how many times does joohyuk gotta utter "it's fine, man" and pretend it really is? fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, thrice--shame on me.

"you said you'd be there, and yeah--life happens, shit happens, but this was really goddamn important to me! and you knew that. why do you do this kind of shit so much? it's not cute." joohyuk keeps balling and un-balling his fist. he doesn't want to get physical but there's an urge to do something with his hands. "'i'm so sorry, dude?' that's all you have to say? you're the worst; best friend my ass--you probably just barely remember my fucking name."

JOONHO

there's a thin line between admission and pure, unadulterated guilt. he has enough shame to feel the latter, enough of a brain to perform the former. thing is, it seems like neither will do any good to pacify joohyuk's brimming rage. from the corner of his eye, he can see the movement of his hands, akin to the clenching of a jaw. a jaw that might be his own after he gets his teeth knocked out raw. be it because of the lack of an immediate solution, or the sight of that alone, traces of annoyance start to snake in right beneath the somber tone of his voice.

joonho sighs. "it's been busy. you know that as well as i do, joohyuk." especially, most definitely of far more pressing issues. the fact that this—no, their, as in under mutually shared ownership—room isn't fully in order, for one. maybe that he's been covering for him whenever he'd been gone, for another. childish is the thought that begins to circle around in his head. so fucking childish.

"it sucks that the team lost. how am i supposed to make it up to you?"

JOOHYUK

"stop saying my name like that." the anger had been dissipating, but then the pity in joonho's voice bled through the temporary impasse. he tries to navigate around the mess of boxes in their room, but his chin knocks against something particularly hard in a box and curses under his breath. it's one thing after the other--he just can't seem to win.

the walls aren't moving but the space seems smaller. "what the hell could you possibly do to make it up to me? there's literally nothing, joonho. you think its that easy?" the laugh that sounds into the room is full of something that creeps, claws, and settles somewhere in between them, just waiting for the perfect time to ruin everything. "god, life's so easy for you, isn't it? we're both here, at this fucking school, in this tiny little room, but you've got your shit together. you've got your priorities--treading water just fine with all these ivy league assholes. but me? i'm just not good enough. not enough for you to care."

JOONHO

there's no reason why he shouldn't be used to it—the slew of assumptions, the implications held under that sting. four years should be more than enough to grow a skin so thick that nothing should cut through, but joohyuk’s gaze is knife-sharp, the words that fall from his lips sharper.

"easy?" joonho narrows his eyes. "well i think it'd be fucking easy for anyone to let something like this go." a pause, one that feels more like a deadweight about to drop over their heads than anything as light as an inhale. "but you're not just anybody, are you? can’t stand if not one person isn’t paying attention to you for one damn second.”

the room bristles, the air crackling. it's palpable enough for joonho to realize that this is impossibly suffocating.

"there'll be other games." a poor attempt to backtrack, if at all. the tightness of his voice loosens, but the hollowness of his gaze betrays him entirely. since when had he become this stubborn? "it’s not the end of the world.”

JOOHYUK

it's the feeling of when you're watching water fill something up, toomuchtoofast but you're too far, too helpless, to do anything about it. the surface tension arches, forming the slightest bulge over the rim, and then-

"you don't fucking understand!"

it overflows, and he's lost this battle.

joohyuk's built a reputation for himself. he likes it, identifies with it, and plays into it. 'oh of course he won't mind! joohyuk's super chill!''you'll love joohyuk, he's so outgoing!him? that dude that's always smiling and laughing about anything and everything? pretty sure joohyuk never gets mad!

so why does joonho get under his skin like this? it's a particular skill - he knows the things that those other people don't. he can read joohyuk without him ever having to say anything. yet - they're not on the same wavelength right now. now, when it might just matter the absolute most.

"i like attention, so what? it's fucking true - that shit doesn't hurt me." his voice is raising. joohyuk realizes, but it doesn't register, not fully. "i wanted you to be there because i fucking need you!" he stutters, regroups - rephrases. "i just -- i needed you there, but you have your priorities, don't you?" the anger deflates, the pressure releasing from his chest and his shoulders. he's unwinding but it doesn't make it better because what replaces that white-hot red tint is pure hurt. "i just don't matter as much as your - your little elitist ass friends!" he'd always joked about joonho's accelerated lecture friends, and truthfully he'd be lying if he wasn't a little insecure - yes, they all go to an ivy league school but he's here on an athletic scholarship, primarily.

and, he's not infallible - clearly.

joohyuk knows he's making assumptions, half-thought out accusations, but this is the only way he can take back what little is left of his pride. he's fishing for anything that he knows may hurt joonho because he's in the middle of his pity party and he needs to tear down the person closest to him in actual distance as well as just, in general.

"they're fucking elitist pricks and you're one of them, too!" he kicks his slightly pushed out chair into the desk, and puts his palms to his temples, as if he can re-center himself with the motion, ease his anger - but nothing is working.

JOONHO

and there it is.

they're not strangers to any of this, to the way joohyuk is at the mercy of his own emotions, and the perilous ups and downs that come with their weight. his words are hurled like pelting stones. they hit where it should hurt the most, one after another, meant to knock him down with each blow.

the last one lands, and then there's silence. all joonho can do is stare.

then, "you really think that."

his expression turns blank, eyes dark, a degree too cold to be mere neutrality. stiffly, he swivels around in his chair. grabs his bag from under the desk to slide in his things from the tabletop with a single sweep of his arm.

"you're only proving my point." he stills, tongue deliberately curling around his next set of words that might push them over the brink. every fiber of his being tenses in warning, to be the one to let go, be the better person. but what little remorse that had held him had long slipped free with his rationality. in its place are the thoughts that never fail to loom at his worst: ridiculous. insolent. a fucking child.

shouldering his backpack, he stands to leave. his voice is void of any feeling. "grow up."

JOOHYUK

tell him to stay. tell him you're sorry, that you didn't mean it.

the rational part of him keeps repeating these things over and over in his brain, but it echoes in the space between his ears - nothing seems to absorb, nothing happens, and he doesn't so much as twitch a finger, as he watches joonho pack his things. joohyuk feels his limbs go numb, and he lets his hands fall back down to his sides.

it's just been a lot, lately. you've missed him so much but have been unable to tell him just how much. you're jealous - of his study budies and don't know how to properly express it without potentially getting too raw and revealing things that might change your relationship forever.

but instead, he twists his face into some sort of scowl, eyes burning not with hatred but with some emotion that is almost too heavy to put into words. "clearly, i'm right - if you're running off like this. i hit a nerve," he accuses. it's always the people closest to you that can inspire the strongest emotions. he's a maelstrom of feelings, and if he were even just a little more clear headed he could maybe try and pick apart and identify the individual emotions causing this shitstorm of a confrontation - and try to explain it in a way that'd be more fair, in a way that could diffuse this -

instead, he hears the last two words from joonho, and he laughs. bitterly. "honestly? fuck off, man." and he turns his back on him, listening closely for the sound of sneakers scuffing against linoleum to fade - going from right next to him to down the hall, around the corner.

going, going, going...gone.

"this sucks." this was far from the way he wanted this to end. but he's here now, and he's alone.

[FIN]

#twentysixdegrees #c: son joonho #opp: nam joohyuk #pr: fight club #/ the way we're powering through threads on discord...amazing

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cutiecrates · 5 years ago

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Cutie Reviews: DokiDoki May 19

I was kind of disappointed in how my review for the TokyoTreat went yesterday, I mean, even though it annoyed me through various means I wouldn’t not recommend the box still.

Meanwhile, I was very excited for this one. I’ve realized that after doing two really big box reviews, I come to really appreciate the much smaller ones, DokiDoki and YumeTwins. In turn I feel like that makes me do a little better... maybe.

This months theme: Sweet Dreams

“Drift off into dreamland with May’s crate. This month’s theme, Sweet Dreams is all about getting you ready to settle down and get cozy for a good night’s rest. Oyasuminisai is the common saying in Japan to wish someone a good night, so this month Doki Doki Crate is wishing you sweet dreams and a good night!“

This month, the booklet features a fun illustration featuring Tomomi with the girl mascots of Japan Crate and KiraKira Crate having a slumber party. I love how they have cute crossovers between their brands like this x3 it’s a fun touch- did you know Tomomi’s boyfriend is the mascot from Umai Crate?

I also like how even though they quit making the comics, they’re still making original art now and then.

Suteki Crate

This month the Suteki Crate (special crate all subscribers have a chance to win, in case you’re new here) focused on the theme and stuck to the characters featured in this box. It makes me want to nap just looking at everything~

(and I just woke up like an hour ago...)

But I will point out that they have offered a Kirby Otamatone before. Probably a year back or so, I remember seeing it. Also, the adorable Sleepy My Melody plush goes great with the photo contest prize, a sleepy Kuromi plush~

My Melody Mesh Case

Our first item would come in handy when staying out of the house for the day, it’s a mesh pack/bag/case, which can hold many toiletries; hair brushes and accessories, toothbrush and toothpaste, shampoo, soap, etc. It features an adorable pale pink zipper to match the adorable patterned band around the bottom, which is covered in My Melody with some small forest friends doing various activities (and lots of adorable English phrases).

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

You know, I wasn’t ever into mesh containers like this, I always thought they looked kind of gaudy and they just didn’t appeal to me; but now that I’m older and I’m actually looking at one, it isn’t that bad. This would have come in handy when I was younger, I used to visit my grandma and spend the night/weekend a lot and my suitcase was always a pain dealing with. This could have lightened the load a little, or at least organized it better.

Also, it’s pretty big, I was able to fit in a lot of items and it didn’t feel too heavy or bad carrying. I did notice something though, the inside of the bottom section is sort of... thin cloth-ish, that kind of has me concerned that it might not be a good idea to get it wet, compared to the outside, which feels like it could handle that. Oh, I also noticed two holes in the mesh from the tag being cut, but I feel like it doesn’t really hinder anything.

San-X Towel

Also for bathroom/washing preparedness prior to bed or in the morning, we have a cute mini-towel featuring Sumikko Gurashi or Rilakkuma. As you can see, the Sumikko Gurashi group are out enjoying what looks like an autumn excursion :3 perfect timing considering it’s going on that season now.

And yes, it’s on one of my cats. He wouldn’t leave me alone while I was trying to get pictures, so I tried making him comfortable enough to go back to sleep.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

Well, besides being cute, I’m always impressed when we get towels like this because I don’t usually seen any around here. We have slightly bigger hand towels/rags, but nothing like this. It feels soft and nice, so I feel like this would be ideal for washing your face, drying off the hair, wrapping around the shoulders, using as a hand towel; it’s also the perfect size for wrapping up adorable pets~

(also, I noticed that when held up to the light you can see noticeable tag holes again. Not a huge deal though.)

Pajya Shark Plushie

Of course when you go to bed, you need a cuddly companion by your side to ensure sweet dreams or to help chase away the bad nightmares~

This month, we have an adorably colorful, pastel shark. The name Pajya is inspired by the fact that this was made with common Japanese Sleepwear in mind, which is usually in various soft tones and made from fluffy, soft material.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

I love fluffy-soft things~ and I also happen to have a fondness for sharks; it’s a weird combination when you think about it, but I love it! He is very soft and sweet looking, and he isn’t threatening or have any teeth, so he’s a good buddy for all types and ages x3 I admit, the sewing could be a little better, but it’s not bad.

(This box has made me super-sleepy~ As of now I’ve only been up an hour and a half >3< But it’s probably because I stayed up until 4am, and I’ve been hungry and didn’t eat yet...)

Kirby Eye Mask

As we prepare for bed, our next item is an adorable eye mask :D featuring Kirby or Waddle Dee. I have a few eye masks and I enjoy using them sometimes (they especially come in handy if you have a headache or just need to relax, unless they squeeze your head too much...) but I don’t use them too frequently.

The mask has a sleek feel and is thin and made from shiny material. It has a really stretchy light pink strap, and the inner-side is cloth, featuring a dark blue star pattern. It also has a small black nose flap...? I’m not entirely sure how that works or what its for, none of my others have one, but I assume it’s just for a little additional comfort or to help support the mask.

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

It’s very cute, and I love the concept of bringing in Kirby for this sort of theme. In preparation for the review I was very excited to use this, and it feels very comfortable. Sometimes when I use eye masks I end up pulling them off after a while because they’re kind of uncomfortable or start squeezing, and I admit that this one felt like that after a while- but at the same time it wasn’t nearly to the same extent and didn’t bother me as much. The thin material makes it feel sort of breathable as well, which is nice when my poor nose is stuffed up and I can hardly breath as it is.

I can’t help but relax when I wear an eye mask, so I can’t imagine a more suitable item for this theme~

Kirby Night Light

Our last item is an adorable partner to the Kirby eye mask; a light! Again, this is another great and perfect bed item, especially if you’re someone you might feel a anxious in the dark or need a back-up light. It would also just be cute for a little desk light or something.

This requires 3 AA batteries (not included) and it is available in 2 styles; this parasol blue one I got, and a pink one covered in black and white old style manga or pop art Kirby. We all know how much I love pink, but I also really like the rain, and have a lot of fun playing with the parasol ability/item in Kirby games, so I think I’m actually really happy I got this one.

And of course I wouldn’t leave you guys hanging. I did get it working:

Rating: ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥

The light is warm yellow (you know, the lights that seem kind of dim when you compare them to white lights? and yes I know it looks white in the pic, I had to brighten the image to make it see-able clearly) but still very bright; it ended up surprising me. I found it to be really soothing~

I also like the practicality behind this, if you didn’t want to use it as a night light you could use it as a backup flashlight (cause if you’re like us you have a bunch and they either die and you don’t replace batteries, or you lose them), or just to help create a mood- like telling spooky stories during a slumber party.

♥ Cutie Ranking ♥

Content - 5 out of 5. I have no complaints, I love these items :3 They’re very sweet and cute, and seeing them (and doing this review) makes me want to lay down to snuggle up with some of them~

Theme: 5 out of 5. I’m really happy to finally have a theme like this, I wish we’d get more bedtime items or themes. I feel like this is also suitable for all times of the year, and everything definitely went together to create a near-seamless box. I say near because some could argue well the bathroom items don’t count: but many people have a routine prior to bed, and some enjoy taking bathes before bed, so in a way yeah, they do count. Suteki Crate and the prize were also spot-on.

Total Rank: 10 out of 10 Cuties. I know to some people they might argue that a bedtime theme isn’t very exciting but everyone could use a little unwinding, especially at bed. I wasn’t feeling tired when I began writing this but I’m probably going to go back to bed when I finish. I didn’t have anything going on today and I fully plan to take advantage of that. As much as I liked our prior box, I love this one even more! Keep it up Doki Doki~

♥ Cutie Scale ♥

1. Kirby Nightlight - I love how it resembles an actual lamp x3 and I adore the pattern/print on both of the options. The glow made me feel relaxed- the only way it could be better would be if it had an actual rain effect or color change feature like my oil mister~

2. Pajya Shark - It’s colorful and sweet, it’s perfect for bed or just in a sugary sweet pastel setting. Very soft and cuddly.

3. Kirby Eye Mask - I kind of find face-themed eye masks to be kind of corny, but when it comes to Kirby it’s very cute! It felt really nice against the skin and I can’t wait to use it again (probably after this review).

4. Towel - It’s very cute, I can’t say the color scheme does all that much for me but I love how it’s fall/autumn themed and goes with the upcoming season. The cats really like it too.

5. My Melody Mesh Case - I think it’s sweet and soft on the eyes, but I know I won’t get much use out of it. I could use it now to do some organization of my items in the bathroom (or some others, which I’ll probably do) though, so it’s really practical.

#dokidokicrate #kirby merchandise #sumikko gurashi #my melody

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autisticsheith · 7 years ago

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Uh. I have nothing to say for myself and absolutely no idea where this thinks it’s going, but it it’s brought to you by the fact that shaggy, long-haired!Shiro/Kuron/whoever apparently makes me crave Sheith-flavored punk AUs, featuring grungy punk Shiro and beleaguered college student Keith.

I literally tossed it off in about an hour-and-a-half, so there is absolutely no plan here and I promise absolutely nothing because I don’t have a clue what I might or might not be promising in the first place. Your guess about what happens next is as good as, if not better than, mine.

Unbeta’d, but it’s really not even a complete fic anyway. Pretty tame, though it contains a few references to casual drug use.

“Okay, guys. How about let’s take it from the top again? And, uh, try to sound better this time?”

Even though he knows the people tormenting him can’t hear him, Keith groans and slams his fist against his desk. The cheap, secondhand lamp rattles, briefly threatens to fall off the edge, then settles down. Rubbing his eyes, Keith glares down at his notes on Jane Eyre, and they might as well be in Ancient Greek, with how much they’re swimming for him right now. Another yawn slips loose as he glances at the alarm clock beside him. Its red digital display reads back 04:06 AM like it gets some perverse joy out of Keith’s current misery. Knowing his luck, it probably does.

For the umpteen-thousandth time tonight, some loud, boisterous asshole in the garage below his shitty little apartment calls out, “And one! Two! One, two, three, four!”

The drums come first, banging out a rhythm that Keith couldn’t make heads or tails of, even if he had gotten a decent night’s sleep this week. Next, comes the keyboardist, who makes no sense as part of a punk band (last Keith heard, this genre was supposed to be stripped down or something), but at least they actually know how to play. If not for constantly interrupting his ability to rest, Keith could probably forgive the bassist, who only sounds garden variety inept. But the lead guitarist charges into the song like a stampede trampling an entire row of china shops. Whoever they are, they make their instrument wail like a cat that’s having its neck broken, and can’t stay on-tempo to save their life.

Keith never made it far in music lessons. His second set of foster parents had tried to make him learn, but Keith had failed to understand a lick of anything his poor teacher had thrown his way. Lessons ended after one afternoon’s practice, when his red plastic recorder had wound up mysteriously embedded in the basement wall. Still, even he can tell that it takes dedication to suck as hard as this band’s guitarist.

“Are you sure those Galaxy Garrison punks are really all that bad?” Allura asked him over lunch the other day, after she’d spent the majority of their Gothic Literary Traditions And Society lecture nudging him so he wouldn’t fall asleep. “I certainly don’t begrudge you being annoyed that they’re so disrespectful. But perhaps you might enjoy the music more under other circumstances.”

Not to be spiteful or anything, but Keith wishes that she were here right now. That’d settle the matter pretty easily. About the only redeeming feature of this alleged music, is that the singer doesn’t suck. Sure, their diction leaves a bit to be desired, and if they helped write the lyrics, then they could’ve done better than all of this derivative man, fuck the system but not in a nice way garbage. But vocally, they’re almost decent.

Still, if Keith could spare the cash, he’d literally pay them to stop singing.

He’s twisting the tab off another can of Mountain Dew as the song abruptly stops. The drums drop out first, then the keyboards, then the strings. The singer cuts short a scream that Keith guesses is supposed to sound artfully anguished. Keith almost lets himself breathe easier. But the chorus of yelling is ten times worse:

“Hey, what’s going—”

“Dammit, Lance, you missed the cue again!”

“Don’t look at me! I was following Pidge!”

“Whoa, hey, excuse you! Since when are your screw-ups suddenly my fault?!”

“Dude, you have to get the cue right or I won’t know when the tempo-shift’s supposed to happen!”

“Stow it, guys! Battle of the Bands is in two weeks, and we’re not gonna beat The Ultraviolents unless we work together and focus on the practice.”

Cringing, Keith digs his fingers into the bridge of his nose. In the back of his mind, a voice that sounds way too much like Allura’s Dad tells him not to grind his teeth, but that only makes Keith do so harder. Whatever, Coran’s not here to chastise him in person, and he doesn’t have to deal with these jack-offs for several hours every single night. He, and Allura, and her Father get to live in a nice penthouse uptown, in a swank building that Keith can’t even look at without feeling underdressed and vaguely nauseated. If anyone like Galaxy Garrison ever tried to hold their shitty band practice at this hour of the night, Alfor and Coran could call the cops and get an actual response.

Keith, on the other hand, can only rely on himself. It’s always been that way, but has gotten truer since he moved in here.

Although the singer’s attempt at a rousing speech should’ve cut this nonsense off, the other three keep shouting. Keith hears the words, but for the moment, they make no sense. Next thing he knows, he’s stomping out into the hall. He doesn’t slam the door, because it might bother Rolo and Nyma in the other flat, and unlike some people, Keith at least tries to respect his neighbors, even when they’re overly friendly and perpetually stink like weed and stale hot dogs.

But that’s about the only thing that Keith can spare a thought for, heading to the rickety stairs, practically on autopilot. He’s halfway down before he notices that he isn’t wearing shoes. God, he hopes there isn’t too much broken glass around tonight.

“Guys, listen up!” the singer cuts in again, as Keith pauses on the bottom stair to yawn. “I know we’re all tired, and I know we’ve all been working hard. But none of us is any better or worse than the others — and we’re only as strong as our ability to work together. This band can’t do well by our music, much less win anything, if we’re fighting like Lennon and McCartney all the time, okay?”

“Oh my god, fucking Beatles references? Really?” groans another one. “Dude, could you sound any more like my abuela?”

“Lance, I’ve known your abuela since we were six, and I have never heard her once talk about the Beatles, or speak anything but Spanish.”

“Totally not the point, Hunk!”

From the sound of it, this Lance one kicks a can against the nearest wall. Keith huffs, closing in on the door.

“All I’m saying is that I can’t get my cues right if Pidge keeps trying all this overly complicated bullshit and—”

“Do you assholes have ANY idea what fucking time it is?!”

It’s not until he’s spit it out that Keith realizes how loud he was. Hovering in the doorway into the garage, he almost regrets that. But he can’t show these punks any weakness or they’ll keep on doing this. So, he glares at them. First, at the big guy behind the drums (who’s cute, actually, with his floppy hair and his belly and his big, strong arms; he looks like someone Keith might not mind, under other circumstances). He wilts as Keith frowns at him, and the way he hangs his head kicks Keith in the regret again.

The petite, bedheaded keyboardist calls a glare her way next, but only because she pipes up, “Excuse me?”

Seething, Keith steps out of the doorway. “I said, ‘Do you assholes have any idea what fucking time it is’?” He folds his arms over his chest. “It’s not a hard question, thanks.”

“Well, what if we don’t want to answer it, man!” The one called Lance is tall and spindly, and looks like a guy Keith might consider going home with, if he’d had a couple drinks and felt particularly lonely. “I mean, who the Hell are you to tell us what time it is, anyway!”

“I’m the guy who lives upstairs, jackass,” Keith snaps. “I’m the guy who lives upstairs who would rather be asleep, instead of dealing with you little shits at four in the fucking morning—”

“Hey, we talked to the other two, and they didn’t mind—”

“I’m not them, though, am I? And unlike them, I can’t afford to knock myself out on cough syrup just to sleep through all your goddamn racket.”

“‘All our goddamn racket’?” Lance drawls back in a mocking tone. He even folds his arms like Keith and cocks a hip. Glancing over at the singer, he says, “Asere, come get this! He sounds even more like my abuela than you do. What’s next, man? Are you gonna tell us to get off of your lawn?”

“I don’t have a lawn, you idiot. I barely have an apartment.”

As Lance and Hunk and Pidge barely manage to hold back their laughter, it occurs to Keith that maybe he should not have taken that insult literally. His cheeks flush hot, and his ears start tingling, because of course, his entire head has to blush in situations like this. Whatever he’s doing, it makes the Pidge one snicker, and when he glares at her again, she doesn’t even try to stop.

Hugging himself tighter, Keith groans and turns toward the singer, ready to verbally eviscerate him, since as far as Keith can tell, he’s the ringleader. The other three respect him (more or less), and in the past few nights’ rehearsals, he’s the one who’s made the most decisions about what songs to go over and who was right or wrong about which dispute or other. This means that he’s the most responsible for this mess out of all of them, and the one who most deserves Keith’s outrage. But the words all die before Keith’s even spit out one of them.

The guy in front of him probably has a good six inches on Keith in height, and the body of someone who you wouldn’t want to mess with. Sure, his ripped jeans hang low on his slim hips, but his weathered Pansy Division crop top shows off a pretty toned set of abs. Even worse, the ripped sleeves highlight a really nice set of arms. There’s a gnarled, nasty-looking scar on the right one, up by the singer’s shoulder, and another one, Keith notices, that goes across his nose and cheeks. Now that he sees it, he can’t believe he’d ever miss it, but in fairness, the singer’s hair falls to his shoulders with a devil-may-care ease about it, mostly black, except for the shaggy forelock that he’s bleached white.

Keith frowns as he takes in the guy’s face. Something about it seems… familiar? But that makes no sense, or does it? Whatever it is, Keith can’t place it. He would remember a jaw like that, and definitely that scar… Maybe he has one of those faces? Or maybe he was in a local commercial? Or—

“Keith?” the singer says, his voice soft and his eyes wide. His lower lip quivers and he knots his brow…

—and realization slams into Keith, and makes him freeze. No, that can’t be right. This singer can’t be who Keith thinks he is, and that person can’t be here — this cannot be happening, because that’s bullshit — even if it weren’t, things like this don’t happen to Keith — this cannot be happening—

“…Keith, right?” he says again. “Keith Kogane?”

Hunching his shoulders, Keith whispers, “…Shiro?” — but he knows it can’t be, because that’s stupid, because Shiro’s gone and things like this don’t happen to Keith. They just do not. Ever. Never, ever in his life has anything like this happened, so why would it decide to happen now.

Except the singer beams at him, and Keith would know that smile if he were blackout drunk. He wrestles his guitar off of himself and hands it off to Lance, and before Keith knows which way is up, there’s a heavy hand on his shoulder. That lasts for maybe half a second, then he’s getting pulled into Shiro’s chest and hugged around the shoulders. Keith’s heart is going so fast, it feels like maybe it just stopped beating. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. There is no way in Hell — Keith must’ve bummed some Nyquil off of Rolo after all, and now he’s passed out upstairs, and he is dreaming some truly fucked up dreams, because this. Shit. Cannot. Be happening.

But Shiro squeezes so tight, it starts to hurt. He lets up and mumbles an apology when Keith wriggles, then tells him, “I thought I’d never see you again…”

It takes Keith a moment to nod, then another one to even think of saying anything. When he gets his mouth around the words, all he can come up with is, “I didn’t… Me neither.”

Dimly, Keith’s just glad that Shiro buries his face in his shoulder instead of asking why Keith sounds weird right now. Keith might be on the spectrum, but even he knows better than to admit that what he’s really thinking is more like, Oh, fuck my life.

#mine: fic #sheith #i don't even know what to call this #and i have absolutely nothing to say for myself #keith x shiro #punk au #au #keith #shiro #lance #hunk #pidge #allura #and stray refs to rolo and nyma + alfor/coran #fic: but boys spring infernal

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thedoodlezoo · 7 years ago

Text

I Like You A Latte (Connor Murphy x Reader)

Summary: You work at a coffee shop, and Connor visits every day during your shift.

Words: 1564

Warnings: none

(A/N: Thank you for all the positive feedback on Pastels, my first oneshot! Here’s another for you guys!)

_________________________________

DING!

The little bell attached to the door rang so many times that Saturday morning, it was enough to make you sick. You took a deep breath, plastering on a fake smile for the abundance of cranky and rude customers waiting for their various coffee orders. You didn’t hate working there. You just hated all the people that worked there, and all the people you served, and…yeah, you hated working there.

Even so, sometimes the world would surprise you a little bit at work. It would bring in a cute customer, or a big tip, or a light day. Today was one of those days.

DING!

Sighing, you straightened your posture and smiled. “Hi! Welcome to Affogato, what can I-” you looked up at the customer stopping in your tracks. He was a gorgeous boy, with an aura that screamed mystery. Looking a little closer as he approached the counter, you recognized him as a boy from your homeroom.

Shit, did you just think Connor Murphy was cute?!? Well, I mean, he is, but god, chill!

“Connor Murphy?” You raised an eyebrow, smiling a genuine smile as you eyed him up and down. His long, chestnut brown hair was covered by a beanie, and his button nose was pink from the cold. You could tell he wasn’t in the mood for society today, but from what you’d heard about Connor, that was a constant thing for him. People talked about what a monster Connor Murphy was every single day at school. Of course they did, and it spread like wildfire because it was high school. You heard the stories, but you never really listened. You wanted to discover this kid on your own terms, unbiased. Connor tapped his chipped black painted nails on the counter with a curt nod.

“[Name]?” He made a noise somewhere in between a chuckle and a scoff. “Didn’t expect to see a face like you here.” He shrugged, not thinking anything else of it. “Black, two sugars,” Connor paused for a moment. “…please.” He muttered. Had you been a stranger, he probably wouldn’t have had the courtesy, or maybe he was just in a decent mood, but the gesture was an appreciated one no matter the reason.

You picked up a cup, getting to work. He made small talk as you poured.

“Whatcha up to this weekend?” Connor asked nonchalantly with a sigh. “Partying? Maybe running away to join the circus?” He asked sarcastically as you handed him his coffee. You rolled your eyes with a smile.

“As if I’m capable of doing extraordinary.” You joked. “Nope, just work. Saving up for something cool, like a camera or lava lamp or whatever people spend money on these days.” You straightened your apron. “You?” Connor bounced from one foot to another, finally deciding to take a seat on one of the counter stools.

“Oh, you know, the usual. It’s a toss up between doing nothing and being called a nuisance or doing something and being called a nuisance anyway” He looked into his abyss of a coffee cup. His lips curved into a sad smile. “Sorry, that was….satire.” Connor took out his wallet, fishing out two crisp dollar bills. “Keep the change” He instructed as he stood. Sipping his coffee, he left, and you stood there, lost in thought. No one, in your months of working there, had stopped to have a conversation with the exception of your best friends. You really didn’t know what to think. Who would?

__________________________

_________________

“No, Jared, it was so weird! But like, in a good way…” You trailed off, putting your phone on speaker and placing it on your desk. You were pacing around your room, talking to your problematic fave- the “insanely cool Jared Kleinman”, as he referred to himself.

“What, [name], it’s weird that he came into the coffee shop and ordered a coffee?” Jared pointed out, and you groaned.

“No, it’s weird that he was…I dunno! Everything about him just seems….like…I don’t even know what to think, dude.” You ran a hand through your hair. “It was like, he’s bitter, but chill, but kind and empathetic, but also sarcastic, but also genuine as hell?!?!? I’m sooo confused” You buried your face in your hands. Jared laughed.

“Has the stone cold heart found wuvvvvvv?” He teased. “I gotta say, dude, I didn’t think you were the angsty murderer type!” His laughter grew into hysterics, and you were quick to defend him. You weren’t sure why, though.

“Would you stop, Kleinman? He isn’t gonna shoot up the school or whatever. I bet you Connor’s really sweet.” You challenged. This got his attention.

“What have you even got to bet? Nothing I’d want” Jared sneered

“Gamestop visit with my credit card..” You smirked, and he audibly gasped into the phone.

“Holy shit, for serious? Don’t play with me like that, man” He said in disbelief.

“I’m 100 percent for serious.” You countered.

“Deal. And…if you win?” He asked, almost frightened. The stakes seemed high.

“When I win,” you think for a minute, “you have to become an apprentice park ranger with Evan for the summer.” You grinned.

“No fair, [name]!” he sighs. “You know what? Fine. But only because of the videogames. And you’re gonna lose.” Jared says as-a-matter-of-factly.

________________________________

Connor came in for the next week, ordering the same thing every single day. Even when you weren’t working mornings, Connor managed to come in during your shift. It was as if he knew your schedule, and he always came in later in your shift, when you were thoroughly tired and annoyed. It kind of cheered you up.

Sometimes, he stayed for a while and talk. He’d sit on his same stool, drinking his same coffee, with his name written on his cup in the same handwriting.

“Hey, doll,” He’d smile his toothy smile. You found his dorky platonic pet names funny. “I brought you a muffin. Maybe…spend your break with me?” Connor would suggest.

Other times, he’d sit in the corner at a table, long legs crossed as he read for hours. You’d keep the coffee coming, and you’d watch him read, and it was, in a way, blissful.

“You know, the man bun really completes the whole ‘hipster teen reading in a coffee shop aesthetic’. It looks good on you, Murphy.” You’d nudge his shoulder, and he’d be too focused to even bat an eye.

Sunday, Sunday was different though. You kept busy during your shift, serving customers with your usual fake smile. The authentic one was reserved for Connor Murphy.

Hours passed, and your giddiness faded into fatigue.Glancing up at the clock, time seemed to pause. You evaluated your surroundings.The smell of coffee grinds, the bustling people, the soft jazz melodically jingling in the background. It seemed hazy and surreal, and you wanted to stop thinking.

You wanted to start being. Being with him. Connor Murphy liked spending time with you. He made you feel special. He made this melancholy, dreadful job something you looked forward to dragging yourself to.

Tick tock. Tick tock.

The clock loomed over you, the noises echoing through your skull. You just wanted it all to be over,

And suddenly, it was. A hand on your shoulder was your signal to leave.

“[Name]? Your shift is over. You’re free to go!” She was excited on your behalf, but your heart sank at the news.

Connor hadn’t come today.

The question was, why? Was he, like, busy? You couldn’t imagine having Connor Murphy having actual plans. All he did was get high and drink coffee. Maybe he didn’t want coffee today. You were upset, and wished it wasn’t such a big deal to you, but you felt as if it was.

You sat at a table, lacking the energy to walk home. Inhaling slowly, more memories of Connor flooded into your mind.

“Hey, how was the circus?” Connor asked, yawning. He usually made comments like this with a straight face. It was as if his smile was implied.

“Not as glamorous as I thought, so I came back.” You shrug with a small smile.

“Who comes back after running away from home?” Connor met your eyes with his own blue and brown ones, and you practically melted.

“I dunno, Murphy. People who are homesick, I guess.” You sigh, sliding him his usual.

You focused on reality again, looking out the window. You were so amused by the normality of the scene, you almost didn’t notice the coffee place in front of you.

“Excuse me?” You looked at the paper cup curiously. It was black with two sugars, making you all the more distressed. “What kind of weird ass joke-” You looked up to find Connor in an Affogato uniform with a goofy grin.

“Hi there, [name]. You want anything?” He smirked. You stood up, wrapping your arms around his neck and getting on your tippy toes.

“Just this” You pressed your lips to his, and Connor reciprocated without hesitation. He pulled you closer by your waist, and after a few seconds, he pulled away breathlessly.

“Check the cup again” Connor whispered in your ear. Curious, you picked it up and turned it over. He had scribbled something on the cup in his mediocre handwriting:

I like you a latte. My number is ***-***-****. Use it ;)

Jared was gonna look great in his apprentice park ranger uniform.

#connor murphy #dearevanhansen #evanhansen #oneshot #treebros #slushhstuff

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justsomebucky · 8 years ago

Text

The Friendly Wager (Part 2)

Summary: AU. Reader and Bucky Barnes are neighbors and best friends. After yet another bad date, reader comes home to find Bucky with his typical weekend target. They decide to make a wager about dating, but is there more on the line than reader cares to admit?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

Word Count: 2,613

Warnings: language, fluff, sarcasm, complete and utter denial, social drinking

A/N: This is my submission for the lovely Kait’s ( @bionic-buckyb) 5k AU Challenge. Congrats on the followers, friend! My prompt was “Can you please come over so I don’t feel so alone?”

Part 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7

Wanda sighed at you as you both stood in line for coffee the following Monday. You’d just given her the rundown of your date (or lack thereof), and she wasn’t exactly thrilled to hear it.

“I can’t believe you didn’t like Alex! He’s got a great job, he’s handsome, and-“

“He’s a total prick,” you supplied, rolling your eyes. “Wanda, just because someone looks good on paper, it doesn’t make them a good match for me.”

You’d seen it before, soooo many times. How many guys had you met over the years that promoted themselves as caring, kind, deep-thinking, family-oriented, etcetera?

“Then let’s find you a real match. Use one of those dating app thingies.”

Wanda was so far removed from dating, having been happily married to her husband Vis now for two years (after three years of dating) that she didn’t even know any of the dating app names.

“I tried all the big name apps,” you admitted, shuffling forward as the line shortened. “It’s a world of unwelcome dick pics and unsolicited sexual compliments. OH! And do you know what the best part is? It’s when you aren’t interested and politely turn them down. They almost always throw back the old, ‘Well you’re just an ugly bitch anyways’ line.”

Wanda visibly cringed. “O-kay. So…how about those singles’ events that happen around the city? Speed dating, bar crawls, even trivia nights! There’s lots of events you can try.”

“Well, I have to wait and see when my date with the jerk that Bucky’s going to pick will be, before I can try for a real date,” you reasoned.

“You two are idiots. I can’t believe you agreed to this stupid wager. You could be out looking for Mr. Right instead of spending time with Mr. Bad Influence and his chosen stallion. You’re going to lose, you know. You’re tolerance for assholes is at an all-time low.”

“Why do you think I’ve never liked Bucky?” you joked, turning to order coffee for you both. “He’s their leader!”

When you were done paying, you turned to back to her. She was eyeing you silently. Her expression unnerved you, like she was trying to get inside your head and read your thoughts or something.

“What?”

“Why haven’t you ever liked Bucky? You guys are best friends, after all. Don’t they always say that the best relationships begin with a solid friendship?” An annoying little smile formed on her mouth.

You snorted sarcastically. “It’s called friend zone for a reason, sweetie. He’s got such a harem, you don’t even know. I could never trust a man like that in a relationship. No, we’re definitely better as best friends. God, we need to get you out of that penthouse more often, don’t we? You’ve been trapped in a wealthy bubble with Vis too long, and have completely lost touch with reality.”

“I’m not the one who’s lost it,” Wanda retorted. “Are you going to tell Natasha about your wager?”

Blech…Natasha.

The thought of your best friend seeing Natasha all the time made your stomach turn. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Natasha, you really did, but she was one of those women who were just perfect. She was a little too perfect. “Not yet. I don’t want him to get any advantage.”

“What advantage could that possibly give Bucky?”

Your mind reeled, trying to bullshit your way through an answer. “She might voluntarily go to him for a date, and then what incentive would he have to carry out his end of the deal? You’ve been to his restaurant, Wan! The food is so damn good! I’m going to win, and I’m going to eat so well for an entire week that your face will be green with envy.”

Wanda hummed at you. “Why didn’t you tell her about his interest in her, back when she said she thought he was cute?”

You shrugged. “He was seeing two different women at the time, and she deserves better than that. Anyone deserves better.”

She gave you another pointed look, but thankfully didn’t say anything else.

What you were truly worried about, though you’d never admit it to anyone, ever, was that Natasha was Bucky’s future wife. She was literally perfect for him, not just perfect in general. You could see it clear as day that they were absolutely, undoubtedly made for each other. They’d get married, move away, and you’d never see your best friend again.

It was totally selfish, and utterly unlike you, but you just weren’t ready to lose him.

Your eyes flitted back and forth between your nearly-ready coffee and your coworker. If she didn’t push the issue any further, you sure as hell weren’t going to volunteer anymore of your feelings on the matter.

She didn’t need to know the details. Once you found your own future husband, you could send Bucky and Nat on their merry way, and be content with seeing him once, maybe twice a year.

The way Wanda was silently smirking at you was making you uncomfortable.

“Come on,” you muttered, grabbing your coffee with a quick thank you to the barista. You turned to head back to the elevators, to the stacks of papers waiting for you in your lab. “We’ve got work to do.”

---

It was hours later, and you still couldn’t get the conversation with Wanda out of your mind.

Were you purposefully sabotaging your best friend’s sure thing relationship for your own selfish needs? How terrible of a person did that make you? Natasha was a nice girl, and you certainly loved your best friend enough to want him to be happy.

Natasha would obviously make him happy.

They deserved a chance, at least. You decided then and there, no matter how this all turned out, you were still going to let Natasha know that Bucky was interested. It was the right thing to do.

You were just finishing up your last notations when your phone buzzed next to your laptop. With a quick tap, you leaned over to read the message. The illustrious Bucky was summoning you.

Already found the perfect guy for you, Y/N! How’s it coming with trying to find me my own Rey?

Your eyes narrowed at the screen. How did he work that fast?

Actually, now that you thought about it, it made perfect sense. Bucky, as a woman-using douche himself, probably had a whole gaggle of douchebag friends to choose from. You sighed as you reached for your phone.

Haven’t found the right victim yet. Let me know when Romeo and I can meet.

You waited for a reply, and smirked at the screen when you got one.

You got it. His name isn’t Romeo, though, it’s Peter Quill. He’s a buddy of mine from my gym. He flies a rescue chopper for the Coast Guard. Who knows, you might like him, since you’re in love with all those Star Wars pilots.

Does he have dark, curly hair, and look like Poe Dameron?

No, but he’s not a half bad-looking dude. I still don’t think you’ll last an entire date with the guy, though.

You snickered. Fine, send him my number and let’s get this terrible date rolling.

Will do. Don’t forget your half of the wager. ;)

You’re stomach lurched a little. How could you possibly forget?

Heaving another sigh, you locked the screen and shoved your phone in your pocket, then shut off the desk lamp. You had stayed after hours again, having volunteered for the third time that week to do some internal testing on the latest gadget, as you were the only one without a family to go home to.

Maybe that would change. Maybe this Peter guy would turn out to only be a douche on the surface, and have a heart of gold deep down. After all, devoting your life to rescuing people wasn’t something to take lightly. This might actually work out in your favor.

This could be your chance to stay quiet the next time your supervisor asks for volunteers to complete projects after hours. You could stay quiet knowing that you had plans, or someone to go home to for the first time in your adult life.

You wondered if Bucky would be willing to cook for two when you win the bet with the help of your new pilot boyfriend. The thought made you giddy.

With your bag on your shoulder, you closed your lab door quietly behind you and turned to leave. The halls were practically empty except for a few from the janitorial staff, and the only other lonely soul who worked on your floor and stayed late regularly.

“Goodnight,” you called out to your coworker, Rosie, as you passed her cube to get to the elevators.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” she said softly. “Have a good one, see you tomorrow!”

“See you tomorrow.”

Poor thing. Rosie was such a good egg, and you wished she could find someone, too. She was painfully shy, though, and a self-admitted hermit. In fact, you can’t remember the last time you heard her discuss having a date-

You stopped short, nearly dropping your bag, then backed up a few paces.

She looked up at you in confusion.

“Hey, Rosie…what would you say if I told you I knew a guy who I think would be a good match for you?”

It was hard to keep a straight face, but there was chicken parm and homemade tiramisu on the line here. A little bit of guilt crept into your brain as your conscience tried to stop you, but you figured this might be a good experience for Rosie. Maybe she would be willing to give it a try.

Then again, it could stop her from dating for the rest of her life if Bucky really mucked things up.

Much to your relief, Rosie’s face brightened considerably. “Really? Who?”

You forced a smile to your face.

---

The next day, you met with Bucky at a pub after work for Happy Hour to go over your findings.

The two of you were sitting side-by-side at the bar, comparing pictures. It was pretty empty for a Ladies’ Night, which you were thankful for. You didn’t really want Bucky’s wandering eye to leave you here alone. While it hadn’t happened yet, you knew it was only a matter of time before he ditched you while you were out together.

“Rosie, huh?” Bucky’s blue eyes studied her picture carefully on your phone, before he chuckled and lifted his gaze to meet yours. “She’s not plain in the least. I’m starting to think you don’t know that many women, or at least how to compare what they look like to the word plain. This is Rey all over again.”

“She might not be plain, but she’s quiet and not flirtatious at all. And if you hurt her I will have to hurt you.” You grabbed your phone out of his hands. “She’s a nice person.”

“When’s my date?”

“This Friday night.”

Bucky nodded. “Good, because once I finish my shift at the restaurant Friday, I’m on vacation for that entire next week. I’ll knock this date out, win the wager, and have lots of time to prep for a real date on the following Friday night.”

He meant a ‘real’ date with Natasha, that smug sonofa…

“You mean, you’ll have time to cook for me that whole week after, then, don’t you?” you asked in a sweet voice.

“Ha! You won’t last, no freaking way. Rosie and I, on the other hand, are a good date waiting to happen.”

“Whatever.” You sighed through your nose in exasperation, taking a sip of your own cocktail. This man just never quit with the overconfidence, did he? “You have to pick her up in a fancy car or something, though. I told her you had money.”

“So you lied, then?” Bucky shook his head at you. “Should I be hurt? I’ve never needed a lie to sell myself as a good date, Y/N.”

“No, it’s not a lie, though,” you protest, brows furrowing as you looked over at him. “You’re a freaking sous-chef in a five star Manhattan restaurant. You’ve got money. You just choose to Fred Mertz it.”

Bucky made a face. “You’re lucky I know what that means, or I would think you were calling me old and cranky.”

That was true.

Sometimes Bucky would come over on Saturday mornings, whining that he was bored or hungover from his wild night before. He would try to get you to go with him for coffee, or breakfast, or get out and do anything, and sometimes you would.

But mostly, you were unwilling to move from your couch, or dress in something other than pajamas, or change the channel from your regularly scheduled viewing of reruns of ‘I Love Lucy,’ so he’d give up arguing with you over it, and just sit and watch with you. But his protests couldn’t fool anyone; you knew Bucky loved the show now, too.

“And I don’t penny-pinch and hoard money for no reason,” he continued defensively. “Some of us like having a savings account. Some of us want to purchase a grown-up place someday.”

You stuck your tongue out at him. He knew your paycheck was about one-fourth of his, and that in order to keep your beautiful Brooklyn apartment, you mostly lived paycheck-to-paycheck.

“Like I said, she’s a nice person. Just don’t, like, embarrass her or me or something.”

“Why’d you find me someone who was too nice to be used, then? Isn’t that the whole purpose of the date? To use someone so that we can prove a point one way or another? She’s your friend that you’re subjecting to the bet.” He reached in his pocket for his own phone. “I can’t imagine that I’ll be seeing her again, anyways, if she’s that nice. She’ll get her hopes up when she sees me, though, so I’ll try to let her down gently, for you.”

“So modest,” you muttered, tearing his phone out of his hands to see the picture he’d pulled up.

“That is one Mr. Peter Quill,” Bucky said, taking a sip from his beer. You knew he was watching your face for your reaction.

To your surprise, the man in the photo didn’t outwardly look like your regular Alex McDouchnozzle type. Peter was handsome, but in a boyish, dorky kind of way. You didn’t see a trace of smugness in his expression, but that was not always something they showed outright. You figured that around only half of them that did that, including Bucky. “What’s his douche level, in your opinion?”

“Well…” Bucky thought about it for a moment, taking another swig of beer before setting the bottle down on the bar top. “Peter’s a…complicated man. He thinks he’s a space pilot, even gave himself the code name Starlord to use on flights, though I’m pretty sure the Coast Guard frowns on that in serious situations.”

You bit back a laugh. “You’re serious with him, then? This Peter guy is my date?”

“Yep, and no way do you last a whole date with him.”

“Watch me.” You smiled down at Peter’s bearded face. “This couldn’t possibly be so bad. Maybe I can pretend his delusions are real to get through the date. Or, maybe he’s not as bad as you’re saying, and you’re just trying to throw me off my dating game so that I lose patience and leave the guy sitting there after appetizers? Either way, I’ll be fine.”

Bucky let out an almost evil laugh, putting a hand on your shoulder. “Remember those words when this Friday rolls around.”

Part 3

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #AU!buckybarnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #chef!bucky #queued post #kaits5kauchallenge

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