#still open if you guys wanna be my friend on sky :-3

[lazy-b1rdy]

enjoy a clip of me pretty much fangirling over a krill in sky

(i really liked the music at that place lol)

(and a VERY lazy sketch of me and tsp sky :3)

[yan-randomfandom]

HIIIIIIII I love your writing alot!!!! Soo, I wanna request something:3

Maybe a Yandere Stanford Pines x GN reader who only saw him as a close friend? They became friends when they were still in high-school up to this day! (Yes, reader did sort of wait 30 years for Ford and never forgot about him)

Maybe just Stanford obsessing over Reader romantically, and Reader just think him as the greatest best-friend ever!!

I LOVE ONE SIDED PINNING OKAY????

Stanford Pines x GN!Reader

UM UH,,, IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG ANON— and it's something I'm not even proud of 😭😭

context btw; reader doesn't know about weirdmaggedon or fake death or entire lore, they dont tell them anything uhhh idk anymore

You took the bus to Gravity Falls! Stanley reached out to you after decades of not having contact. It was a bit sudden, but there's no way you're going to ignore his call.

Stanley Pines was the first man you saw when the Mystery Shack's door opened. Wrinkly, exhausted widened eyes looked at you in silence. He looked unprepared... kind of crusty musty... and very unhygienic.

"You look disgusting! I'm gonna hug you anyway!" you beamed, pulling him in for a big hug. Unwillingly, a strong whiff of his scent hits your nose. "You stink too! You haven't changed a bit, Stanley."

"Glad to know ya missed me," he laughed, giving you an affectionate noogie.

When Stan finally let you go, you looked up to see Ford. He stood in front of you, speechless as he stared into your eyes.

"...Ford," you grinned, walking towards him. In curiosity, you placed your palms on both his cheeks. He seemed to relax with your touch. "You changed a lot."

Your eyes, while they've wrinkled, are as warm as the day he last saw them. He smiled back, his large hand covering one of yours. Your smile widened when you saw his fingers. "And you aged beautifully."

Poetic as always! A laugh bubbled up your throat as you wrapped your arms around him.

He quickly returned the gesture, burying his face into your neck. He missed this. He missed you.

Your warmth didn't change. Fascinating.

"I missed you, man! How come you're such a silver fox now? Good for you!"

"I still have no idea what a silver fox is," he chuckled, already longing for you the second you pulled away from him.

Ford merely stood there for a few moments before he grimaced. Damn it. He still likes you, doesn't he?

It's been more than thirty years already. He thought he would have moved on, especially after the whole weirdmaggedon thing. Why would Stanley ever get the idea of calling you back here??

All of you now sat at the table with you in between the Pines twins. Mabel wore an apron, sophisticatedly offering you tea. The sweetheart made the recipe herself!

"So, how have you been doing these days?" Ford asked, resting his cheek on his palm. Every passing second with you, he gets reminded more and more of why he used to like you.

You are, after all, the first and only person to not call him any sort of names because of his hands.

"Oh, I mean, I've been financially doing well, and it's been a bit difficult to settle down with a partner... but," you blushed. "I think I finally found the one."

Ford coughed out violently, pounding a fist against his chest. He really shouldn't be surprised. He really shouldn't! You're bound to have found someone!

Get a grip. Fourty. Years.

...He truly had missed out on this dimension for such a long time.

...

The sky is dark. Dipper told you about the roof spot at the shack, and now you're here, thinking about life.

"Dipper said you'd be here," a voice murmured. You looked up and saw Ford walking up to you. Chuckling, you offered him a non-alcoholic drink.

"How many days will you be staying here again?" Ford asked as he sat next to you, sparing a small space between.

"A week at most," you shrugged, kicking your legs at the edge. Ford simply stared at you.

"I guess it'll be forever before we see you again, huh?" he mumbled.

You turned to him with a smile. "Of course not. You guys are invited to my wedding."

... Wedding.

A small huff left your lips. "We're so old now. I still remember being in high school and grouping up with you and Stan when a trio was needed. Good times."

Ford continued staring at you.

"You guys were my best friends. Probably not now, I mean, been decades since we last talked. That reminds me, what made you call—"

Ford suddenly interrupted you with a hug.

"Woah, Fordsy, you miss me that much?" you laughed, hugging him back.

Don't call him that. His arms around you tightened.

You simply let him hug you.

It was such a long one.

And it only grew tighter by the second.

Like he never wanted to let you go again.

but his aim is getting better 🗣️

i love your idea so much btw, i too am a fan of one-sided pining.... the desperation yk.. I THINK I JUST SUCK AT WRITING FOR THAT WHAT 😟 (says the yandere blog)

[hoshigray]

random thought, but like Gojo getting a little handsy while the two of you are out together with your friends.

a/n: yeahhhhh I have no excuse, this literally just popped up in my head two days ago, just read lol

cw: Gojo x fem! reader - nothing too sexual, but very suggestive, so minors stay away!! - fingering (f! receiving) - sexual acts in a public area; in a café - other people present but they don't know what's going on - pet names (angel, baby, princess) - Gojo putting you through hell but you get your getback :3 - you may [or may not] feel second-hand embarrassment, we shall see.

wc: 1k

"...Then I turned to him and said, 'I know you don't think I'm going to have sex with you after you've done thrown up on my dress.'"

"Nooo, after the dress was how much—"

"Right!! So I nicely shoved him off me and called an Uber to..."

It was a pleasant sunny hour to spend with your friends at a local café not too far away, mingling and catching up with them from the last meetup. It was always a splendid time having moments like this with them.

But what made this time a lot more striking was you bringing your boyfriend over! After many weeks of your friends wanting to meet the guy — not to mention him bugging you about also wanting to see your close buds — you promised to have him tag along for the next in-person meetup. And, low and behold, your partner, Satoru Gojo, wasted no time having your mates attracted to his sociable charisma.

Not that you'd think he'd be out of place — if anything, you knew he'd be able to swoon into their sweet graces. With his dashing smile, alluring sky-blue eyes, and engaging conversations, it was only a matter of seconds before the white-haired man could take your spot and engage with your pals. Shit, it's practically happening right now as you sip on your iced tea while he's listening to one of them reminiscing about a terrible night they had last night.

Nevertheless, you're not complaining. A boyfriend who gets along with your friends is better than not, right? That's why you watch and listen to your friend's story with a smile, happy to know that combining two parts of your world results in new companionships.

That is, until, you feel someone's hand land on your thigh. At first, you paid no mind to the action since it's nothing you're not familiar with when it comes to Gojo. But then that exact hand ventures further down and slowly sneaks past your skirt. Your brows furrow with your inner thoughts. I know this man is not trying to start something right now...And when you feel his slender fingers brush your inner thigh, you get your answer.

Your lips release the straw to your iced beverage, and you slowly lean toward your boyfriend. "Gojo," your tone hushed only for him to hear as your companions seemed preoccupied with a talk of their own.

"Hmm?" The tall other leans a bit for his ears to properly hear your whispers, his face still facing front to your friends.

"Can I ask why your hand is up my skirt in public?" You knew by the playful snicker rumbling his chest that his answer would be far from appropriate for the situation.

"Whaaat~, can't touch the love of my life?" He whispers back to you.

"Can't if we're out in the open at a fricken' café," you hiss with a glare from your peripheral. "Especially with others within—Hmmm." Before you could finish that remark, two fingers brushed on your panties, rubbing gently between your clothed folds. He snickers — both at your stifled response and as a faux reaction to a part of your friend's storytelling.

"Sorry, but I can't help myself when I wanna touch my princess." You notice him peeking at you from behind his dark shades. His fingers form a curling motion, causing your body to slightly jerk and prompt your legs to a further spread. He brings his chin down to your ears, his chuckles easier to interpret their mischievous connotation. "Plus, when did I last see you wear that skirt? Had my eyes on it since you looked at the mirror before we left."

God, I hate his ass so fucking much. "Who said I was wearing it for you?" You retort, wanting nothing but to wipe that dumb smirk off his handsome face. "I wore it because of—Ohhh!!" To your surprise, he swiftly puts his digits inside your panties; the sudden warm contact on the folds of your chasm prompts a sneaky cry.

...A cry so sudden that, of course, your friends stop talking to look in your direction with perplexed expressions. Of course, they would look. Oh, for fuck's sake...

"Uhhh, you okay, Y/n?" One friend blinks while surveying your body language. The other chimes in. "Yeah, you don't look so good; ice tea went the wrong way?"

Quick with your feet, you cough up your answer. "Ahem—Y-Yeah, I'm fine, guys. I was just thinking, ya know," your hand snakes down to Gojo's to pinch the skin, the tall other jolting his hand away from you. And you know he looks to you with pain, yet serves him right. "Since you two are getting along with Gojo, why don't we take him to the mall and show him our favorite spots? He has a good eye on clothes, plus I'm sure he'd like to try the crepe stand in the food court."

The look on your buddies' faces expressed nothing but delight at the idea you pulled out your ass. "That's a great plan, I'm down!" One says while the other nods frantically. "You up for that, Gojo?"

Rubbing his pinched skin, Gojo sends the two a smile. "Sure! I'd love to spend more time with my baby and their friends." He then leans to kiss you, but with a kick to the shin, you turned his face from a lovestruck fool to that of a hurt puppy. Your friends watch as the snow-haired man quivers and puts his forehead on your shoulder for support.

"Hmm? What happened?"

"Don't mind him; he was rocking his chair and probably hit himself with one of the legs." You speak for him as you watch your boyfriend tremble in pain with a smirk on your lips, the two others giggling at your seemingly clumsy man. It's your turn now to whisper to his ear. "That's for that little stunt of yours."

Gojo's laughter seethes through gritted teeth. "Are you really my angel? You're such a meanie...Don't think I won't do it again, princess."

[alexiroflife]

‘don’t hate me’

“Across the Earth” Part 2: satoru gojo x reader

part 1 | part 3

Synopsis: satoru struggles with your constant anger at him and ponders if you've ever cared about him the way he cares about you. his temporary solution to his conflict is to force you along with him to his villa

to sum it up: "why can't she love me?"

WC: 8,821

“Wakey, wakey!”

You groan as the blare of the sun irritates your eyes until you open, unsure of whether the voice that sang into your ear moments ago was a hallucination inspired by your sleepy state or not. 

You rub your hand over your eyes, stretching your arms out and rolling over to find Satoru leaned over, his face inches away from yours with a dopey smile.

You screech, jumping up and shuffling to the other side of your bed, eyes wide as your vision adjusts to the blue eyed man’s figure standing at the edge of your bed with a to-go bag in hand. He chuckles to himself, looking over you mischievously. “Oops, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You grumble incoherently to yourself, adjusting to your steady regain of consciousness. You turn to look out the window and see that it is still early morning by the way the sun sits in the sky. You sigh and crawl over to your nightstand to reach for your phone, eyes hazy when you catch the time reading 9:05.

“What are you doing?” you exhale tiredly, throwing your legs over the edge of the bed and looking up at Satoru with sleepy eyes as you scratch your head. You miss the way he stumbles over his words slightly and averts his gaze for a second before he’s placing the paper bag he held onto your lap. 

“Wishing you a happy morning,” he says. “I got you breakfast.”

You furrow your brows, peering into the bag’s contents to find a lox bagel with cream cheese, something you had loved for years. You blink, reaching in to grab it instantly, your mind fixing solely on hunger that bubbles at the sight of the bagel. 

“You would not believe the line I had to wait in to get this thing. New Yorkers are so bossy, pushing each other around and yelling for no reason that early in the morning,” Satoru rambles about his first experience at a bakery in the city. “This one guy almost took off my head because I tried to move around to see the display case. He thought I was cutting the line or something.”

“You went out this morning?” you ask softly, peering up at him as you grasp the large bagel in your hands.

“Yeah, just got back,” he answers casually.

You hum in appreciation. “Thanks, Toru,” you say mindlessly before taking a huge bite.

Satoru’s cheeks warm slightly and he’s waving you off like it’s nothing. “So, what time are we heading out?”

You look at him inquisitively, mouth full. “We?” your muffled voice repeats.

“That’s what I said.”

You don’t have the capacity to ask further right now as you still wake yourself up. “In ‘firty I go,” you tell him, mouth full. 

He snickers. “Thirty minutes?”

You nod.

“Alright then, you go get dressed and I’ll wait for you out here,” Satoru makes his way to the doorway leading to the living room. You furrow your brows, swallowing harshly.

“Wait,” you stop him. “What do you mean? Where’s Suguru and Shoko?”

“Out to breakfast.”

“...Why aren’t you with them?”

“Cause I was getting you breakfast.”

“But,” you shake your head. “Why are you waiting for me? You know I have somewhere to go soon.”

“Oh, that’s because I'm coming with you,” he smiles and you straighten up, perplexed.

“What?”

“I wanna see where you’re working.”

You purse your lips. “I don’t think that’s…”

“And I want to visit the museum.”

“...Okay, then can’t you visit later?”

Satoru tilts his head back over his shoulders, casting you a sarcastic gaze. “Why? ‘You pushing me away again already?”

“Um- no?! It’s just not professional for me to pull up to a meeting with my friend hanging around!”

He smiles. “Relax, I’ll be good. It’ll be like I’m not even there.”

“No, Satoru,” you stand, putting your bagel down to rummage through your drawers for an outfit. “I’ll see you after, but you can’t come with me.”

“Come on,” he complains dramatically. “Not even for a little bit?”

“No.”

“What if I just take a peek inside?”

“I said no.”

“Can’t you at least let me drive you there?”

You halt, turning to look at his pleading eyes. “And what about our friends who are out?”

“I can always go pick them up when they’re done,” he persuades. “Come on, come on,” he drawls. “Let me give you a ride, pretty please with a cherry on top?”

You exhale, pressing your lips into a straight line. “Alright, fine!” you begrudgingly accept. “But just one ride, and you don’t go inside. Got it?”

“How about two rides, one and there and back,” he presses.

“I don’t know when I’ll be done or what I’m doing after, Satoru.”

“Sure you do, you’re hanging with us, remember?” he reminds you of last night’s conversation.

“I never agreed to that.”

“That’s too bad, I wasn’t asking,” he grins.

“God, you’re so annoying! Okay, sure, whatever, two rides. But that’s it, you hear me? You’re not going into that museum while I’m meeting there.”

“Ugh, you wound me,” he frowns theatrically. “But I suppose that’s okay.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go away while I get dressed,” you dismiss him. “And take a shower while you’re at it.”

Satoru’s face falls in horror. “Do I stink?!”

You pinch your nose and pucker your lips in fake disgust. “Not yet, but the longer you keep those clothes on from yesterday without bathing, you will.”

“You’re so mean,” he pouts. “At least you don’t hear me saying anything about your morning breath.”

You grit your teeth, picking out a pair of random jeans and chucking them at the white haired man who caught them in his hand with ease. “Get out now!”

He laughs, turning to take your pants with you. “You’re not getting these back,” he sings, pulling the door closed behind him.

The two of you are refreshed and dressed on time for you to make it to the museum with a few minutes to spare. Satoru walks you to his rental car parked on the side of the street a few blocks down, a sleek black convertible with no hood greeting your sight.

You stare at the vehicle in agitated awe as Satoru holds the passenger seat door open for you, lenses of his dark glasses gleaming like the pride in his blue eyes as he watches your expression. “After you,” he says with a goofy tone.

You scoff, stepping into the car cautiously. There are times when Satoru’s wealth, though a constant fact nagging in the back of your head, truly astonishes you. This is the same guy who drops thousands at the mall every other weekend for fun when the group tags along, showering his money into registers like it’s nothing. And of course, there’s the fact that Satoru planned and booked a trip across the world within a day and managed to find a rental car and a villa that suits his expensive tastes. You roll your eyes. He’s so obnoxious with his money at times. 

“You’re insane,” you mumble and he giggles, shutting the door behind you and rounding the car to step into the driver’s seat. 

Despite Satoru’s privilege, however, he is and always has been a very very poor driver. You are sorely reminded of this fact when he weaves through the already hectic streets of New York, honking impatiently with his arm slung over the side and nearly ramming into bumpers at a stoplight, his driving matching his carefree personality and the chaos of the city rather well. You simply pray that you won’t die in the passenger seat of his car.

As some time passes, you look over and catch a glimpse of his stunning side profile as he drives, loose sweater teasing his collarbone and neck muscles while his veiny hand grips the wheel tight, fingers occasionally running over and thrumming against the leather. 

Your eyes then drift down to his exposed forearms, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His muscles tense every now and then with the rotation of the wheel, his head throwing over his shoulder to glimpse behind him before merging sloppily. 

He catches your eyes once as you’re staring, and you’re quick to look away, clearing your throat and hardening your eyes. It’s his turn to look at you now, seizing his opportunity when he hits another red light. 

His blue eyes roam over your face, studying the curve of your brow and the subtle pout in your plump lips. He breathes in slowly, chest rising as the sight of your face makes his heart skip a beat. You blink a lot, he notices, your lashes fluttering against your soft cheeks, the curve of your cheekbone brightened by the glow of the morning sun. 

He sees you turn to face him, round (e/c) eyes reaching his and making his throat run dry. He doesn’t look away, and his hearing is muffled until you nudge his shoulder harshly. Suddenly, the blare of car horns and your urgent voice registers. 

“Satoru!” you shout. “The light!”

He looks up and sees that it has turned green and the car in front of him is long gone. He snorts, immediately slamming into the gas and jerking the two of you into motion. “Whoops,” he grins, and you’re flicking his forehead. 

“Being in the car with you is a threat to my life, I swear,” you roll your eyes, turning to hide your flushed face.

“Wouldn’t you rather be with me than in a taxi?” 

“What do you think?”

Satoru chuckles. “Sucks for you then, because as long as I’m around you’re riding with me.”

“Gee, I’m so lucky,” you quip sarcastically.

“I know right?”

After a grueling fifteen minutes, you finally pull up to the sidewalk by the museum behind a row of cabs. Satoru puts the car in park and leans over you to look up at the building over his glasses. “Wow,” he comments. “You must be losing your shit over this, huh nerd?”

“Insult me all you want,” you say. “I’m having a great time here.”

“I’m sure you are,” he hums. Your eyes scan the steps to the MET swiftly before you spot Aoto to the left while Satoru examines the area curiously. 

“Oh! I see Aoto,” you announce, unbuckling your seatbelt and slinging your back over your shoulder. 

Satoru’s brows pinch together, his gaze attempting to follow yours to locate your research partner. “Where?”

You point out to the brunette dressed in a light button up and slacks, seemingly waiting for your arrival. “There,” you say. “Thanks for the ride. I’ll text you when I’m done.”

“Hold on,” he stops you, grabbing your arm gently to keep you from leaving just yet. You look at him with a strange expression.

“What is it now?”

“Well, it’d be rude of me not to introduce myself now that I’m here,” he says flatly.

“Why would you need to do that?”

“To be polite.”

“But he doesn’t even know who you are.”

“Exactly, hence introducing myself,” he says, looking at you blankly.

You don’t have the opportunity to stop him before he’s honking his horn, waving into the air aggressively and calling out to Aoto. Your eyes go wide and you turn to grip his extended arm to lower at, hissing at him to shut up, but it’s too late.

The commotion catches Aoto’s attention as well as the attention of many others. You watch the brunette turn into your direction, scrunching his face oddly before releasing it when he sees you next to the odd white haired man calling him over.

You panic when he heads your way, slapping at Satoru’s chest and knee. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” you hiss, and he’s smirking evilly.

Aoto steps down and approaches your passenger door, ducking his head to look into the car. He looks at you first, smiling kindly as Satoru stares, observing intensely with a tight lipped smile. “Morning, (Y/n),” a laugh bubbles lightly in his words as you tighten your face with embarrassment and flash him a nervous smile, ripping your hands from Gojo’s body.

“Hi,” you greet shortly.

“I see you’ve found a better ride today,” he jokes, and Satoru can feel a muscle in his eye twitch at the sound of him being humorous with you a day after meeting. Aoto looks at Satoru, nodding his head in acknowledgement. “How’s it going?”

“Oh just great,” Satoru grins, his one hand still taut on the steering wheel. “You must be uhhh… Apollo?”

You crick your neck when Satoru purposely fumbles the brunette’s name to his face.

Aoto takes it well, chuckling softly. “Uh, close, it’s Aoto,” he smiles. “But people butcher it all the time,” he lies.

“Oh, I’m sure,” Satoru nods slowly. 

“(Y/n), this a friend of yours?”

You sigh. “Yeah, he’s just visiting-“

“Satoru Gojo,” your albino friend extends a hand over your lap into Aoto’s direction. Your research partner clasps it firmly, shaking with a friendly grip. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Likewise.” You notice Aoto move to tug his hand away, but Satoru holds on for a second longer, keeping his grip tight before letting him go. “That’s a hell of a handshake you got there.”

“Thank you,” Satoru grins. “So I hear you and (Y/n) are working together?”

“Sure are. We’re actually heading in soon to meet with a historian,” Aoto explains. “Your friend here is a really passionate girl. It’s already a pleasure to get to chat with her about all this stuff,” the older man compliments you, and you laugh bashfully. 

Gojo, however, does not find anything funny. His tight smile is frozen on his face as he watches Aoto look at you with what you would call a “friendly” gaze, but what Satoru knows as a look that reveals his hidden desire to have sex with you.

He can feel himself losing his cool, the very thought of you spending all day with this creep making him lose his mind.

You turn to look at Gojo oddly upon detecting a sudden foulness in his mood. 

“Funny, you got all that out of her in one day?” Satoru lifts his brows, glossy lips parted as he holds a finger to his chin as though he is completely indulged in what Aoto is saying. You don’t understand why he is all of a sudden behaving so rudely. He has no right, after all, since this is your sanctuary he insisted upon intruding.

“A day is generous. Maybe even less,” Aoto jokes in high spirits, and you try to laugh along with him, but the glare in Satoru’s eyes distracts you as he looks between you and your research partner repeatedly. 

“Well, gosh, luckily for me, I’ve known her for three years,” Satoru smiles, turning to look at you. “Isn’t that right?”

You give him a warning glare, to which he blatantly ignores and turns back to face your research partner. 

“She gets shy when I put her on the spot, but it’s true.”

“In that case, I’m sure you guys have a great friendship.”

“We really do.”

“Alright,” you jump in to cut the strange sense of strain in the air. “I think it’s about time we head in,” you say to Aoto.

He shrugs with a soft smile. “Sure, let’s go. Hey, nice meeting you Gojo,” he waves to the blue eyed pain in the ass next to you, and the said man grins.

“Take care, buddy.”

You are about to hop out of the vehicle to join Aoto when you pause. “Actually, Aoto, could you give us a minute? I think my chapstick fell out in here somewhere.”

“Oh, yeah, no problem. I’ll just be inside then.”

“Okay.”

You wait until Aoto is far enough to be out of earshot before whipping your head around and punching Satoru square in the shoulder. “Ow!” he yelps, rubbing the sore area, his uncivil facade fading. “That hurt!”

“What the hell was that, huh?” you ask through gritted teeth. “Why were you being so rude?”

“I wasn’t,” he exhales with irritation. “I was just scoping him out, no big deal.”

“It is a big deal, Satoru, because that’s the guy I’m working with! You know, for a real research opportunity?”

“Yeah, so you’ve said a hundred times already,” he remarks sassily. “It wasn’t that serious.”

“Nothing ever is to you, is it?” you growl, anger consuming your mind. Your thoughts of why you stepped away from Satoru in the first place instantly return, face flustering in embarrassment and heart pounding. 

Why did he always have to make a scene everywhere he went? Why does he have to constantly be the center of attention with no regard for how his behavior impacts anyone else?

Satoru looks at you with a slightly hurt and befuddled expression. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re a child,” you huff, gathering your belongings into your lap with haste. Satoru grabs your arm again before you can leave for the second time.

“Woah, woah, woah, hold on,” he rushes out. “Did I actually piss you off just now?”

“Answer your own questions, Satoru, since you seem to know everything.”

A dent forms in the space between his brows as he peers down at you incredulously. “You’re getting this worked up over me messing with some random guy?”

“My research partner,” you clarify.

“Whatever! Why does it matter?”

“It matters because you don’t think it does! You only give meaning to the things you care about, and you knock everyone else down along the way. It’s exhausting!”

“How was I supposed to know that you’d care so much about what I say to him? You just met him yesterday.”

“You still don’t even get it,” you shake your head. “Why would you?”

“Why are you snapping at me, (Y/n)?” Satoru frowns. “I thought we were good. I thought I didn’t do anything to make you mad at me.”

“That was yesterday, Satoru. This is today.”

“And you’re this angry at me over something so small? Nothing built up to you blowing up on me like this?”

“Maybe I’m just sick of you being an asshole.”

You yank your arm away, throwing open the door and slamming it behind you. Satoru sits back, lips parted in shock, reeling at the rate at which you had grown upset with him. He feels his heart ache, unsure of why you care so much about one interaction he had with a guy neither of you knows. 

You’re right. He doesn’t understand. He can’t understand.

He can’t understand how this man gets to spend all of his time with you after you stripped your time away from Satoru forcefully, without even telling him why. You can’t understand why you defend Aoto, grow angry for him, resentful and hurtful. You called Satoru a child, you called him an asshole, you claimed that he didn’t care about how things affected others when all he cares about in this godforsaken world is you, and yet somehow, you’ve antagonized him and left him behind.

Where is your gratitude for the years he spent by your side ensuring that you weren’t lonely? Where is your gratitude for the tears he wiped away, shed for your isolation from an unloving family? Where is your gratitude for remembering all of your favorite foods, your likes, your dislikes, the things you are allergic to, the things you dream about attaining, your favorite animal, your favorite piece of clothing, your best and worst subjects in school, what makes you laugh, what makes you cry, what makes your nose scrunch up in disgust and your eyes shine with enthusiasm?

Why are you so keen on shoving your memory of all he has been for you away? Why is it so easy for you to yell at him, to push you off of him, to glare at him, to dismiss him, to ghost him, when he knows there is no reality in this universe where he would be able to rip his eyes from your beautiful face for longer than one second? 

It didn’t take much for you to leave Satoru behind, and he mourns over you. He mourns over your presence and your love that he begins to question was ever there. He mourns your touch, your gaze, your affections, your praises. He mourns the thought of you leaning into him and accepting the lengths to which he would go for you, the planets he would conquer, the oceans he would swim, the beasts he would tame. 

Satoru would have given you his entire existence if you asked for it, but he mourns the notion that you would do the same as he realizes that you never will.

Instead, you choose Shoko over him. You choose Suguru over him. You choose an empty phone over him, a new country over him, and an older man over him. When Gojo would pick you in every universe he encounters within his dreams, you would cast him away for the chance of finding something better. 

You do not love him, and he understands now.

To you, he’s an asshole, a child, a careless man with no regard for the impact he has on the people he cares for. To you, he is his legacy, his privilege, his wealth, his pride, his family. You are everything to him, the stars, the sun, and the moon, but he is nothing to you but a burden.

That must be why you stopped talking to him, why you were practically mortified to see his face in New York. Suguru had been right though he didn’t want to accept it. You want space away from him, far away, and while chases you, you continue to outrun him, seeking another hand to hold. 

Satoru can feel himself growing cold, eyes angry and jaw taut. He doesn’t know why he tries so hard with you, or whether his blatant desire to keep you near has pushed you away further. He doesn’t know why, no matter how many times your voice and body tell him that you don’t want him around, he still follows you. He can’t bring himself to leave you the way you try to leave him, for you hold too much weight within his mind and bring him too much happiness. Christ, you’re one of his best friends, the only woman he has truly cared for beyond himself, and you give him nothing. Even so, he clings to you like you’re his last breath, surviving off of the ropes you throw and pull away as though he has no other option.

And to Satoru, there is no other option. You’re it. You’re everything. He can’t walk away, so why should you be able to? 

He pictures you with Aoto, his rugged stubbled face and dark eyes. He pictures you laugh alongside him, fingers brushing his elbow as you steady yourself on your feet. He pictures you watching him with enamored eyes as he drones on about art, about the things you like that Satoru has never comprehended but has learned for you. 

He pictures you hugging him, tucking your face against his chest as he pulls you close, his lips brushing your forehead as you thank him for this wonderful opportunity. He pictures you out at a grungy restaurant, sharing a meal in celebration of your remarkable intelligence, clinking glasses as your eyes meet in the haze of the candle lit space. 

He pictures you going home with him, falling into him, lips crushing together and hands wandering over bare skin, skin Satoru alone is meant to touch, to kiss, to cherish.

The white haired heir clenches his fists together, rage overcoming him at the tormented images flashing through his brain. You’ll probably leave him for this place one day, for this life, for this guy, throwing him behind as if he held no value to you. You’ll go again without telling him and Satoru will find out through a friend, too late for him to chase you into a new life. He imagines you happy without him, and his heart shatters. 

You, on the other hand, are fuming.

Why does Satoru have to be so obnoxious? Why can’t he let you breathe without him hovering over you, tracking you down just to make you angry again? 

What right does he have to treat a stranger as if he is beneath him? Someone who you happen to work with? Could he be any more pretentious?

Your blood is boiling as you picture him looking at you, then competing with a man that you hardly even know through the tone of his voice and his unwarranted possession of you. What gives him the right to treat you as though he owns you, grinning smugly at Aoto as though he could never amount to his image? 

You recall the nights you stayed up watching stories of Satoru with some random girl on your social media, his pretty face leaning into the camera as he sweet-talks the unassuming woman behind it with no intention of following through. You recall the times Satoru shoved profiles of girls who follow him into your faces, making remarks about how attractive they are before accepting their friend requests. You recall every time you have ended up sobbing in Suguru’s arms after a night of drinking, the dark haired boy himself blaming your emotions on the alcohol when in reality they were sparked by the sight of a girl grinding up against him in a club.

You replay all the instances Gojo has made you and hundreds of other women feel like a fool, and he has the audacity to challenge the poor guy you work with?

It’s unfair, all of it.

You’re supposed to be getting away from him, but instead, he’s here, just like he always forces himself to be. He’s invading your personal space, making judgments about other people, and all the while doing so and expecting not to be reprimanded. How much more inconsiderate could a person get?

You spend your entire day thinking about him, his face appearing in your head as you try to listen to the things the people around you are saying. You try your hardest to rid your mind of Satoru, but the task proves impossible. He’s like a plague, ailing your train of thought every chance he gets.��

Why can’t he just leave you alone? It was already enough that he had made you fall in love with him, so why couldn’t he give you space? Why is he always so close to you, lingering in every nook and cranny of your heart and soul?

By the time late afternoon rolls around, you and Aoto are done in the MET and you are given a list of artifacts to organize on a spreadsheet by the end of the day. You had not called Satoru to see where he was, and you almost think he isn’t showing up, but when you descend the museum stairs, you see him parked by the sidewalk with Suguru sitting passenger and Shoko in the back. 

You exhale slowly, preparing yourself for what is to come as you approach the car. “Hey, guys,” you greet with a wave, and your friends’ heads are turning except for Satoru, who leans his head back against the headrest and stares forward emptily. 

“How was your day?” Shoko asks as you climb into the back with her.

You shrug. “Good. Got some good work to do.” You look forward to finding Gojo’s dull eyes in the rearview mirror. He doesn’t move to greet or look at you, which you find unbearably unusual. “What about you guys?”

“Suguru and I actually saw a huge rat after we finished breakfast,” the young woman beside you snickers. “So he’s not in the greatest mood.”

“I need to get out of this fucking place,” you hear Suguru mutter and you laugh at his tone of dreadful severity as Satoru pulls out and starts driving.

“Hate to break it to you, Sugu, but your friend has other plans for you today,” you say, hardly addressing the man you are speaking about aside from a vague allusion to Suguru.

“Actually,” you hear Satoru speak up, and you look up at him to find his eyes on you through the mirror. He looks slightly perturbed, the usual bubbliness in his tone and playful glitter in his eye replaced by a flat indifference. “There’s been a change of plans.”

You keep his gaze for a moment, eying him skeptically. “Oh?” is all you muster up the energy to say.

“We’re going back now.”

“Back where?”

“To the villa.”

Your shoulders drop as you process his announcement. All of a sudden, he wants to leave?

“Oh…”

“Don’t worry though. You’re coming with.”

You perk up, eyes shooting wide. “Huh?”

“I think you heard me perfectly clear,” he says. “Your stuff’s already all packed and in the front with Suguru. We’re heading straight up there now.”

“How the hell did you get back into my house?”

“I saw the code you put into the keypad when we left.”

You perch yourself up, gripping the back of Geto’s seat and leaning to look over at Satoru’s face. “Are you crazy? I’m not coming up there! It’s too far! I have to stay here.”

“Calm down. Your computer’s packed and I’ll have you back in the city by tomorrow morning.”

You fume. “Satoru, why do you think you can just drag me around wherever you want me to go?”

“I don’t think that. I just think it would be unfair to our friends if we forced them to hang around the city any longer without an extra pair of clothes. I’m thinking ahead for everyone, ‘cause, you know, I try to be aware of how my actions impact others,” he quips with a straight face, refusing to spare you a glance once you’re staring directly at him and leaning over the console.

Your face darkens when those last few words leave his mouth. “Is this really how you’re choosing to react to this morning?”

“Like I told you before, (Y/n), not everything’s about you. I’m doing this for Shoko and Suguru. So just sit back and enjoy the ride.”

He turns the volume knob up on a random station, blasting music he doesn’t even listen to as he drives. You lean back into your seat feeling even more agitated than you had been earlier, crossing your arms.

“He didn’t tell you about this before?” Shoko asks you quietly, the blare of the radio overpowering her voice enough for the boys in the front not to hear. You throw your hands up and into your lap, preparing for a rant.

“No! Literally just this morning he was trying to make you guys stay here longer so we could walk around the city,” you fume, turning to complain to your friend. She shakes her head with an exasperated smile.

“Typical Satoru.”

“I just can’t with him sometimes, honestly,” you huff.

“What did he do this time?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re pissed, he’s pissed, you mentioned something that happened this morning,” she lists as though this is nothing new. “What did he do?”

“Am I really that obvious when I’m mad at him?”

“I mean, yeah, but Satoru even more so when he’s bothered,” she glances up at him. “He never gets upset with you, so it’s weird.”

“Now why the hell would he be upset with me? He’s the one constantly out of line,” you accuse quietly, turning to look at the streets passing you by. “Like- you can’t just take people wherever you want to go. It’s selfish.”

“Tell me what he did, girl,” Shoko repeats for a third time and you exhale.

“It was just this weird thing this morning. He wanted to meet my research partner and he made a whole scene.”

Shoko listens as she pulls out a lighter and a pack of almost finished cigarettes. “What kind of scene?”

“I don’t know how to explain it, he was just acting like a dick… like really… really…” you struggle to find the word.

“Territorial?”

You give Shoko a strange look, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Sort of.”

Ieiri shakes her head, flicking her match open to light the stick in her hand. “Figures.”

“I just wish for once he’d stop being so difficult.”

“I think you’re asking for the impossible,” Shoko cups her hands around the flame to block it from the wind. “Satoru will always be Satoru, and when you’re involved, he’s Satoru on Xanax.”

“Yeah, because he loves to piss me off.”

Shoko doesn’t respond, puffing smoke from her now lit cigarette as she ponders how you still can’t see what is so clearly standing right in front of you.

The car ride is silent for the most part, though not as long as you assumed it would be. After a few stops for gas and snacks, you finally make it to Long Island, the scent of sea breeze drifting through your nostrils and into the wild wind as you lean your head against the door, looking around you and observing the captivating scenery. 

You watch the large, expensive houses pass you by until you’re pulling into a secluded villa at the end of a row. You lift your head and look up in awe as Satoru pulls into the driveway. The home is obnoxiously large, trees shading the front porch and sun pouring richly through the overhead leaves. There’s two stories, but the house stretches so wide it looks as though it was built for a family of twelve. The exterior is mostly wood with tall window panes and a glass dome connecting two legs of the house sitting in the center, where the front door resides. Your jaw hangs open as everyone piles out of the car casually, as though a two hundred thousand dollar vacation home isn’t sitting right before their eyes.

Suguru grabs your light overnight bag and tosses it over to you, catching you by surprise once you step out the car and rush to clutch it to your chest. “Welcome to Satoru’s overcompensation,” Suguru smiles at you, and Satoru grumbles at him to shut up as he closes the door behind him.

Shoko skips around you, racing up to the front door. “I call dibs on the big shower!” she claims, disappearing into the house.

Geto sweatdrops, trudging in behind her. “All the showers here are big, Shoko.” 

The two leave you and Satoru alone as he rounds his car to grab your bag out of your arms wordlessly. His eyes, yet again, don’t meet yours. “I’ll show you to your room.”

You can feel your heart clench at his coldness, though frustration with him still bubbles, and you follow him into the house silently. Once you step through the glass doors, you see that the majority of the bottom level opens up to the back of the house, where a fresh cut lawn surrounds a crystal blue pool and lawn chairs. You stare baffled. The house is admittedly beautiful, but for Satoru to have splurged this much on a last minute trip is insane. 

He leads you upstairs and down a long hallway before nudging open a door to your right that you realize is your bedroom. Satoru lets you walk past him into the room first, and you examine the large space carefully, the window on the left, the small couch in front of the queen bed, the television, and the marble dressers. It’s a nice room, you admit to yourself.

Satoru walks in to put your bag down on your bed, then turns to walk out. “We’re going out at ten,” he says, moving to leave.

“Wait,” you stop him, and he stills. He turns around to face you, an almost pained yet bothered expression on his face. You don’t know what to say now that you have his attention. You only know that you’re confused, though still angry with him for earlier. You’re confused as to why you’re here with him, why he’s all of a sudden mad at you. You can see it written all over his face now that Shoko has brought it to your attention. “What was the point of taking me here?” you choose to ask him, a question simple enough, you think, to not rouse more tension.

But you’re wrong. 

“(Y/n),” he exhales. “I don’t know what to tell you if you can’t comprehend the fact that we just want to spend time with you.”

You swallow hard. He is mad. But why? You’re the one who’s supposed to be mad, not him. “Okay, but you’re not understanding where I’m coming from at all. Randomly making me do things without asking first sparks a few questions, don’t you think?”

“Okay then,” he nods. “What would you have said if I asked you?”

You hesitate. “I don’t know.”

“Be honest,” he demands sternly, and you look him in the eye when you answer.

“Probably… no, Satoru.”

“Exactly. So why ask if you’re just gonna turn me down again like you have been for weeks?” You feel your heart sink. You don’t like this feeling, though you know it’s partially your fault you’re in this situation.

“Didn’t we already talk about this last night?”

“I don’t think we’ve talked about it enough, but you don’t really wanna explain yourself, so I’m letting it go and making an executive decision for everyone.”

“Everyone?” you repeat.

He stares at you a moment, perturbed. “Yes,” he fibs, and you know he is. “If you have any more complaints about how I approach our relationship, take it up with the others,” he says, turning back around. “I won’t keep putting myself in a position where I have to defend myself caring about you.”

He’s gone within a second after that, swiftly leaving your room as if he was never there. You stand in the door, watching the entrance speechlessly. 

You don’t know why Satoru’s behavior toward you is completely throwing you off, for if you’re mad at him, it really shouldn’t matter if he’s mad at you, right? But you have never seen him look at you so tiredly, speak to you with such agitation in his eyes and his tone. With you, he’s normally always bright, playful, loud, and obnoxious but in an endearing way. This tone he’s taking with you now is void of all that glee, and if you’re being completely honest with yourself, it’s making you anxious and, dare you say, hurting your feelings.

You know you’re being unfair because you’re normally always the one upset with Satoru and not the other way around. You know that he’s a human being and has a right to whatever he feels, despite the fact that you were angry with him this morning, but that doesn’t make this feel any less strange, like the world is being thrown off kilter. Despite your initial frustrations with him, you’re beginning to miss his smile, miss the way he follows you, the way he pesters you, the very same things you always claimed drove you insane. 

Have you been taking advantage of him all this time, overlooking the life that he has always brought to your own? Are you the selfish one, though you have always accused Satoru of being self-centered? 

And those words he had said earlier… I won’t keep putting myself in a position where I have to defend myself caring about you.”

All this time, all the pranks and the harassing, the constant texts and the frequent company, had he been just caring about you instead of trying to make you angry? Instead of trying to get a rise out of you?

You don’t understand. You don’t understand anything anymore. 

You’re drowning in your thoughts, head submerging into an ocean of memories replaying constantly in your head. You somehow end up on the second floor balcony, peering straight ahead of you. The awareness of Satoru lounging on a beach chair and Shoko laying in the pool on a float below you remains in the back of your head, but you’re not fully paying attention. You can’t stop thinking about Satoru, about your friendship, about how you thought it would be best to push him away, about how he looked at you with aching eyes at the thought of you turning away from him again.

Had you messed up? 

You’re deep in a trance when Suguru stalks up behind you quietly. He saw your figure standing alone on the balcony as he walked by and decided to accompany you. When he comes into your line of sight to stand beside you, you jump, glancing at him then relaxing when you see the dark haired man smiling gently at you. “Hey,” he greets you casually. You notice that his hair is down and damp and his clothes are fresh, likely having just gotten out of the shower. 

You exhale slowly. “Hey,” you say, turning back to face forward. Suguru can immediately sense that your mind isn’t all there as he leans against the glass railing and observes your body language. He then glances down below him to find Satoru glaring ahead, eyes shaded by his glasses as he sucks harshly at the straw of his lemonade.

Suguru understands immediately.

“How’re you holding up?” the hazel eyed student asks. “You know, after being dragged here and all.”

“Feeling like I should be working.”

“Why aren’t you?”

You shrug, angling your brows. “I don’t know, I can’t focus,” you say. 

“Is it because of the house?” he looks around. “It can be a bit much.”

“Actually, no,” you tell him honestly. “I wish I could, but I don’t hate it here. It’s nice.”

“Uh oh. Satoru’s finally gotten to you,” Suguru chuckles and you look over at him, slightly panicked.

“What makes you say that?”

Geto’s eyes meet yours and he lifts a brow. “The house. He’s got you liking his expensive taste.”

“Oh,” you mutter in relief. “I guess. A nice place is a nice place.”

He hums, looking forward into the direction you had been staring off in. The two of you stand beside each other silently for a moment, watching the sun ease its way behind the trees, when Suguru speaks up once more. “(Y/n)?”

“Hm?”

“I have a question for you.”

You turn and grimace. “Anytime you say that, I get scared.”

Suguru laughs, a refreshing, genuine sound. “How come?”

“You always ask the most intimidating things.”

“Do I?” he tugs his lips in an amused smile. “I guess you won’t like what I have to ask you then.”

“Just get it over with already,” you groan.

“Alright…” he pauses, scanning his eyes over your face as he tries to find the best way to approach. “Why’d you stop talking to Satoru?”

You knew it was coming. How could you not, when you and Satoru are behaving so strangely? You sigh loudly again, hanging your head low. “I knew it.”

“It’s really not that crazy of a question,” he says smugly and you push at his shoulder. 

“Please, you know what you’re doing,” you roll your eyes and he chuckles.

“Do I? I’m only asking.”

“Whatever,” you huff, rubbing your temple in exasperation.

“Well?”

You’re mute for a moment, trying to determine what you want to say or how to respond. Suguru has always been very good at detecting when people are lying to him or not, and you know that if you lie to him, you will only be making the situation more painful for yourself. And by the way the dark haired man is looking at you now, you have a feeling he already knows the answer.

“...Why do you think I stopped talking to him?”

“I know what I think, (Y/n), but if I’m wrong, then I’m wrong.”

You look at him, your eyes telling a story that Suguru has read far too many times over. He hums in understanding, looking back down at Satoru. 

“Doesn’t seem like I am though,” he says and you slump, burying your face in your hands.

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I don’t know, I don’t know. I just-” you stop, unsure of where your mind is directing the words that are coming out of your mouth. “I just thought that… it would be best if I took some time away.”

“Best for who?”

“For me?” you answer though you aren’t sure. “I don’t know!” you exclaim again. “It was hard enough just having him around and letting him make a fool out of me.”

“Huh?” Suguru makes a baffled face. “Making a fool out of you? How?”

“Look at him,” you hiss. “Look at this place, look at the money he spends, the attention he gets, the life he lives! I’m nothing compared to that and he knows it.”

“Your difference in societal standings is hardly something that Satoru would ever care about.”

“Maybe not, but it’s a blaring difference between our lives and how we approach things,” you explain. “I had to fight to get here. He just snaps his fingers and it’s done, and because of that, he behaves like he can do anything he wants. In some ways he can, but he shouldn’t be able to when it comes to his friends. Not when it comes to me,” you emphasize. “You see what he does, you’re his best friend. He makes things happen the way he wants and pulls everyone along with him, not caring about whether you want to go with him or not.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

His eyes grow intense as he studies you. “Do you want to go with him?”

“I-” you part your lips because you think you can answer easily, but you surprise yourself when you don’t. You frown, suddenly feeling rather pathetic. “Who wouldn’t want to go with Satoru Gojo wherever he takes you? It’s better than him leaving you behind.”

“But, (Y/n),” Suguru begins adamantly. “Satoru has never once left any of us behind. That’s why we’re here. He could’ve hauled his own ass to America, but instead he forced us along with him. And while it can be irritating, it’s kinda nice to know that he wants to share his privilege with the people he cares about.

“Satoru may be a lot of things. He’s impulsive, he’s clingy, he’s dramatic, but he’s not uncaring. You can’t categorize him as that just because he’s different,” Geto says wisely, and another wave of shame washes over you when you realize that he’s right. It’s just easier for you to call Satoru inconsiderate when he can’t see how helplessly in love you are with him. “And I’m sorry if this is blunt, but if we’re talking about leaving people behind… you kinda did that to him.”

“Because I thought it was the right thing to do,” you urged. “I thought that if I stepped away, I wouldn’t have to face my…”

“Your feelings,” Geto concludes, and you flush as your lips and brows curl in discomfort.

“I couldn’t stand it,” you whisper. “I still can’t stand it… watching him, watching the way girls glue themselves to him, watching the way he just tosses them aside without caring… I’m horrified that he’d only do the same to me if he knew, and I can’t stand it.”

“You wanna know why Satoru doesn’t pay any of those girls any mind and leads them on?”

“No,” you tighten your lips.

“Come on, it’s the same reason why he snatched the chance to show his face to your research partner earlier with so much to say. It’s the reason why he can’t help but try to follow you wherever you go, and when he can’t, he finds a way.”

You stare at Geto with hard eyes, eager yet perplexed. “I still don’t get it.”

“You’re hopeless. Both of you are,” Suguru sighs. “Either way, whatever’s going on between you two needs to get fixed. Immediately.”

“But, Suguru, I don’t know how to just be friends with him anymore without getting mad or- or letting these feelings get in the way,” you say desperately. “I don’t know how to be around him anymore.”

“Let me pose it this way. Do you want to be around him?”

“Do you seriously expect me to answer that?”

“Yes.”

You close your eyes, heart pounding hardly in your ears. “Of course I want to be around him…” you admit under your breath in embarrassment. “That was never the problem. It was that it hurt to be around him without him knowing about how I feel.”

“Then tell him.”

“Oh, you’re out of your fucking mind.”

“I’m being serious, (Y/n),” Suguru groans. “You need to tell him.”

“I can’t do that, Suguru, it would ruin everything.”

“That’s what you’re afraid will happen. You don’t know what will actually happen.”

“I know enough,” you cut him off. “I know enough about Satoru to know that if I tell him everything, he’ll use it against me or take it as a joke. I’ve seen it. So many girls confess to him, he’s become numb to it by now.”

“Those are other girls. Not you.”

“What makes me any different?”

“More than you know. Trust me,” he says sternly. “So just tell him. Right now, I'm pretty sure he thinks you hate him. Especially after everything with you coming here after ghosting him, and I’m sure your fight this morning didn’t help.”

“Hold on, how did you even know about that?”

“Satoru’s got a big mouth.” Though you know Gojo didn’t tell Shoko, you don’t know why you’re surprised that he blabbered to his best friend about this morning’s incident. “And a big heart too.”

“...Suguru, I’m scared. If I confessed to Satoru and he…” you trail off, images of Satoru laughing at you, telling you that he’s known all along, that he’s been taking pity on you floods your mind and you're consumed with fear. Fear of his rejection, fear of his indifference, fear of his mocking. You love him too much to endure that if that’s too happen. “I couldn’t handle it.”

“You’ve got it really bad, don’t you?” Suguru observes and you grit your teeth together in reaction to his blunt address of your love, something you don’t want to acknowledge as overpowering enough to be the way Suguru defines bad. “I pray for you.”

“Gee thanks.”

He laughs softly, leaning his head on his palm. “You’ve gotta stop letting fear drive your actions,” he looks at you gently. “Fear didn’t get you to college without the help of your parents, and it didn’t get you here to America. What could fear possibly get you now with Satoru?”

You know that Geto is right, as he always is. You can tell he only has your best interest at heart, his words carrying both friendly endearment and foresight. You always admired that about him, the way he carries such understanding and knowledge in his advice. “I’ll think about it,” you tell him, and that is all he wants to hear.

“Good. Because I’m getting kind of tired of suffering on behalf of you two,” he jokes. “I thought I was losing a friend because you can’t process your emotions.”

You gape at Suguru’s innocent smile. “Can you leave me and my coping mechanisms alone?” 

“I don’t think I will,” he decides matter-of-factly. “I’m sure you’ve heard enough of this, but we really have missed you. The past month hasn’t been the same without you around.”

“Are you getting all sappy with me, Suguru?” you tease, and he shrugs. 

“Just being honest.”

“When are you not?” you say. “I really didn’t mean to put a wall up in front of you guys. I got kinda swept up in everything I was feeling, I didn’t even notice I was being so isolated until I was already too deep in.”

Suguru leans over to place his hand atop your head consolingly. “It’s okay, (Y/n). Shoko and I understand.”

“I know, but I won’t do that to you guys again. I’ll try to get a handle on things before they can get any worse.”

He smiles down at you again kindly. “We’re here for support when you do.”

Below, Satoru is painfully aware of the two of you talking, standing close beside each other and smiling. The blue eyed man broods, for you treat Suguru with the kindness that you should have been treating him with. He tries to concentrate on something else, anything else, but the lull murmur of your voice and Suguru’s drifts into the air and into his thoughts, taunting him.

[swearimnevergivingup]

DUMB LOVE, I LOVE BEING STUPID - suguru x reader

synopsis: it's hard being casual with geto suguru. he feels the same way, you just don't know it yet.

content: suguru geto/reader, blowjobs, explicit smut, friends with benefits, mild(?) angst, unrequited feelings but not really ya know (1.3k words)

a/n: just two emotionally constipated fools... just TALK to each other guys i promise it won’t kill… obviously inspired by chappell roan's song. i kinda wanna make this a series and i have a part 2 drafted already but let's see how things go! this is my first time being on tumblr in like 8 years so i'm new to everything BUT i hope you, dear reader, will enjoy!! please let me know your thoughts hehe <3

something must be deeply wrong with him, he thinks, from the sheer pleasure he derives from watching a pretty thing like you get ruined by his cock. 

you’re down on your knees for him, big doe eyes staring back at him, always so eager to please. your eyes are wet with tears that are threatening to fall, mascara smudged ever so slightly. still, he watches as you take more of him into your mouth, struggling all the while, until you’ve got his full length down your throat. 

“good girl, you’re doing so good baby,” he groans. he’s got your soft hair gathered in his fist like a makeshift ponytail, guiding your head down to take him deeper. you whine a little, but eventually relax your throat to allow him to use it as he pleases. he fucks your throat like that, so warm, so tight, listening as you gag helplessly around him.

looking down at you, suguru feels like he’s tainting something pure, something gold and untouched - though with all that you’ve done together he knows that’s hardly true at all. someone like you, looking at someone like him, of all people, like he put the very stars in the sky - he thinks he doesn’t deserve it, but he takes anyway.

from his position above you, he can see the arch of your lower back and the curve of your hips as you kneel on the floor. the room is quiet, save for his stifled moans and the lewd noises coming from your mouth as you please him. it sounds sloppy and downright nasty, and it’s music to his ears. 

you pull him out after he involuntarily gives a particularly deep thrust, gasping and blinking hard. your voice is hoarse when you look up at him again, stroking and kissing the sides of cock as you pant, “does that feel good for you?”

it's a rhetorical question, really. he smiles at you, petting your hair and bending down to give you a tender kiss on your swollen lips. when his lips meet yours, you moan, leaning in for more. so fucking cute. you smell as good as you always do and taste faintly like the strawberry cocktail you had in the bar earlier. he tells you it felt good, and to keep going, so you do - obedient as always - eagerly taking him deeper in your mouth as your hands grasp at his thighs.

he knows you’re a whore for praise, that you like it when he calls you love, or baby, when he whispers to you how good you look when you’re taking his cock in your mouth. he tells you exactly that, feeling the pleasurable vibrations all around his length when you moan in response to his words.

you’re struggling less than you were a few minutes ago - but he’s big and he knows your jaw must surely ache from trying to accommodate his size. he lets you control the pace for now, giving you time to recover from before. 

you swirl your tongue across his tip, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks, concentrating your efforts on his tip. his eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. your mouth feels so good, and suguru almost wonders if it’s him who should be down on his knees instead, worshipping you. 

he opens his eyes to find one of your hands in between your parted thighs, desperate to relieve some pressure, even though he just made you cum twice in a row. he should punish you for it, but god you look so hot, and he can’t exactly fault you for that. the sight of it pushes him off the edge, pleasure surging through him as he releases into your mouth. 

like a good girl, you swallow all of it. you even open your mouth and stick your tongue out to let him see, giggling as you tell him, all gone.

you might just be the death of him.

he knows you aren’t his, no, you could never be. even though you sit back and look at him with flushed cheeks and a coy smile, with something akin to adoration in your glistening eyes, he knows he could never have you. he tells himself it’ll be the last time, every single fucking time, but as much as he hates himself for it, he just can’t seem to break things off.

he’s in too deep, and he knows it full well. 

you have that kind of effect on him, making him feel things he’s never felt before. he’s found himself wishing you would stay longer, hating when you leave, but never making a move to stop you from scurrying off after your rendezvous together. he’s found himself wondering who you’ve been going on dates with for the past month, if it’s the same guy, or perhaps different guys, and if they please you better than he can. he wonders how you’re coping at your new job, if your colleagues are nice to you, and if you’re still struggling with your sleep. 

for the record, he’s self aware enough to know that it isn’t just about the sex, even though it may have started out that way. but somewhere along the way, just sex morphed into other things too, like missing you, wanting to talk to you, to laugh with you, to hold you, like he is right now as you curl up into him. it wasn’t just about the sex, even if you never stick around in his bed long enough for him to properly enjoy it anyway.

you’re probably the one thing he can’t have.

what suguru doesn’t know is that every time you gather your clothes to leave, your fingers linger for a little while longer on the door knob as you bite your lip in silent hope that he'll ask you to stay. he has no idea that you never let any other guy touch you, and that those dates are merely futile attempts at finding someone that could come close to him. your new job is going great, but you’re anxious and trying not to screw up, and you wish that maybe he could take you out for a lunch date sometimes so you get to see his face outside of the bedroom. what he doesn’t know is that all he has to do is ask, and you would be his in a heartbeat. 

you’re scared, scared of the inevitable heartbreak when he realises you’ve caught feelings and eventually cuts you off. you and him both, dancing a familiar dance, playing the same game of push and pull. it exhausts you, being around him, pretending, but you think it hurts you more to keep him away.

you know playing this dangerous game isn’t good for you, you feel the way it eats away at you when you lie awake at night wondering if the both of you could ever be something more, if he’s spending the night with someone else, or if he might be thinking of you too, and you curse yourself for allowing things to get this far. you hate to admit it, but you feel yourself wearing thinner and thinner, like a rubber band pulled taut and waiting to snap. 

you know you should end things, (try to) move on, date a nice boy who isn’t allergic to commitment, and stop having to nurse your aching heart, but you’ve never been able to say no to suguru.

no feelings attached, just sex, that’s what we both want, right?  

yeah. 

good.

he’s still idly tracing shapes on your back when you gingerly pull away from him and rise from the bed, eyes scanning across his room for your discarded clothes. you wonder if he’ll finally say something, ask you to stay, ask you to cuddle a little longer, but you know suguru, and he never does.

[sungbeam]

nonidol!kim younghoon x f!reader

neither you nor younghoon were party people, but you did find love in the convenience store down the block.

▷ genre, warnings. friends 2 lovers, mutual pining, college au, swearing, fluff, humor, comfort, reader has crowd anxiety, reader has a lot of siblings lol, mentions of math/physics/chemistry/etc sorry it was necessary for the character, kissing, puns and pick-up lines, mentions of academic stress, lots of carbs haha, drinking, guys younghoon was my first bias and im remembering why

▷ total wc. 29.3k (TUMBLR MADE ME CUT OUT SO MUCH I FKN HATE THIS HELLSITE)

this is the seventh installment of the love in unity series! this should be fine as a standalone, but there are multiple references to party people & i highly encourage u to read it!; all other yns will be referred to as _!yn. (ayc occurs DURING party people)

a/n: in an alternate world, i would still be obsessed w kim younghoon, isn't that crazy. anyways, enjoy + reblog!

EPISODE ONE (PILOT): OF ALL THE COSMIC COINCIDENCES

KIM Jungwoo's message materialized on your lock screen in a bombardment of photons: Hey, you sure you don't wanna come with us tonight? Feel free to still join :')

You slung the strap of your bag over your head and shoulders before shooting him a reply. No thanks Woo :') Appreciate it though! Have fun tonight <3.

Some of the people in the social circle you orbited were heading to the bay tonight for a bonfire rager to celebrate (read: mourning) the beginning of the new university term. Though you hadn’t seen many of the people attending tonight in a couple months, you were never much for big crowds. Plus, the start of the school year brought a whole dumpster fire of things to worry about, so taking a quiet evening with yourself would be well worth it to keep your head on straight.

With the message sent, you hauled your apartment door open and headed out into the late evening. There was a convenient store at the end of the street a couple blocks over that you had been frequenting since freshman year, and you could taste the sweet brioche buns as the store’s fluorescent lights entered your view. It was a small corner store that reminded you much of a traditional 7/11, except there was a corner inside the store where patrons could eat and chill, and the food, arguably, tasted better than alright.

(The seating area inside this place had definitely seen many of your midterm and finals grind nights. And tears. There were lots of tear stains on those tables.)

Your roommate and good friend Miyawaki Sakura often accompanied you here whenever you came to do some studying, shopping, or recreational snacking. Tonight, she was holed up in her room video chatting with some of her cousins in Japan, but most other nights she would be online playing some kind of first person shooter game.

The walk to the nearby convenience store was a short, yet familiar one. You played a song at a faded volume in your earbuds, your hands tucked into the safety of your pockets. It was a warm night out, as late summer clung onto the coattails of early autumn, leaving a strange mixture of green, red, and yellow in the trees. The streets weren’t barren—plenty of people were out and about on a Saturday night—and still, you tilted your head up to the sky to appreciate the beauty of the obsidian sky.

When you reached the end of the block, you entered into the comfortable embrace of the convenience store. It was quiet, as expected, with only the muffled sound of jazz acoustics from the overhead speakers as white noise. The latter combined with the noise from your own device made it all the easier for you to be unaware of the other people here with you.

Your mouth was already watering from the mental image of brioche, and you made a sharp swerve into the familiar bread aisle when you realized—oh, you weren’t alone.

Standing exactly where you knew the brioche buns were stationed was a tall, lanky man with a pair of earbuds hanging from his own ears, one hand examining one of the bread packages while the other was tucked away in his pocket. His dark colored bangs were shaggy and hung in his eyes, but you could’ve recognized that side profile from a mile away. You’d spent nearly half a quarter staring at it, after all—the other half was looking at his front profile and forehead, but those were just as identifiable.

For a moment you stood at the mouth of the aisle weighing your options. Did you say hello, or did you walk away and pretend you didn’t see him?

He decided for you.

Kim Younghoon glanced up from the bread after feeling your eyes on him for a considerable beat of time. He blinked once before you saw the sharp surprise in his expression melt away into soft fondness. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he chuckled, tugging his earbuds out with a charming smile. “Long time no see, Yn.”

You mirrored his actions and slipped the wires into your pocket. “Long time no see,” you agreed, returning his pleasant expression.

You met Younghoon just last year when he stumbled into the math tutoring center with his head held high and a notebook full of question marks. While your friends on shift at that time (Chanhee coaching someone through their linear algebra worksheet; Jungwoo yanking his hair follicles out with a group of freshmen over trigonometry) were busy, it was you who ultimately became Younghoon’s go-to calculus tutor. For the quarter that he took calculus, you helped the drama major through it.

Of course, finding a drama major in a calculus class was a rare occasion, but you both blamed the university’s awful general education requirement. Either way, you’d both found a friend and good company in one another. It didn’t help that he was terribly charismatic, and often filled the spaces in between long text messages about how to calculate the cross-section area of a vase with “good morning”s, “good luck on your midterm!”s, and corny STEM-themed one-liners.

Younghoon was the kind of guy people took home to meet their parents. Not… not that you ever thought about him like that. It was just what you overheard from this group of girls in the tutoring center once—

“I guess we both had the same idea tonight then,” he chuckled as you came to stand beside him to scour the shelf for your victim tonight.

You hummed. “I guess so,” you said. “I usually don’t see you in this area of the district though.” Because you definitely would have seen him. You lived around here, after all.

“Oh,” he grabbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “it’s a funny story actually. I dropped my friends off at a party and I went to the store near them and they had no good selection of bread.” He made a helpless gesture. “So I couldn’t just accept defeat, and now I’ve ended up here.”

You plucked a package of soft brioche from the shelf, then passed him an amused look. There was something unfair about how the harsh LED lights fell so lightly over his facial features. “I guess some form of cosmic coincidence brought us bread-lovers here.”

Younghoon knocked his bread package against yours like he was cheering a glass of champagne. “And might I say what excellent taste you have.”

That drew a laugh from you. “Ditto.”

He pursed his lips then, considering you. “So what social event are you dodging tonight, Miss Mastermind?” Younghoon’s eyebrows arched upwards at you, and you suddenly took on the sheepishness he had before. Though, you definitely noted that familiar nickname that followed his question. You wondered if that was still the name your contact was saved under in his phone. (If he even still had your contact information saved.)

You raised the palm of your hand up to hide half of your face from comical shame. “Now why would you just assume that I’m here because I’m avoiding a social call?”

“Yah,” he chided jokingly, “because I know you.” His eyes turned up to the ceiling for a moment before he added, “And you’re friends with Kim Jungwoo.”

“Okay, that’s fair.”

He laughed. “Gotcha.”

“And you say I'm the mastermind?” You quipped back at him, all light-hearted. When he first dubbed you with the nickname, you hadn't known what to do about it. He claimed it was because you somehow made learning calculus fun for him—some “sorcery,” as he accused back then.

“You are!” He exclaimed with excited, wide eyes. “You've hexed me with a love for math puns and acute angles,” he groaned melodramatically, clutching his chest like his heart was about to burst for added effect.

You clicked your tongue, unable to hide your amusement. “Acute angles is a new one.”

“'Cause they remind me of a-cute-ies like you,” he said with his hand shaped into a finger gun, tongue between his teeth.

Your hand went over your face again. “I forgot that you did that.”

“You missed it!”

The smile on your face couldn't even be fully covered with your hand. Maybe you did miss it—or maybe it was just him. When the quarter had wrapped up last year and Younghoon was no longer taking calculus, neither of you had any “excuse” to be around each other anymore. Though you still had his number, you always chickened out of texting him to see how he was doing or if he wanted to hang out.

In your mind, Younghoon was always too cool for you. You didn't feel like you fit into his world.

Younghoon took your hand and drew it away from your face, a slow smile filling his lips. “There she is. You missed me.”

“If you stop asking, I will pay for your bread.”

“As if I'm going to let you do that,” he shook his head. “I'll take that as a yes.”

You both began making your way over to the counter to purchase your individual pastries. You always knew Younghoon liked bread, and you shouldn't be so surprised that he drove halfway down the district just to find a specific brioche bun. It was funny and strange how the universe worked. At times you wondered if the probability of fate could be calculated—

“So it's just you tonight?” You asked him as the two of you lingered just outside the convenience store with your freshly purchased breads in hand. You had both immediately torn into your brioche as soon as you cleared the threshold, and the fluffy pastry filled your mouth and stomach with utter joy. It was buttery and sweet and soft… perfection.

Younghoon shoved the piece in his mouth into his cheek. “For the most part, yeah,” he replied, his shoulder lifting in a half shrug. “You?”

“Yeah, Kkura's at home, but she's on call with someone. Jungwoo did invite me out to that big bonfire at the bay tonight, but…” You shook your head.

His head tilted slightly. “Oh yeah I heard about that.” For a second, he didn't say anything, and then he murmured, “Crowd anxiety.”

You hummed, eyes shooting over to his. “Hm?”

“Crowd anxiety, right?” He asked with more confidence. “I—you can correct me if I'm wrong—but I just remember you mentioning something about crowd anxiety last year.”

Your chewing slowed for a moment, and a small smile curled onto your lips. “No, you got it right.” He remembered. Of course, he remembered. A warm feeling made itself comfortable in your chest.

Younghoon seemed to brighten. “Good, I'm glad I remembered correctly,” he said while leaning his shoulder against the wall of the convenience store. “I have a question.”

“Shoot.”

“Did you ever happen to watch that performance of 12 Angry Jurors I recommended?”

Uh oh. You could physically feel your neurons spark at the familiar title. It was the equivalent to a bell—no, alarm—rattling around inside your noggin.

Younghoon threw his head back in a laugh at how your face rearranged into an expression of pure mortification. "You look like I just caught you with a hand in the canary cage—oh my god, you should see your face!"

You were helpless at this point, and no words were coming to your tongue to rescue you. Screw all the differential calculus—where was language ability when you needed it? “I can explain myself,” was all you came up with.

He crossed his arms over his chest, fixing you with a pointed look, albeit still amused. "I'd love to hear this."

“You know that some things just slip my mind—”

“Yes, and that's why I watched you put it into your calendar.”

“And you know that the school has a bad habit of scheduling big events on the same night—”

He cocked a brow at you, leaning forward slightly. “I don't like where this is going, you workaholic.”

You gestured at him with the piece of bread in between your fingers, and he had to cover his mouth to keep from snorting. “I am not a workaholic,” you said firmly.

“Sure you aren't,” he replied back in a tone that indicated he thought the exact opposite.

“Anyways, they put the research symposium on the same night as the last showing—”

“Ah-ha!” He cried with a triumphant finger pointed at the sky. You were convinced that any second now, he was going to start twiddling an immaculately curled mustache. “So you did procrastinate!”

You pressed your lips together as you crumpled your empty packaging, then raised a finger up to scratch your head sheepishly. “Maybe I did.”

Younghoon drew out an exhale. “Aye, I knew it. You know, I think you're just about married to your work, Yn-ah.” His mouth quirked to the side and he scratched the underside of his jaw. “But I guess that's not a bad thing.”

You gave a small wince. “You're not mad I missed the play?”

“Mad? No, of course not. It wasn't my play,” he joked. “I know you have priorities, and me being mad would just be silly.”

“But you are disappointed,” you countered pointedly.

“Disappointed for you,” he countered. “That was a pretty good performance of 12 Angry Jurors. Though… there is one part that I would have chosen to represent differently, but…” He shrugged, letting the thought float out into the ether.

“What is it?” You prompted.

His lip curled upward and he let out a little chuckle. “I'm not telling you; it'll spoil the ending!”

You were unconvinced. “I'm never gonna see the play, Hoon.”

“Not with that attitude,” he shot back.

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled out of you from his sass that came out of left field for you. The sound of your joy made his smile widen and his eyes narrow into pretty, upturned crescent moons. The warmth all around you wasn't just from the evening's temperature. You'd forgotten just how easy it was to talk to Younghoon, and you decided that yes, you definitely missed him. But with all good things, it was written with a curtain call.

Younghoon seemed reluctant to push off of the wall and away from you. “Well, I shouldn't keep you any longer,” he said. There was a down turned angle to the corners of his smile now. “I do need to go re-find parking for when I have to go hunt my drunk friends down.”

Your laugh was small. “Good luck with that. And… don't worry about keeping me anywhere too long.”

“Thanks, and I'll keep that in mind.” His tongue stuck out between his teeth for a second, his head ducking down to shake his hair out of his eyes. “Hey, you still have my phone number, right?”

“I do.”

Whether harsh or dim lighting, it highlighted his features beautifully regardless. His eyes twinkled. “Now I know you won't ignore me if I send you another calc pun.”

“I'll look forward to it,” you promised.

The two of you were beginning to step toward your opposite directions, but failed to make your legs move any further. “Get home safe, Yn,” he murmured in goodbye. The possibility of him never reaching out crossed your mind. It wasn't like you didn't have faith that he would; rather, it was your own thoughts creeping into your head that you two came from different worlds. Despite the friendliness between you, that was the whole reason you shied away from ever reaching out. It was nothing personal against him.

EPISODE TWO: PASS GO & COLLECT TWO HUNDRED

GRAVITY reminded you of its existence when a bundle of fabric hit you square in the head. (Then again, you were always reminded of gravity’s existence when you thought about it…) “Yah—hey!” You clawed the article of fabric off your head and whirled around in your desk chair with a scowl. “Kkura!”

Sakura blinked innocently from where she stood at your closet, hand on her hip. “Put it on.”

You made a face as you straightened out the garment in your hands, the frown deepening when you realized which top it was. Or rather, which dress it was. “I haven’t seen this since I unpacked my clothes from boxes two years ago,” you whistled lowly. It was a black satin piece, something you brought along with you from home in case you ever decided to go to an event that called for a cocktail dress. Most of the formal events you attended though usually allowed you to get away with dress pants and a blouse. This poor piece of fabric had been relegated to the back of your closet since.

Your friend resumed sorting through your clothes for any alternatives or more of that kind. “I didn’t even know you owned something like that. I thought all your bottoms clung to your ankles unless they were shorts.”

“I have variety,” you sniffed and draped the dress over the back of your chair. “And what's wrong with bottoms going to my ankles? I like when they get to be warm.”

“That's what socks and shoes are for.”

“Says the girl who wears jeans that pretty much cover her shoes.”

Sakura shot you a look that reminded you of when your mother was exasperated, but she didn't want to admit that you were right. “Okay, so maybe we both have problems. But that's besides the point!” She walked away from your closet to sit herself on the edge of your bed, her hand dragging the arm of your desk chair to roll you over away from your desk. “We're going to a party tonight!”

She beamed, waving her hands around. When you only gave her a blank stare, she cleared her throat. “Ahem, I said, we're going to a party tonight! Woo!”

You pursed your lips. “Not very woo, to be honest.”

“You're not very woo,” she quipped in a deadpan.

“No, no, no!” You cut in, waving your finger back and forth. “Don't pretend like you wouldn't rather stay home than party either. And besides, you know that I don't do crowds.” You gazed off into space as if recalling the Great War with glazed-over eyes, already smelling the sweat and booze, and feeling the suffocating pressure in your chest as people squished up against you, and as you lost sight of your friend or anyone you knew for that matter, in the sea of—

“I know,” Sakura pushed out an exhale, and your eyes shuddered as you came out of that headspace. “But I think it'll be good for us. I mean, you need to get your eyes away from that grant application for one second, and I—”

“Need to stop playing League?” You suggested cheekily.

Your friend's scowl coaxed a high pitched wheezing sound out of you. She pursed her lips. “I was going to offer to hold your hand while we were in the house, but I guess not—”

“Okay, now let's not get ahead of ourselves!” You countered. The glint in Sakura's eyes when you interrupted her told you all you needed to know. Damn her cleverness; she'd got you once again.

Maybe she was the real mastermind.

Two hours later—the both of you dolled up and willpower strong (ish)—you clung to Sakura's hand as you and she slipped into the lively host house for tonight's festivities. Sweat already dampened the lines in your palm, and you moved your grip on your friend to hold onto her arm instead. You hadn't been to a house party or a frat party in a while, the last one being a birthday party for one of your friends from differential calculus turning twenty-one.

This instance was different. For one, there were far too many people packed together per square inch. And second, who thought turning down the lights was a good idea? You were already half blind as it was…

“I think we should get a drink!” Sakura shouted as she sent you an encouraging smile.

Your eyes widened as you narrowly missed getting someone's shoulder shoved into your face. “Yes, a drink sounds great!”

It was a war zone as the two of you maneuvered yourselves through the crowded living room space. The only reason people seemed to converge in that room in particular was because it had been turned into a makeshift dance floor. There were also people seated on the stairs, leaning over the upstairs landing, and meandering around in the halls.

You could feel your head begin to fog up as you unconsciously shifted closer to Sakura's side. Your friend curled her arm around your shoulders, deftly guiding you through the fray to the light at the end of the tunnel—the kitchen. There was a distinct lightening of your chest as you stepped foot into the less crowded space. The kitchen was still only dimly lit with the most minimal of light switches flipped on, but it was still enough where you could at least see your hand in front of your face and the light layer of sweat on Sakura’s brow. You made a swift scan of the area and spotted three people over by the kitchen counter, one of whom was slumped over the countertop, dozing off.

Oh, to be him right now.

“Oh, hello,” greeted one of the trio. He was stationed behind the counter like a bartender, his purple bangs brushed out of his face. The girl with him lifted her hand in a friendly wave.

“Hi, we’re not—uh, interrupting or anything?” Sakura said as your hold on her arm loosened considerably now that you were in an area that was much less crowded.

The two of them shook their heads with too much enthusiasm. “No, no! Definitely not.”

You and Sakura exchanged glances of incredulity, but didn’t push the topic any further. With pleasantries aside, the two of you excused yourselves to peruse the display of alcoholic beverages on the island space. You knew Sakura could hold her alcohol a decent amount, and so could you, so you both looked around for bottles of flavored soju to hold you over for the evening.

You dug around in one of the coolers and withdrew twin bottles of strawberry-flavored ones. “Kkura!”

Her blue-colored head perked up and she brightened as you waved your treasures around in the air. “Ooh, yay! You know, I think we should restock our stash of melon soju at home,” she mused and came over to where you were.

With your drinks secured, you each took the first sip like a shot, then linked arms to face the crowd again.

Drinking either made your anxiety rocket or relax—it depended on the beverage and the kind of day you’d had, but as you nursed your bottle for moments longer, the heaviness in your chest began to gradually recede.

The crowd anxiety you harbored was a byproduct of being the middle child of five siblings. You loved your family to bits, but sometimes home life was overwhelming. It wasn't that you got nervous around people, but more so in large bodies of people. The first year or so of your university life spent in large undergraduate lectures were absolute hell; there was an appeal to the upper division classes besides specialized interests.

But your friends were all aware and took good care of you, which you were more than grateful for.

“Is it just me—” Sakura said to you loudly with blue and purple lights painting her features, “—or does this soju taste really good tonight?”

You smacked your lips together as you savored the sweet taste. “You're definitely right,” you said. “We might have to go back for more.”

“If we can remember how to get there,” she giggled.

“Wait, what's in here?” You steered the two of you into a doorway to your left.

From the looks of the massive table stretching from one end to the next, you had stumbled upon the dining room. The room was large enough for there to be a few different groups of people occupying sections, but the largest one took reign over the farthest end. Your eyes widened in delight when you recognized two people in particular. “Oh wow.”

“Yn?” Chanhee exclaimed in disbelief. He was partly hunched over what looked like a board game as his deft fingers counted out paper money. “You're here?”

Everyone—well, almost everyone—turned their heads to see who Chanhee was talking about. Nonetheless, there were still quite the amount of eyes looking at you and you felt your palms begin to get sweaty around your bottle neck.

Younghoon gasped. “YN!” He grinned, lumbering over with his jelly-like limbs, tripping over people's legs and chairs. You could see the alcohol in his expression before you smelled it, but you couldn't just not hug him when he wrapped his arms around you in greeting. You hadn't seen him since last week at the convenience store but even then, the surprise had yet to escape you. What a cosmic coincidence.

“Hey, Hoon,” you chuckled in amusement, patting his back affectionately. You didn't know he would be so affectionate when drunk, but then again, this was the first time you were experiencing him like this.

“Big guy's a little drunk,” Sakura observed, then lifted her bottle to her lips. “Are you guys playing Monopoly?”

One of the guys, who looked the most of sound mind and state, nodded. “Yeah. D'you guys wanna play?”

Younghoon placed his hands on your shoulders with a goofy grin slipping onto his face as he pulled away. “You should play with us! Guys—” he announced to his friends, “—this is my bestest friend, Yn!”

“And her friend, Sakura,” you cut in, gesturing to Sakura with jazz hands.

“And we would love to play,” Sakura added.

You passed her a glance. There was mischief dancing in her eyes. You supposed at least you knew what you were getting into before jumping into any game with the Miyawaki Sakura. These poor chumps never stood a chance.

“Okay, but Chanhee's the iron,” remarked one of the other boys while you, Sakura, and Younghoon made your way over to where they all were gathered.

You snorted at Chanhee's less than pleased expression. “Why does he insist that you be the flat iron?” You nudged your friend. You met Chanhee and Jungwoo in a shared freshman differential calculus class where the three of you weathered the war together.

Chanhee sighed, his tongue poking his cheek. “Because apparently I have no ass.”

“BECAUSE YOU DON'T!”

“NEITHER DO YOU!”

With none of that settled, a good majority of the people present gathered around the Monopoly board on the table to play. You, Sakura, and Chanhee all clambered onto the dining table to sit while the others rounded the end of the table. It also gave you a little room to breathe while playing with such a large group.

“Ladies first,” declared one of the boys, who's name you learned was Sunwoo, his eyes at half mast and cheeks flushed like red grapefruit.

“If you insist,” Sakura sang and did a little dance as she swiped the dice up to roll.

You placed a hand over your eyes jokingly. “Look away!”

Haknyeon blinked with his eyes wide. “Why?”

“Because she's about to win faster than you can say pass go and collect two hundred.”

In retrospect, you saw this coming. Even if the universe could construct more possible futures than you had atoms on the tip of your pinky finger, you definitely could have seen this coming.

The aftermath immediately following Sakura's utter domination of the Monopoly board left all of her opponents in a sputtering mess. Your friend dusted her fingers off as if there were crumbs on them, a very satisfied Cheshire's cat grin crawling onto her lips. “You can fight it or just accept it,” she shrugged, taking the last swing of her soju.

Eric stared up at her from where he knelt in front of the table, gripping the edge with his palms. He was all wide-eyed and full of wonder. “Teach me your ways.”

“If you get me another soju,” she offered, gesturing with her empty bottle. She probably didn’t expect him to take her up on the offer, because her eyes widened a comical amount when the kid rocketed up to his feet and darted out of the room, faster than she could blink.

“Is he usually like that, so hyper?” You jested to Chanhee as you and he began reorganizing the paper money.

Your pink-haired friend laughed. “Kind of. Youngjae's cute.”

“And what am I, Channieeee?” Came an inebriated Changmin. He teetered over to where you and Chanhee were, then unceremoniously draped himself over the latter's back.

“Ahhhhhh,” Chanhee groaned, “Ji Changmin!”

“Answer my question!” His friend slurred. “I think Yn thinks I'm cute. D'you think I'm cute?” He asked, gazing up with you in a deep pout and puppy dog eyes.

“Don't answer that question, Yn. It's like making a deal with the Devil.”

Changmin scoffed, straightening to a surprisingly perfect posture. He slapped a hand to his chest in offense. “How could you! Chanhee-ssi! We're supposed to be friends!”

You chuckled, leaning out of that dumpster fire of a conversation, and finding yourself in the company of one very loopy bread enthusiast. Younghoon had slipped back from watching the game about three quarters of the way through and slumped into a chair with a can of beer and his phone. At some point, you had given up on Monopoly, too, and considered joining him. Now, you really did move over to join him.

His head perked up when you leaned over and poked his shoulder, a smile coming to his face. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you smiled back. “Tired?”

He gave a slow, drawn-out nod. “Mhm,” he hummed. He lifted the can of beer to his lips and finished it off, then dropped his phone into his lap so he could rest his face between his hands. “I'm kind of hungry.”

You laughed. “I bet. How much did you drink, Hoon?”

“Dunno,” he shrugged.

“Long week?”

“Veeeery long week,” he nodded. “Like…” He spread his arms to his full wingspan, “this much.”

A giggle bubbled out of your mouth at how adorable he was when he was drunk.

Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. “Oh my gosh, Yn! I never sent you the joke I found,” he frowned. “I found it and thought about sending it to you, but then…”

“You forgot?” You offered.

“I just didn't wanna bother you, to be honest.”

Oh. Something in you softened a great deal at the confession. You were always so sure that you would have been the bother, because it was difficult to imagine that someone who seemed so sure of himself like Younghoon might also feel the same. You mimicked his position with your hands holding up your face. “You're never a bother, Younghoon.”

“Even when I ask dumb questions about factoring?”

“There is no such thing as a dumb question.”

He pursed his lips into a line, unconvinced. “You're too nice. No wonder I liked doing math homework.”

You laughed again at the unexpected compliment, and Younghoon smiled to himself. “I'm glad you enjoyed doing your calc homework.”

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, then snapped it shut with wide, doe-like eyes. “I was going to say a joke, but I realized that I probably shouldn't say that one in particular.”

“Wow, you have a filter when you're drunk?” You teased.

“Hey!” He pretended to sulk. “I'm not that drunk!”

A beat passed, and then he said, “I am still hungry though.” Yeah, definitely drunk.

Within fifteen minutes, you convinced Sakura to accompany you and Younghoon to the convenience store a couple blocks from your apartment. The three of you together managed to snag Chanhee to drive you all, as well as Changmin as an accessory since he and Chanhee lived together. Younghoon had once again insisted on this place in particular because he thoroughly enjoyed the brioche bun from the other day and had been missing it since. You and he settled down at the seating area in the corner of the store with your freshly-purchased bread, while the others traipsed around in search of other sustenance.

Younghoon's cheeks were full of brioche as he muttered a muffled, “You know why I like—calculus jokes?” He swallowed his bite, his eyebrows braiding together as he stared at his now empty package.

You quietly plucked the empty bag out of his hands and replaced it with yours.

He melted at the action. “I do.”

You bursted into a fit of giggles and Younghoon followed straight after you. Your face filled with fire and his bloomed like a blood red rose. The alcohol was slowly settling in. You were a lot more refreshed now that you were outside of the crowd setting, and your chest felt much lighter. “You do?”

“I do,” he reaffirmed, tearing the last bit of bread apart for you both to share instead. “You know why I like—” he hiccupped with the bread half in his mouth. His face morphed into one of confusion, then utter disdain.

You stifled a laugh with your bite of carbs. “Why do you like calculus jokes, Younghoon?” You asked to help him out.

He swallowed his bite. “Because—trig jokes are too graphic and algebra ones are too for—” He hiccupped again, his eyes shooting up toward the ceiling in exasperation.

“Formulaic?” You offered.

Younghoon frowned. “You know this one?”

“I enjoy guessing.”

“Hm,” he grunted, unconvinced. “There is one outlier though.” When he hiccupped for the third time, you patiently waited for him to fill in the blank. “Statistics.”

A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I have to say, that was very subtle but very good.”

Younghoon beamed with pride. “I knew you would get i—” Another hiccup. He deadpanned. “I hate this.”

You stood up with a chuckle. “Let me get you some water.”

“Thanks,” he pouted. You felt his eyes on you the whole time you went over to the free water cooler over at the counter, and even as you brought him back the little paper cup of liquid.

As he drained the cup, you lingered next to where he sat rather than sitting back down. “Better?” You asked, then held your hand out to take the cup back if he wanted more.

He shook his head though, and he raised it up to his eyes while squinting one of them to aim it at the trash can behind your seat. “How do I get this exactly inside the trash?”

You blinked, eyeballing the distance between his seat and the trash can. The paper cup wasn't going to have a lot of weight while it was empty, but if he threw it with the opening facing him instead…

Younghoon made a noise that sounded a lot like a child's giggle. “Hehe, you're actually doing the math in your head.”

“You don't know that,” you muttered.

“Of course I know that.” He shucked the paper cup and it landed in the trash can with a clean swish sound. He threw his hands in the air. “Woo! Crowd goes wild.”

You laughed and slid back into your seat. “See, you didn't need math to get the cup into the trash can. Nice throw, Hoon.”

He grinned at you. “Thanks. You know how I knew you were doing the math in your head?”

“How?” You humored him amiably.

“Because you get this cute little wrinkle between your eyes, riiiight there—” He leaned forward and booped the place between your eyes, making you go cross-eyed for a split second. “—when you're processing info.”

“Processing info makes me sound like a computer,” you joked.

“Too bad you're not a keyboard,” he said with a sigh, “you'd be just my type.”

An unnaturally loud guffaw came out of your mouth and you slapped your hand over it. There was far too much mirth between the two of you right now. “You're telling me you're good at this drunk, too?” You shook your head, the laugh lingering on your tongue, “Y'know what? I shouldn't be surprised.”

If Younghoon could come up with pick-up lines to remember how to do calculus sober, then you should not have underestimated him drunk.

“Changmin, can you put the plunger down before we get kicked out?” Your head turned toward the sound of Chanhee's pure exhaustion as the three others rounded the corner. You imagined Chanhee dealt with drunk Changmin more than a few times to sound so exasperated. You didn't even want to know what Changmin was doing with the plunger.

Sakura, Chanhee, and Changmin bumbled over to where you and Younghoon sat, the supposed plunger nowhere to be seen. Chanhee brushed a lock of pink out of his eyes with a deep sigh. “Alright; shall we?”

EPISODE THREE: DO AS THE PHYSICISTS DO

THE hungrier Younghoon woke up, the more he likely had to drink the night prior. His stomach growled something horrific and he groaned, rolling his body over to squish his face into his pillow. There were no trains of thought running through his mind at the moment; there was only blissful quiet. And hunger. Goddamn it, he was hungry.

With a huff, he dragged himself upright as if he were rising from the dead. He gave his head a rough shake, eyes bleary as he blinked once… then twice… Oh, yuck. Sticky eyelashes.

There was something white on his desk that caught his eye. There was a yellow sticky note marked with Chanhee's chicken scratch beside it: Yn sent you home with this bottle of painkillers. In case you don't remember, lol.

Dear god, it was coming back to him now.

Younghoon lowered himself down onto the edge of his bed and dragged a hand down his face. Had he been weird? Did you think he was weird now?

His phone was buried somewhere beneath his mess of sheets, and he pulled up your contact that he still had saved from last year. The last message sent was from a brief conversation you both had after his calculus final about what you were both doing when you went home for the winter break. He could feel the warmth creeping up to his cheeks from his neck as he typed out the first message to you since: heyy… about last night…

It was a bit of a surprise when he saw your reply come in nearly straight away.

miss mastermind: LOL good morning, did u sleep okay? younghoon's phone: decently ig 😅 thanks for the painkillers btw i will def take a couple of those miss mastermind: yeah no worries younghoon's phone: how bad was i last night, yn 😭 u can tell me miss mastermind: 😭 u weren't that bad… okay maybe u started singing the calculus parody of bohemian rhapsody on the way to my apartment…

Younghoon snickered into his palm as he stared at the messages on the screen. That memory was definitely rolling back into his head now. It was that, along with the Monopoly game, then the convenience store, and finally, the walk to yours and Sakura's apartment before Chanhee dropped him off here.

miss mastermind: i can't say im too surprised u remembered it tho 😭 sometimes i forget that ur trained to remember things younghoon's phone: that's a funny way to describe being an actor LMAO younghoon's phone: but also i'd be lying if i didn't admit that im so embarrassed abt last night miss mastermind: nooo don't be!! it's all good, i thought u were a very cute drunk

He smiled against his hand. He typed: Well now I just have to make it up to you.

miss mastermind: u absolutely do not younghoon's phone: actually i do younghoon's phone: if i recall correctly, u gave me the rest of ur BREAD. that's like…|

He paused, having nearly written “marriage proposal.” Quickly backspacing, he replaced it with “donating an organ.” Maybe he was a little delusional, but he could've sworn he heard your laugh echoing in his head after he sent it and saw the indicator appear that you were typing. He reached over to grab the bottle of painkillers as he monitored your texts coming in.

miss mastermind: DONATING AN ORGAN… miss mastermind: yk, i knew u liked bread, but not THIS much younghoon's phone: but ofc :0 she's my first love miss mastermind: understood o7 now ik how to sway ur judgment ☝️ younghoon's phone: le gasp younghoon's phone: truly evil mastermind things only miss mastermind: the le gasp is taking me out 😭 younghoon's phone: how abt /i/ take u out instead 😗

As soon as he sent it, he grimaced. Oh no, this was going to be taken out of context. You were going to go through the whole “sorry, I'm not really interested in you” talk, and he would have to sit through it pretending like it didn't hurt—he didn't mean for it to sound like that. You were just friends after all.

younghoon's phone: I MEAN LIKE younghoon's phone: for watching over me and humoring me last night yk! it doesn't have to be something fancy either, just something that we can do as friends! and to say thanks

His grimace deepened. Those clarification texts did nothing to help his case. It also did not calm his nerves when you failed to respond immediately like you had been for the past few minutes. “Well, you've done it now,” he muttered to himself as he frowned down at the screen.

For a couple minutes, there was nothing from your end and he forced himself to drag his ass off the bed in search of sustenance. Hyunjae's door was closed, so the rest of the apartment was quiet as he bounded out of his room toward the kitchen. Periodically (read: every couple seconds), Younghoon would glance at his phone screen waiting for your reply. “What are you scared of?” He said to himself as he opened the fridge and scratched his jaw. “You literally came up with pick-up lines for calculus terms with her.”

There were leftovers from a couple nights ago, and Younghoon grabbed those to heat up. He closed the refrigerator with his hip, eyes darting to his phone, only to see his screen light up. He dropped the leftover container on the counter and scooped the device up.

miss mastermind: i really don't think it's necessary to pay it back or anything, but we can def hang out! miss mastermind: also sorry my sister stole my phone TT but i got it back haha It was sad how fast relief flushed through him at that moment. younghoon's phone: oh no dw abt it lol ur with family rn? miss mastermind: i am! my aunt's in town and so i was summoned home for brunch 🤧 younghoon's phone: …is there :’)) uhm french toast :’)) miss mastermind: *sent a photo* younghoon's phone: that was cruel. miss mastermind: HAHAHA SORRY 😭

Younghoon stuck his leftovers into the microwave to heat up, but was suddenly craving French toast. He knew for certain he didn't have everything to make it right this second though. Maybe he would wake Hyunjae up to go impromptu grocery shopping.

younghoon's phone: i don't wanna keep u away from ur family any longer, but lmk if u have any preferences for what we should do together miss mastermind: no prefs in particular and dw, talking to u helps distract me from the amount of chaos happening in this house :’) miss mastermind: i do have to go now tho unfortunately :l my sister looks like she's abt to snatch my phone again 😭 younghoon's phone: LOL 😭 okay i'll talk to u soon then younghoon's phone: enjoy ur toast :/ miss mastermind: HAHA i'll save u a slice hoon 😋

The microwave beeped its conclusion, and Younghoon pulled the piping hot bowl of leftover food out. As he took a stab at it with his fork, he came to the swift conclusion that he was not going to be full on this. As he shoveled the food into his mouth, he started toward Hyunjae's room to give his friend a very rude awakening. “HYUNJAE! WE NEED FRENCH TOAST!”

There was no better place than the convenience store at the ripe timestamp of ten o'clock to meet with a friend. You'd gotten back from your house at around four o'clock in the afternoon, so you weren't too tired, though the cleanup and all the social interaction was threatening to take you out. Any school work or grant application work would have to wait until tomorrow.

Nonetheless, you felt a giddy sort of excitement bubble up in you as you hustled yourself down the street to the convenience store to meet Younghoon. In your hands, you clutched a small, sandwich-sized Tupperware container with a slice of holy French toast within. It was your older brother's favorite thing to make when he had to contribute to a brunch (or, let's face it, any meal) spread.

Younghoon had never been tardy to your tutoring sessions last year, so you weren't surprised when you saw him seated at your usual table in the corner. He glanced up from his phone as you walked in, waving. There was a blue colored beanie over his head and a brown corduroy jacket draped over his shoulders.

He noted the container in your hands and his eyes widened like saucers. “You did not.”

“I told you I would save you a piece,” you said sheepishly as you set the container down in front of him and took a seat.

“You—” His bottom lip jutted out. “I can't accept this.”

“You have to. It has your name on it,” you insisted, pointing out the little “Younghoon” scrawled on the side in Sharpie with a smiley face. It was customary in your household to write names on containers if they weren't already color coded or marked with a label. Label makers cost more than Sharpies did, and most of the time, your family didn't mind scrubbing the ink off if needed.

Younghoon's smile was sweet like the pastry sitting in the Tupperware. “I literally made French toast as soon as we stopped texting.”

You laughed. “No way.”

“Yes way! I dragged Hyunjae's ass out of bed,” he told you with great energy, eyes alight as he recalled his late morning antics to you. “I really didn't expect that you would bring me a slice, Yn, you sweetheart.”

“We had lots of leftovers and I just knew the most enthusiastic bread fanatic I knew had to try some of my big brother's toast,” you told him, pleased with his reaction.

He seemed at a loss for words; he just kept looking at you like you hung the stars in the sky, and you wondered how you could replicate this reaction over and over again. “Thank you,” was what he settled on. “I—” He gestured to the container, to you, to the container, “It means a lot.”

“You're welcome,” you said simply.

Younghoon heaved a great sigh and stood up. “Now I have to buy you some snacks—no. Yn, sit your ass down.”

Your eyes widened a comical amount and you plopped yourself back onto the chair.

His lips wiggled as he held back a smile. “Don't move.”

“You don't have to do this, Hoon,” you shook your head as he began making his way over to the aisles.

“What's that rule in chemistry? Energy can neither be created nor destroyed?” He queried from within the drinks aisle.

“The first law of thermodynamics,” you supplied. “It's not just chemistry though. It's relevant in all the sciences.” You weren't sure where he was going with this.

“Yeah, well—” He paused. You couldn't see him from where you were, but even the rustling noises stopped. “Shit, that's not the right rule.”

You bit back a laugh. Oh, he was too adorable.

“What's the one where equal and opposite and…?”

Your brain tripped. “Uh, the—the 'for every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction’ one?”

More crinkling. “Aha! That's the one. Yeah, so for your actions, I must do as the physicists do, and react accordingly.”

Younghoon returned to you with an entire treasure trove of goodies that you swore amounted to more than what was due. (That number to you was technically zero, but for Younghoon's insistence, it was slightly over zero… maybe one one-thousandth.) It was a smorgasbord of peach drinks with lychee jelly, potato chips, daifuku mochi, and of course, bread buns. It was a feast in its own right. You both dove straight into the snacks before you. When life gave one lemons, one was to make lemonade.

Younghoon popped a chip into his mouth. “Do you come here often? Is this your hangout spot?” He suddenly asked, then dipped his hand into the bag and waved a chip around in the air, a quizzical kink in his brow. “I mean, you do live close by and you seem to be very familiar with the place.”

You screwed the cap of your bottle of juice back on and wiggled your fingers as you surveyed what snack to eat next. “I do hang out here often—you’re right,” you replied. The daifuku looked very appetizing right about now. “I've been coming by since school started to knock out my grant app.”

He perked up curiously. “Grant app?”

“It's for the Space Grant.” In partnership with the national space organization, your university offered something called the Space Grant, which would grant three applicants with a monetary award that could be used toward their education in aerospace. You'd had your eye on it even before you began attending this school, and you were determined to be one of the three who won it this year.

After you briefed him on the cause of much of your recent stress, Younghoon gave an indulging nod. “Mmmmh, I see. You're still aerospace engineering then, right?”

“Yep,” you chirped. “me and propulsion theory to the end. I guess I'm an airplane kid.” At the latter, you made a face. You were the space version of an airplane kid… the alternate of train kids and car kids…

“Don't think about it too much,” he said with corners of his smile peeking out on either side of where he pressed his fist against his lips.

You tried not to. “How about you? What have you been up to?”

He breathed out an exhale. “Hm? Oh, like, with drama?”

“Sure, anything and everything about you.” You leaned your cheek against your fist and peered over at him. “We've been talking about me too much.”

“Nonsense,” he tsked. “You already know I recite lines, dabble in the hilariously good pun on occasion, and am incredibly obsessed with carbohydrates.”

“What more could I possibly wanna know?” You played along.

“Exactly.” He chuckled then, tongue darting out for a second to wet his lips. “Jokes aside, nothing too much. Hyunjae's best friend, HJ!Yn—she’s a director and writer, and she's putting on her own play in the spring that I'll be auditioning for.”

Your eyebrows arched in interest. “Oh? What's it about?”

“No clue.”

You nodded. “Ah, well, good luck—or, break a leg. People say that, right? It's not just in movies?”

“People do say that, yes,” he affirmed. “And thank you. I'm gonna start a part-time teaching job at a school nearby for their theater program, which I think will be fun.”

“That does sound fun,” you agreed. Because you had two younger siblings yourself, you knew that taking care of young ones was a lot, but if anyone could do it, you knew Younghoon could. You imagined he would do quite well with them. “Let me know when they have a performance!”

His eyes twinkled in the fluorescent lights; you were beginning to grow more accustomed to the way the harsh brightness painted his features softer. “You have to promise to come though. This is more important than 12 Angry Jurors.”

You placed a hand against your heart in playful solemnity. “I, Yn Ln, do solemnly swear that I will try my very best to make it to see their performance.”

He cleared his throat, his expression falling into an expertly grave facade. “I accept your promise,” he said and extended his hand out to you across the table, “shake my hand, and may the deal never be broken.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from breaking out of character as you shook his hand. When you'd both withdrawn your hands, you watched him, fascinated, as he exited out of character. It was like a switch had been flicked off behind his eyes. Crazy.

Satisfied, Younghoon laced his fingers beneath his chin with a giddy, little smile on his face. “I'll save you an aisle seat.”

“I appreciate that,” you said. You really did—and he really remembered.

“And I'll make silly faces at you from the curtain wings.”

You laughed, telling him you couldn't wait.

EPISODE FOUR: TRAINS GO BOOM?

THERE were too many fires to put out at once. You were becoming the humanoid version of that dog in a burning house meme, and you didn't like it. It was not fine.

“Girl, I wish you'd told me, like, three weeks ago—”

You tasted the rejection a mile out.

“—I already committed to this robotics thing that night,” Jungwoo cried in anguish as he threw his head back. “I could've gone to the Space Gala! Instead, I'm watching people play with robots.”

You passed him a sympathetic look. “Robots are cool.”

“But I don't even get to do anything! I can only spectate!” You both stopped in the middle of your walk as he made unintelligible noises and gesticulations. Jungwoo grabbed your shoulders and shook them. “YN! WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE? I have to pay to watch people have fun.”

Your head was wobbling back and forth like a bobble head. Thank god for spines. “Woo—I’m gonna be honest—”

He stopped shaking you.

“I have no idea,” you said to him. “But we are in the same boat.”

The two of you were currently situated on the engineering side of campus. Most of the buildings around you were geared toward the great spectrum of engineering students—from electrical and computer, to aerospace and nautical. You just got out of a numericals simulation course and caught up with Jungwoo coming out of the engineering library to present to him your newest dilemma.

Jungwoo's posture sank. “I only have regrets after pursuing MechE.”

You pursed your lips, lamely patting him on the shoulder. “I told you aero is cooler.”

“I won't dignify that with an answer,” he sulked. Jungwoo picked himself up, however, as he always did. He carded a hand through his floppy brown bangs, eyes flickering down to his phone screen before his eyeballs nearly fell out of his socket. “Oh shit—I’m gonna be late to advanced mathematics. Chanhee is gonna murder me.”

He bumped your shoulder with the back of his hand. “Good luck on finding a plus one, Yn-ie!”

“Good luck getting there before Chanhee,” you hollered back.

Jungwoo threw you an expression that needed no subtitles, but fitting ones would read, That was so unnecessary!

As your friend sprinted in one direction, you began walking in the opposite direction. You had a little more than a couple hours before your next lecture, so you could probably either walk around and enjoy the day's nice weather or find a place to work. All bets were off when you felt your phone buzz from your pocket, and you saw the message on the screen. It was a text from your older sister: hey mom's asking if u have something to wear to the wedding lol.

The “LOL” at the end really downplayed how much stress this was going to give you. The entire event of The Wedding had slipped from your mind over the past week—actually, you were pretty sure you forgot the moment you got back into your car to drive home from brunch last weekend.

If you thought you had a large immediate family, your extended one would silence all thoughts instantly. One of your cousins-in-law was getting married in December, which meant you needed to find an outfit and mentally prepare yourself for the amount of people there were going to be in one room.

The Wedding made you anxious.

You shot your sister a frazzled text back. It was something along the lines of: maybe… lemme check the back of my closet… or pray I have funds in my bank account.

You somehow made your way to one of the green spaces on campus. It wasn't the main lawn that people picnicked or hung out on, but it was still just as beautiful as the main one. It also sat right by the café located down here in the engineering corner; you and your friends liked to loiter around here when the weather was nice.

It was exactly why you thought you were hallucinating when you saw Younghoon walking toward you.

“Younghoon?” You voice incredulously. “What're you doing here?”

He beamed at you, reaching a hand up to cup the back of his neck. “Oh, you know, just taking a walk and enjoying this nice, autumn weather…”

“Down in the engineering buildings?”

He sniffed, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I wasn't purposely trying to look for you or anything,” he said and rocked back and forth on his heels.

You didn't need to know rocket science to read him. “Okay,” you drawled. “Say I believe you.”

“Divine coincidence,” he shrugged helplessly, jovially, even. His eyes were upturned in cute crescent moons. “Oh! And would you look at that—” He swung his backpack around to the front of his body and withdrew your plastic container from its depths, empty and clean, with even his sharpied name scrubbed off. “I just happened to have this on me.”

You sputtered out a laugh and accepted the container from him. “How funny that this pattern of events keeps happening.”

“Pfft, I know, right?” He brushed a hand through his hair. “So, uh, what're you up to?”

“What am I up to?” You parroted. “Not sure, to be honest. I've got a couple hours to kill. What about you?”

Younghoon gestured to the walkway that bordered the perimeter of the engineering lawn. You fell into step beside one another. “Nothing much, too. I kind of just needed a little walk outside to clear my head.”

You sighed, nodding. “I get that.”

“That sounded… very heavy,” he said, passing you a glance. “Something on your mind, Mastermind?”

“Oh, well,” you trailed off, uncertain of where to begin or how to begin. It seemed like Younghoon had something on his mind, too, and you didn't want to give him something else to hold onto. But when you looked over at him, there was a concentrated, concerned furrow in his brow; he was nowhere else but present with you.

You clasped the back of your neck and felt the knot in your muscles. “There's this thing.”

“Mhm.”

“Colloquially, it's referred to as the Space Gala, but it's kind of just an evening prepared by the Space Grant Consortium with a bunch of booths and a Q&A panel—things like that.”

His eyebrows lifted. “Wow, a whole consortium?”

“Yup.” You'd been a member of the student club associated with the consortium since freshman year, not just to keep up to date with information about the space grant, but because you enjoyed attending the events and learning about new innovations related to your desired field. “And it's a little formal where everyone dresses nicely to a degree, and each member can bring a plus one. Usually, Sakura comes with me, but something just came up for her that she can't avoid so—” You made a helpless gesture with your hands.

It was no fault of her own that she couldn't avoid the personal matter that came for her. You just needed to find someone to go with you now, but finding someone on such short notice was proving to be less than swift.

“Ah,” Younghoon said in understanding. “You'd like to attend with someone you're comfortable with because it's a large gathering of people, and—when is it?”

“Next Friday,” you grimaced.

He blinked. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah.”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “Hey, I mean, if you're looking for someone to go with—I dunno if you're comfortable with me compared to your closer friends—and I don't want to seem as if I'm inviting myself, but—”

“Younghoon,” you cut in with the knots in your neck and shoulders suddenly dissipating. You pressed your hands together, touching them to your lips. “Would you like to go to the Space Gala with me?”

The most beautiful smile blossomed onto his face then, and you swore to go it was warmer than the sun's beams. For a second, his cheekbones darkened with something bashful, but it was hidden in the blink of an eye, and you were met again with the charming Younghoon you knew well. “Why, there's nothing I would love to do more.”

“You are a lifesaver.”

“Aw, don’t worry about it,” he laughed. “I'm happy to go with you, Yn. I mean, what does Sakura usually do to help you when you're in crowded places?”

Hold my hand. That thought was immediately cast aside. That was probably far too much. You coughed, “Uhm, just—you know—stick around me. I get kind of overwhelmed when there are a lot of people around.”

“Overstimulation?” He offered sympathetically.

“I suppose that's the word I'm looking for.”

Younghoon nodded. “Okay. Hey, that's okay. You just tell me what I need to do to make you feel safe and I'll do it.”

Your heart pounded in your chest and you couldn't figure out the right words to express your gratitude. It was hard not to downplay your own misgivings; it took time to practice being patient with yourself. “Thanks, Hoon. I don't really… know what to say, but I really do appreciate it.”

“You don't have to say anything,” he said easily. “And I think, personally, I'm a great plus one.”

If only all of your troubles in life could be fixed so simply by Kim Younghoon being your plus one.

Your stroll together took you down toward the environmental science building. It was a path through a heavily forested area, though a little strange even being located somewhere south of the main campus. The paved sidewalk faded into a worn dirt path, and sunlight filtered in through the layers of leaves crisscrossing overhead.

“I've spilled my guts,” you piped up, “now what's on your mind?” You added swiftly, “If you're comfortable with sharing.”

Younghoon blew out an exhale from his mouth. “You know that job I mentioned? The one where I'm working with a youth theater program nearby?”

You nodded. “Yeah, how's that going, by the way?”

“I'm not sure,” he admitted with his mouth shifted to the side. “I had my first day with them on Wednesday, and I'm seeing them again today. I think I'm just nervous that they'll get bored of me.”

Ah, you could understand that. Surely your years helping out with your younger siblings could lend some use. It was rare to see Younghoon in this state of unease, and it was even more rare to think of someone who wouldn't like him. Seeing him troubled even a little made your stomach churn, and you wanted to help find a solution. “How old are they?”

“They’re all older primary school kids,” he said. “Young enough to not be scary middle schoolers and old enough to have some kind of attention span.”

You smiled to yourself. “Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about.”

“I knew you would.” He brightened. “You have younger siblings, don't you? Any chance one of them wants to become an actor?”

“Oh, hm,” you murmured, “Sadie's got her eyes set on ballet right now and I think Quincey's really only fascinated about his trains. They can be swayed though, I'm sure.”

“How do I keep a kid's interest though?”

You wish you had a formula for that. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. “To be so honest with you, kids just like learning about dangerous shit.”

Younghoon wheezed. “What?”

You grabbed his shoulder as you both stopped in the walkway so he would face you. “Listen—no, I'm being serious, Younghoon!” You were trying to get a hold of this man as if you weren't gradually losing it, too. “Do you know how many times my little brother has made his trains go boom?”

“Yn.”

“He has problems, I know; he's like, four and a half or something.”

Younghoon's eyes were filled with mirth as he pressed his knuckles against his mouth. “Yn, do you know how insane that sounds?”

Your eyes shuddered in a blink. “Huh?”

He grappled onto your shoulders with another wheeze, eyes moist with laughter and a twinge of something else you couldn't process. “Yn, are you free next Friday at three?”

“Yeah?”

“Come with me to see the kids?”

“Okay.”

His tongue ran over his teeth as he grinned. Younghoon's head dipped in a nod, and he dropped his hands to the side. You didn't know what the hell just happened, but you had a feeling a solution was very much found.

EPISODE FIVE: TO INFINITY & BEYOND

“PLEASE tell me you're leaving the medieval torture devices out of the discussion.”

You passed him a look from the passenger's side of Younghoon's Prius. (It was objectively hilarious to watch this man fold his long limbs up to get in and out of this car; you didn’t know how the laws of nature even allowed a human with his height to own and drive one of these things.) “You say that like you were sure I wasn't.”

It was currently the Friday following, and the day you and Younghoon would both be each other's plus ones. Presently, you were in his car as he drove you both over to the elementary school where he was part-timing. Once this class was over, you would split off to prepare for tonight's Space Gala before meeting again at the venue on campus.

He turned his signal on as he pulled into the parking lot. “I'm just making sure.” He glanced over at you. “Are you excited?”

“To have about two dozen pairs of eyes on me?” You had faced crowds before and they weren't your forte, but you supposed if they were all bite-sized people this time, it wouldn't be so bad. Plus, Younghoon said they would be sitting down and working in groups most of the time anyways. The appeal of this crowd was that you didn't have to worry about getting swept up.

“They're all nice kids,” he said as if consoling you. “It'll be fun!”

“But I can talk about the trebuchet, right?” You asked after he parked and you were clambering out of the car. That one time you went down a fascinating rabbithole of medieval machinery was about to come in handy.

Younghoon paused with his hand on the top of his door. “That wasn't the one with the horse-pulling, was it?”

“Oh, definitely not.”

He locked the door and the two of you began walking side by side to cross the parking lot. There was a plastic clipboard in his hand made of a material in a shade of translucent neon green, something you expected a PE teacher would carry around, except this clipboard was armed with scripts and instructor notes. The little drama program at this school was currently only an after-school occurrence, but if this all went well, they might be granted permission from the school to start integrating it into everyday classes. It was exciting—you could remember your first years of exposure to things like liquid nitrogen ice cream, egg drop competitions, and the National Geographic issue called Astronauts. Perhaps in another life you would've been an astronaut, rather than the engineer who designed the vessel that would take them into space.

Needless to say, these were some of their most impressionable years, and Younghoon was going to be a big part of these kids’. It made you warm and fuzzy inside.

Sometime between today and last week, Younghoon brought you up to speed on what the kids were currently working on. The head instructor picked out something from an adapted version of How to Train Your Dragon, which in all honesty, was cool as fuck. Immediately, thoughts about how to build a harness apparatus for an actual dragon model came to your mind, but you would need to take a look at the dimensions of the stage and preferably leave flamethrowers out of the end result. That was if you were allowed to or even had the time to.

It would be fun though. Of course it was going to be fun.

Younghoon was the first one to enter the auditorium room. It was a multipurpose building with a large, open concept space lined in carpet with a stage at the furthest end and the doors to the library across the way. With the impending introduction, you stuck behind your friend as he poked his head in. Instant squeals of delight erupted at the sight of him. (He was kidding when he said he was worried about the kids ever getting bored of him, right?) “Younghoon!”

Younghoon’s smile was so big that you could see it even when his face was half turned. “Hi everyone—I brought a friend today. Let’s give her a nice, warm welcome, hm?” Younghoon stepped completely into the room now, his hand coming over to gently sweep you in with him by your shoulder. “This is Yn.”

You raised your hand in a small, awkward wave, a greeting somehow managing to come out of your mouth. There were so many little ones present and they were all sitting in a misshapen blob in the middle of the carpet, their backpacks lined up against one of the side walls. Interacting with children who weren’t your siblings or relatives was a lot different.

“Oh my gosh,” you heard one of them gasp. “Is she his partner?”

“No, she is not my partner—she’s a friend,” Younghoon replied pointedly. “Boys and girls can be friends, Roni.”

There was a boy with a gray colored Lightning McQueen jacket on who said, “That’s exactly what my brother said before he asked his best friend to be boyfriend-girlfriend.”

Well. You angled your head toward your counterpart and murmured to him, “How old did you say these kids were?”

“Now you know why I needed your help,” he joked. “Their brains run too fast.”

“And you think the two of ours can measure up?”

Another small one—she had her dark hair in twin pigtails, knotted off with bows—raised her hand. “Are you an actor like Younghoon?”

“Me?” You pointed at yourself as if there was someone else she could’ve been asking. “Oh, no, I don’t have the skillset to be an actor,” you mused. “I basically make airplanes and rockets.” Basically.

A flurry of excitement kicked up like a snowstorm, and you could feel your skin warm at the sudden increase in energy. Perhaps you should have led with that..? But even so, it was abrupt, and you didn’t quite know what to do with yourself—

Younghoon cleared his throat, “Hey guys, let’s keep our noise level down, please.”

In response to his request, the kids miraculously managed to quiet themselves down to a buzzing chatter. It hit you at that moment; Younghoon wasn’t just good with kids—he was incredible. Why did he ever think he needed your help when you could barely stutter out a sentence about what you did instead of acting?

“I told Yn about the show we’re putting on,” he said with everyone’s attention now settled on him, including yours, “and she was very excited about seeing it.”

“Is she gonna make us fly?” Someone asked with their eyes wide and big, and you swore you could fit the whole Milky Way within the awe that was in their irises. Kids, man.

“Only if you guys do good today,” Younghoon said. “Why don’t we break off into groups and show Miss Yn what we’ve been practicing, hm?”

You managed to pick out the Star Trek theme over the volume of your hair dryer, and swore loudly as you cut the device off and scurried into your room to find your phone. “Hello?” You answered as you brought your phone back with you into the bathroom.

“Hey,” answered Younghoon, “I was thinking of just picking you up to go to the thing tonight instead of just meeting there.”

It was approximately two hours since you and Younghoon departed from the elementary school. You were back at your apartment now, attempting to get your bearings and clean yourself up for the evening's festivities.

You could feel the gears turning in your head as you weighed your options. “I mean—only if it’s convenient.”

“Okay, I’ll be by at say… 7?”

“Sounds good,” you replied as you finished up styling your hair. Though nicknamed the Space Gala, it wasn’t meant to be incredibly formal like dinner jackets and evening gowns—nice shirts, ironed pants and skirts, and non-sneakers or non-sandals would do fine. “Thanks, Hoon.”

“Mhm!” He chirped to the accompaniment of rustling in the background.

“Also—” You grabbed your phone and flicked the bathroom light off. As you were making your way back into your bedroom, you saw Sakura peer out through her open doorway with curious eyes like that of a cat. She wagged her eyebrows at you knowingly and you shooed at her playfully. “Kim Younghoon, you are such a liar!”

His laugh was sincere and bright. “Technically, I never lied.”

“You are great with kids.”

“Being good with kids is a subjective quality, my friend,” he replied, and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, you did great with them, too. They loved you.”

You pursed your lips in a sad, silly attempt to stay petty, but you couldn’t deny that you had a nice time with him and his students this afternoon. Once the initial jitters subsided, you loosened up a considerable amount. Adults oftentimes underestimated how perceptive kids were, but you had a feeling that they caught onto what made you feel overwhelmed pretty quickly. At least, most of the groups you were working with did.

But… you had fun. That was all that mattered in the end. You would enjoy going back to see them again. You kicked your door closed with your foot. “I had a good time,” you replied at last. “Thanks for letting me tag along.”

“Yeah, of course. It was really fun having you there with me—us.”

You both paused on either end of the phone as the conversation reached a natural lull point. As you fitted on the freshly-steamed blouse you planned to wear tonight, you caught the time at the top of your phone screen. “Uh… so I’ll see you in about twenty minutes then?”

Shuffling from his end, and then, “Yep—twenty minutes! See you in a bit, Yn-ah.”

“Bye, Hoon!”

Twenty minutes flew by faster than 299,000,000 meters per second—at least, to you. One moment, you were ducking into the passenger side seat of Younghoon’s Prius, and the next, the two of you were being admitted in through the doors of the annual Space Gala. The usual “venue” that the consortium booked for this event was one of the campus’s main buildings that housed three large lecture rooms on the first floor, as well as two lecture halls on the second floor across from another large event space.

The lobby was filled with a crush of people, with some faces you recognized and others that you didn't. There were tables draped over with black cloth that hosted educational mini games where one could win free button pins and stickers, booths with companies associated with the consortium present to pitch potential internships, and everything in between. Younghoon stuck to your side like glue. You felt the warmth of his hand either between your shoulder blades or on one of your shoulders as the two of you maneuvered your way through the crowd.

It wasn’t until you hit the farther end of the lobby where there was a clearing of people that you felt the pressure in your sternum alleviate. You imagined your gaze appeared a little empty, glassy even, but it was all just an overwhelming wave of sensations on all ends.

“How’re you feeling?” You heard Younghoon’s voice close to your ear so you could hear him but anyone else around you couldn’t.

You focused on that—his voice. “I’m fine,” you assured him with a small smile. “I’m excited to be here and it’s just a lot.”

Younghoon smiled back at you and you felt his palm warm little circles on your back. “Take your time. The guy at the front says it’ll be another half hour until we can expect the panel to start.”

“Kkura and I—we, uh, usually go in a little earlier than everyone else.” Depending on the year, you and Sakura either occupied seats in the front couple of rows or one of the balcony seats. The former was to distract you from the idea of several hundred other people being in the room behind you, whereas the latter was so you had a large space between you and the crowd. Both were methods that you and your friend deduced were the best at soothing any feelings of overwhelm.

He nodded. “Okay, yeah, we can still do that. Are there any tables you wanna visit before we go in?”

“Actually,” you said, and your heart leapt at the memory of one booth you visited every year, “I have to show you this one thing—it’s so neat. It might be on the other side of the lobby, but we can cut upstairs and get to it that way.” Where there was a will, there was most definitely a way.

Younghoon’s expression mirrored the excitement in yours. “Lead on, Yn-ah,” he chuckled and let you grab his hand to show him why you loved what you did.

This year was dubbed a balcony year.

From yours and Younghoon’s perch up in the balcony rows, you could peer down at the hundreds of heads below, as well as the presentations given onstage. You were always blown away by the new information and possibilities brought up during the year’s presentations, as well as during the question and answer section where audience members could either line up to ask the panelists their queries directly or send them anonymously to an online platform.

Your preferred method was most definitely the latter because public speaking was not your forte, even though it meant you would have less probability for your questions to be answered. One year, Kkura had practically escorted you up to a panelist when everyone was leaving because you had a burning question.

But this year was different. All of your awe was coupled with the amount of marvel expressed by your partner for the evening. If you were fascinated by what was being discussed below, then Younghoon just entered a whole new galaxy.

You found yourself glancing over at him the whole night to watch his reaction. Periodically, your eyes would meet, and you might have been embarrassed to be caught looking at him, but it was completely dashed away by the pure reverence that was stark on his face.

At some point, the evening did have to come to an end, and you and Younghoon lingered up in the balcony to let everyone else below you trickle out first.

“That,” Younghoon whistled low, “was incredible. I’m so—” He made unintelligible hand gestures before coming up with a word, “—bedazzled. I’m positively bedazzled.”

You grinned. “I’m very pleased to hear that you’re bedazzled.”

“I mean, why don’t we hear about this on the news?” He queried, eyebrows knitted together in disbelief. He reached up to adjust the wiggly star headband on top of his head that he won from a spin-the-wheel stall earlier. “If they talked about finding organic chemicals on faraway planets on the evening news, viewership from my devices would skyrocket for them.”

“Don’t we all wish they talked about space on the news,” you sighed as you leaned your cheek against your fist. “But also, as Dr. Cho mentioned, we can’t get too excited yet. Organic chemicals for us might not mean organic chemicals for an alien species.”

Younghoon nodded slowly. “Right,” he drawled. “That’s so interesting to think about… that we’re possibly not alone and that they could either be very similar to us or very different, or maybe even somewhere in between.”

“Isn’t it crazy?” You couldn’t count the amount of times you got lost in a rabbithole of research when you were supposed to be working on assignments instead. Your eyes darted down to the lower levels to check the population density, and garnered that you could still wait at least a couple minutes more. “Hey, you know, if you're interested in this stuff, then you should come to some of the planetarium’s presentation nights sometime.”

Your counterpart’s eyes widened like the lens of a telescope. “We have a planetarium?”

You giggled. “Yeah, silly. What did you think the astronomy tower was for?”

“We have an astronomy tower?”

You smiled wide against your knuckles as you nodded. “Maybe you should wander down by the engineering buildings more often.”

Younghoon made an incredulous face. “Maybe I should.” He considered something for a moment and you watched the smile blossom onto his face again. “Though, I have a feeling that if I looked into a telescope, I'd only see you—’cause you're a star.”

“That was awful,” you snorted into your hand, shaking your head.

“Not my best work,” he admitted. He could admit defeat when he was met by it, but he wouldn't let it hinder his efforts. “You know, I think Galileo was wrong.”

“How so?” You asked as you motioned for the two of you to start gathering your things.

“You're the center of my universe.”

You were pretty sure the lower levels could hear your laugh echo against the walls. “Oh my god.”

“Or maybe that just makes you the sun,” he said to you in a singsong tone while trailing after you.

“I’m walking home, Younghoon.”

“You can try, sunshine.”

EPISODE SIX: THE ONE WHERE IT GETS WORSE

MURPHY'S Law stated that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong,” with an adage of “at the worst possible time.” You needed to have words with this Murphy.

You were now in the thralls of midterm season. It was common knowledge and experience among STEM students that once midterm season began, it didn't stop until finals hit. You hadn't even realized how fast midterms had arrived until it was pouncing on you like a predator in the brush. You were currently being torn apart by the jaws of a hungry lion called Life.

“I haven't finished the grant app, Kkura.” You stared at the white wall behind your desk with a blank glaze over your eyeballs. There were sticky notes and pieces of paper tacked there with reminders and diagrams like they were makeshift whiteboards, but you weren't looking at them.

“My aerothermo exam is in two days,” you continued on in a droning voice, “and the internship interview is the day after.”

You spun around in your chair to face where Sakura was perched crisscrossed on your bed with a sympathetic frown. The internship addition was a new one. You had sent in your application a couple months ago, and results of applicants who had passed to the interview phase were only recently released. While you were relieved beyond measure that you made it, the interview couldn't have come at a worse time.

“Well,” she began, “we already decided that I'm going to help you prepare for the interview, Yn. The grant app isn't due for another month. All you need to worry about right now is the aerothermo exam, right?”

When she put it that way… “You're right,” you sighed and lifted your hands up to dig the heels of your palm into your eyes. Sometimes it just took an outside perspective to knock a little logic into you.

The Star Trek theme song blared from your phone, and you both startled at the abruptness. You fumbled for the device, then quickly picked up the phone call when you saw that it was from your mom. “Hi, mom. Everything okay?”

“Your brother can't make it to the wedding.”

You made a face. “I'm guessing you don't mean Quincey…”

You could imagine the exasperation on your mom's face from the other side of the phone. “Yn, I call you because you're the logical one in the family.”

If only she knew what pain you were putting yourself through because of your current lack of sense. You leaned back in your chair, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. “Why can't Justin make it?” Justin was your eldest brother who had the divine French toast recipe.

“He's flying to Paris for his culinary school interview. You know I always tell that boy to double check his schedules—he never listens,” your mom exhaled sharply. You could hear the loud clatter of the dryer in the background; she must be doing laundry.

“Sounds like Justin,” you murmured. “So what's the problem? Can't we just go sans Justin?”

“We already RSVP'd with the seven of us, and your cousin already paid for the reception meal in full. We can't have an empty, wasted seat, Yn-ah.”

You frowned. You supposed that would be a problem then. “Why don't we just find someone to bring along as a plus-one?”

“That's what I was thinking,” she replied. “I was going to invite Rian, you know, the boy from next door.”

Somehow, your mood managed to sour further. You and Sakura made eye contact, and she tilted her head to the side in question. You gave her an emphatic thumb's down before replying to your mom, “Wait—can we—mom, can we not invite Rian?” You dragged your free hand down the side of your face, and you saw Sakura grimace when you said that guy's name.

“Why not?”

“Be… because,” you stammered, pushing out a sigh when you weren't sure how to describe your incredible disdain for your childhood next-door neighbor. He was your age, and fortunately, you were never matchmade with him. Unfortunately, he was a jerk with inferiority issues and delighted in competing with you in everything. “He wouldn't want to come with,” you said lamely. His presence would do the exact opposite of soothing your anxiety.

Sakura gestured with her hands. Tell her he's full of shit!

Oh, you wished.

“Yn.” Your mother could smell lies, even through the phone. “I wouldn't know who else to invite.”

“Daphne's partner!” You exclaimed desperately. Daphne was your older sister who attended another college on the other side of the city getting her master's degree. “Can't we invite Sam?”

“Sam's in Vietnam in December.”

“Goddamn it.”

“Yn.”

“Sorry.” Dear fuck, you were slipping. You needed a solution—anything at all. Something to put out one fire, even temporarily. “What if I came up with a plus one?” You regretted it immediately.

“Oh, like Sakura? I wouldn't mind if you brought her.”

Anyone but Rian, anyone but Rian. “Yeah,” you drawled. “That's who I had in mind.” You lifted your head to meet your friend's eyes again, and she knitted her brows in confusion. You mouthed that you would tell her in a moment.

When you and your mom hung up, you deflated in your chair, dropping your phone onto your chest. “I'm fucked.”

“Hit me with it.”

“I told her I would bring you to the wedding with us.”

Sakura sat there for a moment to process the information. “Yn, honey, I'm going to be in Japan in December.”

“I know,” you cried.

“Who are you bringing then?”

“I don't know.”

Murphy of Murphy's Law had better sleep with one eye open.

It was likely in your worst interest to be at the convenience store at midnight rather than in your bed asleep, attempting to let your brain process the concepts from your aerothermodynamics course. Against your better judgment, though, you were here, slumped over your usual table and seat as you watched YouTube and sipped on a box of chocolate milk.

In the distance, the door opened and closed, but the sound was muffled through your earbuds. Out of your peripherals, someone materialized next to you. You peered up at the tall man beside you now, blocking out the fluorescent LEDs from burning your eyes. “Hey,” you said quietly.

Younghoon took in your state with sad eyes. “I got your text.”

“I didn't think you'd be awake.” Didn't he have a rehearsal tomorrow morning? Or rather, later this morning.

“Well, I'm glad I was awake, for starters.” He frowned and then leaned over you to gently wrap you up in his arms. “Rough night?”

Your face was buried in the fabric of his hoodie. This was nice. “Rough everything.”

“Ah, one of those,” he sympathized. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Not really. Thank you for coming though.” You leaned back and patted the empty seat next to you. “Wanna watch squirrels with me?”

You watched his expression falter and fill with surprised amusement with a pinch of confusion. “Did you—you just said squirrels, right?”

“Yeah, they're competing in a backyard Olympics for this trophy of walnuts.”

He sat down with you to watch the squirrels. In your free time, you liked watching engineering or science-type videos on the internet. Most of them were as educational as they were entertaining, like the backyard squirrel series, where this man used his mechanical engineering degree to build advanced obstacles to test and observe the vast capabilities of the squirrel.

You shared your earbud with Younghoon so he could listen, and you were now connected by a wire. He mimicked your position, too, with his chin nestled onto his folded arms over the tabletop.

You weren't sure what possessed him to drive all the way over here at such an ungodly hour of night, but you were grateful for his company, nonetheless. Even if it felt like the sky was falling, you could let this moment in time exist outside the conventional timeline. It could be its own singular moment, just you and Younghoon.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wondered how it all came back to this. You'd never thought you were meant to see him again after tutoring him, let alone having spent so much time with him again these past few weeks. If you didn't belong in his world, and vice versa, then what was this?

You swore the monotonous buzzing from the lights above was making your eyelids slowly fall with the weight of lead.

Younghoon's eyes fluttered over to you just as you were about to doze off. He sat up and turned the video off. “Hey,” he whispered, gently shaking your arm.

You hummed, the bags under your eyes becoming worse by the second. “Huh?”

He chuckled under his breath as you put your head back down. “We can watch this another day,” he promised, patting your head. “We should get you home though so you can sleep.”

“Oh my gosh,” you groaned and picked yourself up, “you have rehearsal tomorrow morning—what time is it?”

“Hey, don't worry about it, love.” He was wrapping your earbud wire around his fingers into a neat, little bundle. “I'll be fine. Let's go home, though, yeah?”

You pressed your palms to your eyes in a desperate attempt to rehydrate them. “Okay, yeah. Sorry, Hoon.”

“Don't say sorry,” he cooed, pressing your earbuds into the palm of your hand and tucking your phone into your pocket. “I felt a lot better meeting you here. Do you feel a little better?”

You gave a small nod. Your brain was too muddled, too exhausted, to really comprehend what was being expressed as plain as the sun at high noon on his face.

“Then that's all that matters.” There was a pause. Your vision was blurry for the second that his eyes wandered somewhere else. You didn't know if you just didn't see it or if you just chose to not acknowledge it.

Then the moment passed, as all things did in the flow of nature, and he walked you home.

EPISODE SEVEN: PARTY PEOPLE (BBANGNYU'S VERSION)

“CHANHEE?”

Choi Chanhee swirled the straw of his melted iced americano around in its cup. “Yup.”

“Who would you invite to a wedding?” You posed, twirling around the mechanical pencil in your hand between your fingers. You didn't even know why you still had the writing utensil out—everyone had pretty much gone home for the evening.

He released a sigh indicative of a very tired data science major, who doubled-majored in math. “The person I'm marrying? I dunno.”

You and Chanhee were stuck with the late shift at the math tutoring center on a Monday night. The crowd usually cleared out by nine o'clock, but the two of you weren't technically allowed to leave until nine-thirty. Most nights when you were stuck with this shift, you and he didn't mind the quiet in order to finish assignments of your own.

Jungwoo would have been here to suffer with you, too, but he had an excuse tonight. Something about an emergency at the NCT fraternity house.

You blew a puff of air through your mouth. “Not your wedding; just a wedding. One that you're invited to.”

“You're not inviting me, are you?”

“You don't wanna be my plus one for a wedding?” You grinned.

“Depends…” He hummed pleasantly, “what're they serving?” That was a valid question that you lacked an answer to.

In front of you on your laptop screen sat your incomplete space grant application. After the hell that was last week, you somehow survived it by the seat of your pants. Now, you needed to focus on your two other exams for this week, the wedding debacle, this grant app, and praying that the interview had gone as well as you thought it had.

So many things to think about, so little brain cells.

You glanced over at the corner of your laptop screen to see how much time you had left to try and be productive. From the corner of your eye, you saw the swift movements of Chanhee's thumbs flying over his phone keyboard.

You turned to your application to read over your responses for the ten thousandth time. “Who've you been texting all night, Chanhee?”

“Huh? Oh, my best friend.”

You hummed. “The one that goes to the uni across the country, right?”

His response was cut off by the sound of the tutoring center doors opening. Both of you looked up in tandem, mentally bracing yourselves for—

“Younghoon?”

There was a weird fluttery feeling in your chest as he beamed at the both of you and bounded over from the front doors. “Hey guys! I was just walking past and thought I would swing by.”

Chanhee's eyebrows flew all the way up to his pink hairline. “Yes, because it makes complete sense why you would be meandering around south campus at nine o'clock at night,” he quipped.

Younghoon seemed, to his credit, unbothered by Chanhee pointing out the obvious. He stole one of the chairs from another table and sat down across from you and Chanhee. “You guys don't play any music when everyone's gone?”

“Sometimes we do,” you replied, glancing up from your computer screen before replacing your word choice somewhere.

Chanhee nodded his agreement as he set his phone down on the table and laced his fingers under his chin. “Oh, Younghoon-ah, I've been meaning to discuss something with you.”

Younghoon perked up. “What's up?”

“What're we gonna do about your friend and my friend?”

You figured out pretty quickly that you had no idea what they were talking about. Even after having played Monopoly with some of them a few weeks ago, it still hadn't hit you as to the full-scale of these two guys’ shared social circles. Sure, you orbited some friend groups of a decent size, but it felt like they all hung out with each other at least once a week.

“Ah,” Younghoon drawled with a knowing sparkle in his eyes, “Jacob and JC!Yn, right? I don't know; I find it kind of amusing.”

Chanhee frowned. A furrow had formed between his brows. “If amusing means to the extent where I'd like to rip my hair out, that is. Did you know that Jacob sent me to go intervene when Jaehyun was talking to JC!Yn at the hot tub?”

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm.” Chanhee made a vague flourish with his wrist in the air. “And did you see how they were at the movie night on Saturday?”

Younghoon pressed his lips together. “I did see that. He kept looking over when Juyeon was braiding her hair,” he chuckled.

“I am at odds, Younghoon-ah!” Chanhee groaned into his palms. “I just need them to kiss already and get it over with.”

“So you wanna meddle?”

“I'm not saying we should meddle, but…” He drawled with cheeky, puckered lips and his palms open upward. His gaze went to you on his right side, and he knocked the back of his knuckles against your arm. “Oy, Yn-ah. What do you think?”

You hummed and drew your eyes up from your laptop screen, meeting Younghoon's gaze first. Glancing over to the friend who addressed you, you said, “What are we talking about?”

“Girl, you need to get off that grant app.”

“This grant app needs to get off me,” you shot back. “I need it to be perfect, Chanhee.”

“Nothing is perfect, Yn,” he told you. “You know what you should do? You should ask JC!Yn to look over it. That might ease your mind.”

“I'll think about it,” you said at last in order to appease him. The smart thing would've been to heed his advice and ask his friend to proofread it. Perhaps you would later this week.

“Good. Anyways, I was asking you what you thought about how to matchmake our two friends,” resumed Chanhee. He tucked his limbs inward as he spun around in his chair.

“You’re going to have to give me more context than that.” Besides that, were you really the best option to ask for advice? You weren't in a relationship, and now that you thought about it, neither were the two of them.

You saw Chanhee and Younghoon exchange glances and there seemed to be a silent conversation taking place between the two of them. At last, Younghoon gave his counterpart a flourishing gesture with his hand as if saying 'all yours.’ Chanhee cleared his throat. “So Younghoon's friend Kevin, who is Jacob's best friend, introduced JC!Yn to Jacob.”

“And we're pretty sure they like each other,” Younghoon added on. “There was this pool party a couple weekends ago, and they came to the party together. This past weekend, they looked pretty cozy at the movie night that Jacob and Kevin hosted at their apartment, too.”

You had only ever met JC!Yn once in passing, and it was because Chanhee forgot his calculator at the library right before an exam, and she had been the champion to deliver it to him in the examination hall lobby. She was a real one, that was for sure.

You pursed your lips and rested your chin on your fist. “Aren't all of you guys single?” Was what you led with.

Chanhee deadpanned. “That's not the point…”

“I do have to point that out though because you ask me like I would know what to do,” you laughed, vaguely gesturing back to yourself. “I'm just as single as the rest of you.”

The two boys’ eyes whipped back to one another for a millisecond, before looking away.

You nearly leapt to your feet, exclaiming, “I saw that! What was that?”

“Nothing,” they answered at once. They did realize it made them look all the more conspicuous, right?

“We just realized that not all of us are single,” Younghoon raced to smooth over his and Chanhee's fib. “My friend Sangyeon—”

Chanhee snorted, “Hyunjae told me he doesn't believe him.”

“And you believe Hyunjae?”

“Touché.”

You unconsciously began spinning your pencil around your fingers again. “Wait, so Sangyeon is cuffed?”

Younghoon turned to you to explain. Apparently, his original group of friends that didn't include Chanhee's extension, kept a running joke that Sangyeon was either making up his girlfriend or was keeping her stashed on a secret island in the Bahamas. None of them had seen any evidence that she truly existed, but Younghoon wasn't convinced that Sangyeon was the type of person to go through all of this strife just to prove a point.

After all of that, you were more confused than before. “But why wouldn't he just show you a picture of her and prove that he met this girl?”

“That's what I'm saying,” Chanhee interjected, flinging his arms up in the air. “It would be so easy to just silence us with a little picture!”

Younghoon, clearly amused by the discourse taking place, leaned back in his chair with a shrug. “Beats me. I personally think it's because she works for a secret government agency, which is why she can't exist online.”

Chanhee's expression flattened. “Uh-huh.”

“But Juyeon says that it's probably because if he only shows a picture, we might accuse him of Photoshop,” Younghoon continued. “Which, in retrospect, says a lot about his faith in us.”

You made a face, your eyebrows arching high. “Oh, for sure.”

Debating on conspiracy theories about mystery girlfriends made the last thirty minutes of yours and Chanhee's shift fly by fast. Suffice to say, you hadn’t worked on your application nearly as much as you wanted to, but you were entertained for thirty minutes, which was just as well. Didn’t doctors say that it was good to laugh at least three times a day…? Good thing you weren’t going into medicine.

The three of you started packing everything up at exactly nine-thirty. There was no reason to stay any longer when there was literally no one else here anyway.

As you shoved your laptop into your backpack, Younghoon knocked on the table in front of you. “Wanna grab dinner after this?”

You opened your mouth to reply when Chanhee beat you to it. He hadn’t seen Younghoon grab your attention, and didn’t know who he was addressing. “Oh, that’s nice of you to as—”

“I meant Yn.”

You closed your eyes and sank your teeth into your bottom lip to have some dignity left (read: not start wheezing). Chanhee’s eyes had gone wide, eyebrows rocketing back up to his hairline. He scoffed, “Wow.”

Younghoon grinned cheekily. “Sorry, Chanhee. We have a routine.”

With Chanhee now thoroughly offended, your little trio filed out of the tutoring center. You locked the doors up behind you once you flicked off all the lights in the room. The walk down in south campus was arguably nicer than north campus, even if you were a little biased because this was where you considered your “turf” to be. South campus was much better illuminated than north campus with pretty, little lamp posts and five different styles of architecture from building to building. You were sure it was an eyesore to any of the architecture majors here, but they were interesting to look at when you were suffering in the engineering library. (And at least they had windows.)

You took up the position in between Younghoon and Chanhee, the latter of whom seemed to let his pettiness about the rejected dinner date go.

“Guys,” Younghoon suddenly said. The corner of his lips were turned upward in a degree you could only define as mischievous. “What is the most terrifying word in physics?”

You scrunched your brows together. There was no way you should get this wrong, but then again, physics wasn't exactly a subject where anyone got everything right—

“Oops.”

You snorted, and beside you, Chanhee's lip wobbled as he desperately held in a reaction. You couldn't believe you didn't see this coming and tried to think about it logically.

Younghoon shoved his hands in his pockets and swiped his tongue over his lower lip through a smile. “Aw, come on! I cracked up when I heard that one in a TikTok for the first time.”

“I've just heard some of your better ones,” you confessed. “Chanhee, did I tell you that Younghoon used to wax poetic to study for calc?”

Chanhee's mouth curled up into an amused little smile. “You did! I think it's cute.”

“You know, I think it's cute, too.”

In the dim lighting from the nearby lamp posts, Younghoon's cheekbones flushed something rosy. “You flatter me.”

As the three of you climbed up the stairs that would bring you to main campus, Chanhee piped up, “What if we just slipped Jacob and JC!Yn notes from the other person?”

You shook your head. “Not this again.”

“I'm serious!” He said in earnest. “It would just be innocent, little pick-up lines or something. Nothing like a whole ass confession.”

“We're reading Much Ado About Nothing in my Shakespeare lecture right now,” said Younghoon, “and the cast does something similar to one of the couples they're trying to get together. Sounds kind of fun, to be honest.”

“Not you, too!”

Younghoon slung an arm around your shoulders and flourished his free arm out toward the heavens. There was a pleasant feeling attached to the weight of his arm around you. “C’mon, use that mastermind brain of yours and imagine! Jacob's would just say something like—I dunno—if I whispered in thine ear that thou hast a body of beauty, wouldst thou hold it against me?”

“Wow,” you marveled, ignoring the amount of fluttering happening in your stomach, “that was pretty good.”

He flashed you a boyish smile. “Thank you.”

“But you're not doing it.”

The boys on either side of you released twin groans of anguish into the night, as if their mother had just denied them access to their Xbox for the evening. You rolled your eyes lightly. “I feel like relationships are like spontaneous processes—they’ll get to the right configuration eventually, organically. In other words, we should leave them be and let them figure it out for themselves.” You walked in front and turned around to face them so you could pin them both down with a firm look.

Younghoon raised his arms up in playful surrender. “Promise we won't meddle.”

“I hate when you use entropy statistics against me.” Chanhee gave a reluctant nod, sighing once again, “But I agree. We won’t meddle.”

EPISODE EIGHT: DON'T ASK ME THE COLOR OF ANYTHING

IT was the Star Trek theme song that blasted you out of your study bubble. In retrospect, the theme song was quite a subdued piece compared to something like the Star Wars theme, but for some reason you thought it was a good idea to turn the volume all the way up for your ringer whenever you were home. (God forbid you accidentally left it on when you were in class…) From your desk, you scooted over to grab your phone from where it was on your bed. Younghoon's caller ID beamed its cute smile up at you—the picture you'd set was of him and his dog from home, Bori. You had yet to meet Bori, but when you asked him for a picture for his contact photo, he sent this one.

You accepted the call. “Hello?”

“I just realized I pressed Call instead of Facetime. Please accept the Facetime thingy.”

Why did he sound so cute? You lifted the phone away from your ear and saw the request on the screen. While pressing the green accept button, you said to him, “What if I said no?”

“Then it must be Opposite Day,” he sang from the other side of the screen, his face manifesting before you. He was holding his phone up above him so you could see he was lying down in bed, his dark hair strewn over the pillow beneath his head. His initial smile widened to reach his eyes when your side of the screen loaded and he could see you. “There she is.”

“Hi Hoon,” you greeted with a small chuckle. You looked around your cluttered workspace for a place to prop your phone up against.

“What're you up to?” He asked while he adjusted himself to sit up against his headboard.

“I—” you made a sound of accomplishment as your phone stayed upright in the space between your desk lamp and a pebble paperweight painted like a rocket that your little sister made you, “—am brushing up on fluid mechanics.”

“Aah… fluid mechanics.” You could hear the slight intonation in his words.

“Don't say the joke.”

“I wasn't gonna say the joke!” He giggled. When he calmed, he pressed his mouth in a smile and made his cheeks look as squishy as a loaf of bread. “Is this a bad time though?”

You shook your head, slipping your pencil behind your ear so you could lace your fingers beneath your chin. “No, it’s not a bad time. This isn’t super important; I just didn’t want old material to jumpscare me when I go into our quiz this week.”

Younghoon nodded in understanding. “I see, I see. That means it’s good that I interrupted your workaholic tendencies.”

You glanced away with your hand half covering your face, and it coaxed a laugh from him that seemed to warm the room. You sputtered, “In my defense—” you paused, your lips parted; it hit you then that you had no defense.

His eyes were the shapes of upturned crescent moons, like shallow bowls filled with mirth. “It’s cute when you try to deny it.”

“It’s not denial—I didn’t deny it,” you pointed out.

“Uh-huh,” he snorted, completely unconvinced, “whatever you say, Miss Mastermind. I should call you Miss Workaholic instead.”

“Aish,” you chided weakly. You glanced down at the old notes that were splayed out before you on your desk. All of the concepts were relatively familiar to you; it was just to refresh yourself. To be frank, though, it wasn’t like you’d spent all evening reviewing old material. Every thirty minutes or so, you could spend another half hour on your phone, getting lost in the entertainment there. You weren’t that much of a workaholic.

You realized that there had been a pregnant moment of silence just then, and when you looked back over at the phone screen, found him watching you with a certain look in his eyes that you couldn’t quite place. You cleared your throat, reaching up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear and to take the pencil there down. “So, uhm, any reason in particular for calling?”

His eyelashes fluttered as he blinked, as if snapping out of a daze. “Hm? Oh, not really. I just wanted to see what you were up to.” He cocked his head to the side in thought. “Random question, but are you doing anything for Halloween?”

Ah, you nearly forgot that was coming up. With all of the chaos happening in your life at the moment, Halloween was the last thing on your mind.

“Not at the moment,” you told him. You mused, “I don’t think I’ve done anything proper for Halloween since I moved out of my childhood house.” Going Trick-or-Treating as an adolescent was definitely a core memory for you, and was still a prevalent tradition in your household because of the little ones, Sadie and Quincey. As you got older, however, you usually opted to stay at home and answer the door to hand out candy. You still dressed up for the fun of it, and decorating the house was always half the joy of the holiday. You always considered trying to build some kind of candy contraption or maybe setting up a haunted maze in the front lawn, but alas, maybe in the future. “What about you?”

“Well, there’s that party that Changmin and Chanhee are hosting at their place.”

That rang a bell. “Ohh, shit. I totally forgot about that.” Chanhee had mentioned something about that the other night at the tutoring center, but you didn’t make any promises about attending—he knew your crowd preferences, so he didn’t push it. You were sure his and his friend’s parties were a blast though.

Younghoon shifted his lounging position, so now he was laying on his stomach with his legs kicking up from behind him. “Would you wanna come with? I remember that you went to that party with Sakura in September, but I wasn’t sure if you were going to come to this one.”

You tapped the end of your pencil against the pages of your notebook. “I’m not really sure,” you confessed. “I think I originally didn’t plan on going.”

“Ah.”

Guilt swirled around in the pit of your stomach at the disappointment in his voice. “I’m sorry; I probably sound like such a party pooper.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” he rushed to assure you. “I get that it might not be something you’re into, and that’s completely fine, you know? I think it would be fun to go with you, but not if you wouldn’t have fun there.”

You inhaled deeply. “I mean… it’s not that I don’t think I would have fun once I—y’know, drank something—but yeah, I think a night of just horror movies or something will do me better.”

He nodded and carded a hand through his hair. “Of course; I understand. And your schedule’s been pretty packed lately, so it’ll be like a little break for you,” he offered.

“Yeah, thanks, Hoon.” You shot him a small smile. It was really cool that he was being so understanding, but you shouldn’t have anticipated anything less from Kim Younghoon. He’d always been this cool.

You learned to read the room, and the energy definitely was lower than before. “Do you know what you’re gonna go dressed as?” You asked in hopes of bringing that energy back up.

He perked up a bit at the question. “I—actually, I have no idea,” he chuckled. “I was thinking a vampire, but I feel like that should just be saved as my backup. That idea’s a little tired.”

Younghoon as a vampire—? Wake up, Yn. You laughed to yourself as a thought popped into your head. “It would be so funny if you showed up as Bill Nye the Science Guy.”

He snorted. “That's not a bad idea. I'm not a science guy, but I am an actor.”

“Hey, there you go,” you said. You pursed your lips. “Hm… I feel like your face is too pretty to fuck up—”

“Thanks?” He guffawed, hand propping his head up. “I'm scared to ask you what that even means.” You didn’t want to tell him exactly what you had in mind, but it seemed that he beat you to a punchline. “To be honest, I'd so let you fuck up my face.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Hyunjae? Hyunjae, is that you?” Younghoon called out behind him toward his closed bedroom door. His ears were rosy as blood, and he was biting his lip through a grin. “I've gotta go, Yn-ie. Byeee!”

“Younghoon, hey! Don't hang—”

He hung up. You took a moment to collect yourself after what he said, as if you could even begin to unpack its meaning.

You could hear the partygoers even from the relative serenity of the back corner of the convenience store. It was Halloween night, and when the sun sank down into the horizon to signal the coming of night, so too did it mark the beginning of the Hallow's Eve festivities.

You had just dropped Sakura off at one of her friends’ house for a party, and she would text you later when she was done. The plan tonight was originally to chill at home and watch scary movies, but you instead found yourself at your second home with your laptop playing The Nightmare Before Christmas. On your head sat a deep purple colored witch's hat on a headband, with glittery black tulle creating a skirt at its base. Even if you didn't dress up completely, you would still pop on a bit of holiday spirit.

With you was a 6-pack of Halloween themed mini cupcakes and a carton of strawberry milk. They would function as your popcorn for the movie and your candy for the night.

From beside you on the table, your phone buzzed. You could see the words diffuse rapidly onto your screen, your eyes snagging on the parts where your older sister was asking about Sakura coming to the wedding even though she was supposed to be in Japan. Your eyes widened as you scrambled to text back. Fuck, the wedding. You texted back a very fast, ‘uhm abt that.’

daphne: ykw don't tell me anything ignorance is bliss daphne: okay what i came here to do originally… daphne: *sent images* your phone: awwwh how cute!! wait wtf since when was quincey into power rangers 😭😭 daphne: dear god don't get me started

You laughed and sent her a final text back commenting about the pictures she sent of her, Sam, Sadie, and Quincey all dressed up to go Trick-or-Treating tonight. As usual, your family extended an invitation to you, but you declined for this year.

“Damn, I should've dressed up like the power rangers.”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice right by your ear, and you ripped your earbud out, whipping around to see who it was. There was Younghoon, laughing at your expense with a very amused smile flitting over his face from your reaction.

About five different emotions passed over you at once, preventing you from coming up with an adequate response to his sudden appearance. Your mouth, frankly, had gone dry. His hair was colored and highlighted with strands of platinum silver, artfully arranged around a pair of black sunglasses atop his head. He was clad in all black—the leather jacket seated on his shoulders embellished with white detailing, and his skin glimmering with silver chains. He had on a pair of motorcycle gloves that he was now shucking off, and you realized his lips were a shade darker than they usually were—wait… were they moving?

“—Yn. Yn-iee—”

You blinked long and hard. “Yeah. I'm here.”

The corner of his lips curled upward. “I just said I was sorry for sneaking up on you.”

“Oh.” Wait, he smelled so good right now… Not that he didn't smell good every other day, but…

“Oh,” he parroted with a cock of his eyebrow. “So, what do you think?” He asked the question you didn't even realize you would fear him to ask, and gestured down to the outfit. Younghoon sighed and it sounded half like a laugh. “I feel ridiculous actually. Hyunjae was like—you should do the biker thing with me. And I was like, what do you mean 'biker thing?’ Apparently this is the biker thing.”

You were slapping yourself across the face internally to say something. “You went from Prius driver to motorcycle rider.”

Younghoon nearly keeled over and had to turn to the side to laugh. “I still am a Prius driver,” he said sheepishly.

Your eyes flickered up and down his form again, unable to string together words once more. “Uhm, your hair is silver.”

“Excellent observation.” He reached over and poked the little witch hat on top of your head. “This is cute, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you said with a smile, reaching up to touch either side of the headband. “I'm just here waiting for Kkura.”

“Oh, are you guys watching something together?”

You shook your head and turned back to your computer screen to wake it up. “No, I volunteered to be her chauffeur tonight. She's at a party right now, but I figured since I had time to kill, I could chill here.”

“It feels like a crime for you to be here all alone,” he said with one of his hands braced against the back of your chair and the other on the table next to your laptop. He was leaning over you now to peer at your screen because the brightness of the store lights made it difficult to see from where he stood, but it made him all the more apparent to your senses.

Goddamn, he was everywhere. “Well, I should be asking you as to why you're here,” you said with a cough. “Don't you have a party to go to, Biker Boy?”

He chuckled at the nickname and stood back up. “I do, but Chanhee and Changmin forgot to get triple A batteries for their battery-operated creepy candy bowl,” he said. “But I'm glad I was sent out to run an errand now.”

You shifted your mouth to the side in a sorry attempt to hide your contentment with that answer. “I'm glad, too. You—the costume looks good, by the way.”

Younghoon sat down in his usual seat across from you. “Thank you,” he replied, pleased. “I almost went out as a loaf of bread. Did you know Party City has these bread loaf costumes that you can wear around your head?”

“I'm not surprised at all,” you said, shaking your head in amusement.

You found yourself unhappy with the idea of Younghoon leaving after this. Once your conversation was over, you would go back to your movie and he would go back to his party. Before, you didn't mind the idea of having an evening to yourself, but with him right here in front of you, it was difficult to go back.

Him being here with you felt right. You couldn't explain why you felt that way. He looked like he was about to say something, and you rushed to beat him to it. “Want a cupcake?” You blurted. Before you could go back on your words, you gently pried a miniature cupcake out from its containment and offered it to him.

Younghoon lit up, delicately transferring the treat to his own hands. “I wasn't going to ask, but don't mind if I do. Thanks, Yn.”

You hummed happily as he peeled off the cupcake wrapper and took a generous bite. He did a little happy dance in his seat, and you smiled half into your fist as you leaned part of your cheek onto it.

“That's actually so good,” he said with wide, confused eyes as he reached toward the furthest end of the table for a napkin in the aluminum canister. “Why haven't I tried those before? I think I'm gonna have to take some back.”

“I don't have them often, but they are quite the guilty pleasure,” you agreed. “I would totally sponsor a couple packs for you to take to the party.”

Younghoon made a nodding motion with his head as he dabbed the napkin over his lips. He pulled the napkin away to inspect it, frowning. “Shit, I need to reapply,” he murmured and fished around in his jacket pocket for a tube of the shade that he had wiped off his lips.

Some force from the universe compelled you to do something fucking stupid. “I can help.” No, you can't! Why would you say that, why would you say—

Surprise flickered across his face. “Oh? Sure, I'd appreciate it,” he said, and held the lip gloss out to you. It was a muted brown-ish pink color that would leave a stain of itself upon the wearer's lips, but also had an initial glossy appearance.

With no room for backpedaling, you stood up and took the lip product from him. You stood before him now, between his legs with his hands resting on his knees.

He peered up at you through his dark lashes, lips parted gently.

You wiped the excess product off the doe foot applicator against the rim of the packaging, and then smeared the product over his bottom lip. You took your finger to smudge the color around, making quick work with a second layer for shine. When you were done, you hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath the whole time. You passed the lip product back to him quietly. “All done,” you whispered.

He didn't even look at your handiwork—he didn't need to. He smiled; you thought you saw him steal a glance at some place other than your eyes. “Thanks, love.”

You were right before when you thought you would dread him leaving. He did go, at some point, after retrieving what he had come here for along with at least three half-dozen containers of cupcakes. He sent you a wave from the door, and then he was gone into the night.

You sat there without doing much or thinking anything for a moment or two, your fingertips stained with the color of his lips.

Regret wormed a hole through your stomach, and it felt like it was gaping wide open. Maybe you should've gone to the party, or maybe you should have asked him to stay. Maybe you should have said something different, and maybe… maybe you should have…

Kissed him?

Your eyes stared unblinkingly at the seat across the table from you, and you arrived at a truth you could no longer ignore.

your phone: how do u know u like a guy

kkuramon &lt;3 : IM LEAVING THIS PARTY RIGHT NOW.

EPISODE NINE: ARE YOU A CHICKEN, YN? I DIDN'T THINK SO!

“I'M not going to tell him.”

“Yn,” Sakura said gravely with a deep inhale, “for the last time, are you a chicken?”

You blinked. “I'm sorry, wha—”

“Bawk bawk. Are you a chicken?”

You narrowed your eyes slightly at her. It was a crazy image, this view of your best friend, as she stood in front of you with her futuristic spacecore outfit from the Halloween party she left early, squawking like a chicken. “I think you are drunk.”

Sakura deadpanned. “I'm not drunk.”

“And I'm in denial.”

“Oh, good. So you admit it.”

After rapid discourse in your texts, you went to pick Sakura up from her party, then brought her straight home so you could both deconstruct what exactly you concluded while at the convenience store. You recalled everything that happened while Younghoon was there with you, reliving that exact moment it hit you square in the face like an oncoming train.

And now you were here, being asked if you were a chicken and being accused of denial.

You huffed. “I can't just tell him that I like him! It's not—it’s not that big of a deal. It's not like I'm in love with him or anything!” You… you weren't in love, were you…?

Sakura braced both hands on her hips. “You say it's not a big deal, but here we are,” she said with a vague gesture to your bedroom. “Honey,” she continued, but softer, “whether you're in love with him or you just like him more than a friend, it's something. It's different. Are you sure you never felt anything for him before? Not even unconsciously?”

“I mean—” you started, “—I might have. I probably have,” you corrected, cradling your chin in your palm. “I thought he was really cool when I met him last year, but I think that was just one of those silly crushes, y'know? Like the ones you get on people you pass by and know you probably won't meet again?”

She hummed and lowered herself onto the edge of your bed. “Yeah, I get that.”

You scooted your desk chair over to where she was and flopped face first over your bed with a groan. You felt her hand gently smooth down the back of your head. “I dunno, Kkura. Maybe I've always felt something different about him.”

“That could be it,” she said. “And you just didn't realize until it was in your face. Sometimes it sneaks up on you.”

If that wasn't the understatement of the century.

“Why are you so scared of telling him, Yn-ie? From everything I've seen and heard from you, it feels like he probably feels the same way.”

“I'm biased.”

Sakura exhaled. “Logic your way out of this one.”

“Okay, if I logic my way out of this one, I could still get rejected.”

You could feel her eyes roll, even with your face smooshed into the sheets. “I know the prospect of all this is scary, but it's meant to be. That means you care, Yn. That means you care about your friendship with Younghoon, and that's inherently a good thing.”

When you didn't say anything else in response, she added, “You know your feelings will intensify if you leave them unaddressed. Murphy's Law.”

You hated when she was right.

You didn't see Younghoon for at least another week. Once Halloween had gone and passed, November hit everyone in one big fell swoop. Midterms the Sequel was abound, and it did not choose mercy. But amongst the abundance of fires cropping up, you managed to spray some water on a couple to keep the flames tame. (Do not do this to real fires; it won't help.)

It was the middle of the week when you and Younghoon agreed to meet back at the convenience store to hang out. Over the past few days, you kept your interactions with him over text and call as normal as possible, even though you felt like your newly realized feelings were glaringly obvious. If Younghoon thought you were being awkward though, he didn't say.

You and Sakura were in the kitchen right before you were about to take off to head to the convenience store. She was busy making a late lunch (read: dinner); you were busy worrying about everything.

“I've got an idea,” she said, raising the spatula in her hand into the air. “You should bring Younghoon to the wedding.”

You nearly choked on air. “I'm sorry? Say that again.”

With her back turned to you, she gave an emphasized shrug. “If you insist. I was suggesting that you bring Younghoon to the wedding instead of me. It would be killing two birds with one stone.”

“How in the world is that killing two birds with one stone?”

“Well, when you inevitably confess your feelings to him, and he confesses that he reciprocates, you will then have a date for the wedding.” She turned the stove off before twirling around on her slippered-heel, a proud smile on her face. “Ta-da!”

“I just think that if—and big emphasis on if—we do end up together, a wedding would be a lot as an outing.” You imagined how horrific and intimidating that would be, meeting your entire family and extended family after only just deciding to try out dating someone. Even thinking about it sounded overwhelming beyond means, and you couldn't do that to Younghoon.

She angled her head to the side. “But this is Younghoon we're talking about. He literally went to the Space Gala with you on short notice and made you feel safe and comfortable the whole time.”

You sent her a pointed look. “That's not the same thing and you know it.”

She sighed. “Alright. Then what about driving over to meet you at the convenience store at midnight when he had an early rehearsal the next day? He calls you and texts you day and night; he drops by the tutoring center on your shifts to keep you company… I don't know what else you need to convince you.”

You didn't like the spark of hope she was lighting up in your chest. You didn't want to lose a good friend if you were reading him wrong. Was he not charismatic to everyone he met though?

At some point, you got your ass up and down the street. There was a soft tune playing in the background as you wandered through the aisles in search of something to distract you from the anxious racing of your heartbeat. Younghoon had sent you a heads up about an hour ago that he was going to be late because he was coming from an outing, so you had a little more time to mentally prepare. Maybe you would chalk up the courage to tell him. Maybe you really could do it. If you just ripped off the bandaid, whether it be for better or for worse, you could at least say you tried.

You made up your mind then, somewhere in the bread aisle between the wheat and rye.

By the time Younghoon arrived, out of breath and grinning from ear to ear, you managed to hype yourself up to tell him.

“Sorry I'm late,” he said between breaths as he claimed the seat across from you. He paused, sniffing, then grimacing. “And also for the fact that I reek of barbeque.”

“Don't worry about it,” you assured him, teasingly, “the only thing you should be sorry about is not inviting me.”

Younghoon laughed. “You're very right, as always. My friends and I were having an emergency meeting about Jacob and JC!Yn.”

Your eyes widened. “Oh? Any updates?”

He groaned then, burying his face into the palms of his hands. Uh oh. “They almost kissed until Eric interrupted them.”

“No,” you gasped.

“Yes!” He wailed in agony, eyes screwed closed with imaginary tears running down his cheeks. “It was painful to hear but it was also painful watching those two idiots interact at the table. My friends and I, minus JC!Yn and Jacob—we met a little beforehand to talk about what went down when Eric interrupted, and the lovebirds just came in later.” Younghoon huffed a rough sigh from his lips, partnered with a shake of his head. Then he broke into a smile, the corners of the expression soft, as he looked at you from across the table. He rested his cheek against his hand, chin inclining toward you, “So what's going on with you, hm? I feel like we haven't seen each other in ages.”

“We did call on Tuesday,” you pointed out.

He wrinkled his nose with a frown and shrugged. “It's not the same. I missed you.”

Your heart was beating so loud that you could count them out—thump, thump, thump— “I—missed you, too,” you said in earnest. Tell him, Yn. Tell him.

“You know, I think it's funny how we lost touch for so long, but we eventually came back together,” he murmured as he absentmindedly traced out shapes along the table top. “I guess if it's meant to be, then it'll be.”

The way he worded it… you were spinning yourselves in circles in your head trying to define it, to crack it open and solve it like you could a word problem. If the rotator wheel spins at a velocity of—but at this point, you were certain that you could figure out one of those much faster than this. “Yeah,” you agreed quietly.

“Something on your mind, Yn?” He asked you then. His eyes returned to you and you were suddenly stuck. The earth stopped spinning for this single moment in time, all because of the way this man looked at you.

You swallowed. “I…” The words dissipated in your throat. You couldn't do it.

Younghoon waited patiently, though. He considered you and your wide eyes filled with something he didn't know how to label, and maybe a dash of another thing he hoped to find. “Why don't we take a walk?”

With no reason to refuse, you stood up from your seat with him. He smiled at you as he brushed his hand over your back to guide you to the door, then retracted it to tuck his hand into his pocket.

November had so far shown the city a brisk, deep autumn. The trees were already close to completely shedding their leaves for the oncoming winter, and they were often swept away by a cool draft. You zipped up your jacket as the two of you began walking in the direction opposite to your apartment. Whichever way the wind took you both, you supposed.

For the first time in a long time, you and Younghoon were quiet. You were trapped in your own head with the courage you had earlier having mysteriously disappeared. He seemed content enough to let you ponder on it and to speak whenever you were ready.

“My cousin is getting married,” you found yourself saying.

That didn't seem to be the thing he expected to come from your mouth. Surprise flashed across his features and he clambered for a response. “Oh, well, congratulations. When's the wedding?”

“Thanks.” You said, “It’s in December. I… you know I have a big family.”

“Right.” His gaze softened considerably. “I imagine it must be a lot for you then—a family event of that size.”

You realized that you didn't convey exactly what you wanted to get across, and yet, you were reminded again how much he cared. “Yeah,” you murmured. “My brother Justin isn't gonna be able to make it after we already RSVP'd under my immediate family of seven people, and so my mom and I are trying to find someone to fill that space. She wanted to invite this one guy—he was my next-door neighbor for some time. Not my favorite person in the world because he's kind of got it out for me,” you said next.

You were rounding the corner again to loop back down the street toward your apartment. The organ in your chest was flying against your ribcage now; there wasn't much time left to tell him. You could see the metaphorical sand in the glass draining.

“So you're not going to invite this guy then, right?”

You nodded. “And I offered up Sakura just to appease her for the time being, but Sakura's gonna be in Japan in December.”

Younghoon trapped his bottom lip between his teeth. “I see.”

“That's my… that's my dilemma.” No, that isn't your only dilemma, Yn! Tell him! But the apartment was coming up in view, and you would be at the entrance in just a few more minutes.

You and Younghoon slowed your pace as you rounded the block again to cross the street. When you glanced over at him, you swore you could see the conflict warring across his face. If he saw gears turn in your head, you could see a battle scene in his eyes.

“Is this all that's been bothering you?” He asked at last, and you didn't know what to do about the slight intonation in his voice, like he was hoping for something. “I'm not invalidating your stress or anything, I was just—you know, if you had anything else you needed to get off your chest—”

“No, it's just that.” You could practically hear Sakura clucking like a chicken from wherever she was. You quickly added as the apartment door came into view, “It's—it’s not a big deal—finding a plus one, I mean. I'll figure it out.”

Plus one. He'd been your plus one to the Space Gala, but this was different. This was so much more different than that.

But maybe your words sounded like a dismissal or he was thrown off today. He cupped the back of his neck with a small nod. “Okay. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks, Hoon.”

He smiled then, the same soft-cornered one that reached his eyes, and that you'd come to be familiar with. You couldn't imagine seeing that face reject your feelings even if you knew he would probably let you down easily.

EPISODE TEN: YOU SPELL PARALLELISM WITH THREE L'S BECAUSE THERE ARE THREE LOSERS

THE engineering library at nine o'clock at night was a familiar environment for you, Chanhee, and Jungwoo. Dead week—the week before finals—meant that it saw the three of you twice as much, even on the weekend before Dead week began. It didn't mean you got studying done though. Sometimes you were just there.

“You guys are so fake! How could I not be updated on every single microevent in your lives?” Jungwoo cried, gesticulating his hands around far too fast for your brain to comprehend. He was about three shots of espresso and five hours in, if that explained things. You were all aware that your habits were not healthy, but no college kid was. “And you call me your friend?”

The thing that had triggered this reaction from Jungwoo had been Chanhee's fault. Or maybe that was your fault. Either way, the topic somehow had gone from calculating your respective grades with probable curves (calculating failure, at this rate) to you and Younghoon.

You liked to argue there was no you and Younghoon—it was just you-comma-Younghoon. Chanhee had sassed back at you with a swift, “Oh, so she's an English major now?” As if English majors were the only ones who could understand grammar and punctuation.

Jungwoo, having had no context given whatsoever, realized quickly that he was out of the loop. Now, you were here.

“I demand the tea!” He screeched, hitting the palm of his hand against the table. Thank god there was no one else here to listen in or shush you and your friends. If there was one thing about the engineering library, it was how out of the way it was from the main campus.

“I really don't think you should have anything else caffeinated—”

Jungwoo's head whipped toward you and his nostrils were flared. “You must think you're so funny,” he said with narrowed eyes and a saccharine smile. You would have been scared had you not seen this man once blow a massive snot bubble all over his differential calculus homework. (If anyone found out about that, it most definitely didn’t come from your lips…)

Your eyes shuddered, an innocent smile coming to your lips. “I was just saying.”

“Shuuush!” He stopped, thought about it, then retracted. “Actually, don't shush. Tell me what you and Chanhee know, but I don't.”

Chanhee snorted from his side of the table. “That's a long list.”

Jungwoo cut a glare toward Chanhee. “I despise you both,” he grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Okay, but all jokes aside,” Chanhee said as he tucked his tablet stylus behind his ear. He cocked a high-arched brow your way. “What is going on, Yn? Do update us. Or for Jungwoo’s sake, start from the beginning.”

Your eyes widened like a deer in headlights. You hadn’t expected Chanhee to turn on you, too, but perhaps you should have seen this coming. A generous amount of time had passed since you last failed to confess your feelings to one Kim Younghoon. Between that day and today, you had managed to finally submit your space grant application and passed your second round of midterms by the seat of your pants (hip, hip, hooray). Since that day, you and Younghoon would continue to interact as normal, except for the fact that you were practically walking on eggshells around him.

Just the other day, you both fell asleep while on-call with each other. When you’d woken up the morning afterward, you discovered that, one, it was a good thing you plugged your phone into its charging cord; and two, that Younghoon was just as pretty asleep as he was awake.

To this news, Chanhee merely fluttered his lengthy lashes, unimpressed. “And you’re telling me you don’t think he feels the same way?” He asked.

At some point, Jungwoo had broken out a half-eaten granola bar from his bag to munch on as a replacement for popcorn. “I can’t believe I’ve missed so much,” he said, shoving the bite into his cheek so he could speak. “And Kim Younghoon, Yn? Wooooow, I see you girl. That guy was insane as Charles Bingley in freshman year.”

“You’re so right,” Chanhee chimed in with an indulgent nod, pointing his stylus at Jungwoo. “I don’t know if insane was the right word, but he encapsulated the Bingley gent essence quite nicely.”

“I never saw that one,” you confessed.

Jungwoo’s face scrunched up on one side. “Clearly. At least he knows that you’re not just in it for his celebrity status.”

You leaned back in your chair and dragged your hands down the length of your face with an embarrassed groan. Only your guy friends; Chanhee and Jungwoo, as expected, gave a light laugh at your expense. “I don't like you guys.”

“C’mon Yn-ie,” Chanhee teased and reached over to poke your arm with the butt of his stylus pen. When you peeked one eye out between your fingers, he puckered his lips at you like a penguin. “Love you.”

You reluctantly slid your hands down. “If I'm gonna be clowned for my feelings, I'd rather be in bed!” You declared, taking your phone from the pile at the center of the table to check the time. It was nearly ten o'clock at this rate. Ah, and had anything productive been done? Absolutely none. Perfectly on track for the three of you.

“Nooo, don't go, Yn! You're too sexy,” Jungwoo whined.

“I think you should tell Younghoon your feelings,” said Chanhee. He hiked his feet onto the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. “You need to razz him up.”

You frowned. “I thought it was ‘rizz.’”

“You don't have rizz, though, so I thought razz would be the next best thing,” he said flippantly.

“Burn!” Jungwoo exclaimed with his hand cupped around his mouth, and you were suddenly reminded that he was in a frat.

You leaned your cheek against the palm of your hand with a dramatic sigh. “You're right; I do not have rizz.”

Chanhee's brows scrunched together in concern. “Oh my god, I thought you would fight back—of course, you have rizz, Yn! You snagged Kim Younghoon!”

Before you could tell him you’d given up on fighting back or before Jungwoo could give up on his sanity, Chanhee's phone buzzed from where it was sitting at the center of the table. You expected it to be Chanhee's friend, CH!Yn, since she was the most probable person texting at this hour; instead, Chanhee let out a delighted gasp, slapping his hand to his mouth at whatever notification he found waiting for him.

Both you and Jungwoo leapt to your feet and scrambled to peer over his shoulders. “What? Who is it?”

“It's JC!Yn,” he shrieked. “She's asking about flower shops.”

You and Jungwoo stayed perched over either of Chanhee's shoulders to see what would transpire. It was a brief exchange within the group chat of three people that included JC!Yn, Changmin, and Chanhee. Chanhee somehow knew about a flower shop in the university district that was open until eleven o'clock. After all your years of attending this school, you had no idea it even existed.

But once JC!Yn was off on her way, Chanhee turned his phone off with a prediction that he would not be hearing from her until at least tomorrow morning. “Looks like someone's getting confessed to tonight,” he snickered to himself.

Jungwoo was back in his original seat—a generous wording, since he leaned a good eighty percent of his body over the table with his knees braced on the chair, legs kicking up behind him. “You know what you should do, Yn? You should sweep Younghoon off his feet just like that. I'm sure he adores receiving flowers.”

“Would it not be as special though if he gets flowers after every show?” You asked genuinely, pressing the butt of your pen between your lips. “I'm not against getting him flowers.” Flowers would be a good idea… you'd seen plenty of movies that had romanticized the idea of giving and receiving flowers in your mind, and it would be an obvious gesture. At the very least, you could pull a Younghoon and tell him the flowers reminded you of him because they were gorgeous—or something to that effect. Maybe you really didn't have rizz…

Jungwoo shrugged with one of his shoulders. “I'm sure it would be special coming from you. I dunno. It's just something to think about.”

“So,” Juyeon drawled with his head lolling over the back of the couch to look over at Younghoon, “now that Jacob's situation is solved, what about you?”

Younghoon glanced up from his phone. “What about me?”

There were five of them holed up in Sangyeon's apartment presently, and four of them had invaded the eldest friend's abode to hoard his TV and play Super Smash Brothers. He was the only one with a working TV and decent WiFi to game on that wasn't Jacob and Kevin's apartment. Only, a couple hours in, Juyeon received a text message from Eric with a live update that JC!Yn was going to confess to Jacob.

Eric had ended his update with an ominous: Tell Kevin hyung he shouldn't go home tonight 🤣. That definitely livened up the place.

Kevin sat up from where he had been lying on the floor. “Oh, yo, you're so right. What's going on with you and Yn?”

Younghoon's eyes widened. “Nothing.”

“Don't give us that bullshit,” Hyunjae clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Didn't you say that you liked her?” He teased with a glint in his eyes as he wiggled his fingers Younghoon's way.

The man at the heart of the interrogation rolled his eyes and smacked Hyunjae's hand away. “I will not object to having said that I liked her, if that's what you're getting at.” Frankly, he would own up to having admitted that was how he felt about you. So what, he liked you? He wasn't embarrassed by it. The only problem was living with this knowledge and not telling you.

Sangyeon came over from the kitchen to lean against the back of the couch. He had a drink in hand, tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Do you have a plan or are you gonna pull a Jacob and be a chicken?”

Kevin arched a high brow. “Only I can call Cobie a chicken, thank you very much.” He turned on Younghoon next with an accusing finger. “And you—I can't even go home right now, so let's get down to business.”

Younghoon blinked. “What business—”

“Order in the court!” Juyeon interjected. He grinned like a bunny. “Sorry, I know I have to wait until I'm a lawyer first, but it's just so fun to say.”

Sangyeon sputtered a laugh against the rim of his drink, blindly patting Juyeon on the head. “It's cool, man. Very appropriate timing.”

“We should play Marvin Gaye,” said Hyunjae. “It'll get us in the mood to tell Younghoon how to properly woo somebody.”

Younghoon swore his face was probably the shade of a ripe tomato. This was in no way how he thought his evening would go. And to be honest, he never ever expected having this conversation with his friends, ever. The last thing he wanted to do was to make his feelings all the more forward in his mind, and he was already having trouble whenever he was around you, and all you did was remind him of all the reasons why he wanted to be with you.

The thing was that he couldn't tell if you reciprocated his feelings. Sure, he could flirt and insert himself into your life all he wanted. But you could just be playing nice!

…actually, you probably were just playing nice. Dear god, he was back at square one.

He simply didn't want to lose your friendship, at the very least. Even if you didn't want to be with him in that way, he would pull up his big boy pants and be a friend to you instead. Then he wouldn't have to live without seeing you smile or listening to you work out problems aloud while he did mundane things in the background—

“And we lost him.”

Younghoon cleared his throat, raising a hand up to scratch his jawline. “You did not lose me,” he protested. The amount of attention on him right now was uncanny. Of course, he could go up onstage and be a character—but reality was different. He couldn't put on a mask or another personality; these people knew him… wasn't that scary? And yet, somehow freeing, at the same time.

Kevin inclined his chin to him with a little smirk. “You did have hearts in your eyes, my dude.”

“Aww, he's in love,” Sangyeon gushed while standing up to go refill his drink.

“I'm not in love!” He said with his index finger pointed at the sky. (He was in love. Of course, he knew he was in love. Because when all he did for the past three months of his life besides school was be around you and think about you and you you you… how could he not? Younghoon could fake any emotion in the world in front of an audience of people, but your eyes alone would devastate him.)

The entire apartment, sans Younghoon, chorused altogether now, “Yes, you are.”

Younghoon balked, rocketing upright. “There is no way all of you agreed on something for the first time and it was this.”

Hyunjae patted his friend's thigh from his position on the floor. “Believe it, Lover Boy. So what're you gonna do about it?”

“I wouldn't even know how to tell her,” Younghoon huffed, leaning back against the couch cushion with his arms crossed over his chest in thought.

That day when you'd told him about the wedding, he had been so hopeful that you were going to say something about feelings. He was so certain that he read you right, but you said nothing else afterward. He would totally go to that wedding with you, though; he just figured you might not want him to go, considering you'd dismissed it so quickly afterward.

Sangyeon came back to the couch and perched himself onto the arm of the sectional next to Juyeon. “It doesn't have to be fancy—you just need to be clear and straightforward.”

“Flowers could soften the blow,” suggested Juyeon.

Kevin chuckled. “For him or for Yn?”

Younghoon clicked his tongue at him with a playful scowl. “Quiet, you. But thanks, guys. I guess I just want to do this right. I don't wanna ruin what we already have.”

Juyeon pursed his lips and reached over to clasp his hand on his friend's shoulder. “You won't, man. I guarantee you that.”

“So if I get my heart broken, I can sue you for false advertisement?” Younghoon asked with his lips stretched in a grin, eyelashes fluttering innocently.

“Pssh,” Juyeon laughed, “try me.”

EPISODE ELEVEN: THE USUAL TIME & PLACE

IT was a frightening sequence of events when you texted Younghoon and he texted you at the same time. The Monday after Chanhee and Jungwoo had hyped you up to confess, you went around different items of furniture in your apartment with your phone in hand, pencil behind your ear, trying to work up the courage again to send the text.

And you did… eventually.

The usual time and place was decided upon, and it had snuck up on you as the day went on. You tied your shoes on and slipped out the door, making sure to pat your pocket down for where you had tucked your secret weapon for the night. As soon as you and Younghoon had confirmed a meeting for today, you ran to your (favorite) grad student, Seulgi, and asked very nicely for her set of keys into the planetarium, promising to treat her to brunch if she did.

The walk over to the convenience store was a jitter-filled one. Your stomach was doing cartwheels alongside the flips your heart performed in your chest. There was still activity on the streets, even at nine o’clock on a Dead week evening. You jumbled through the routine you had in mind over and over, a broken record of hopes and wants. The plan was to take a walk to the planetarium and use said walk to work up the courage to tell him. If anything went wrong, then you could cover it up with a cool presentation of stars overhead.

This isn’t lame, is it? You thought to yourself as you let yourself into the store. You were so in your head, you nearly didn’t notice that Younghoon was standing right in front of you, having just walked out of one of the aisles. You startled, breath hitching in your throat.

He smiled, the expression soft. “Hey,” he said to you and had to clear his throat, a hand brushing through his hair. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“All good; guess my head was just somewhere else,” you laughed nervously. You gripped the key in your pocket until you were sure your skin would smell like metal by the time you got to the planetarium. The two of you had met and hung out here a bundle of times before this, but this time in particular was different. The energy shifted in a way you couldn’t foretell if it was good or bad. For your sake, you hoped it was the former.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asked and took a step toward you.

You inhaled, nodding. “I do,” you said. “I—actually, uhm, do you want to go to the planetarium with me?” From your pocket, you withdrew the keys Seulgi gave you and wiggled them around by the keyring. “I bribed one of my seniors for the keys.”

Younghoon brightened, a laugh falling out of his mouth, and now he was standing right next to you. “Oh my god, you evil genius… my beloved mastermind, are we about to break some rules?” He teasingly bumped your arm with his, his eyebrows wagging up and down.

“Only if you’ll break them with me,” you beamed and reached for the door to the front door.

“But of course,” he played along with a giddiness shining through his expression. “Anything with you. Though, I’d like to stop somewhere on the way first.”

Without even visiting your table in the back of the shop, you and Younghoon took off into the night together. You couldn’t imagine where Younghoon wanted to stop by on the way, but you thought it was probably to run an errand of sorts. But for the moment, it was at the back of your mind as you tried to keep this as normal as possible. “Different” was so intimidating—you wanted to sink into the comfort that was whatever you and Younghoon had.

It wasn’t difficult to slip into that normalcy, though. He always made it so easy.

“—and they did so well, Yn-ah. You need to come back and see them in person; they’re always asking me where you are,” he told you with an invigorated passion. He gave a feigned sniffle. “Pretty sure they like you more than me.”

You shook your head, laughing, “You’re so dramatic. They love you, Hoon. I mean, I can’t even believe that they would remember me after having met them only once!”

“Well,” he drawled, glancing away for a spell, “that might be my doing.” He confessed sheepishly, “I do talk about you a lot—but hey! You can’t blame me! I like talking about subjects that mean a lot to me.”

Your heart made a full stop in your chest, and you nearly physically halted in the middle of the walkway. The gears in your head could barely process what he had just said without going into a spiral. It was a reminder of what this night was originally about. You sputtered out a reply, “You’re too sweet, you know that?”

“I try,” he jested.

“I do finish all my finals next week by Tuesday,” you told him. “I can totally come by that Wednesday and Friday for a little wing fitting. When’d you say the show was?”

He squinted one of his eyes in thought. “Err… it should be the Friday night after next, but if you do come through with those props, that should still give them enough time to get used to them before the performance.”

You nodded, mentally mapping out your schedule. Once your finals were through, you would have plenty of time to tinker with the props and have some proper fun after such a long quarter. “Sounds like a plan.”

“I appreciate it a lot, Yn,” he said, ducking his head as he nudged you with his elbow, “thank you in advance. I call you a workaholic, but here I am encouraging it.”

You chuckled. “It’s no trouble, Younghoon. Seriously. I like doing crafty things, and it’ll be a nice project. I promise.” To the end of that, you stressed further, “And if you think about it like you’re encouraging my hobbies and passions, then it feels a lot less like work.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose you’re right.” His head perked up when his eyes caught onto something in the near distance. His fingers unconsciously caught onto your wrist. “Here it is.”

Wherever you expected to find yourself, it was not a flower shop. There was no shop name or title anywhere that you could see, just the sketched posters and advertisements in the windows of chrysanthemums and hydrangeas. Troughs of vivid blooms lined the front windows like testaments to the plants one might expect to find within. Hanging planters dangled from the overhang, vines and foliage spilling over in an elegant mess.

There was one other sign posted in the window of the door that read its opening hours from 8am to 11pm.

Younghoon's cheekbones seemed to flush in the light streaming out from the inside of the shop. “Shall we?” He asked shyly and grabbed the door handle to open it for you.

You stepped inside before him with the door closing behind the two of you softly. You weren't sure where to go first—the room was constructed with two long tables in the center to hold smaller planters, then the perimeter was covered nearly from floor to ceiling with the larger plants, as well as the hanging garden pots like the ones outside hung from the ceilings by the lights.

There was someone to the right side of the room with a large, green watering can in hand. She glanced up when she heard the two of you come in. “Hi! How can I help you two?” She asked, reaching up to take out one of the earbuds she had in.

Younghoon placed one of his hands on your shoulder. “Would you mind if we took a look around?”

“No, not at all. Help yourselves; if you need anything, don't hesitate to holler.”

He smiled, “Sounds good, thank you!”

Did he know what he was here for? You followed him toward the leftmost table, unsure of where to wander yourself since there was so much stimuli. He stopped at one of the pots and you stood beside him. Leaning closer, you whispered, “I don't really know what we're looking at.”

“Me neither,” he admitted with an embarrassed grin, but then he pulled out a planter tag at the front of the pot he was examining. “But these might help.”

“You're probably right,” you mused, patting him on the arm.

“Look, these are carnations.” He scooted over to the next one over. There were an array of different colors of them, ranging from white to the deepest red. He placed a finger against his lips, then pointed at the white ones. “Those mean innocence, and those—” these were directed toward the blush pink ones, “—something along the lines of 'I'll never forget you.’”

You still stood close to him, and you reached over to gently warm the velvety petals between your fingertips. “I hope it's okay to touch them,” you suddenly said, swiftly retracing your fingers and peering over your shoulder at the worker.

“I'm sure it's okay,” he chuckled. He pointed out a buttery yellow set of petals a few pots down. “Aren't these gorgeous?” He breathed in awe.

When you arrived at the petal of choice, you raised the tag to see its name—daffodils. They were beautiful indeed, with pristine petals and tall stems, the color of them a rich yellow as if it had been painted rather than grown.

“What do these mean?” You asked.

“Unrivaled love? I think,” he answered with a slight tilt of his head.

You considered him for a moment with lips parted. “You're incredible, you know that? How do you know all this?”

His smile sweetened into something that made your chest feel warm. “You say that as if you're not the incredible one. But, Google. Don't look at my search history,” he muttered sheepishly.

It made you smile anyway.

You turned your head to scan the rows upon rows of diversity in one room. You were never quite the foliage fiend, but you could appreciate nature's beauty as much as nature's laws. Even if you might never be able to grow flowers of your own (because trust that you'd tried), as long as these places still existed, you could still admire and appreciate them.

Your eyes snagged onto a bundle of tulips at the front of the shop and you wandered over to take a look. Younghoon trailed after you to see what you wanted to look at, and stopped with you to admire the tulips. Their buds were near perfect, and they varied in so many colors—all soft purples, reds, yellows, pinks.

“Wow,” you said.

“Wow,” he agreed. He caressed the outside petals of one of the bulbs, then took the individual flower by the stem. He took yet another in his opposite hand and faced you. “What did the tulip say to the other tulip?”

You blinked. “Do indulge me.”

“We should put our tulips together and kiss,” he answered, and he pressed his own lips together in a barely contained smile.

You covered your mouth with one hand, a smile of your own blossoming under your palm. “I don't know about that one…”

“I don't be-leaf you when you say you're not a fan of that one.”

At this point, you could feel your face heat up and you could no longer hide your smile. “You're incorrigible.”

“It made you smile,” he quipped back with a smirk. He placed the tulips in his hands gently back into their pot, then swiveled on the balls of his feet. “They’re beautiful.”

“They are,” you agreed.

“Like you.”

Your eyes snapped up to his, but he already had his back turned to you as he surveyed the shop for the person who was on shift. Yet, you still spied the bit of red creeping up the back of his neck, and found yourself content.

“Hi, excuse me!” He caught the worker's attention. “Could we get just a little bundle of these tulips, please? Thank you so much.”

Your eyes widened and you tugged on the sleeve of his jacket. “Younghoon, what're you—”

He had a satisfied smile on his face. “Getting you flowers.”

“You don't need to get me flowers.”

“I’d like to,” he said simply, and that was the end of the conversation.

Less than ten minutes later, you and Younghoon were back out on the sidewalk with a new addition to the group. You cradled a small bouquet of tulips in the crook of your arm. The girl working there tonight had told you that being open so late caught a lot of last minute gift-givers as she wrapped your flowers in a tan colored butcher paper. She seemed to be an expert at tying ribbon bows that were just as beautiful as the flowers she tended, too.

You were already spinning far from your original intentions. You hadn't accounted for Younghoon making this gesture, and you wondered if he planned something for tonight.

Your counterpart suddenly cleared his throat while the two of you resumed your journey to the planetarium. You were only a few minutes away from the planetarium now. “I know I asked earlier if there was something you wanted to talk about,” he said, “but there is something I wanted to also talk about.”

Your heart fumbled over itself. “Uhm, yeah—yes, what's on your mind?”

From where you were on the street, you could see the broad dome of your target building just across the street. There was a rapid leap in your heart rate as he faced you beneath the street light shining over your heads like some kind of strangely timed, solo spotlight. The crosswalk turned green, but you stayed rooted to your place.

“I've been trying to figure out how to tell you this,” he began. He sucked in a deep breath and swallowed. You could only imagine how long he spent training himself to hold a poker face, but it was the liminal spaces where you could see right through him. “I like you a lot, Yn. It's—it’s an overwhelming amount, what I feel about you.”

You peered over at him wordlessly and hung onto every syllable coming from his mouth.

He wrung his hands out; this perhaps wasn't a script he was prepared for. But who ever came prepared for something like this? “And I think it's pretty obvious what I was hoping for tonight to be like from the flowers and all, and I was hoping that I was being just as obvious with how I felt about you, and… I don't know. I just… I had to tell you.” His lips pressed together so that the small divot in the side of his cheek appeared.

You didn't know how to describe the wave of emotion that washed over you. There was the rapid heart beat thundering in your ears, the tingle of relief in your shoulders, the happiness taking flight in your stomach.

“I have to be honest, I—I feel the exact same way you do.” You ducked your head, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, “And I didn't know how to tell you either because I was really scared.” Your voice tripped, and you picked yourself back up. He waited for you, as always, patiently letting you say your piece. “I didn't want to lose you as a friend, at the very least, because you've come to mean so much to me over these past few months.”

Younghoon's smile widened and the amber color from the streetlight above haloed around his head for one dizzying second. “I didn't want to lose you either. I'm literally head over heels for you; you're every… you're everything.”

You didn't know how else to express your feelings through words, and you wrapped your arms around his middle, the flowers coming around his back to avoid being crushed. “Not good at words, sorry,” you mumbled into the fabric of his jacket.

You could feel the vibrations of his warm chuckle as he slowly wrapped his arms around you, his lips pressing against the side of your head. Message received.

Not everything went to plan, and it was important to exercise flexibility in such times. You still snuck (broke) into the planetarium with Younghoon, hand-in-hand, but all feelings were already known and laid sprawled on the table.

There was a center platform in the main showcase hall that was carpeted in a layer of fake grass that you and Younghoon gladly lounged upon to watch the universe. The image projected above your heads now of faraway solar systems and galaxies was unfortunately not real—they were produced by a specific software rather than the lens of a telescope. It was breathtaking, nonetheless.

You laid with your back against the fake grass next to Younghoon, your arms pressed against one another. The light projecting onto the dome above filtered down and painted you both in colors of stars and dark matter, all of those swirls of oranges and purples and blues and white.

“There is one thing that's still on my mind.”

He hummed. “What's that?”

“I was wondering—and you can totally say no—but the wedding…” You glanced over at him, and you wondered if he could understand what you were probing at. “I was wondering if you'd be comfortable going as my plus one. It's just the reception, but I understand if it's a lot.”

He smiled at you, big and bright, “I'd love to go as your plus one.”

Relief and joy fluttered in your chest now. It was a miracle your heart didn't grow wings and fly out then. “Thank you, really.”

His fingers inched over yours until they intertwined as a silent acknowledgement. He knew. He always knew somehow.

In the silence, you returned your gaze up to the night sky. It was crazy how vast the universe was and how small you were in relation to it. When put into perspective, your problems here on Earth were so much smaller than the world—and yet, they were still important.

“When I was a kid,” you started to say, and heard a small sound from your right as he looked back over at you, “I wanted to touch the stars.” You turned your head to look back at him.

His lip quirked upward fondly. “Something of yours will touch the stars one day.”

“I hope so,” you mused back. That was the dream.

His eyes dropped down to your mouth now, and everything quieted, as if you were in a vacuum with only the two of you. In this reality, no one and nothing else existed.

You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin as he leaned toward you and pressed his lips against yours. His body rolled half over yours, one hand cupping your jaw with a tenderness you were certain to become addicted to. It was your chest against his, your nose slotting beside his, your cheek beneath his thumb. His lips were a perfect marriage of pressure and softness at once.

When he pulled away, he didn't go far. “I think I just touched a star,” he murmured.

The breath in your throat hitched. “You're too good with words, Kim Younghoon.”

His eyes crinkled. “We can do something more your speed and study the space between us instead.”

You had to turn away to laugh, the sound of his own joining yours.

“Hey, it's a yes or no question,” he giggled, turning your chin back toward him. He bit his lip through a grin. “Can I kiss you again?”

You would be a fool to refuse him. In an instant, he lowered his lips over yours again, enveloped you in his embrace. And with every moment passed, you sank further and further into him. Maybe the universe was uncharted and alluring, but the universe could wait.

You had all the world right here.

a/n: tumblr fcking hates me and my dialogue, confirmed. anyways, pls remember to reblog + comment if u enjoyed! for now, i'll see u in hot commodity!

permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @kaaimins @hyunjaespresent-deobi @otterly-fey @zzoguri @floatingpluto @winterchimez @ethereal-engene @gyulfriend @polarisjisung @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @loveliestfelix @bless-311 @zhaixiaowen @leaz-kpop-life @amourdsr @pxppxrminty @kqyutie @sseastar-main @kxthleen14 @fluorescentloves @mosviqu @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @vernonburger @maessseongs @ericlvr @mars101 @moonyswolf @your-mirae @richasdiary @sunramzi @deobi0412 @kflixnet

[hwaslayer]

project: make you love me (jyh) | eleven.

♣︎ spotify playlist | series masterlist

—summary: yunho can’t stand how you’re so wrapped up in the notorious campus fuckboy, park seonghwa. he would gladly love you the way you deserve, despite being shy, awkward and the complete opposite of seonghwa. thus, when he finds himself spending more time with you over literature reviews and random study sessions, he decides to take on the challenge to win you over.

—pairing: jeong yunho x f. reader x park seonghwa

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers/friends to lovers, college au | fluff, angst, smut

—word count: 3.2k

—chapter content/warnings: sawrrry this is a bit of a filler chapter 🤠 more development between these two, cussing/mature language, another seonghwa flashback, small kisses hehe, these two are still shy (but so in luv 😙), making out, naps with yuyu <33

"Yunho." You whisper as you tap his chest.

"That's me." He says deeply, huskily; it makes you giggle to yourself a bit. 

"Wake up." You pout as his eyes slowly flutter open.

"Time is it?"

"Around 5AM."

"Goooood lord." He shuts his eyes again and pulls you closer. "Absolutely not."

"Yunho." You whine. "Let's go watch the sunrise."

"Y/N, you are very cute and I would do anything to make you happy." He says groggily. "But, it's only been about 3 hours since we fell asleep. Don't you wanna get more sleep?"

"I've tried sleeping more but I can't."

"You really wanna watch the sunrise?" 

"Yes." He opens and eye to peek down at you— indeed, you are very, very awake. He can't help but chuckle a bit because you're giving him that cute smile while tucked underneath his arm.

"Okay then."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He stretches a bit and yawns before fully waking himself up. "Just need to get dressed. You don't have any clothes to change into? It's probably freezing outside."

"Gonna need to stop by my apartment before we go."

"Okay then, let's get going." But before you can get up, Yunho gently puts his arm in front of you to prevent you from moving any further and squints his eyes at you, as if he was observing you very closely.

"What?" You ask him, eyes wide and alert.

"Damn, you really are serious about this." You snort and playfully hit him on the arm.

"Please, I've never been able to catch the sunrise." You pout.

"And you wanna do this with me?" He chuckles a bit.

"Of course I do." You give him a small smile and he nods.

"Okay then." You watch as he gets up first to stretch again, walking over to his closet to find you a jacket to throw on for this spontaneous journey you crazily have him agreeing to.

The tiny trek back to your apartment wasn't too bad, being that Yunho's jacket had added a protective layer and shielded you from getting too cold. You could see your breath in the morning, crisp hair; the sky still dark and patiently waiting for the sun to rise. You quietly step into your apartment, dashing into your room to grab a change of clothes and to wash up a bit better before heading out. Yunho sits on your couch and waits, scrolling through his phone to find random screenshots Mingi had sent him from the party last night.

mingi: dude last night was wild

mingi: did you end up leaving with y/n? i cant remember.. is she okay?

yunho: yeah, she's good.

mingi: did you guys hook up? how was it? 😏

Yunho furrows his brows and chuckles a bit, responding to Mingi quickly to get his nose out of his business— because he knows this is going to be relayed to Seonghwa. Not that he cares, but he'd like to keep Seonghwa guessing a bit more. 

yunho: we just chilled, relax. lol

mingi: i have to tell you about last night

mingi: but are you fr? you guys didn't hook up?

Yunho's eyes shift to the hallway when he hears a door creak open, a wild Soobin popping out of the frame.

"Oh." Soobin sleepily walks out with rough bedhead, eyes barely open when he heads to the kitchen to grab water. "Yunho, hey." He says sleepily with a wave. 

"Hey." Yunho says as he watches him pop open a water bottle and take a few swigs. 

"Feel like shit." He mumbles before pointing towards the bathroom. "Y/N in there?" Yunho nods. At that moment, you quietly slip out, surprised to see Soobin up and walking.

"The heck?" You giggle seeing his current state and playfully ruffle his hair.

"Shut up. Where are you going?"

"To watch the sunrise."

"That's crazy. You let her talk you into this?" Soobin looks at Yunho, and Yunho gives him a simple, pursed smile in return. "Goodluck. I'm going back to bed." He mumbles before lazily waving at you and Yunho, slipping himself back his shared room with Seungmin. You shift your attention back to Yunho, slowly walking towards him in your newly changed outfit. He thinks you're the cutest— dressed in your leggings, those legwarmers, uggs.

That oversized, olive-colored jacket.

The thick scarf wrapped around your neck.

Your cream beanie.

"Speak now or forever hold your peace." You mutter and Yunho laughs, standing on his two feet.

"Come on. We gotta get there to catch the sunrise in time."

"Get where?" You lock up the front door before following Yunho to his car. 

"I think I know the perfect place to catch the sunrise." He stands near the opened passenger door, patiently waiting for you to get inside. You giggle to yourself before hopping in; settling into the seat just as Yunho sits in the driver's seat and immediately turns on the heat. 

"Sorry."

"For?" Yunho raises his brow.

"Dragging you out of bed." He chuckles.

"I mean, truthfully, I can feel myself dying by the minute." You playfully smack him on the bicep, making him laugh a bit louder this time.

"Yunho, don't play. I feel bad. Let's just—"

"I'm kidding, Y/N. I meant it when I said I'd do anything to make you happy." 

"But, I want you to be happy, too."

"I am." He gives you a small smile before caressing your chin. "Promise."

"Okay, Jeong Yunho. I'm taking that to heart." He chuckles.

It isn't too long before Yunho's pulling into a lot of a nearby hiking trail. He reassures you that there's a shorter path that'll take you up the hill, where there is a bench you can sit to enjoy the view and catch the sunrise. You let him take the lead to guide you on the right path, but he stops when he finds the coffee cart nearby. The coffee cart sits near the small welcome center, lights on the overhead illuminating the cart brightly during this dark morning.

"Want hot chocolate? Coffee?"

"Ou, hot chocolate sounds bomb."

"It does. I'll grab us some." He jogs over to the cart, smiling at the middle-aged man who is patiently waiting for time to pass, for more customers to arrive. He's quick to fix the two cups of hot chocolate, Yunho walking back over within the next 5 minutes. "Here. Drink up while it's warm."

"Thank you, Yunho." He smiles, walking alongside you— keeping a bit of a lead to guide you and show you the way. "I don't think I even knew about this place."

"Hm. It's a hidden gem, really. Everyone usually goes to the busier hiking trail nearby."

"Do you come here often?"

"Nope." Yunho chuckles. "But, my aunt took me and my mom here when they visited awhile ago."

"Sweet. I love how you're close to them. I hope I get to meet them one day." You say without really thinking about how it sounds, or how it comes off. When you do realize, you shoot Yunho a look and apologize for having assumed where you two stood. "Oh, I mean, you know. If they happen to be on campus again and what not—" Yunho laughs.

"You'll get to meet them outside of campus. Don't worry." You shyly blush and break eye contact, looking out at the path ahead. It's actually not that far of a walk, seeing that the bench Yunho had mentioned was only a few feet up ahead. It's perched on the side of the hill that overlooks the other side of town, with the trail continuing on past it. Both you and Yunho take your seats, sitting close enough to feed off of each other's body heat.

It's comforting.

You're perfectly content sitting next to Yunho, watching the sun slowly begin to rise.

"There's the sun." Yunho lets out a breath before sipping on his coffee. "We made it in time."

"Yay!" You look up at him again. "Can't believe we're catching the sunrise. You really are the best."

"Just want you to be happy because you deserve it, all of it." Yunho says, firmly believing in his own statement. He's not that great with affection and words, but you absolutely deserved way better than Park Seonghwa.

He couldn't even reach the bare minimum.

"You're too good to me."

"I'm being honest." You sip on your hot chocolate in peace, occasionally tracing the lid with your finger. It's quiet as the rest of the sun begins to slowly show itself more and more past the horizon. Eventually, Yunho is the first to break that silence and ask: "Can I ask you something? You don't have to respond either if you don't want to."

"Of course."

"Has Seonghwa tried reaching out to you?" You shake your head.

"Absolutely not. And he shouldn't."

"Hm." He hums. "So, you don't see yourself going back to him?"

"No, Yunho. Why would I put myself through that again, right?"

♣︎ FLASHBACK

"Hwa, wait." Seonghwa pauses in his steps just as he's about to make his way to the car. He cocks a brow up, watching as you take a picture of the sunset.

"What're you doing?"

"Isn't it pretty?"

"I guess? It's like any other sunset." He shrugs. You continue to snap a few pictures, making the impatience grow in Seonghwa a bit. He huffs, shifting his weight from one foot to another before continuing off to the car. "Y/N, come on? I just wanna get home." 

"I'm just taking one more picture."

"The food you asked for is gonna get cold." You roll your eyes and waddle over to the passenger side, sliding into the seat before strapping your seatbelt on. It's a quiet drive for the most part, Seonghwa already annoyed with the fact that you asked him to stop by for some food post-practice. You don't really care much, though. Overall, you had a good day with your friends and you weren't gonna let him ruin it entirely.

"Seonghwa."

"Hm?" He hums, eyes still glued to the road ahead.

"We should catch the sunrise one day." He snorts.

"For what? What's up with you and the sun?"

"I just like it. It's pretty."

"Baby, I can barely get my ass up for class. You're up earlier than me. You should do it."

"I want to do it with you, though." He laughs and it kinda hits you right in the feels, hits you right in the pit of your stomach. 

You try, and you try, and it goes nowhere.

You don't understand why you do this to yourself.

"You don't have to do everything with me, Y/N. Don't wait for me. You should do it if you wanna."

"Yeah." Is all you respond with, nibbling on your bottom lip hearing yet another rejection from Seonghwa.

♣︎ END

"I mean, you had your good days and bad days with him, too."

"I know. He's just in the past now, though. Something I definitely want to move on from and keep him where he belongs in the past. I think he just did more harm than good, and I hated feeling so small and replaceable to him. Like nothing."

"I get you." He says.

"I have no intentions of going back." You give him a tiny, toothless smile in response to his reaction. "Promise."

"Okay. I'll hold onto every word of yours." It's quiet again while the two of you continue to watch. This time, after an or so, it's your turn to break the silence; pondering about the sudden question Yunho asked.

He must be worried, right?

Worried that you'd crawl back to Seonghwa, fall into his games, traps.

You get it. You get Yunho.

Seonghwa is only a mere passing thought at this point.

"Yunho."

"Hm?" He sips on his coffee

"I know I was kinda drunk, but I meant what I said on the phone while I was away."

"What did you say?" He smirks, subtly biting onto the lid of his cup while his eyes are glued onto yours. You giggle and shake your head, taking a sip of your hot chocolate before looking back out at the view.

"Nothing." You tease back.

"Aw, really? Like that?" He gently nudges you with a small chuckle. "I guess you didn't really mean it, then." He shrugs.

"Hey." You whine. "I did mean it." You look at him with a pout and he continues to smirk that smirk of his until you give in. God, he was becoming your weakness. "I meant it when I said I like you, Yunho." His smile grows.

"I meant it when I said I like you, too."

"I'm glad we're on the same page, then." He nods.

"I feel a bit silly explaining this, but last night.." He lets out a breath. "I hope you don't feel like you did anything wrong because you didn't. I just really wanna do things right with you. I meant that, too."

"I know." You look down at his free hand dug into his pocket. You hesitate a bit, but you eventually slip your hand into his pocket and lace your finger with his— a gesture that makes his heart melt and adore you even more. 

The both of you sit there while quietly sipping on your drinks and watching the rest of the sun rise from its slumber. It's still cold, and you can still see your breath in the air. But Yunho is warm next to you; his hand is warm, his company is warm.

"So, am I off the hook with reading your lit reviews?" He teases again, making you laugh.

"No, please. I still need your help for the rest of the semester if it doesn't bother you."

"I'm kidding. It doesn't. I wanna help." You lean into his arm a bit more, trying to recover with his warmth. "Are you cold?"

"A bit."

"Do you wanna head back then? Sun is up." You nod.

"Yeah, I think I'm good. Thank you again for watching the sunrise with me." You look up at him, planting a kiss on his cheek. However, before you could pull back completely, you feel Yunho gently tug on your hand— signaling for you to stay close. 

So, you do.

And Yunho dips forward to give you a sweet, chaste kiss on the lips. You giggle and bite your lip when you catch how red the tip of his ears have become.

"That's better." He chimes in before standing, keeping your hand laced with his in his pocket. "What are you gonna do when we get back, though? Are you gonna hang out with your roommates?" The both of you toss your empty cups into the nearby trash can.

"Maybe, yeah. Take a nap." You chuckle. "What about you?"

"Same since I feel myself crying for sleep now." You laugh. "Do you wanna nap at my place?" He looks at you before clearing his throat. "I mean, totally up to you. I don't mean to be forward but just wanted to put the option out there. B-but, don't feel—"

"I'd love to nap with you." You blush.

"I swear I won't take any more time away from Chaery." 

"She'll be okay." You giggle. But, just as you reach the bottom of the hill, your phone starts to beep from incoming texts.

"You sure about that?" Yunho smirks when he sees you flash your screen his way; Chaery's name popping up a few times.

chaery: shit it is so early but i swear i heard you come in earlier. did you??

chaery: i'm also kinda bleh from the alchy last night. so my bad if not, hehe. i guess you're still with yunho?!

chaery: i'm gna go back to sleep but come back soon. imy. but i hope you're having the time of your life with your man <33 get it girl!!

"She's okay. Promise. She's just wondering where I'm at and if it was me that walked in earlier." You try to text back using your free hand, letting your bestfriend know you'd be at Yunho's for a bit longer.

you: it was me, sorry for waking you, love. i am with yunho! i'll prob head back in a few hours. hehe get some more sleep! 

"Y/N." You tuck your phone back into your pocket and look up at Yunho.

"Yes?"

"Are you sure? About the nap?"

"Yes. Unless you take your invite back." 

"Of course not." Yunho briefly lets go of your hand to open the passenger door. You slide in, watching him jog over and start the car to get the heat going as soon as possible. He takes a moment to get settled before he's driving off, his hand open and resting on the middle console— waiting for you to lock your hand with his again. 

"Hope you don't mind me borrowing your clothes all the time. I still have to wash the stuff I wore to bed." He chuckles.

"It's okay, I don't mind."

"Is Yeosang up already?" Yunho looks at the time on his dash.

"Probably not. There are rare days when he gets up early to gym or go for a run. But I doubt it after last night." 

"Is he dating anyone?" Your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Not that I know of. He hasn't had someone over in awhile."

"But.. he has?"

"You're cute." Yunho laughs. "He has. And to be honest, there are some moments I don't really wanna remember." You snort.

"Wow, was not expecting to hear that. Good for him."

"Yeah, he's a good guy. He deserves to have some fun sometimes. Plus, it's nice that he's away from the computer."

"That's true, too." You yawn, leaning your head near the window. "Okay, now I can't wait for that nap."

"You see?" Yunho laughs, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

The drive is a quick 20 minutes, with the rest of the ride falling silent besides Yunho humming along to the songs. You completely feel the exhaustion hit you as soon as Yunho pulls into the familiar lot. The both of you drag yourselves back upstairs and into the quiet apartment, padding into Yunho's room to change into another set of his comfy clothes. You opt for one of his longsleeves and joggers, slipping yourself back into the sheets with Yunho following shortly behind. He tucks you under the covers well before pulling you into his arms and letting you tuck your head near the crook of his neck.

"You're so warm." Yunho lets out a small, breathy laugh when he feels you shiver against him, adjusting his position and keeping you close.

"Feel better?" You look up at him and nod.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me." He says softly, pausing in between his responses. "Y/N?"

"Mhm?"

"Can I kiss you again?"

"I'd like that." You giggle, watching as Yunho dips his head down to kiss you. You smile into the kiss when you realize he doesn't want to pull away— instead, chasing after your lips for another, and another;

And another.

Until the kiss deepens, the both of you indulging in each other through every bit, every second. His hand gives your side a gentle squeeze when he feels you bite onto his bottom lip and let out a breath in between kisses. But, even if the kiss feels like it continues to intensify, even if the fireworks grow with every move, every touch; there is no need, no push, to take things further. 

Just taking him in, as he is with you. 

At some point, Yunho slows down and is the first to pull back. His eyes remain on you though, his hand coming up to brush the hair away from your face. He gives you a tiny, toothless smile before pressing a sweet peck to your forehead, down to the tip of your nose;

To the corner of your lips.

"You're so pretty." He sleepily says, making you giggle and snuggle against him. "Let's sleep."

"Okay." You shut your eyes, slowly falling asleep to the sound of Yunho's soft breathing.

♣︎ taglist: @s-nsanshine @soupbinlily @tyongff-ff @jiminiscricket @g1g1l @staytinyinmybpack @woomyteez @gfksz @bitchwhytho @savluvsmingi @thisisntmyrightera @hyukssunflower @miriamxsworld @tmtxtf @kuromibabe04 @lmnhead @carrietwrites @tournesol155 @persphonesorchid @txt-yaomi @marsattacks @mxnsxngie @h-nji @mundayoonimnida @jalapeno-princess @nakiiko @asjkdk @kunikku @idkwgoh @kyeos4ng @agust-d2 @araknoid @bintificreads @primoppang @betray-the-light @aurorasjoongie @wineyoungie @yunholuvrsblog @mingigiggles @jaerisdiction @ignoretheskies @luminouskalopsia @naeviscall

[grimoireofhayley]

Of Friends and Horror

Stu Macher x Fem!Reader x Billy Loomis

WARNINGS: Graphic content, eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Language, Talks of SA (rape), Cheating, Obsessiveness, Gore, 18+ content, Stalking, Jealousy, Angst, Possessiveness, (let me know if there’s more that needs to be added!)

Word Count: 1.02k

Tag List: @ev3ningrain @nerdytif @m-the-little-witch

A/N: Ah, I hope y’all feel lucky. Two chapters in one day! I hope you enjoy this one as much as I enjoyed writing it. I hope I captured Randy, Billy, and Stu’s personality correctly. Thank you so much for reading! I’m hoping I’d get an update out tomorrow, but if not, it should be up later on this week at some point so keep an eye open. I also wrote this on my iPad, so I apologize if there’s any grammatical errors. I’ll proofread again tomorrow and put out an updated version. Oh, again, if you wanna be added to the tag list, just comment down below. Thank you :)

All chapter links! 👇🏻👇🏻👇🏻

OF&H Masterlist

Chapter 3

“Remember, your principal loves you, and I want you to be safe. All students are encouraged to return to their homes promptly from school grounds…” The principal spoke over the PA, “Avoid strangers, walk in twos and threes—“

You pinched the bridge of your nose, visibly stressed from all the questioning. You haven’t a clue why you were so upset about everything, you weren’t the killer, but for some reason it felt like you were. Maybe you should’ve lied? Twisted the story a bit so you didn’t reveal you were a mistress at some point in your life.

“I am a slut..” You mumbled, dragging your fingers down your face, causing your eyes to droop. “Now Brooke is definitely going to find out, how am I to confront her on that?” You asked no one in particular.

You stared at the vibrant blue sky, squinting when the sun flashed your eyes. “Have mercy on me, please?” You begged the man upstairs, not expecting an answer in return.

“What kind of questions did they ask you, Sid?” You heard Tatum’s voice in the distance.

You blew a raspberry, putting your brave face on and sauntered over to your friend group at the fountain.

“They asked if I knew Casey…” Sidney’s voice soon followed.

“Hi, guys!” You chirped, sitting in front of Stu, Billy, Tatum and Sidney, unintentionally stopping their conversation.

“Hello, Sweetcheeks!” Stu blurted, eyes glazing over you, a small smirk planted on his lips. “What took you so long?” He groaned, “It’s always so boring when you aren’t here!” He frowned, tossing his head back.

“Gee, thanks Stu..” Tatum snipped, causing you to giggle.

You looked over to Billy, seeing Sidney leaning against his legs, your face contorting in disgust as jealousy was creeping up on you. You mentally slapped yourself, looking away and back at Stu.

“Uh, they had me stay longer for questioning…” You admitted, leaning back against your bag, stretching out your legs.

“Huh? Why?” Billy asked, curiously.

“Yeah, why’s that?” Sidney mumbled.

You swallowed the lump that formed in your throat.

“Just reasons, I guess.”

“Speaking of questioning, did they ask if you like to hunt?” Stu looked at Billy and Randy who seemed to have shown up out of nowhere.

“Yeah, they did. Did they ask you?” Billy answered and probed, Randy nodded in agreement.

“Hunt? Why would they ask you if you liked to hunt?” Tatum voiced.

“Because their bodies were gutted.” Randy spoke up, shoving a peanut in his mouth.

“They didn’t ask me if I liked to hunt…” both Sidney and Tatum declared.

Stu looked around, but his eyes always seemed to land on you, which caused you to blush, and chew on your fingernail.

“‘Cause there’s no way a girl could’ve killed ‘em..” Stu laughed.

“That’s bullshit. The killer could easily be female, basic instinct.”

“That was an ice pick. Not exactly the same thing…” Randy butted in.

“Yeah, Casey and Steve were completely hollowed out. And the fact is, it takes a man to do something like that.” Stu grinned, still staring at you without realizing it.

You leaned in, placing your chin on the palm of your hand. “Really now? If that’s so, then why did they ask me if I liked to hunt, Stu?” You smirked, catching all of them off guard. “Like Tatum said, the killer could easily be a girl. Though, with how they were killed it was clearly a man. They’re all the same, messy. They like to play with their prey. A woman on the other hand, knows how to get things done, swiftly and cleanly. Why do you think they don’t get caught as easily?” You finished your statement. Drumming your fingers across your lap in triumph.

“That was— I was not expecting that.” Stu laughed loudly, bewilderment lingering around him like an aroma of some sorts. Billy was just as shocked, but more amused.

However, Sidney wasn’t having it. “How… How do you gut someone?” She asked.

“You take a knife—“ Stu started and Billy looked up from his lunch. “And you slit ‘em from the groin to the sternum..”

“Hey.” Billy cut Stu off, glaring at him. “It’s called tact, you fuckrag.”

You sighed, shaking your head.

“Hey, (Y/n)..” Sidney asked, ignoring Billy and Stu’s former conversation.

Your ears perked and you looked at her confused.

“Didn’t you used to date Steve Orth?”

‘Now how in the fuck could she have possibly known that…’ You thought, your ears turning red from anger and you clenched your fist.

“Yeah, for like a couple of months..”

“Hold up, did I miss a chapter or something? When the hell did you date him?” Billy asked, looking somewhat pissed.

“Uh, yeah, I have to agree with Billy here.. when the hell did that happen?” Tatum’s eyes widened, she felt betrayed.

“Jesus, guys, it was only a couple of months, I don’t even know how Sidney found out.” You started, shooting Sidney a glare.

“Can we change the subject, please?”

“Did you sleep with him?” Stu mumbled, starting to get irritated as well.

“All of you, please just shut up. It is not a big deal.” You demanded.

“Are the police aware that you dated the victim?” Randy asked, ignoring your pleas.

“Hey, what are you saying? That I killed both Casey and Steve?” Your mouth gaped at the accusation.

“It just makes sense, ex-girlfriend not over the relationship, gets jealous seeing her lover with someone else… You know, the scorned ex who kills for revenge!” Randy shouted, earning a few stares in the process from passersby’s.

“(Y/n) was with me last night, okay?” Billy spoke, winking at you from behind Sidney.

“Yeah, I was…” You stated, catching Sidney’s eyes darting your way.

“Was that before or after you sliced them up?”

“Hold on, you went to (Y/n)‘s after you came by my place? You said you were going to Stu’s!” Sidney flared her nostrils, anger bubbling to the surface.

“Oh, brother…” You whispered, face-palming. Seeing Sidney hurriedly packing up her things, she didn’t give neither you or Billy time to explain...

<- Previous Next ->

[strongheartneteyam]

I wish I could

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!curvy!human reader

CW: lots of fluff, angst, jealous neteyam, sexual tension, confession of feelings, heated make out session. I think that's all lol

Chapter 3

♡

Chapter 2

♡

Two days had passed. Neteyam goes to sleep at night thinking about the wonderful time he had spent with you that day. You had come over again. He always got to spend time with you because you were really close to Kiri, his adoptive sister. He was actually jealous of how much time you spent with her. But you would always come to their house to visit because of her and Tuk, so he considered himself lucky that he got to spend so much time next to you. With all that time you spent close to each other, maybe you could start seeing his qualities and see him as "mate material", like the human girls would refer to na'vi they were interested in. It came from "boyfriend material", an old human expression. He found that out when he asked Kiri what "mate material" meant and she fell to the floor laughing at him. He thought that reaction to be so dramatic but again, it was Kiri, after all. She was so goofy.

That day you guys had spent many hours together and had a great talk. You weren't as close as when you were children but you were still really good friends. He cherished every moment he had spent with you, hearing you laugh at his jokes, eating fruits together, watching the nature below as you sat at the edge of a tree next to the Sully's home, your four legs bouncing in the air as you talked about trivial things.

He fell asleep thinking about that and was woken up in the morning by Lo'ak.

"Hey, dude. Time to wake up and go train with dad. He's waiting for us outside. You know he's not that patient."

Neteyam sighed and started to rise his upper body from his mat. It seemed to weight a ton since he was so sleepy.

He went back to his normal routine as you spent some days without visiting. He always suffered when it happened. But what could he do? You already spent so much time at his parents house that if he asked you to come over more often it would be so weird.

One day he was walking through the trees and he found you, laying on the floor and listening to music with those odd devices humans had. They were called earbuds. You were always with a pair of those. Neteyam knew you loved music and that was something you two bonded over. You introduced him to music from the planet Earth. There was a song that you had shown him one day that he really liked. It was called Stairway to Heaven, by a band that lived on Earth more than a century ago, called Led Zeppelin. The melody was really beautiful and he knew you loved that song too.

He slowly walked closer to you so that he wouldn't startle you, as you could not hear him with the earbuds on. He slowly appeared at your sight when you were staring into the sky and you smiled and took your earbuds off.

"Hey! Do you wanna lay by my side?" You said, a big smile on your face

"I would love to." He said and lied close to you

You took one of your earbuds in your hand and looked at him, signaling that he could listen to music with you if he wanted to.

He took the offer and put the small device in his ear.

The song that was playing was really beautiful and he asked you what was its name.

"It's Enchanted by Taylor Swift. She was a very successful singer at her time on Earth, in the 21st century. I love this song so much."

Neteyam listened close to the lyrics that went like this:

The lingering question kept me up

2 AM, who do you love?

I wonder 'til I'm wide awake

And now I'm pacing back and forth

Wishing you were at my door

I'd open up and you would say

Hey, it was enchanting to meet you

All I know is, I was enchanted to meet you

It was almost funny how those lyrics defined how he felt about you.

"It's a really beautiful song." He said

"I love it too." You smiled at him "I understand the lyrics very well. It's hard but exciting at the same time to love someone and not know if they love you back and stay up until late thinking about them."

Neteyam was now jealous. Did you choose a mate and he didn't know? Were you courting someone and he never noticed? Or was he a human and you were talking and spending time together, as humans did instead of bringing gifts and food to their love interest like the na'vi did. It couldn't be... He wished so hard it wasn't real.

"A-are you in love with someone?" He asked you and weirdly enough you could hear the nervousness in his voice

"Hmm..." the question and the way he sounded was a surprise to you. Could it really be what you were thinking? Did the boy you love, love you back? Your heart jumped with excitement at the thought.

"I never even told Kiri about it but... I trust you can keep my secret. I am in love with a boy."

Neteyam looked sadly at you. His heart ached when he thought about any other male calling you his mate.

"Do I know him?" He asked

You felt something in your belly and wanted so bad to tell him it was him the boy you were talking about. Should you? You pondered.

"You do know him. He's a very handsome and well respected na'vi young male. He comes from a very good family."

"You seem to really like him..." Neteyam said, looking down

"I do. So much." You said while your heart broke seeing him in pain. It was so obvious, you could see it written all over his perfect face. He really seemed to be in love with you.

You wanna throw in the towel and tell him. You guys are listening to a beautiful romantic song, alone, in the middle of the forest. What moment could be more appropriate?

You decide that "screw it". You are gonna tell him you love him. He seemed so sad that you were in love with someone that wasn't him. But of course it was him, he just didn't know that.

"I've known him since forever..." You said, hoping he would know who you're talking about "We would run through the trees when we were 5 as his grandma would keep an eye on us in case any dangerous animal appeared."

Neteyam's heart started to pound inside his chest. Did you say what he thought you had said? Was he the boy you were in love with?

He smiled and with a wide-eyed gaze he said:

"I don't know if I'm going crazy here but..." he swallowed his saliva before proceeding "Could you be talking about me?" He asked, hoping you would say "yes"

"Maybe this will answer you" You leaned closer to him and kissed his lips

You didn't know what came over you. You were definitely not that confident. What if somehow you were wrong and he wasn't in love with you too?

This thought was soon washed away from your head when Neteyam grabbed your face with one hand and kissed you back. His lips were burning with desire for you. He couldn't believe that was actually happening.

He started moaning into your lips as it felt just so good to kiss your sweet mouth. He pulled you closer grabbing your leg and bringing it over his own.

You felt so high feeling his big hand in your leg, like you had dreamed of so many times, irradiating heat in the skin your shorts left uncovered. You lived like the na'vi but you still wore human clothes. It would be too weird for you not to. But you didn't wear clothes that covered much skin and wore accessories your na'vi mom had made for you, like a big necklace and beautiful bracelets. So, your style still made you look similar to the na'vi girls.

Neteyam opened his lips wider and took your bottom lip inside of his mouth, kissing it passionately. It was so good that you moaned in his lips. He gave you some more wet kisses and said "I love you, (y/n). This seems too good to be true. I can't believe you kissed me. I can't believe you want me too."

"I love you, Teyam. I want to be yours. Forever. Do you wanna be mine?"

"I already am, my sweetheart." He said as he surprised you by laying on top of you. You could feel how heavy he was even if he was trying not to put all his weight on your frail body, supporting himself on the floor with one of his arms.

"Oel ngati kameie" He said, his hand touching his forehead. You knew that meant "I see you" in the na'vi language. Your heart started beating at the speed of light and tears filled your eyes

"I see you, Teyam." You answered

Neteyam's hand traveled from your thigh to your hip, grabbing it and then going to your thigh again and opening one of your legs so he could get between them. He leaned closer to your face and kissed your lips. He then put his tongue in your lips and you opened your mouth and let it touch your own. Feeling his hot, wet tongue licking yours felt so feral. You were starting to get really horny for him. It felt even better when he started sucking your tongue.

☆•.°☆•.°☆•.°

Sooo. What do you guys think? Leave any opinions at the comments. I love reading your comments 🥰 Next chapter is gonna be smut 😈

I'm a tagging some really nice people that left a comment on the chapter 1 of this story asking to be tagged.

@lik0

@behindthearcane

💙💕

[yuna542]

[3.]

~Who surfs in a storm?~

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader/Oc

Genre: Fluff, Enemies to Lovers, Smut, Angst, Drama, Action

Warnings: Nothing

Taglist: Open

Word count: 2,2k

Summary: The Kook princess is back after a year and reignites the war between Pogues and Kooks on Kildare. But she quickly realizes that after this year, nothing is the same as before. Deception, secrets from the past, and dangerous conspiracies sweep across Kildare, leaving her no choice but to work with the Pogues and her personal nemesis to find the truth and maybe even $8 million. A dangerous treasure hunt begins that turns her world upside down.

Soundtrack:

⏯️Play -Runaway Kids by HARBOUR

“Where we've gone, it all just feels the same

I found that sun

Wouldn't you know, now I miss the rain

We're the runaway kids

Let's escape, we'll get there some day

Hey yo, don't you know

Life's too short to take it slow

We go where we wanna go”

The next days I spent 24/7 with Sarah. Topper and Rafe were also there from time to time, but Sarah and I had a lot to talk about and to catch up on. In the evenings we usually all sat together and drank secretly from Ward's alcohol, cooked together or ordered pizza.

But today we had planned a girls-only day. We had ridden our bikes to the beach and drank wine that Sarah had stolen from her stepmother's closet.

The sun was high in the sky, warming our faces and heating the air up. The sand was pleasantly warm and the sea breeze gave us a little cooling. Still, it was too hot for me even in my jean shorts and the red bikini top.

We were already chatting all day and lying in the sun, when the first clouds started to build right above us. The wine bottle was almost empty, the alcohol turning our checks red and we giggled incessantly about everything. Sarah brought me up to date on all the gossip on Kildare and that was quite a bit after a whole school year. I missed a lot.

It almost felt like the old days. Sarah had hardly changed and I really enjoyed my time with her. I had long since forgiven her for not getting in touch. I was just glad to have a friend I could trust and have fun with. Yes, she was a spoiled little princess, a daddy's girl, but she was warmhearted after all. That's what always differentiates her from the other Kooks and made her also an easy target.

"Can I ask you something?", I began, tying my hair into a high ponytail. We had gotten back on the topic of boys and even if I liked Topper, the idea of seeing the two of them together was weird.

"Sure."

She looked at me tensely and took a sip from the wine bottle. They started to date right after I left Kildare and to see them interact was kinda strange. The superficial acting was kinda obvious to me, even though Sarah doesn't seem to see it or she didn't care.

"You and Topper... Have you guys slept together yet?"

I wiggled my eyebrows and paused meaningfully.

Sarah inhaled loudly, then shook her head.

"No. It hasn't come to that yet."

I nodded and looked out at the ocean. Just as I thought. The waves were really high today and something magically drew me out onto the water. The intense blue shimmered seductively in the sunlight and was only interrupted by the foam of large breakers.

"What about you and Rafe?" she asked then, handing me the bottle.

"What do you mean?"

I gave her a curt look as she eyed me with raised eyebrows and disbelief.

"Don't play dumb with me! You know damn well he's had a crush on you since forever. When you moved away, he didn't leave his room for days."

I pressed my lips together. Of course, I knew Rafe had his eye on me and before the incident I had even toyed with the idea of giving it a chance.

But then everything got mixed up and drowned into chaos. Rafe still seemed to be interested in me and that strengthened my self-confidence, after I had only rejected all the guys over the last year. After all, I had seen how he had been adored on the beach. He had grown into a tall, handsome young man over the past year and the female world in Figure Eigth was at his feet.

"I don't know... That was so long ago."

Sarah handed me the bottle and I took a big sip.

"It hasn't for Rafe. He's obsessed with you. For real it's annoying."

We had been very good friends in the past. With him I had smoked my first joint, skipped school for the first time and drank alcohol. We were inseparable until he started sending strange signals.

At first it bothered me, but after a while I liked his attention. I played with him without really knowing what I was doing. I mean all girls were happy to have the attention of an admirer, right?

Now that I was back here, the game started all over again.

Maybe this time I would actually give it a try with him. After all, he was good looking, came from a good home, and was always friendly to me. And we were not children anymore.

Glancing up at the sky, I felt queasy. A storm was brewing over the sea. The dark clouds thickened and an ominous wind blew toward us. The air was electrically charged and it already smelled like a thunderstorm.

"There's quite a storm coming," I remarked, letting the soft sand trickle through my hand.

Sarah looked to the horizon as well and nodded.

"Yeah, that looks nasty. We should start heading back."

"There's still time," I countered, and though the clouds seemed intimidating, they fascinated me in equal measure. Just as the sea always had. I probably got that from my mother.

Sarah started to put the bottles into the basket of her bicycle. She was restless because of the thunderstorm and I couldn't blame her. Here on Kildare the storms were different. They were unpredictable and incredibly strong. Hurricanes could hit the island at any time and you didn't want to be outside when a beast like that grabbed the island and threw it around, like his personal toy.

In fact, I could already see the first drops falling from the sky and darkening the sand, while the gusts of wind tore more and more violently at my hair.

Suddenly there were shouts and two people were running across the beach. Both had a surfboard under their arms and seemed to be racing each other.

At that moment, the first drop of water fell on my forehead.

Sarah seemed to be getting raindrops as well.

"Come on! Let's get out of here!"

I squinted my eyes and watched as the two boys laid their boards on the sand and looked out to sea as if searching for suitable waves.

Finally, I recognized them.

"Hey, Sarah? What are Maybank and John B doing by the ocean in weather like this?"

Sarah stood next to me and looked over as well.

"What do I know? Those two are completely insane. They surf in storms a lot."

I watched in disbelief as the two of them watched the restless sea as if they couldn't wait for the storm.

The wind swirled my hair around my head and goosebumps spread across my skin.

That's when John B turned around and spotted us. He whispered something to JJ and wanted to remain discreet. However, JJ immediately whirled around and waved at us ironically.

Sarah sighed in annoyance, while John B also looked over at us, obviously unsure if he should greet or just ignore us.

Behind them, the darkness of the threatening clouds was punctured by lightning.

JJ had only a bluish tinge left under his left eye but you could still see the cut on his lip where Rafe hit him.

"John B has been working on our boat for quite a while now. His father disappeared at sea a few months ago and was pronounced dead," Sarah told me in passing.

"You remember Maybank," she added with a smirk when she saw me eyeing him.

"Yes, I do. How could I forget that dickhead. But he changed. At least from the outside.”

I just realized that again. His tanned upper body was muscular and defined. In general, he had become outrageously attractive. For pogues, the two of them were actually very handsome. Like two stray dogs who were dirty, but still beautiful to look at.

"Only on the outside. He still fucks up every chance he gets. No wonder with that father... The man has been suspected of smuggling several times. The police is almost every week at their front door. JJ has probably become even more brazen and stupid over time due to the illegal influence."

I immediately believed that, thinking about the fight with Rafe.

"Shit, they're coming," Sarah remarked, running to her bike to lift it out of the sand.

I, on the other hand, remained seated and looked at JJ, who was casually sauntering toward us with a certain mischievousness in his eyes. John stopped at the water's edge and didn't seem too pleased with JJ's behavior.

"Are you girls lost? Aren't you two on the wrong side of the island?"

Provocatively, he stood up in front of me and looked down at me. His gaze traveled over my face and then up and down my body. I unconsciously grabbed my mother's necklace. His remarks made immediately angry.

Mom had always taken me here in the past. This is where she had learned to surf herself and she had insisted on showing me too. I grabbed my necklace even harder to calm my breathing. Just a few weeks before she died, she had given me the necklace, so it had a special meaning for me and calmed me. Mostly. It consisted of a small silver cylinder with sweeping engravings on it. They looked like little waves traveling across the silver. It gave me little waves of warm energy every time I touched it.

"I don't see a sign with your name on it anywhere."

I pretended to look for such a sign and then looked up at him again, waiting.

Then the silence was shattered by a low rumble and more raindrops fell on us.

"Come on! The storm's coming."

Sarah had already grabbed the handlebars of her bike. Only my pastel blue bike was still in the sand.

"You're seriously going to surf in this storm?", I asked mockingly as I slowly picked myself up and swept the sand off my shorts.

"Of course. That's when's the most fun."

His eyes sparkled with anticipation, but I could only frown. These Pogues were indeed all crazy. And really really stupid.

"I see you've recovered," I commented, smiling sweetly, pointing at his bruised face.

JJ just laughed snidely.

"I've never been better. Since you’re back, you should know that you Kooks better stay away from the Cut, or it won't end well for either of you."

"Is that supposed to be a threat?"

I crossed my arms and continued to stare at him unflinchingly. These little arguments were actually a little fun by now.

"No, no not at all. Just a friendly hint."

He smiled dryly and the rain increased. Sarah stepped uneasily from one leg to the other, and all at once a bright flash of lightning ripped the sky directly above us, followed shortly by loud thunder.

I winced violently and Sarah let out a scream. JJ looked up at the sky in amusement, letting the rain pelt his face.

"I'm better off without your hints. Maybe you'll kill yourselves out there and then I won't have to tell Rafe anything."

"Pff.. You Kooks just don't know anything about surfing. It's really fun in a storm," he replied, giving his friend an amused look.

I turned to Sarah to turn my attention away from his abs, glistening deliciously from the rain.

"You were right. He's even dumber than he was a year ago."

JJ ran a hand through his now wet hair and tilted his head a little.

"And you're even more arrogant and annoying than before. That that's even possible... Is that what they teach you at your great Kook schools?"

I shook my head in annoyance.

"Let's get out of here! Rafe is probably already waiting," I said, addressing Sarah.

My provocation hit the mark, causing JJ to snort snidely and the smile to disappear from his face. The waves became louder and louder and roared ominously. Now I was starting to feel more queasy, too.

"Come on! You don't want to keep your prince waiting."

John B had already taken his surfboard and wandered into the bubbling water.

"Just shut the fuck up, Maybank," I hissed, to which he just grinned wider again.

His provocations were getting on my nerves so much, and when he now slowly walked backwards while throwing me an air kiss, I wanted to punch him.

Then he turned and ran down the beach. He grabbed his board and threw himself into the water with it.

Stunned, I could only shake my head again.

I grabbed my bike and swung myself on it. Silently we drove through the rain and tried to get against the increasing wind. All the while, I just couldn't get that annoying grin and blue eyes out of my head.

I was annoyed that I kept getting involved in his provocations, but on the other hand I had seen that myself too could irritate him quite easily. That was exactly the satisfaction I searched for. This idiot had no idea who he was messing with.

But he would most certainly know soon.

⬇️

© Yuna542 — 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

[fortuneravine]

Tell me about each of your PMD teams!

OH BOY ok okok

starting off with team obsidian (explorers of sky)

Mistral is. complicated. for starters i have played as her in rescue team, explorers, And super because at the time they were kinda just. me. less of an oc and more just my self insert (i actually changed their name because her old name is. just my name now)

but lately i've wanted her to be her own character and not me in totodile form so i'm kinda in the process of redoing everything about them.

Cinder i can say more about! they are a disaster. an absolute mess. sopping wet kitten born in a cardboard box all alone. she's wanted to be an explorer since she was little, but being a huge coward kinda got in the way of that. they got that scar on their chest when they went into a dungeon alone and it scared them away from exploring for a long time. it wasn't until she met mistral that she started to get her confidence back and they're much calmer and less afraid of everything nowadays!

now rescue team. i played as mistral again in my first pmddx playthough along with a cubone partner but. i have kinda replaced them as my Main pmd1 team with these guys. oops.

campfire are much more developed characters anyways so im gonna talk about them!

fig (she/any) is very quiet, as are basically all of my heroes because my selectively mute ass keeps latching onto silent protagonists. she's definitely the one i've given the not talking trait to the most though. chive is extremely extroverted and chatty so she handles all the talking. others tend to see them as closed off or mysterious because they can't get a good read on her. they're really sweet though

chive's main gimmick is she likes cooking! will probably settle down and open a little cafe once she's done with the rescue team business. likes to experiment with random berries and nuts she finds (fig keeps joking she's going to poison herself, but she owns like 3 different foraging guides, she knows what she's doing.)

next is team hydra! their ref is old and i need to redo it so here's one of my heropartnerweek pieces badly cropped. their names are Ceru (she/xe) and Olivine (he/they)

it turns out i lied when i said all my heroes are quiet ceru is actually pretty outgoing. still the more introverted of the duo but mainly because olivine is a people pleaser extraordinaire. she actually had a pretty boring life as a human and is a lot happier as a pokemon. she was Devastated about returning to the human world, mostly because xe didn't want to leave xyr friends, partially because oh come on it's so much cooler here i don't wanna go back to working retail

olivine, as i said, is a people pleaser, often to his detriment. he's always prioritizing other pokemon's happiness, even when it's at the cost of his own. they get better at this over time (ceru helps him a lot with learning to say No). he and ceru are inseparable besties. they're like a comedy duo. 2 things have olivine's undying commitment, his friends and The Bit

finally. super. again i already talked about mistral so here is Basil.

honestly? i feel like they don't have much of my own spin. pmsd partner is already a perfect character. they are so full of love. they love making others smile and they're maybe a little too enthusiastic about it. they tend to come off as overly friendly at best or annoying at worst. before meeting mistral they were pretty lonely despite trying so hard to make friends. they're very happy to finally have a real close friend who likes them how they are

this ended up a little rambly!! oops!! but there's my guys hope you like em :)

[awmancreeper]

☆⋆｡Farewell, Star Boy°‧ミ★˚｡⋆ 3 - Not a Single Being

Synopsis:

--⋆·˚ ༘ * 🔭After a messy breakup, the stoic Y/n makes a vow that “not a single guy on earth” can ever win her heart again. She is proven right when a beautiful extraterrestrial being crash lands into her life, but for some reason, the being has an attitude. Now trying to continue with her life, Y/n and her friends figure out that the being is truly out of this world.

Masterlist / prev / next

!!written parts!!

｡°‧ミ★˚｡⋆ ━━━━━ ｡°‧ミ★˚｡⋆ ━━━━━ ｡°‧ミ★˚｡⋆

Waiting for your bus, you stretch your arms over your head groaning after your 9-hour shift.

Finally being released from stocking shelves and ringing up high school students, your eyes shifted to the night sky.

Much like every other night, you clock out around 23:40 leaving you little to no free time once you get home. Maybe you take Beomgyu’s advice and watch some TLC-

Beomgyu

Looking back at the night sky, you remember the invitation your friends and beomgyu gave you to watch the meteor shower with them.

Although you were feeling slightly better after the breakup, being out gave you anxiety. And the thought of possibly being seen by him or one of his friends made your hands sweat

Yet you were over him, why’d he still make you sweat?

It’s true the break up wasn’t exactly on both ends but there’s not much you can do when your partner of 3 years proclaimed his love for another. But 3 years…

You had your life already sorted with him, got married at the 5-year mark, buy a house together, have two kids- one boy and one girl. Adopted a dog

Grow old and wrinkly together….

Yet now here you were, working a shitty convenience store job, barely being able to pay your rent, moping around in your dingy apartment because the love of your life left you. And your friends worry dearly for you

Although it’s been a month the wound was still very fresh

*11:46 pm*

It’s the forest, you won’t run into ‘he who must not be named. So maybe you should go hang out with friends, finally breathe in the air of your new life, plus they are always there to make sure your life doesn’t get too boring

Your bus arrived

~~~~~~★~~~~~~ ★~~~~~~ ★~~~~~~

After stepping out of the bus, you walked along the sidewalk hearing the street lights buzzing

The cold night atmosphere allowed you to dance around with your thoughts until you stopped coming to a crossroads

Looking ahead was the forest where Beomgyu and your friends asked for you to meet them; where if you were to continue to follow the sidewalk it would lead you home

Rocking on your heels you thought up the pros and cons of the possibility of attending this hangout.

Feeling the pros only slightly weighing out the cons you pulled out your phone “It could be fun…” you muttered quietly checking the time

*11:57 pm*

Realizing you still had time, you took a deep breath and walked towards the forest entrance.

Feeling a rush of emotions a small smile found its way onto your face as you stepped out of your comfort zone. Nothing can go wrong

“why would I ever listen to my brother!” You yelled walking by the same tree you feel like you passed a few steps ago

“He wants me to ‘stop moping’, well look where that got me!!” At this point, you seem to have lost your sense of direction in this forest

Pulling out your phone, you saw there was little to no signal here

*12:01 am*

You sigh pocketing your phone. “This was so stupid”

You pulled your jacket closer to you and turned back around “Why would going to a forest in the middle of the night be a good idea”

“Only Beomgyu would make such an irresponsible decision”

You huffed feeling anger build up just imagining your brother’s stupidity cute grin “he’s so ignorant and careless”

“Makes me just wanna- ugh!” you groaned throwing your head back in annoyance

“I used to be like that….”

“What happened to me,” the night sky was decorated with delicate stars that twinkled ever so slightly. You clutched her heart remembering the open wounds.

You were loud and playful, and much like your brother, you brought a smile to the room… brought a smile to him…

Although he was your polar opposite, he was also your other half. Just watching you ramble about whatever crossed your mind, he would just smile and enjoy the way your eyes lit up.- Or when he held you; making you feel so secure and safe, like nothing in this world could ever get between them.

Yet something did

Your once perfect future - ripped from your hands because he never saw a house, never saw two kids and dog… never saw you

Your hands shook with fury, now looking up at the stars -stars he once compared your eyes to

“I HATE YOU CHOI SOOBIN!!” You were broken, there was never love, there couldn’t be because why would he just leave you that?

“Not a single man on earth can win my heart…”

The meteor shower begins wiping ‘shooting stars’ across the sky. Your eyes set on the biggest and brightest meteorite; you closed your eyes as warm tears rolled down your wet cheeks.

“You hear that universe- NOT A SINGLE BEING ON EARTH!!”

With that proclamation, you open your eyes finding your star immediately only something was off.

Has it always been that big?….

Your heart jumped out of your chest realizing that this meteorite was coming straight for Earth, in fact for you

Or rather near you

Taking cover behind a large boulder you hear and feel the impact of the meteorite hitting the ground 50ish feet away from you

It sounded like a silent explosion along with a terrible car accident, and a strong gust of wind blew through the trees as well the vibrations made your head spin

Although the impact aftershocks caused you some discomfort you were fine and thanked your lucky stars

(But maybe not the star that tried killing you just now)

Lucky the meteor had seemed to land in the quarry nearby

Nearby… quarry…

‘BEOMGYU!’ You thought quickly standing up ignoring the vertigo you might’ve just developed

Running/stumbling through the trees you reached the cliff of the quarry panting

Your eyes frantically scanned the area for any sign of your brother and your friends

“Beomgyu! Jinsol!! Taehyun!! Tsuki!” You shouted as your voice rang through the quarry and also your ears

Not finding anything you pulled out your phone only to remember the signal wasn’t great out here and something seemed to be messing with your phone in general as the screen flickered heavily

You tapped your phone desperately not wanting your phone to give out “Come on I don’t have time for this-“

While you messed with your cellular device a strange ringing echoed through the quarry hitting your eardrums

Capturing your attention your eyes drifted to the center of the quarry seeing something irregular.

It was a saucer-shaped vessel sitting on the shore of the medium-sized lake of the quarry

Not knowing what it was you concluded that the strange sound was definitely coming from the unidentified object. Further making the pit in your stomach grows exponentially.

As you stood frozen in curiosity the bushes next to you rustled sending a wave of chills through your body.

“B-Beomgyu” you squeak out almost like a child calling for their parents after waking up from a nightmare

You slowly turned your head seeing a pair of glowing blue eyes looking back at you.

“Is that you?” You asked just when the figure owning the pair of eyes seemingly stood up revealing the true size of the being.

“Holy Shi-“

｡°‧ミ★˚｡⋆ ━━━━━ ｡°‧ミ★˚｡⋆ ━━━━━ ｡°‧ミ★˚｡⋆

Taglist: @miyawwn OPEN (ask or comment to be added)

[bigpapi-miguelohara]

Always (Miles morales x fem reader)

Guys this my first fanfic ever please don't judge 😭

No warnings other than heartbreak ig?

You and Miles have been best friends since you were four when you bumped into him and his mom while your parents were moving into the apartment right beside theirs. Ever since then, you guys have been stuck at the hip; where you go, there are miles beside you, and where he goes, there are you. Miles's parents loved you, especially his mom. She sees in you a loving, caring, hardworking person who also has a side of stubbornness and fierceness. So for the past 11 years, you've basically developed a second home at Miles's. You loved Miles the way you loved vanilla bean candles, baking, and music; you just couldn't get enough of him. Both of you would spend days together just doing anything, from watching movies to talking to going out to cool places. But your favourite thing was when he would help you compose music. Music was your life; it was there for you when no one was; it harmonized with your life; songs that cried the same emotions you cried. Miles is the music of your life.

Something was up. Miles wasn't spending as much time with you anymore. Miles, you call out, "Que tal?" He asks, "Wanna go to this new cafe that opened tomorrow?" He thought about it until he said, Sure, I'm excited about it!" Both of you went upstairs under the water tank, where you guys would always watch the sunset together. It was your guys' spot. It held so many memories; it was a body that leaked unimaginable amounts of sweet ichor.

Miles had something to do before you guys hung out, so there you sat alone on a bench where you and Miles always ate ice cream. Headphones on, eyes closed, you felt the music flow through you; the sun shined onto your skin, making the heat pleasurable against the cold winds of spring. Hours pass, and Miles still hasn't called or texted. At this point, he's 3 hours late, and you're still on that bench sketching the blossoming bustling busyness of the streets. A drop of water had fallen onto your sketchbook, and just like that, it had started pouring. The sky sobbed as the plants soaked up the honey that seeped from the sky.

You were soaking wet by the time you got home, so you decided to knock on the door of their apartment. "Tia Rio! Hi, have you seen the miles? We were supposed to meet up." She looked at you in shock at the sight of you dripping wet with rainwater. Mija, are you okay? You're going to get sick! Miles, this boy I thought he was with you?" She said this as she shook her head in disbelief. No, Tia, he's been gone all day; I don't know where he's at. I've got to go now or else I'll actually get sick." You said you were laughing, but deep down, you were anything but amused. Ever since that day, your friendship with Miles has been strained. Fewer hangouts and the fact he keeps disappearing without saying anything made you feel incompetent and untrustworthy. The days when you and Miles were together were gone as if the universe had ripped the two of you apart.

Both of you still hung out, but not as often anymore. Your friendship was fading slowly; his secrets were piling up, and so were the amounts of time he left you alone for a day both of you planned. It was up until Tio Jeff's promotion party that you finally got what everything was about. There stood your beloved miles with a blond girl you'd never seen or heard of before in OUR spot. The spot where we shared multiple sunsets together, the spot where we cried to each other, the spot that held the essence of your friendship It was supposed to be ours, but the sweet body I so loved that was filled with sweet, sweet blood, the memories that built a mosaic of our friendship, were suddenly invaded.

There you stood, speechless. Rio and Jeff could see the sadness in your eyes. They knew you loved him; your own parents knew. Everyone knew except for him, he couldn't see the things you did for him. His parents went up to them to talk; you could see him introduce her to them. Soon his parents went up to you and told you to go up there and talk to him, as you were always the one to hold him down. I follow what they say and go up there. Hi, I'm Y/n Miles's best friend!" a small smile formed as it was all you could muster. Y/n, this is Gwen!" Miles excitedly smiled at you. You could see it; the way he looked at her looked exactly like the way you would look at him. The look that shouted I'm IN LOVE it broke you. You made a sleazy excuse to be able to leave.

You sat there in your room, picture frames upon picture frames of you and Miles together. The reminiscence of candied memories that were no longer A reminder of what was, a reminder when it was only the two of you together. Your heart broke. It was the type of sadness where you silently cried to yourself in the middle of the night, hoping no one would hear.

Miles was worried about It's been 4 days since the party, and he hadn't seen you at all, which was rare. No texts or calls from him were answered.

"If only you loved me," you said, warm tears trailing your cheeks. The suffocating feeling of your heart closing made you nauseous. A pain that caused you nightmares. A pain that makes you sick to your stomach. A pain that makes you want to rip every single hair on your head out.

[to-proudly-go]

15 questions for 15 friends

Thanks for the tags @sky-kenobye @somethingsteff and @cottonraincoat!!! 💛

1. Are you named after anyone?

Yep! The first part of my first name is a combination of my parents' names and the second part is a combination of my grandmothers' names 😆

2. When was the last time you cried?

I think the other day while reading a fanfic AHAHAHHA I cry easily and I never keep track 😭

3. Do you have kids?

Nope! Don't have plans either (my mother despairs over not getting a grandkid from me 😆)

4. What sports do you play/ have you played?

I love badminton, table tennis, and arnis/kali! Used to play the first two in elementary and highschool, but still play it casually with family. The latter I took up in college but I do it sometimes when I just wanna burn off steam 🥹

5. Do you use sarcasm?

Not really! I find it hard to tell when people use sarcasm on me but I like it as a humor thing when other people use it ✨

6. What's the first thing you notice about people?

Cheeks and ears because I find it hard to make eye contact with someone I just met 🥹

7. What's your eye colour?

Brown!

8. Scary movies or happy endings?

Happy endings all the way 💛 I can do scary movies when I'm watching with someone else but never when I'm alone 😆

9. Any talents?

I can sing??? Not good enough to go on contests, though, I just like to sing when I'm alone or with friends, especially in karaoke 😆

10. Where were you born?

Born and bred in the Philippines!

11. What are your hobbies?

Writing, reading, and drawing! Took up diamond painting and embroidery sometime in 2022 but never picked it up again 😭

12. Do you have any pets?

Yep! My family has dogs, fishes, and chickens. Want a cat but I'm the only one in the house who likes them and the dogs hate them too 😭

13. How tall are you?

153cm, so that's 5'1ft???

14. Favourite subject in school?

Used to love Math and English in elementary and highschool! In college, though, my love for a subject highly depends on the prof so last semester I was into my poultry medicine subject ✨

15. Dream job?

Honestly I just wanted to sweep floors until they're clean or do crafts and sell them as a living 😆 But on a serious note, recently I had the itch to focus my major in veterinary on wildlife medicine, so hopefully someday I'll be out there treating and helping wild animals ✨

That was fun! Thank you for the tag again guys! 💛 And zero pressure tagging @aigoos @spikybanana @tideswept @veloursdor @thequeerlibrarian @underacalicosky @barmadumet @virahaus @heretolurkandnothingmore @dearskywander @amadwinter @briliantlymad @mischievouschan4 @samstree @forevermorgue if ya want! Don't mind me if you've been tagged already 💛 Also open for anyone who wants to do the game!

[aimfor-theheart]

3 with wolfwood plsss 🥺❤️❤️

of course friend!! what a good one for him hehe you guys are good at picking these!!

thank you for your request!!

3. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond.

The sky above your heads is an endless trail of stars, pinpricks of light like small holes in the universe to let in light.

The fire is dying slowly, smoke curling lazily up into the air as the flames wane into ashes. The nights in the desert get cooler than you'd ever expect.

"You wanna hand me that water, sweetheart?" Nicholas asks.

You don't respond to him except to tip your chin up and away.

"Oh, I'm still getting the silent treatment?"

Not a word from you.

He sighs heavily, heaving himself up and wandering towards you. The canteen is beside you. If you were feeling worse, you'd swipe it away from him.

When he grabs it, his big hand comes into sight, and then he ducks his head a little to catch your eyes.

"What do I gotta do to get out of the doghouse?" He asks and he softens his voice a little, sweetens it.

When you turn away from him again, he moves to sit beside you. You move to stand and he snags you quick, "aw, c'mon," he croons, low and soft, getting his broad hands around your waist, squeezing a little to keep you in place. "What do I got to do, honey?"

"Let me make my own damn decisions." You snap, squirming in his hold.

It doesn't take much for him to heft you into his lap so you really can't get away. You're facing him, pushing against his chest fitfully. It does nothing; like a kitten trying to wriggle away.

"You were being reckless," he responds.

"You were being overprotective."

"So I'm in the doghouse now?" He asks, but he's nudging his nose into your jaw, down into your neck where you can feel the rasp of his stubble. You know what he's trying to do—you know he's trying to butter you up.

"Yes. Now, down boy—" you push at him again but he doesn't relent.

In fact, you can feel his smile against your pulse. You can feel the brush of his lips. A flash of teeth.

"I'm not apologizing for saving your ass." He tells you.

"Then I'm not talking to you." You reply stubbornly, even as you begin to melt into his big hands, kneading gently at your waist. His lips are warm against your throat. One of your hands tangles in the dark hair at the nape of his neck.

"There's plenty we can do without talking." He murmurs low and hot beneath your ear.

"Bastard," you curse, but it comes out more of a hiss, a little too breathy.

He lifts his face a little, nose brushing against yours. "Kiss me," he demands softly, dark eyes lidded and warm with his longing. The fan of his lashes tickles your cheeks.

You sink down into him and kiss him hard. You kiss him deep. Slow. You pull at his hair, perhaps a little meanly, perhaps just to spite him and the blossom of desire he stokes in you.

The kiss is open mouthed, dirtier than you're prepared for.

You squirm for entirely different reasons now.

"I'm still mad at you," you manage to murmur between slow, slick passes of your lips.

"Uh huh," Nicholas hums, hitching your hips tighter to his, smile crooked against your mouth, "you can stay mad at me, sweetheart."

When he kisses you again, it drags a soft, high sound out from somewhere deep within you. A sweet keen into the night.

Against your mouth, he murmurs, lips still hitched at the corners;

"You can stay mad at me all you want—I'll make it up to you."

***

thank you for the request!! made me want to write more of him fjsklfkd

Send me a character and a kiss prompt and I'll write a blurb!

[jseobsky]

hi hi, me again!! had kind of a rough day so I was wondering if I could request some best friend!minjae fluff? like just a minjae hanging out with you trying to distract you and make you feel better kind of thing? hsjshjdksjshsj sorry it's not v specific idek myself what exactly I want I just know I need some comfort :(

Bad days like these.

Pairing ! bestfriend!Minjae x gn!Reader Synopsis ! after a bad day and only wanting to be hug by the blankets and watch your favourite show, your best friend Minjae comes to your door. Genre ! Fluff, hinted romantic ending but can be read as like platonic Warnings ! Swearing, haven't proof-read anything- W/C ! 0.8k a/n ! omg I hope you feel much better now!! I'm sorry to hear that :(( I'm also having a quite meh day, so this was also just what I needed. thank you for requesting!! I loved writing this KSJHSDKFJ

Main masterlist &lt;3

There are days when you can fight against the whole world. Those days are the ones that people appreciate the most. I could’ve solved a world’s problem, and people would be happy. However, if I, for whatever reason wasn’t doing good one day, it wouldn’t count. People don’t count those moments as valid. People don’t count any moment as valid unless you are strong. But I can’t always be strong. 

There are days when all I can do is lie around. Those days are the ones I hate the most. I am ashamed of those days. Days where I try to hide behind a big screen. Sometimes trying to escape the little lie that I live in, in hopes of some comfort. People love to ignore my struggles. People ignore you unless you are fighting. But I can’t always fight.

Today is one of those days. Watching TV seemed the best answer to today’s mood. The characters hold each other as I hold my plushy. “You don’t have to be strong” Says one of the characters. “I know, but it’s hard” They hold each other even closer. Their breathless voices quivering at each word. “When moments like these, please call out my name. I’ll be there, whenever you ask for me, wherever you ask for me” Oh shut the fuck up. I wanna cry now. “Please just let me help you” Said the same character, reaching to kiss the person they were holding. Fucking finally after 14 episodes. “Mia. I” He breathed out. Ding, ding, ding. Who dares interrupt their moment ffs. I walk towards the front door, random objects are lying around the floor as I walk. I walk past some school books, some clothes that I must have thrown, and some random papers that might be more important than how I’m treating them. I finally reach the door and open it. 

The cold air hits my face as soon as I open the door. Outside, the sky was dimmed, definitely a representation of how I felt. Even with my tear-stained face from the scene, I was just watching, I get to smile. “I hate you” I say out loud. Minjae, who was standing outside my door with a big puffy jacket, and a big grocery bag, slapped his empty hand on his chest and gasped. “How dare you. Should I turn around?” I stopped him from turning around completely and pulled him inside. “How did you know?” I asked. “You changed your Instagram notes from BARBIE NEW MOVIE I CAN’T to: alexa play voices by stary kids” Minjae said while taking his shoes off. “You only do that when you’re sad as fuck” “Touché” I say while grabbing his bag I walk again towards the couch. He follows behind me, crouching down for a moment to pick my music notes and placing them on the table they fell from, not before shaking his head. I take interest in the scene again. 

Although I couldn’t see more of the scene, now being paused again a little less than a second before their kiss. I make an annoyed face and turn to look at Minjae who paused my show. “What happened?” He asked. “If I ignore my problems, they won’t hurt” He got a little closer. “They will, and you know it. That or you’ll end up punching someone” I gasp. “Okay, that was ONE time. And the guy deserved it anyways so who’s the one at fault?” “Still you, that guy just approached you because you were crying, you looked at him, flirted with him, and when he said he didn’t like stray kids you punched him” I giggled remembering the moment, the second I look at Minjae again he’s looking serious so I straighten my posture. “Still his fault, he said that I was jobless bcs I liked those stupid dancing boys and that I spent too much money on them after talking about my collection” “How much of that is true?” He raised an eyebrow at me. “Not my point” I pouted jokingly. 

“Okay let’s do this. I help you escape from your problems” I nod. After waiting for two seconds and him not continuing I ask. “Aaand?” “Nothing, you just get bragging rights because you got the best friend in the entire world” “Well that’s arguable, Felix is Hyunjin’s best friend so like” Minjae stands up. “Okay sorry, sorry, you’re the best, you’re the best” I grab his arm again and pull him towards me, making him fall on the sofa. We stay laughing for a bit, but our laughs come to a stop when we hear the show playing again. Minjae hugs me closer to him and we start watching the show from where it was left. “You don’t have to be strong” Says Minjae after a while, him looking me directly into my eyes. I nod. “I know, but it’s hard” He hugs me closer. He pets my head and smiles. “I’ll make the pain go away, I promise.”