#thank you saying such lovely things ab my work ♡⸝⸝

[forhyune]

𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.

— you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit

𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡

y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx

if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom

11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views

bokkie 🐣 liked your post.

“My tweet?”

You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.

“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"

A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:

je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀

You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"

je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch

You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."

je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(

An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”

At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.

“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”

Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.

You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.

je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again

“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."

Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”

You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“The mouse,” you say helplessly.

“Ah.” It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”

A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”

“I know.”

This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.

Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.

Do you agree? Absolutely.

Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.

Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.

A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.

But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.

There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.

The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.

A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.

“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.

It’s either your mom, or…

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"

“Yes, please.”

He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.

You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.

There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.

That is all he needs to know.

Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.

je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??

y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.

[moonstruckme]

hello lovely!

i recently just started to work out a bit more than i used to and i am humbled. i tried to go to the gym but it’s terrifying, so i just did a home workout from a youtube video and like i said before, humbled.

could we get james x reader doing the video with her and he’s very good at all the workouts but encouraging her.

or

could we get remus x reader doing the video together and they both suck but support eachother

Thanks for requesting <3

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 793 words

“Okay team,” the woman on your TV says peppily, “taking things at your own pace, just ease into plank position.” 

“Ease?” Remus pants incredulously. “There’s nothing easy about this.” 

You huff a laugh, but even that tiny movement is almost enough to make your abs give out and collapse you onto your mat. You try to re-solidify, feeling a dribble of sweat roll down your back. 

“Are you breathing deeply?” you tease. It’s a reiteration of what your virtual instructor has been telling you relentlessly since the video started. 

Remus takes a strained inhale. “I don’t see where she finds the time.” 

“Amazing!” your tormentor chirps. She tilts her head up to make eye contact through the screen, looking gloriously glowy with exhilaration whereas you feel slick as a dolphin. At least it’s some consolation that Remus seems as sweaty as you are, and you don’t hate that the exertion made him discard his shirt some time ago. His bare torso is a nice distraction from the ache that’s permeating your body. “Now we’re going to kick it up a notch.” 

You and Remus both make distressed grunting sounds. She still hasn’t let you out of your plank. 

“In twenty more seconds, we’re going to go into a push-up, touching our chests to the mat, then hop our feet up for a squat.” You feel your eyes widen as you watch her demonstrate. Your legs are already burning in anticipation. “Then, jump up and do a clap! Ready? You’ve got this!” 

“Oh, fuck that,” your boyfriend sighs. He lets his elbows drop out from under him, slumping onto his stomach. 

You look over at him. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m taking things at my own pace.” Remus groans as he rolls over and sits up, grabbing his water bottle from the coffee table. It’s shoved to the side to make room for your workout. “Have a break with me, dove. She seems like she can handle this part on her own.” 

You sit back on your knees, lungs and muscles aching with relief. “Pretty sure that’s not the point,” you pant, but take the water bottle he offers you anyway. You take long, gulping sips of the cold water, so desperate that you have to gasp embarrassingly for air afterwards. You wipe a drip off your chin. “You’re such an enabler.” 

“Yeah,” Remus agrees placidly. He rolls his neck to the side, and you wince when it clicks. “I’m not feeling too bad about that right now. This is inhumane.” 

You heave a sigh, leaning back on one hand and fanning yourself with the other. “You’re right. I don’t know why I’m doing this. It can’t continue.” 

He chuckles quietly. “I’m not a fan of the exercise either, but I wouldn’t say it’s all bad.” 

You turn to look at him questioningly—wasn’t he on your side with this?—and find your boyfriend’s gaze warm and appreciative, skimming lazily over the exposed stretch of skin where you’re fanning yourself. His bottom lip curls slightly. 

You give him a dubious look. “Rem, you’re endlessly sweet to me, but I know this isn’t cute. I’m, like—” you make a face “—damp.” 

“Maybe I like you a bit damp.” Remus shrugs insouciantly. “I think I’m discovering some things about myself.” 

You fold forward with a groan, stretching your back and hiding your smile near the mat. “You’re such a liar.” 

There’s an amused huff of air, and then a kiss lands softly on the back of your shoulder. “You can think that if you want,” he says. “I have some bad news for you, though. You do have to keep doing this at least a while longer.” 

You let out a whine. “Why?” 

“Because you asked me to have James take you to his gym next week, and I did. You know he won’t let you off the hook.” 

“Oh, my god,” you moan, pulling your knees up so you can rest your head on them miserably. “Why was I so hellbent on torturing myself earlier this week?” 

Remus hums sympathetically. “I think you had good intentions.” 

“Ugh, okay.” You straighten, looking back at the video and trying to re-orient yourself in what the instructor is doing. “I have to keep going if I’m going to be even remotely prepared for what James is going to subject me to. Come on, do this with me.” 

Remus makes a surprised sound of protest. “Why do I have to do it?” 

“Because you’re the one that’s friends with the sadist who’s going to torment me next week. Please, Remus.” “Fine, fine.” Remus rolls his eyes, lovesick even when he’s pretending not to be, and stands with you. “But just this once, and then I’m turning you over to Jamie.”

[bravo4iscool]

Hii, this this the person talkin about chubbier Simon! Give me a sec and let me set the stage for you,

Simon Riley x 141!reader whos on military leave to cope after a particularly hard mission. Reader finds a way of coping and expressing their love to simon through the art of cooking for him constantly. (i come from largely a guyanese and indian family so everyday theres always good food on the table) So we all know this man can eat ALOT (he needs to maintain his girlish figure after all😌lmao) So i can just IMAGINE him eating all the stews, curries, roti and rice (or whatever culture/country reader comes from)he can get his hands on! He would have such an appreciation for food from working in the military so long and having limited food he could eat. So going from a man of pure slabs of muscle to slabs of muscle but WITH softer abs he gets a little self conscious but he sees the benifits that hes getting alot with a great meal everyday and how his reader ogles him everyday hes starts to like the change. (Theres actually more benefits for having muscle and fat than just pure muscle!! When you see bodybuilders with just pure muscle the muscles in their whole body are constricted causing cramps and alot more muscle pulling in day to day life compared to heavy weight lifters who many not look as muscular but can lift much more while still having a strong core and overall more power)

Sorry to ramble and run but this has been rattling my brain. Have a great day and remember to drink water♡

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS OMG!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS ASK!!! i‘m sorry i wasn’t able to answer it any sooner, i‘m in my last three weeks of school and it‘s kinda stressful🥲. i hope you can understand…

as someone who is russian-german i totally understand the whole food thing😭 (thats why reader will be russian-german lol. it‘s the only culture i really know about the food and all that (at least i think i know about the food🧍🏼). also, i do not know the english names of the food so i‘ll be using the terms i know.)

i hope you like this!!

(masterlist)

REQUESTS/ASKS OPEN!!!

„y‘cooking too good f‘me,“ simon mumbles as he puts his arms around your waist and pulls you into his chest. „‘m loosing all my muscles.“

you chuckle and turn your head to look at him. „that‘s not true! you‘re just developing a little more fluff.“ you smile and turn again to focus on the food you‘re preparing. „besides having muscles with a layer of fat is way healthier than just muscles.“ you can feel simon nod with his head rested on yours.

„what‘re y‘makin‘?“

„pelmeni,“ you answer, skilfully sticking the dough together so the meat would stay inside while you cook them. „i haven‘t made them for you till now.“

simon lowers his head so it‘s beside yours and examines the dough and meat in front of you. „thought we a’ready had ‘em two weeks ago?“

you shake your head and lick your bottom lip, trying to concentrate. „that were manti simon. they are made like…mochis. pelmeni are cooked in water.“

simon doesn‘t say anything and buries his nose in your neck. „t‘boys will laugh a‘me when we return,“ he mumbles as his lips ghost over your skin to leave little kisses.

„they won‘t,“ you protest and slightly slap his arm. „if anything they will be jealous!“ you dust your hands off and turn around in his arms. he looks at you and you start to frown. „you are not…insecure, are you?“ when simon just blinks at you without answering you take his face into your hands.

„you, simon riley, do not need to be insecure because you’re eating good. you’re not getting fat or losing muscles. if anything, you’re only getting healthier because the army food is total garbage and you’re finally getting some real food,“ you try to explain, withstanding his gaze the whole time. „don‘t beat yourself up over stuff like this.“ your voice is gentle as you caress his scarred face with your thumbs. „you deserve something good life. let me be that something.“

silence follows after you‘re done talking and you could swear you saw a tear in simon‘s eye but then he blinks and it is gone. „i don‘t deserve ya,“ he whispers, pulling you close again. „i don‘t deserve ya…“

„oh, but you do,“ you smile as you pull him down to press a gentle kiss on his lips. „you do deserve me and you also deserve my food.“ you put your arms around his waist and hug him. he does the same, keeping you close to him. he rests his head on yours and closes his eyes. he just wants to savour this moment…

[depressopax]

Hi!!! if it's okay (and if your request is still open) I was wondering if I could request a fluff scenario for Jimmy McGill? :D where he gets all soft and loving sjdjdj can be both sfw and nsfw ... thank you !! ♡

Thank you for the request!!! <3 Been meaning to write about Jimmy for quite a while, so this was the perfect sign to do it lmaooo I was gonna do a NSFW too but realized that the SFW version was at 1K word already 💀 Will do a part 2 tho!  Oh well, enjoy these cheesy Jimmy headcanons 🥹🫶

Jimmy McGill relationships headcanons

Fandom - Breaking Bad/Better call Saul

Jimmy x gn!reader || SFW HC's

Pairing: Jimmy McGill/Saul Goodman x gender-neutral reader Genre: Fluff, headcanons Warning(s): None that I can think off?? Cuss words maybe, slightly angsty Jimmy lol. Reader is gender-neutral and referred to as "partner" and gn!pet-names. Words: 1.1K Summary: Being in a relationship with Jimmy McGill would include... English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! <3 || AO3 link || Masterlist || Request || NSFW version ||

Jimmy is not good at figuring out his feelings.

That’s why it took him a while to realize he’d fallen in love with you. 

It’d take some time for him to accept what he’s feeling though.

Homeboy would be in denial at first. He’s scared to fall in love with someone, in fear of commitment and getting hurt etc…

But he’d show interest in other ways, without realizing it himself.

We’re talking about cheesy stuff: - Always looking good (and that’s not so difficult, HE GORGEOUSSSSS 👀) - Trying to impress you with his knowledge about things - Making sure to say something funny and make others laugh when you’re around, to let you know how funny and amazing he is lol - Compliments and teasing 

Noticing his attempt, you straight up ask him about it. “...Do you like me, Jimmy?” “What?? I-” … “Yes. I do.”

Once it’s said and done, he eventually asks you out on a date.

Listen… Jimmy may be overconfident, especially when it comes to his seduction skills

However, there’s something about you that makes him nervous.

What you think about him and how he comes across matters to him.

That’s why he plans a date weeks ahead, trying to make everything perfect

He tries figuring out what you like and dislike so he can use that to make a good impression. 

He takes you out to some fancy restaurant (RIP early season Jimmy’s wallet 😭)

The date goes well and he is very smug with his effort.

After a few dates, Jimmy realizes he’s fallen for you.

At first he tries to hide it. He doesn’t want to come across as “desperate” or “needy”. 

But then again… He’s not good at hiding his true feelings.

Luckily, you feel the same and eventually you become a couple for real. 

He was the first one to say “I love you”, and did so without realizing it.

You were leaving for work or something and he just goes: “Bye, love ya!” Completely flustered when he heard what he just said.

When you say it back, he feels a wave of relief. 

After that, he makes sure to say ILY as often as he can.

He won’t shut up about you. Like ever. 

“So then my partner said…” “My partner brought me this shirt!” “I’m taking my babe out on a date tonight” And everyone else will eventually be like: 😐”Shut up”😐

He’ll refer to you as his spouse/wife/husband, watching everyone confused “You’re married?” “I will be soon” 🤭

Jimmy’s a sucker for cute pet names. And yeah, some of them are probably “cringe” but that won’t stop him 

Baby, Boo, Sugar, Sweetie, Hot stuff, Doll, Kitten (😭)

He loves it when you wear his shirts. Especially as lounge clothing or when sleeping.

Jimmy also finds matching outfits adorable. 

Would probably take you shopping for either suits/blazers or just hoodies that you can match. 

He also buys matching jewelry, towels, morning robes etc etc… He’s one of those guys 😭

He has a picture of you standing on the desk in his office, as a way to carry the sweetheart with him all the time. 

…And also to brag about you to anyone that enters his office (but he puts the picture away when dealing with some of his unpredictable clients, homeboy is overprotective)

Speaking of being overprotective: He deals with a lot of shady people, so he’s very careful with who he chooses to trust when it comes to talking his love to you.

He prioritizes your safety over anything else. 

Ofc he’s scared for his own safety too, but pretty much puts it aside to make sure you’re safe first off. 

If danger comes up, he’d make sure to find somewhere safe for you to stay whilst he deals with it.

He would go so far as hiring a bodyguard for you tbh.

Being with him might be a struggle too

Homeboy is a bit unpredictable and impulsive

Doing stupid things is his speciality- 😭

No but literally, you’ll sometimes have to stop him from acting out on his weird revenge ideas or stuff that could get him into trouble.

“I was just gonna-” “No.” “But…” “Jimmy, no.” 

Sometimes you succeed, sometimes you don’t. But you love him either ways. <3

He also likes talking shit about people with you *cough* probably Howard *cough* - sure, a bit rude - but he finds it hilarious lol 

Lot of in-jokes between you and him

Jimmy is a daydreamer and is easily distracted

Especially by you.

He sometimes gets stuck thinking about you when doing boring work.

Until Francesca tells him to pull himself together lmao

Jimmy spends all possible time together with you. 

He is ambitious and serious about work, but after you and him became a couple his priorities changed. 

He finds time to spend with you. Last thing he wants is for you to feel like he cares more about work than he does for you.

If you’re adventurous and like being outdoors, he does too.

But honestly? He prefers cuddling at home and watching movies with you.

He is not a good chef, so he buys a lot of food from restaurants and brings it home if you’ve had a long day at work.

He makes sure to be a romantic bastard too. 

Candlelit dinners, taking baths together, picnics… You name it. He loves spoiling you. 

He wouldn’t admit it to anyone else but hear me out… Home-spa dates 👀

He did use to have his office at a nail salon, so he knows his way around those things

If you allow him to, he likes painting your nails - with him choosing the color

Like I said, Jimmy enjoys cuddling you.

He has a lot of feelings, traumas etc pent up, which he dares to let out around you.

He has learnt that he can be vulnerable with you and not get judged, which he appreciates.

That’s why he loves coming home to you after a long day and simply resting in your arms.

He prefers being the little spoon - to feel protected and loved by you. <3

To summarize: It might take him a while to put the pieces together and actually confess his feelings for you - but once he does he spends every day letting you know how much you mean to him.

I just remembered why I love Jimmy sm AHHH he deserves love and happiness <3<3 Part 2 soon!

[yeahyeahchloe]

love love LOVE your works! 💗 So i randomly had an idea, hear me out!

drummer abby and bassist reader. I literally can see abby getting jealous if a fan approaches the reader and gets a bit touchy (not like a wired way, like hugging her ecc)

oh anon...i love me a jealous gf...

drummer!abby x bassist!reader

synopsis: You just wrapped up your last show of your tour, and run into some fans backstage who are acting like a bit more than just fans...

cw: smut18+, minors and ageless blogs dni, strap use (r!receiving), slight choking, some angst, fluff at the very end, me being too lazy to give the bandmates names, my mid smut writing (im learning lol), my excessive vocabulary

(a/n: pls lmk if u see any typos! )

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

The crowd thundered with screams and applause as the final guitar cord strummed the final song, of the final tour.

Stage lights shown onto your face, encouraging your skin to sweat and your eyes to water.

You decided to relish in the feeling, as it was the last of it you would experience for a while.

Turning around you spotted a face adorned with pride and glee, showcasing a stoic grin.

Blue eyes met yours and that grin seemed to break just a small bit wider.

You, and the rest of the band inevitably had to step off the stage for the last time, and the second you were behind that curtain you were immediately wrapped in a strong hug.

But the hug was unfamiliar.

Very unfamiliar.

"Oh my god, I love you! You looked so incredible up there it was seriously like an angel on Earth or something!" said the body that was previously hugging and was now holding both your hands.

The girl was accompanied by another, who was standing slightly behind her, each holding a starstruck expression.

You quickly got over your initial shock and went into greeting mode.

"Oh! Thank You! Means a lot you enjoyed our last show,"

"Its seriously like nothing I've ever seen. And its so cool back here! My Dad runs tech so he let me in,"

Figures.

"Mhm, I bet,"

"Oh! I almost forgot, I made you something!" The girl reached into her pocket, pulling out a bracelet adorning the lesbian flag colors with a name in the middle.

Gracie.

You glanced at her wrist to see she had one with your name.

"O-oh thanks!" You said, now slightly creeped out.

"Ok, picture time!" she grabbed your waist pulling you in tight as her friend snapped a picture, "Thank you!! I'll see you on my feed," she attempted a joke at this point you wouldn't find funny, and walked away.

Turning around to your bandmates you made a wide-eyed expression and let out an exasperated sigh.

"Jesus what was that?" one of them asked.

"No fucking clue," You answered before realizing Abby had gone, "Hey, where's Abs?"

"She left just a second ago, towards the dressing rooms, looked pissed as fuck,"

You nodded in thanks before walking in the direction of yours and Abby's shared room.

You knocked before entering to find her getting her things together.

"Hey Abby," you greeted timidly.

"Can you get everything you need? 'm tired 'nd I wanna go to the trailer," she said, only glancing my way.

You knew when Abby was frustrated it was best to let her cool off, so you simply gathered your things, walked over to her to show you were ready, and she placed her hand on your lower back to guide you out of the room and to the trailer.

Once inside you both set down your stuff, and you decided that you would talk to her now.

You walked over to her as she sat on the slightly small bed and sat down next to her.

"You okay?" you wearily asked.

She managed a soft "mhm fine" before getting up and walking to where her clothes were, pulling off her shirt leaving her in her bra and jeans.

"Tell me what's wrong," you said, walking up to her slowly.

"I said I was fine, jesus," she grunted, rummaging around for her pajamas.

"Abby," you asserted, finally getting her to look at you, "Please,"

She turned away before saying "You're just too fucking nice to people sometimes,"

"What?" You asked, half not fully catching what she said, half wanting her to go on.

"I mean if some fucking weirdo comes over and hugs you, why wouldn't you deck them?"

"Okay, are you talking about that fan? What do you expect me to do; be a dick and shove her off?"

"Yes-No-I don't fucking know," she stuttered before stomping off back to the bed and taking a seat once again.

You sat next to her, in the same spot you were originally in before asking much more gently, "Abs, what's actually wrong?"

She sighed, "Its just, her fucking hands were all over you, and then she gave you that ridiculous thing like she was trying to claim you or something and it pissed me off,"

"Abby, are you jealous?" you asked, slightly teasing.

"Oh fuck off. I have no reason to be, nobody will ever make you feel as good as I do," she said, turning to you, her eyes now displaying her anger had morphed into lust.

"Yeah?" you asked, breaths becoming shorter.

"Yeah, and I'm gonna prove it to you,"

Before you could get another word in, her lips passionately, yet aggressively slammed into yours.

You immediately reciprocated the kiss and reached your hands us, one cradling her face and the other holding her still bare upper waist.

Both her hands creeped around your hips and gripped them harshly as your tongues met, lifting you and placing you straddling her.

You felt her move her lips from yours and quickly move them down to your neck, kissing and licking up until she got to your ear before whispering "you're mine, and no one's gonna fucking change that,"

Your hips grinded down on to hers as you let out a breathy moan at her words, and the new found bulge you felt in her pants.

"Yeah, feel that? Knew I was gonna fuck you tonight, got ready just for you," she whispered in your ear once again, sending waves of exitment throughout your entire body.

She moved her lips back to yours to continue kissing you as she took your shirt and removed it exposed your tits to her.

Abby took her mouth away from yours and hungrily moved them down to your nipples, sucking and biting at them, eliciting a moan from your chest as you grabbed her hair tightly.

You felt her hands reach down and unbutton your jeans before flipping you on your back so she was now hovering over you.

She quickly moved down, removing your pants and underwear together, revealing your sopping wet pussy to her.

"Fuck, you're so wet. Who makes you this wet?" she asked, toying at your lips, pulling them apart so she could see all of you.

"Mmmh you do," you answered her quietly, aching for her to touch you.

"What's that? You have to speak up sweetheart," Abby said, now looking up at you.

"Fuck, Abby, you make me so wet, you're the only one who makes me this wet," you whimpered in response.

You saw Abby smirk before placing a small kiss on your clit before removing her own pants to reveal her strap, looking as ready for you as ever.

"Do you want my cock baby?" She asked, sliding it up and down your pussy, teasing you.

"Shit-yes, Abby please. Please I only want your cock,"

Abby didn't even have to ask and she had you begging, it gave her an insane ego boost that only got her off more.

"Good girl, learning so fast," she praised before painfully slowly sliding her strap deep inside of you, stretching out your walls with each inch that entered.

She pulled out just as slow as before, and without warning, slammed into you at an alarming speed.

Screams of pleasure roared out of your chest as you felt her hips clip yours with every deep thrust.

Abby sat above you, seemingly watching every square inch of your body with pride as she fucked you senseless.

"That's right, my perfect girl taking my cock, perfect little thing," She groaned, feeling intense pleasure of her own from the sight of you mixed with the way her strap rubbed her clit deliciously at every move.

"Oh, god Abby! 'S too good...always so good,"

Abby loved it when you praised her, it made her feel like nobody else could ever compare to her.

And she fucking needed that right now.

She slithered a hand down to wrap around your throat and she squeezed lightly, just the way you liked it.

Abby saw the way your eyes were repeatedly rolling back at each moan as they became higher pitched and she knew you were about to cum.

"You gonna cum for me, huh angel? Cum on my fucking cock?" She asked, burying herself impossibly deeper.

All you could muster up in response was a weak nod and a feverish moan.

"That's right, go ahead, let it go,"

As soon as you heard those words you felt your orgasm wash over you in a wave and Abby's relentless pace slowed down to an eventual stop.

She slid out of you before getting a damp washcloth and cleaning you up, before slipping the both of you under the covers.

Abby wrapped her arms around you and pulled you close so that your head was resting under her chin.

After a long beat of silence you spoke up, softly saying, "I don't think I would ever love someone like I love you,"

Abby pulled your head out from under yours, and leaned down to give you a long, lovingly kiss.

"I'm sorry I got mad, I mean, I was jealous. I just-I just never want you to leave me," she spoke softly with vulnerability in her eyes.

You cupped her face with both hands, placing a kiss on her forehead before whispering, "You aren't ever going to have to worry about that,"

˖⁺‧₊˚ ♡ ˚₊‧⁺˖

[etherealily]

Hey, I'm literally in love with your writing and the way you write about Nate. The whiplash series? Amazing, chef kiss 🩷🫵🏽

So I wanted to ask if you could do some headcanons about it, like to have an insight about how Nate's mind works and stuff because there's a lot of things wrong with that guy and I think you could be amazing at writing it lol

So that's it, I can't wait for the next chapter, it's really good. Hope you're well btw bye 🩷

Mwah 💋 ! I adore you! Thank you for saying that about my writing!

Alright, so headcanons , never done them before, but here goes.

I think that if Whiplash!Nate's dead serious about two things in the world, it's

His principles

His reputation

1.

✩ He is FIRM on the fact that he never has and never WILL lie to you.

✩ He thinks different people deserve different things. With Maddy, it was 'I've always got your back'. With Cassie, it was 'I'll tell you anything you want to hear'. With you, it's 'I'll never lie to you.'

✩ He cut himself, too. Under his jersey. He realised, in hindsight, that he made it seem like he just did that to you, the huge, obvious '18' etched onto you, but he kept his promise. The star you drew? On his abs.

✩ He's also very dead serious on the fact that if he's chosen responsibility over someone, he's 100% responsible, no backing out.

✩ Which means you really could say "'sic 'em", and he would.

2.

➵ He really has that whole perfect All-American family mindset

➵ That being said, his Dad has also been super into that, too, so Nate's in heavy, constant conflict about whether he wants to maintain the image or do whatever it takes to shake his father's influence off himself

➵ Which is why the whole thing is a grey area to him

➵ The whole reason for the awkwardness at dinner is because he'd told his father that you were friends with Maddy (so as to get him off his back and not have him expect much of you) and his brother that you were some perfect all-American chick (because that's the opposite of his brother's type)

➵ He'd trapped himself, basically. Heavy backfiring.

➵ Once he realised his mother disapproved of you, he was 100% more attracted.

➵ The whole superstition thing? Yeah. 100% true.

➵ He DOES call other teammates gay for having them because 'what are you, a chick? what next, you watch tarot readings and shit?' but he is actually dead serious about these things.

➵ Will never admit this, but actually fucked with your supply of E just because he wanted to make sure you'd come to a game.

➵ He'll never forgive himself for the night at his house. He doesn't want you scared of him. No, actually, that's fine. He doesn't want you worried about him.

MISC.

♡ I wholeheartedly believe this man has ZERO self-awareness on the things that actually matter.

♡ When Nate 'claims' someone as his, it's not some dark-romance-possessive-thing, it's less conscious, I genuinely do not think even he knows how deep-in he is.

♡ Eg. He's walking you to your classes subconsciously and neither of you know it.

♡ He's making sure all the girls know Shane Crestin can't afford to take a girl out to a restaurant.

♡ He hates watching school plays and shit but he figured although you didn't know you were improving his games, you did come to every one, so he comes to all your plays.

♡ You're the only theatre kid he doesn't want to strangle.

♡ He's found he's fine with you doing theatre, because all the guys are gay, probably. And ugly.

♡ He spends less time on himself during interactions. It's not as cute as it sounds. He's less paying attention to you and more meticulously studying you. So he knows where to push to get what. Like a vending machine.

~~

XOXO

Note : This is severely watered down. I have a lot of darker stuff, but I'd need specific asks, plus I'm not sure how they'll be received (yikes), so if you have anything specific, and you want dark shit, then sends asks. I have HEAPS. MORE.

[glossykissies]

I DO I DO IDO!!!!! i love jeff he’s so 🤭🤤

seriously yall should search him up on pinterest there are so many good bts photos

okie dokie hehe… unfinished jeff winger from community fic below da cut …. not written in my usual style so i’m just dumping it here :p ♡ p.s it’s like 90% group banter 10% jeff and also reader replaces annie in this universe … sorry !

When the group first came together, no one was sure how to feel about you. Sugary sweet, skirts and dresses that made Shirley clutch her pearls at the length and Britta go on long winded rants about how you were ‘setting feminism back’. You didn’t seem to care about what anyone thought, which was admirable — and with time as the study group bonded, they grew to love you for all that you were. They even dropped the nickname ‘Princess’ on you, which had started to crop up more than your own name.

You sit happily, watching the usual banter occur around the table of the study room. “Okay you can’t just make movie references that no one gets and then look at me like I’m the idiot.” Jeff complains to Troy, leaning back carelessly in his seat— study book long abandoned on the table.

“I got it.” Abed states, turning his body in his seat to address his best friend. “Rugrats movie.” He points, and Troy rewards him with a high five.

“Seriously?” Jeff deadpans, looking around for support. “Abed watching a movie no one else on Earth cares about doesn’t surprise me, but are all of you really gonna sit there and act like you got the joke?” He accuses smugly.

“The rugrats movie is not niche. You’re just mad ‘cos you’re too old to understand the things we grew up with.” Britta leans forward with a malicious smirk. Jeff narrows his eyes, equally leaning forward at the foot of the table to rest his elbows on the sleek surface.

“Britta, the other day I watched you ask the bartender to ID you. Stop acting like you fit the bracket of the younger members of our group.”

She gasps, gearing up for another insult before you interject, doodling a heart on your notebook with pink glitter gel pen, distracted. “I’ve never seen it.”

“See, thank you.” Jeff raises a hand to gesture towards you in positive acknowledgment.

“Its an older show. Kids my age didn’t really watch that.” You shrug and his hand drops.

“Oh, right. I momentarily forgot you were born like last week and probably learnt your ABCs on an iPad. You are immediately disqualified from joining this argument.”

The conversation is broken up before it can progress into a full fledged argument, your phones text tone dinging with an adorable bird tweeting sound that made Shirley tilt her head in that motherly way and say ‘Aw.’ The group watches as your face falls, brow knitting at whatever you read.

“Whats up?” Troy questions, leaning forward.

“My dad texted me…” You respond, distracted and refusing to remove your eyes from your screen. There’s a short silence, before Jeff pipes up.

“Oh, sorry — I guess we were all waiting for you to give context without being asked. What’s wrong with your dad?” The ex-lawyer dramatises, pushing the conversation along. You shake your head, clearly moved by the whole ordeal and finally put your phone down.

“He was terrible to me growing up. You guys probably haven’t noticed but it gave me a miriad of issues I’m still working through to this day.” You bow your head humbly.

“Dont have to tell us twice, daddy issues am I right?” Pierce cuts through rudely with a joke, causing heads to whip around and glare his way.

“Pierce! She is bravely opening up about her trauma! Don’t be so insensitive!” Britta scolds before reaching across the table to rub your forearm in support, albeit coming across the slightest bit condescending.

“Tough nuts! I’ve got trauma too, when do any of you ever ask me about that?” The old man defends.

“Oh yeah? What old white dude trauma have you got that we should care about?” Troy twists his body argumentatively. Abed lifts a finger to interject.

“Pierce describes everything as trauma. They ran out of mini-pringles at the vending machine on Tuesday and he said the whole thing gave him PTSD.”

“I need my salt!” Pierce is quick to retaliate. The whole group seem to burst into meaningless argument for possibly the third time that day, and as quickly as it began your issue quickly faded into the background. Cursed with being observant, Jeff watches your sweet sullen face fall as you choose to stare at your hands instead, too burdened with your own issues to focus on the debate occurring. He sighs, knowing he must be the fixer.

“Hey, everyone shut up!” He raises his voice above the argument, the group obediently falling into silence as they always did, looking to him for the next demand. He presses his lips together reluctantly before turning to you, tilting his head sympathetically the same way you could to a puppy or a sick child. “What can we do to help?”

You glance around unsurely, stressed in a cute and doe eyed way that could only be mimicked by Disney princesses. “Oh, well… I’m not so sure. My dad said he’s coming to visit me for a few days and I just don’t know what to say to him. He’s always so mean and I never know how to defend myself, I always just go silent and take it. I’ll probably just hide when he arrives or something.”

“No, no— we don’t hide from assholes who made our lives hell. When is he coming?” Jeff shakes his head, sitting up in his seat. As much as he pretended to be aloof, he was already more invested than anyone.

“This weekend…”

“Alright,” He claps his hands decidedly. “Come over to my place tomorrow, I’m gonna coach you through dealing with this dick-for-brains. By the time I’m done with you there’s not gonna be a dad within a ten mile radius of this place that doesn’t fear the wrath of our little pink princess.” He reaches over and pets your back fondly making you straighten up in your seat, the motivated smile on your face already making Jeff feel better about the situation.

[dreadfullydevoted]

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚ HOLD THE SCREAMS, THE LIGHTS ARE TURNING LOW . . .

↳ ❝ [A GNASHING FEVER DREAM OF A HAUNTING PICTURE SHOW ] ¡! ❞

INFO UNDER THE CUT!

Well well well well well! Look at this updated bio! Let's get this shit started, shall we?

Hi! I'm Dew, the owner of this... Hellhole blog. If you'd consider it that. I'm kind of a mess when it comes to here. But hey!

He/him pronouns, but he/she SOMETIMES works too, just not preferred! I'm gay as all hell and genderfluid, so YEAH. Transmasc...

INTERESTS ! | ❥ | ~ Saw films, FNAF, Scream, any horror media, Smiling Friends, Santa Clarita Diet (thanks a lot to my homie for getting me addicted to this...), Dexter, Gravity Falls... Anything fucked up, weird, or that's just goofy is something I like. Also anything with Matthew Lillard. I want to bite him so bad it's uncanny.

DNI ! | ❥ | ~ Listen, I don't give a fuck much, but I fucking despise how I've gotten fucking weird ass interactions from people so, it pisses me the fuck off. Just... Don't be weird. Please. Honestly I mostly don't give a solid fuck, but you know. Homophobic, transphobic... You get allat. proshippers get outta here too ugh (Also just don't be weird about ships if you're not a selfshipper dude. You can have limits or preferences, but seriously... Don't go around whining or attacking people for shipping with the same character you do. Or other things such as canonical ships. You know who you are.... )

Alright, let's get some extra shit down. I'm an adult. I'm not gonna be discussing weird shit w/ minors, and if I see an ask that is nsfw implying or whatnot from someone that is a minor / no age in bio then I WILL delete it. This also includes trying to say things ab my ocs, yadda yadda. Got a problem with that? Block me. You can call them cute or pretty, I really don't give a fuck. Just don't go around like "omg i want him to fuck me omgomg...!!~~!!!" then like, go,... shoo.

OH tags... We're upgrading them!!

|⚰️| ~ 𝑪𝑶𝑭𝑭𝑰𝑵 𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑺! ~ I yap here. YAPYAPYAP.

|🍬| ~ 𝑫𝑬𝑾 𝑫𝑹𝑨𝑾𝑺 ! ~ I draw... That's it. :P

|🎸🍬| ~ 𝑹𝑶𝑪𝑲 𝑪𝑨𝑵𝑫𝒀! ♡ ~ MY BELOVED OC X CANON SHIP I am too in love w them rn so they get their own tag!!! :]

AH yes, I also have other blogs, most rp based!

@screamingqueenxoxo ~ MY SAW OC BLOG!!! She is my BABY and I'm sure you'll see a lot of her on here as well!! <33

@photographerstanheight ~ Adam Stanheight!! My little guy!

@jigsawkillings ~ This isn't as active, but John Kramer! hooray!

@trimalchiooframshackle ~ NOT active, but my ramshackle oc blog :]

[kykyluvrr]

Hi!

I don't know if your taking requests like this, but I'd love to read some Kylian Mbappe x reader smut. Maybe readers first time? 🙈

↻ K. MBAPPÉ ...

✽ content: first time with kylian (SMUT), unprotected sex cause i forgot to add the condom into the story, my first time writing smut

✽ pairing(s): kylian mbappé x reader

✽ a/n: so so sorry for the delay i was sick asf but im feeling better, i was like half asleep while writing this so if you see some crazy grammar/spelling error, no you didn't anyways thank you sm for all reblogs and likes and follows you guys are the sweetest im working on other requests too, ill try to upload daily OKOK enjoyyyy,,,♡

first time with kylian.

you two had just arrived home from a fancy restaurant. kylian had been acting weird ever since he saw you in the pretty white dress you wore to the restaurant. he had been staring at you, and spaced out while looking at you. he confessed that he admired how the dress looked on your body, but truth is, he had other thoughts in mind…

“kylian!” you said. trying to wake him up into reality, he had spaced out again while looking at you. he snapped back into reality and looked at you confusingly then slightly smiled. “sorry, you are absolutely stunning” he stated while looking away, scratching his neck.

you both had dinner and it was getting late, so kylian suggested to drive home so that you guys could wake up early tomorrow. you agreed on it and with that you both were on the way home.

you and your boyfriend arrived to the hotel and he opened the hotel room door for you, you thanked him and walked inside, him following you from behind. “i’ll go take a shower” he said and immediately went to the bathroom. you found it so cute, was he nervous? he had been acting so strange in an adorable way.

you walked to the master bedroom you had with kylian and started changing clothes to a red silk set, consisting a red shirt and a pair of red shorts, you removed your makeup, applied your skin care and threw yourself with your phone on to the bed, waiting for kylian to finish using the bathroom so you could brush your teeth.

you were relaxing and scrolling through your phone til you could hear the door open. your eyes turned to the door and out you saw a steam, but no one there.

“kyky?”

no answer.

your eyebrows furrowed. what was up with kylian today? you rose up from the bed and walked into the steamy bathroom. you could smell the scent of kylian’s shampoo. and so you saw kylian applying lotion on his body.

“why didn’t you answer when i called your name? is everything alright baby?” you asked concern in your voice. he snapped into reality once again. “im sorry, i didn’t hear you” he stated, looking at you with his brown gentle puppy eyes.

you just slowly nodded. you were NOT focused on what he had to say, only thing you could see was the tall, muscular, toned body he had with just a white towel wrapped around his waist. water dripping around his abs. you had an unknown feeling in your stomach, but you liked it.

kylian smirked. “like what you see?” he said teasingly. you realised what you were doing immediately started blushing, while covering your face with your hands. “oh my god” you whispered to yourself. you walked out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. “tell me when you’re done using the bathroom” you half-yelled. kylian laughed and gave you an “okay”

he had finished his night routine and walked to you and threw himself onto the bed, right next to you. “can we cuddle?” he asked, and you nodded. you were laying on his chest, still using your phone. he was watching your phone too. he became touchy and placed his hand on your waist, rubbing it. he brushed his nose against your neck and gave you a few kisses. still no reaction from you.

kylian wasn’t having it. “not this type of cuddling mon amour, i want kisses” he stated, you felt butterflies in your stomach. teasing him was entertaining, especially when he was being so needy. you turned off your phone and looked at him with a smile.

“what are you thinking about?” you asked him. he just shook his head. “we are thinking about the same thing, aren’t we?” he asked. he kept looking up and down, from your lips to your eyes as he spoke.

“are we though?” you asked him, tease in your tone. you smirked. “you’re teasing me, i know you are” he said with annoyance in his voice. he let out a sigh. you loved teasing kylian, especially when he was being needy.

he then gave you a quick peck on your cheek. “goodnight mon amour” he said and turned around, covering himself with a blanket.

you wouldn’t let him sleep though. you and him were thinking about the exact thing, you were just teasing him.

“turn over to my side baby” you ordered and he did, looking at you with confuse. that’s when you immediately smashed your lips onto his sofy lips. you could feel his lips forming a smile which made you smile too. this kiss was not like every other kisses. he kissed you gently and kind, yet hungrily and filled with lust.

he sat up and he instantly placed his hands all over your body, worshipping every centimetre of yours. you both had been waiting for this moment.

he then suddenly broke the kiss, leaving you confused. you were looking into his brown eyes, that were now filled with lust. “what do you want to do?” he asked you which caught you by surprise.

you were unable to speak, thousands of butterflies flying around your organs. feeling joy rush through your blood.

“talk to me mon amour, use your words”

there was something in that sentence that was so hot, making you even more unable to speak. you felt nervous around him.

“i want you. i need you, kylian”

was all you could say and oh boy was that more than enough for him. he smirked, and that’s when you realised you and him were going to have a long night.

he somehow flipped you into another position. you were now sitting on his lap. he placed his hands around your waist, squeezing you lightly. you then kissed him, wrapping your arms around his neck to deepen the kiss.

with his hands he started grinding your butt on his dick, which made him leave a light moan into your mouth. the kisses got more sloppier and more wet, you both were so needy for each other it’s crazy.

he then, then moved his hands to your breats, massaging them while kissing. you were grinding on him by your own. everything felt so good, this was your first time being so intimate with someone and you were more than happy that it was with kylian.

“i need to be inside you right now, i can’t wait anymore”

you smiled at his words, you nodded and started stripping off your clothes. as the last piece off of you dropped to the floor, you covered up, feeling extremely shy.

“don’t cover up, i have never seen such a gorgeous woman as you” with a husky voice that drove you crazy. you helped him slid off his shorts and then slid off his shirt, throwing it against the wall.

“are you sure about this? it’s your first time and i want to make it special for you-“

was all kylian could say before you pressed your lips against his lips. “i’m more than ready baby, im so grateful that you could wait til i was ready, i love you so much” you said and he smiled before kissing you. “i love you too” he whispered.

he flipped you over again, making you lay on the bed, he was kneeling infront of you and that’s when you realised how massive he was. so, you gasped.

he looked at you quickly with concern. “kylian you’re gigantic! im going to break” you said and his face faded into a smile, a nervous one. “don’t say stuff like that..” he said shyly.

kylian slid a finger between your folds and you grabbed the sheet instantly, the way his warm finger connected to your womanhood was a feeling you had never felt before.

“you’re so wet, mon amour” he said in a low tone. “please, i need you right now” you begged. kylian was enjoying it to 100%. you begging for him made his dick twitch. you both needed each other.

kylian grabbed his dick and positioned himself right in front of you, he used his dick to slide down to the shape of you womanhood, causing small moans leaving your mouth. you were so done with the teasing, but before you knew it,,,

kylian very slowly slid down his dick into the tight walls of yours, causing both of you quickly close your eyes and the sound of groans filling the room. you could hear kylian saying something in french but you didn’t know what he was saying.

kylian of course didn’t slid his whole dick into you. he knew it was your first time so he wanted to be gentle and caring. “are you okay? does it hurt?” he asked, making sure you’re comfortable.

“im good, you’re so big kyky, it doesn’t hurt but it stings a bit” you explained. he nodded, “it’s okay, i’ll wait for you to adjust” he stated and began kissing your neck, leaving a few lovebites. you loved having him on top, all you could see was his chest and abs and his red tinted face, the whole package. you loved it beneath him. you loved how he always wanted to make sure you’re comfortable around him and he makes you feel like a princess every time. you wrapped your arms around his neck once again and let him kiss and suck on your neck.

“can i?”

he asked, and you nodded. he started to thrust very lightly, always making sure you’re okay. he kept showering you with kisses to make you feel comfortable while he was enjoying the pleasure. he loved the noises you left, it was like music to his ears, and because it was his first time hearing you like this as well.

he could feel himself get closer to climax, but he absolutely didn’t wanna come before you, so he held it in and kept going, making sure you felt good too, and so you did. 

“you're mine, only mine”

was what he said in french while looking at your pretty face, you both enjoying the moment. he started thrusting deeper and faster and you could feel a clump forming into your stomach. 

“baby i think im-” was all you said before he interrupted you. 

“you finish first, i'll finish right after” he said between moans. you felt your lower belly tighten. your back arched automatically and with the deep and fast thrusts you received from your boyfriend, you came, you came so hard you were seeing stars, with a loud “kylian!!” escaping your mouth, your nails dug onto the bedsheet.  

he kept going and then quickly took his dick out and finished on your stomach. you felt warm seed spreading on your belly. kylian fell onto the bed right next to you, you both panting out loud.

“that was-” you said but kylian interrupted you again. 

“i love you so much mon amour. no one has ever made feel this way. you're my bestfriend, lover, girlfriend, and soon to be wife” he said while wrapping his arms around your neck. “i love you too kyky” was all you could say to his kind and warming words. you both were laying like that for a while but not too soon, kylian rose up. 

“let's wash up and head to sleep so that we can get enough sleep for round 2 tomorrow morning,” he said with a smirk,,,♡

[pascals-doll]

meet muñeca

nice to meet you ♡ °

>HOMEPAGE >MASTERLIST

—ⓘ unfiltered asf | social | work-driven

(thas the best way id describe my ass osrs)

thank you for clicking on my blog ! here's a little get to know me !

muñeca is what i go by on here but my real name is Melanie! but my people call me Mel ! i speak 3 languages (english, spanish, and Xocoa (my native language another form of NAHUATL ) !

i am mexican indigenous & born and raised in cali baby AKA xicana (chicana) 🩷 im 18 years old 彡 she/her and bisexual with a very very heavy preference for women !

my birthday is in late January BITCH IS A BIG AQUARIU$ ♒️ ☀️ | cancer 🌕 | virgo rising

i am a freshman in uni ! i have the cutest cat lol and currently employed full-time as i got my first big girl job not too long ago :) ! i often spend my weekends at my local tribal administration working with native youth its sm fun.

MY HOBBIES ARE— are danza (danza azteca is a practice for the indigenous people of mexico) its my meditation, besides writing. i try to go as much as possible to my practices i love it sm.

i love graffiti art, a little bit of spiritual practices, show-binger, embroidery, painting/sketching, cooking, i love music like i love all things music, scrapbooking, film/photography, shopping, and most of all video games !

i grew up with my dad having all types of video game consoles like the nintendo 64, gamecube, ps2 and 1, etc so i grew up with the love for games and was my biggest blessing growing up :)

i lately only been playing the sims and animal crossing cus of how busy i be ! one thing ill call myself is work-driven 😭.

i smoke my medicine and love of my life is that 💰my favorite color ? isn’t it obvious yet 💕 pink

EXTRA FACTS ✩

FAVORITE ARTISTS— kendrick lamar, j.cole, erykah badu, lana del rey, kali uchis, yung lean, the drums, 2PAC, MF DOOM, bryson tiller, brent faiyaz, childish gambino, kid cudi, & curren$y. when i tell you i listen to everything im not kidding but these are some of my favorite artists; they always finna b playing when im driving.

i had went to visit my dad and we hooked up our old ps3 and played OG TLOU tg and it got me nostalgic asff 🥲 when i first started THIS blog it was just a test-drive ? but not anymore teehee

i first started writing on tumblr in like late 2019 early 2020 😭 I WAS IN 8TH GRADE LOLLL it was about vampire diaries too, yeah that shit did not last long.

i thought ab it & i think its insane ppl trippin on minors for reading/writing smut when my ass was 13 logging onto wattpad soo IDGAF IDC IDGAF

my ass been 18+ since i was 12 i cant say shit LMFAO

I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH AND YOUR SUPPORT MAKES MY HEART SWELL UP

i am bad at talking about myself but i hope you babies were able to get a jist of my vibe and explained who i am as good as possible 😭!!

[kamiimiya]

TEEHEE 1, 3, 5, and 7 with kokonoi hajime >:D

THANK YOU LOVEBUG I APPRECIATE YOU SOSOSOSO MUCH ♡

ask game here

♡ If you have one, what's your ship name?

kokomiya !! just a silly basic little shipname cuz those are the ones i'm used to in most fandoms and i'm simply not creative enough to think of something unique and funny.

i honestly like the tag misconceptions more than i do the ship name, because i Thought about that for a little while even though its kinda basic so it doesn't even really seem like i did much thinking. but for a long time we didn't like each other, he thought i was wayyy too nice and just going to be used by everyone around me ( deadass projecting but go off koko dearest ) and i couldn't understand why he has such a grudge against me. we understand each other a little bit too well in some regards, despite each of us being on the opposite ends of The Horrors. sometimes he mentions that i would understand inupi more than i understand him, and he just doesn't understand why i'd choose someone like him when it's so obvious that he had the capability to hurt others. he's so blinded by his lack of self worth and inability to truly understand other people's depths that there's just a lot of miscommunication between the two of us for a really long time.

♡ What song would you duet for some chaotic late night karaoke?

umbrella by rihanna. is it because of that one scene with inupi where koko was hiding behind the umbrella and trying his best to act confident even when he was losing it a little bit ? yeah. maybe. who cares. it's also a BITCHING song and you can't look me in the eyes and tell me he doesn't know it by heart. and to be very clear, i'm not saying he's gonna be jay z and i'm rihanna. we alternate lines like how god intended. i will step out of the spotlight this one time and let him have the last little bit with the last few lines because i feel like he needs them a little bit. maybe it would do his psyche some good who knows.

in the tune of rihanna, also s&m is a very good choice. my minds eye can see him swaying his hips and doing a little dance and dammit he's feeling himself. gonna do that silly debby ryan thing where he pushes his hair behind his ears trying to be hot but its kokonoi hajime so it just works idk how to explain it. first verse is his and he'll sing it alone, i'll just sing the background vocals. we alternate the lines of the chorus & sing the post chorus ' come on, come on, come on ' part together at the same time. second verse is mine. if you see him blushing at the mention of whips and chains no for the love of god you do not.

♡ If you were dogs, what breeds would you be?

so he's definitely going to be something like a doodle or a golden doodle. something that looks pretty but actually may not be the best pets. i lived in a house with golden doodles and let me tell you they were wild and rowdy if not trained right and also practically impossible to kennel train at any point in time, and maybe it was just the dogs that the person had but they had the worst separation anxiety i've ever seen in dogs, and that's pretty much just koko. if you look at them from a distance you think that they're pretty and fancy looking and then you spend more than a minute in the same room with them and you realize that they're actually a handful, and i love koko for that.

for myself, i don't really have an in depth answer. i like pomeranians and also i too have a bark wayyy bigger than my entire bodyweight. they're like 3 apples tall and mostly fur, and have one of those super annoying barks that just simply don't shut up ever, and i'd like to think that's me going on and on and on about stuff that no one objectively really cares about. they're also extroverted but can get aggressive with dogs much bigger than their own size. and yeah that honestly just checks out with me i will body check a dog 4x my size because i don't like the way that it didn't look at me.

♡ Describe how your f/o smells, be absurdly specific.

oh boy he's expensive but also depressed. you can tell he's having one of those days where he just can't be half assed with anything because the cologne he wears will be sprayed so much that you can't smell anything else. he chooses savage from dior because it's one of those colognes that covers up everything else with just a little bit sprayed, but he'll still overspray it to the point it almost chokes you with the scent of it. if he's not wearing any cologne ( rare, but not impossible. i just have to catch him at the right time ) he probably smells like a mix between his lotion he wears and his body wash / exfoliant. he shops at bath and body works for lotions because he likes the deals and also has a thing for their candles.

if he's out doing ' business ' i think honestly he sweats wayyy more than he likes to let on especially since most uniforms are a jacket of some kind and they're actively fighting most of the time, so he has to use a pretty strong deodorant to hide it. definitely carries deodorant with him and he's so shameless about it. he definitely hops into the shower the moment he's home though.

sometimes, though, he smells like blood and a housefire, with the smell of smoke so thoroughly coated in his hair and blood underneath his fingernails, and i can't mention it because it's really not the important part going on right now. sometimes i just gotta pull him into the shower and wash his hair for him really well and fix dinner for him without mentioning it. tears or worried words from either one of us may break the fragile thread hanging on and it's just not worth it. i know he's okay, he knows that he's safe. it's,,, important that the nights we're together stay as normal for him as possible, especially on nights like those.

and anyways so i - ( gets shot )

[moonstruckme]

Hi my love. Can you do a quick little blurby with whoever you think will fit this. The request is the reader was literally forgotten by her coworkers. They were all going to go out after work but they forgot her and went out without her. Just a comfort fic because this literally happened to me and I want to curl up and cry

Hi my love, I'm so sorry that this happened to you but I really hope things have been sorted out and/or you're feeling better now. Thank you for requesting sweetheart <3

Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 957 words

Steve wonders if maybe he’s holding you too tight. He’s got one arm around your ribcage and the other curled over your shoulders so he can hold the nape of your neck, but he keeps having to squash bouts of his own indignant fury to focus on comforting you. 

Unfortunately, this is not something he can handle with a bat. 

“I’m sure they didn’t mean to,” he mumbles next to your head. Your cheek is pressed close to his, your arms hung loosely around his shoulders. You’d come home to find him on the couch and simply draped yourself over him, desperate for affection he was all too happy to give you, even if it’s a bit less fun and games when you’re upset. You’re not even really crying, just clinging to him as a slow, relentless stream of tears flows out of you. 

“I know.” You sound so dejected Steve feels like someone’s taken the bat to him, your voice croaky and tired. “I don’t think they were trying to be mean, they just…didn’t remember me.” 

“Being inconsiderate still makes them a bunch of douchebags,” he says, thumb stroking the baby hairs on your neck. 

Steve likes to think he was never that much of a douchebag, but witnesses would probably testify otherwise. Robin would gleefully skip to the front of the line. She’d actually referred to his past self as a douche-canoe once. Steve isn’t sure what exactly that means, but he’s guessing it didn’t make him a whole lot better than these guys. 

“You should come work with me and Robs,” he offers, only half joking. You normally love your job, but he hates seeing you like this enough to think that maybe that doesn’t matter so much. “The pay’s worse, but we’re way more fun to be around.” 

You sniffle, tightening your grip around his shoulders affectionately. “Thanks, Stevie. But it’s not that I don’t like them. They’re cool, usually.” Steve makes a reluctant grunting sound, though he knows this to be true. Prior to today’s incident, he’d actually been looking forward to meeting some of them. “I just wish I weren’t so forgettable.” 

It takes Steve a second to actually process what you’ve said, and then his heart sputters in his chest. “Hey, what?” He pulls away from you, curling his hands around your upper arms. “Babe, this hasn’t got anything to do with you.” 

The look in your eyes is less despair than resignation. You seem almost sorry to contradict him. “It’s not like they didn’t invite me. They were trying to be nice, they just didn’t notice that I wasn’t there when they left. What else do you call that?” 

“Not your fault,” he insists, nose scrunching bewilderedly as he shakes his head at you. “That’s what I call it. Listen, I” —he sighs— “I don’t want to sound like I’m advocating for these assholes, but you know how things can get when you’re in a group like that. Everybody’s all excited about whatever you’re all going to do, and if somebody says they’re ready to go, you go. They were probably each thinking you were with someone else. Actually, I can almost guarantee they weren’t thinking at all.” 

Your mouth pulls to one side, dissatisfied but considering. You give a little shrug. “I guess.” But you’re just appeasing him, Steve can tell. 

Fuck, he hates talking about this. The things he does for you, he swears. 

“Look, I was an asshole kid once too,” he says, and he’s aiming for lightness but he can tell by the way your eyes lock on his that you know the significance of him bringing this up. It’s not a legacy he’s proud of. “I could…okay, I’m not happy about it, but I could kind of see myself doing something like that a few years ago. I was an idiot, right? We agree?”

Almost despite yourself, you give a little smile. Steve goes on, encouraged. 

“So I can say, practically from experience, that I wouldn’t have been thinking about who was there and who wasn’t. I would’ve been too caught up in the idea of what we were doing to pay attention. But that just makes me a dick, it doesn’t mean anything about you.” 

You tilt your head, giving him one of those thoughtful, open looks he loves so much. He likes it when you let him see all of you on your face. Makes his boyfriend duties a lot easier. “You’re not a dick,” you say softly. 

“I was,” he says, and it’s not hard to admit when you’re here in front of him, living proof that he’s got to be doing something right these days. He rubs your upper arms roughly. “But you’re not forgettable.” 

You sniff again. Steve is pleased to note that your tear ducts seem to have emptied their reserves enough for the time being. He’s not sure whether that’s because you believe him or because you’re just choosing to let his affection outweigh your coworkers’ callousness for the evening, but either is alright with him. He can love you enough to make up for all of those fuckers. 

“Can I hug you again?” you ask, and he’s quick to oblige you, slotting you back between his arms where you belong. 

“When you go back to work, I bet they’re all going to feel really bad,” Steve grumbles, letting his grip tighten slightly around your ribcage. “But if you want to just avoid all that, the option to come work at Family Video is still open. I know a guy.” 

Your laugh is croaky but real, and the sound of it makes Steve want to squeeze the life out of you for happiness. “I’ll think about it.” 

[cowgirlcherrie]

youre so cute stop it im going insane♡︎ i feel like ellie would be so good at soccer like she’d know everyone’s next move

PLEASE i would definitely be head over heels for her soccer girls are just 🫣..

I LOVE YOU MORE BABY!!

i would still be begging on my knees

my day has been unbelievably boring so far☹️ i haven’t been doing anything special today my summer is just not summering this year

anywaays, how’s yours been babe? done anything fun today?

also i HAVE to say that your vampire!ellie fic was so incredible i had to put my phone away and process everything for a few minutes.. the details were so good and everything was so well written

ANOTHER MASTERPIECE BY MY GIRL!!

-☀️

my heart beats XTRA fast for you!!!

sporty women, I want to kiss all of them!! Ellie would definitely have a habit of doing tunnels (just pushing the ball between peoples legs) like she’s a tripper, leaves her foot out purposely!!

MWUAH MWUAH COME FETCH UR DAILY KISSES

Omg awe I’m sorry!! You are so right like when the summer started I was like omg this is gonna be my summer but eventually It was no longer summering and it rained more than anything. the photodump at the end of the summer is not gonna go that crazy on the gram it’s gonna be so humbling

I took digitals with my camera I just hope people eat it up LOL, I’ll post some during my face reveal one day..

My day has been super productive I had a big skin care moment which I love to do, I’ve been using this vitamin c serum and it works so nicely smells amazing and my skin has been glowing. Like I will say this summer I’ve been wearing makeup less bc my skin has been thriving on its own. I got had some really good carribean food which was yummy!!!

THANK U BABY OMGG ♡♡ It was so one of my favorites such a 2014 thing for me to do but like vampire plots never miss !! like I’ve written one in the past on here but deleted it (anyone who remembers this is actually an OG) but I wanted to do a spin off with Abs in the same universe as the ACERBUS fic

“MY GIRL” DO U WANT ME TO CRY CUZ I WILL

[onlyswan]

hello! tulip anonie came back from the dead 🪦

i’ve just been catching up on your posts and why am i seeing people saying you’re leaving?!? 😭 but i’m so glad you clarified that you just need a break and i’m so sorry you have to go through that my love ♡ i just want to say if you really need a break then take it. you don’t have to write anything, and you don’t owe anyone anything. i think sometimes a slump is what we need to make us feel the yearning to do something that we love again because we’ll miss it eventually.

i guess may was a rough month for everyone. take your time to do selfcare for a whole week because may was an ass and i -too- wanna kick it in the butt for being the toughest and longest month so far. i know the ‘lack’ of interaction / appreciation for your writings lately can be discouraging and i totally get that. like sometimes it can feel as if a negative comment would be better than nothing, because at least ‘someone is acknowledging something that i made’. but i’m so happy so many people came to give you the love and support and it proves that you’re so loved and appreciated because your works really helped people to find comfort and have a peaceful time even just for 10 minutes of their (mine too) 24 hour long and tiring day.

oooh… and i want to tell you about a bit of my life lately… remember that i was going to yoongi’s concert and it was my first ever concert and you told me to forget everything except my ticket and powerbank? yea… my powerbank broke and i had to borrow this lovely lady’s 💀 i got a vip soundcheck and practically a barricade 🥹 i still can’t believe i got to see 1 of 7 of them right in front of my eyes 😭 i had so much fun and as an introvert -i hate crowded places so much and meeting so many people makes me anxious- i never thought i’d love concert as much as i did! but i’ll give it to yoongi and the lovely people i met, army 🫶🏻 because they’re the nicest people on earth istg. talking with armies online is so nice, but meeting so much of them in real life was soooo much better. the whole time i saw them, my brain just went “wow… we really love the same person / band huh. the tannies are so loved. i love it here”. speaking of concert… i got tickets for coldplay too! 😭praying that they will perform my univers live 🕯️🪐✨

and here we are in june! let’s have fun with tannies because it’s our month! i started this month still with a neverending college final project *booing and throwing tomatoes*. but i’m so happy because i finally found the type of pencil i’ve been searching for soooo long that i got out of my year long drawing slump… and i’ve been practicing again with drawing jungkook’s nose because i love it so much and i wanna *boop* it. and as i was sketching, i was watching the festa livestreams the whole day. a therapeutic experience :’] i miss them soooo much ❤️‍🩹

as i’m writing this, i’m eating unripe mangoes with salt and chili. reminds me of that drabble where jungkook, his abs, and oc went on a beach vacation ♡ OH! and the latest drabble!! i wanna be loved that way sooooo bad 🥲 and so steamy😮‍💨 and the bathtub scene… oh artemis i love how you can always always make the most out of the very intimate places in the house of lovers… the kitchen, the bedroom, and the bathroom. EVEN THE WALK IN CLOSET FFS. it’s just how good you are with what you do and you use your heart to dictate the words to your fingers.

buuut how are you feeling now? how are you doing? you can vent if you want to, i’m all ears! i hope good things happen ♡ have a great day artemis!

-🌷

hello my tulip anonie! i missed you so much! aghhh you got to see yoongi so close?!?!? i’m so happy 🥹 you deserve it so much !!!! 🥹 and thank god the lovely lady let you borrow their powerbank lmaooo. so nice to hear you had a wonderful experience at your first concert :") hopefully it’s the same for the next one too! coldplay is amazing!

and omg you draw??? you’re so cool <3 jungkook’s nose is my favorite nose ever if i was an artist i’d totally spend all my time practicing how to draw it. hehe

stop now i’m craving for mangoes 🫢 and maybe a jungkook. the latest drabble!! the bathtub scene… rips me to shreds when i think about it until now tbh. every room, no matter how small, can hold an eternity of memories 🥺 i guess is what i’m trying to say.

thank you so much for your understanding and endless love my beloved <3 life has just not been very kind, like everything that can go wrong is going wrong? i’m ok with challenges, but maybe only one at a time? 🤣 but you’re right! hopefully june will be a better month. with festa and pride month, i think we deserve that much !! hopefully i get to finish the next drabble soon too, which actually been helping me release my heartache little by little <3 i hope you have an amazing week my love! ☁️

[forhyune]

xanthe. XANTHE. i am going to throw up. what have u done. i am bouncing off the walls in pure ecstasy reading these for the billionth time. i know u literally warned me that u were Taking Notes while reading this fic but i was still in no way prepared for the glorious DISSERTATION that your feedback was like ??? for reference i'm currently positioned on my stomach on my bed and quite literally kicking my feet.

man i actually love your feedback so much. it feels like you're texting me live updates while reading and u ALWAYS notice my favorite parts about the things i write and it makes me giddy like nothing else. let me live react to your live reactions in return...

chan in this universe is just Tired. just So Tired and i love him for it

a friend tag !! u are the sweetest !!

an anthro minor !! u are the coolest !!

and no bc i was kinda proud of my hyun's ponzi scheme bc why'd it work so perfectly in his favor? i'm he's like some kind of mastermind...

seung is so college crush coded it pains me to think about. i'm glad u felt the same way

is it really a forlix rendition of hyunjin if he's not every bit as pathetic as he is charismatic

oh don't worry. i've spent at LEAST 100x the amount of time writing fanfiction than i have writing papers this school year

very glad u liked all the conversations and the bit about the corkboard <333

i really liked writing no more awkwardness line as well. see this is what i mean YOU GET ME

and i didn't even think about that parallel but ur so right wait...the fic starting with mc fantasizing about another man's smile and ending with them tasting hyun's instead OHHHHH

thoroughly enjoyed whipping up that lil detail about chan caring more ab the cleanliness of his carpet than his ace hitter having a potential seizure

also so glad u enjoyed the voice message :') i've noticed there's a recurring theme in my writings about exchanging voice notes or leaving voicemails. think it's smth about being unable to say certain things to someone's face but feeling braver and speaking more sincerely when it's just a device capturing your words. i eat that shit up every time

anyways i'm GLAD to hear that this fic split u open bc as u can see ur feedback sent me into fifty different kinds of tailspins all at the same time so it was like preemptive revenge. i love you so, so much more. you bring so much joy not only to being on this platform but to the act of writing for me. thank u so much for reading and feedbacking and, most importantly, enjoying ♡

𝐚𝐜𝐞・h.h.

— volleyball superstar and your personal hell hwang hyunjin proposes a trade-off you can't refuse: his matchmaking services for a passing anthropology grade. the plan is foolproof in theory; in practice, it is something else entirely.

words・15.2k

pairing・volleyball player!hyunjin x tutor!reader (gn)

genres・college!au, sports!au, fake enemies to friends to lovers, fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn. hyunjin is a huge flirt. mc #DGAF. two polar opposites sharing one soul. a seungjin fic if u squint. loosely inspired by the manga/anime haikyuu!!

warnings・mentions of anxiety, fear of failure, heartbreak, loneliness, and self-image. course language and callous banter (as always) ft. suggestive flirting and one kms joke. some of the referenced players and coaches are real; this fic is not.

playlist・collision by stray kids・value by ado・waiting for us by stray kids・eternity by bang chan・dreaming by smallpools・fly high!! by burnout syndromes

a/n・writing this felt like returning to my roots tbh. i love volleyball and i love sports aus and i love, love hwang hyunjin. thank u to my sahar for bringing this fic to life with me, as always; i can no longer write for him without also writing for you. i hope u guys enjoy reading this as much as i adored writing it. happy late birthday, our jinnie, our hyunjin, our forever ace; you are so unbelievably loved ♡

“Not a word out of you,” you say, tossing your backpack onto the floor of the lecture hall with a heavy-handed flick. “I’m serious.”

Hyunjin glances up at you with a frown. “When did people stop saying good morning?”

Your lack of an immediate comeback tells him the situation is dire. He observes you for a moment, his mouth falling open, hanging still, then curving into a slow, serpentine smile.

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Look at me.”

“No.”

“Please, angel.”

“No! Leave me alone.”

Hyunjin slumps back into his seat, thinking hard. The solution occurs to him with a poke of his tongue into his cheek. “Coffee on me for a week.”

At this, your hands stop rummaging in your bag. You cock your head, your interest piqued. Got you. 

When you finally humor him and turn around, you’re flinching like you’re in pain, eyes closed and breath held and all. He giggles and leans in for a closer look. Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes if he wasn’t so flummoxed by the state of your forehead.

“What the hell did you do?”

“Tried to cut my own bangs,” you sigh. “It didn’t go very well and now I look like Rock Lee.”

Hyunjin lets out a forceful laugh. “You’ve seen Naruto?”

You open your eyes. Only then does Hyunjin remember how little distance he left between your faces, when he’s staring straight into them and all the strange, starry speckles they hold.

The air between you curdles like sour milk.

Things are awkward between you often, he’s realized recently. What’s more, he didn’t think he was capable of being awkward with anyone anymore until he met you. It was your ill-fated seat that he chose to sit next to on the first day of ANTH 111, your ill-fated lap onto which he chose to spill his Americano, and the rest was history (or, in this case, anthropology). His tongue ends up in sailor’s knots with every smart-aleck comment and pitiful laugh you’ve given him since. Maybe there’s more to it, maybe there isn’t—Hyunjin doesn’t think about it much. He doesn’t like thinking in general.

You pull away from each other in unison. You clear your throat, glancing elsewhere. 

“Of course I’ve seen Naruto,” you quip, and everything is normal again. “Why do you seem surprised?”

“Because you’re so scholarly.”

“I am not scholarly.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You go to a park to play chess with old people on weekends.”

“I need to get my steps in somehow.”

“You didn’t know what Urban Dictionary was until I told you to look up—”

“Ugh, I learned too much about you that day.”

“Your favorite social media platform is Quizlet,” he bursts, exasperated. “Quizlet.”

“It is not.” An introspective pause. “Is it?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised.” Hyunjin throws his feet up on the chair below him, jabs in your direction with a bandaged finger. “There is no way you enjoy watching 2D men beat each other up in your free time. I don’t buy it.”

“Honestly, I thought you’d have more to say about my current appearance than my hobbies.”

He does, though. Matter of fact, he’s been curating a list since this conversation started: Vector from Despicable Me, Dora the Explorer’s hot older sibling, Spock. You face-planted into a lawnmower. You mistook a paper shredder for a hat. It goes on.

But then his head turns. Your eyes meet again. It’s hard to sustain an inner monologue and look at your face at the same time.

He reaches up, nudges a lock of your hair over a centimeter or so, and gives the patch of forehead a gentle flick.

“Watermelon,” he mumbles with a sickening smile.

You divert your attention to your lecture notes with a disappointed click of your tongue. “You’re getting soft.”

He spends the entire lecture daydreaming about tropical coastlines.

“I only get coffee from that one place on the east side of campus, by the way,” you say as you’re strolling out the building together, “and I get it a very specific way. Can you handle it?”

“Your faith gets me out of bed in the morning,” Hyunjin deadpans. “I’ll handle it, love. Text me your order.”

All of a sudden, you position your hands close to your stomach, the lapels of your jacket casting them in shadow. Your fingers begin to move in a sequence that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Body flicker jutsu,” you whisper, and then you’re scurrying off without another word—but you do glance back at him to gauge his response. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the main quad’s busy thrum.

Hyunjin gapes at your retreating figure for so long that phosphenes start prancing around his field of view. Then he heads to the gym. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Hyunjin stops lacing up his shoes to see Coach Bang standing on the court’s sideline with a grim air about him. He glances at his captain, confused.

“Don’t look at me,” Minho says mid-stretch. “Godspeed.”

“Thanks, cap.” Useless.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. It’s all fluorescent lights and spotless white walls, the only decorative fixture a picture of his siblings, parents, and dog in front of the Sydney Opera House, framed and facing him atop his desk. Hyunjin once snuck the thing into the bathroom, an innocent plot to satiate his curiosity, and promptly discovered the man’s propensity for violence. He’s packing beneath those dry-cleaned polos, by the way.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “You can read, right?”

“Yes, coach,” he sighs. Everyone’s expectations for him are subterranean.

From: Jinyoung Park «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Not good See email from Hwang’s antopology professor below . He submitted the complete script of the Trolls movie instead of his final paper and now he’s failing the class . Not good . Sort out ASAP JP Sent from my iPad

Bang snatches up his mouse and scrolls, his ears turning scarlet. “Wrong email.”

“Yep.”

From: Kyeyoung Kim «kyeyoungkim@snu.edu» To: Jinyoung Park «asiansoul_jyp@snu.edu» Subject: Regarding Hwang Hyunjin To Director of Athletics Park, I am writing to inform you that, as of yesterday, Mr. Hwang Hyunjin has a D- (64.9%) in ANTH 111: Cultural Anthropology, due to his submission of the complete script of a kids’ movie instead of his final paper. It is disappointing to see Mr. Hwang trivialize and ridicule my class to such a degree. Please see to it that he reorganizes his priorities lest his Student-Athlete Participation Agreement do so for him. Regards, Kyeyoung Kim Professor of Anthropology

“That’s bullshit!”

“We’re in agreement there.” Bang folds his arms over his chest, throws his foot over his knee. “Do you know what your Student-Athlete Participation Agreement says, Hwang?”

“Does anyone?” Hyunjin scoffs. Bang whips out a form and brings it to eye level, the thing covered from top to bottom in microscopic Times New Roman.

“No way you just had that.”

“I had it delivered ten minutes ago,” Bang confesses, then clears his throat and begins to recite. “All student-athletes must complete the academic term with a C or higher in all courses, should they wish to continue their participation in athletics thereafter.”

Hyunjin stiffens. “What the fuck? I’ve never heard of—”

“If any Department of Athletics personnel,” Bang continues, raising his voice, “have reason to believe that a student-athlete will not be able to satisfy this requirement, they are encouraged to utilize resources such as academic advising or peer tutoring in guiding said student-athlete back onto the correct path.”

He shoves the piece of paper across his desk. “Read that name aloud for me.”

Hyunjin stares at the signature at the bottom of the page, scrawled so carelessly that most of it deviates away from its designated line. There is a rare hollowness in his chest that he recognizes as anxiety. With it comes a glimpse of a life without volleyball, the question of what little of him would remain.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” he says under his breath.

The office goes silent. Bang tucks the form back into his drawer. It closes with a gentle click.

Then comes the yelling.

“The Trolls movie, Hwang Hyunjin? Trolls?! Are you fucking with me right now?”

“It was a cultural reset! The pinnacle of modern media! How’s that for anthropology?”

“BAD!” Bang explodes, gesturing to the email emphatically. “VERY, VERY BAD!”

Hyunjin slumps over, dejected.

“You’ve never had trouble with school before.” He leans over his desk imposingly. “What the hell happened this semester? What changed?”

Nothing is the first answer that comes to mind, but Hyunjin’s pulse spikes like a lie detector. Upon the inside of his eyes replays a scene of a certain someone with watermelon bangs doing teleportation jutsu at him from a few yards away, wearing a smile made of some kind of space dust that astronomists haven’t discovered yet.

He grits his teeth, annoyed. This is what happens when he thinks.

“Beats me,” he lies. “Typical junior year stress, maybe.”

“Does any of it have to do with Piazza?” 

Hyunjin shudders.

It just might, actually.

Modesty has no place in the career he’s had: high school national champion turned ace hitter in both the South Korean U21 roster and regular rotation for Seoul National University, the best collegiate volleyball team in the country. His name has lived at the top of ranking lists and the center of gold medals since he turned old enough to qualify for them; the press believes him the instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution. It’s a mouthful, he knows.

It was never a question that he would go professional; the question was who he should talk to and where he would go.

At the start of the school year, Bang, acting in place of the agent he was advised to find and never bothered to, gave him a list of people to reach out to. On the very top was none other than Roberto Piazza, the chairman and head coach of Allianz Milano, one of the most eminent club teams in the world—and current home to Hyunjin’s personal idol, outside hitter Ishikawa Yuki.

Hyunjin thought his poor coach had finally succumbed to his old age. The thought of stepping onto the same court as Ishikawa felt sacrilegious, let alone donning the red, white, and navy blue of Allianz Milano with him. But Bang slapped him on the back of the neck and reminded him that going professional was equal parts preparation and opportunity; he was never going to know the answers to questions he didn’t ask. Hyunjin was coerced to fire off an introductory email despite his reservations.

Piazza replied to his email within the week.

For the last five months, Hyunjin has been fighting with tooth and nail to manage his expectations. He scrolls past the team’s social media posts like they burn his eyes. He replies to Piazza’s emails right before working out with Changbin under the assumption that whatever the shredded libero does to him will eviscerate his brain. If his world is made of dreams, this is the one at its very core, imbued with destructive potential the second it became attainable.

But that’s the last five months. The last five weeks have been you kicking him in the shin because he’s laughing (or trying to make you laugh) and the professor is staring; you listening to him rant and rave about volleyball when he knows you couldn’t care less about the sport; you relaying the contents of your class readings like hot gossip, your eyes wild and hands flying around because you can’t contain your excitement. You, you, you.

He cards a hand through his air, regaining his focus. “You know how I feel about Piazza.”

“Expect the worst, hope for the best.” Bang’s chair skids backwards as he stands up. “I think it’s a good approach.”

Suddenly, he is directly in front of Hyunjin, low enough to meet his eyes. His hands rest upon his shoulders firmly.

“But hope is hungry, and it will consume you if you let it,” he says. “Do not let it, Hyunjin. I’m not asking.”

Even while being squeezed to a pulp and regarded with the cold intensity of a statue, Hyunjin can’t help but feel anchored, somehow, to the floor of this miserable office. Protected.

Bang lets go of him. “I’m not asking you to find a tutor by the end of the week, either.”

Hyunjin groans. “Yeah, yeah. I’m on it.”

A set of bandaged fingers appear in your periphery to place a paper cup onto your laptop. Accompanying the smell of fresh coffee is that of smoky rose, as decidedly douchey as ever.

“I thought you said your order was complicated.”

You look up from your phone to see Hyunjin plop into the adjacent seat. His long, caramel-colored hair is damp and unstyled in the aftermath of a morning shower, droplets of water pearling on the lapels of a navy blue windbreaker, layered over a white long sleeve. You recognize the outfit by now as game gear.

“Was it not?” You ask.

“It was an Americano, love. I walked up to the cashier and placed an order for an Americano.”

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you could handle that much.” He flips you off as you squint at the cup. “Someone wrote their number on the lid, by the way.”

“What? Really?”

“No.”

He shoves you hard enough for your upper body to drape over the opposite armrest. You’re still cackling by the time you’ve straightened up again.

“Why did you get this, anyway?” Hyunjin grumbles. “I thought you had a sweet tooth.”

“I do, but you don’t.”

Only then does the fool understand that you had no intention of charging him in coffee just for a haircut reveal. He takes back the coffee hesitantly.

“Thanks,” he says at last. “Nice of you.”

“I know, right? Hated it,” you respond, and he almost chokes on his first sip.

You almost choke on nothing when Kim Seungmin materializes in the aisle adjacent. He holds out a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “Yo.”

Hyunjin dabs it up without putting down his Americano. “I fully forgot you were in this class.”

“Well, I’m due for my weekly appearance.” Seungmin slips into the seat directly below you, glancing at you over his shoulder. “Hey, Y/N.”

“Hi,” you say, somehow managing to stumble over the single syllable the word has. You thank your lucky stars that you fixed your hair yesterday.

You like Kim Seungmin. Not just in the cutesy, crushy way, but in the “I relinquish my rights” way where you spend every waking moment cursing out whatever stroke of misfortune placed Hyunjin in the seat next to you instead of him. He’s funny, gorgeous, and talented—a vocal performance major with a student-athlete contract—and you think your infatuation is more than justified. Hyunjin thinks it’s hilarious.

You side-eye your blonde adversary, prepared to see one of three things: a suppressed laugh, a dramatic eye-roll, or a mature kissy face that usually results in the first option. You’re met with something far more worrisome.

He’s thinking.

That can’t be good.

Suddenly, his phone screen lights up with a text that temporarily wipes the conspiratorial gleam from his eye. Hyunjin scans it over and groans. “Can this guy do his fucking job?”

“He wouldn’t have to if you didn’t quit,” Seungmin answers. “I’ll never forget you, Manager Hwang.”

“Shut up.” You peer at Hyunjin, silently requesting an explanation. “Our captain is forcing us to help him look for a new team manager. We need one for playoffs because of some stupid U-League rule—Seung, why do you look morose?”

“I’m mourning.” Seungmin does look morose indeed. “Hyunjin committed larceny last year and our coach punished him by making him our team manager for the rest of the year. It was so funny.”

Hyunjin slides down his seat. “It was the worst experience of my life.”

Neither man seems inclined to elaborate on the larceny thing. You choose to digress. “Can I ask why?”

“He had to be responsible,” Seungmin whispers. “For other people.”

The top of Hyunjin’s head stops right next to your armrest. You reach over and pat his hair in faux sympathy. “Poor thing.”

“Hardass refused to do it again this year, so now we’re recruiting.” Seungmin props an elbow upon the back of his chair, looks at you contemplatively. “I don’t suppose you have four hours to spare every day.”

Hyunjin scoffs from below you. Loudly. “This one? Team manager?”

“I can see it.”

“I can see killing myself, maybe.”

The next time you reach for him is to smack his forehead. A crisp smack resounds around the barren lecture hall, and Hyunjin cusses into his seat cushion.

“Seems like a great candidate to me,” Seungmin muses, and the warm smile he gives you mirrors onto your face before you can think better of it. God, it’s pretty. You wonder how it would feel pressed against your own.

Hyunjin is now completely out of sight and halfway onto the floor. “I miss when you didn’t come to class, Seungmin.”

Eighty minutes later, you’ve just emerged from the classroom when Seungmin calls out to you. You come to such a sudden halt that Hyunjin almost trips over you, but you barely notice him stumble, utterly enraptured by the hand Seungmin brings to the strands of hair by your ear, the fingers that dust your cheek as they pluck a small piece of lint from out of the tresses.

“Sorry.” He flicks it away with a sheepish smile. “I couldn’t unsee it.”

You manage to thank him just before your whole body ceases to function. Hyunjin sidesteps the two of you, yawning.

Seungmin excuses himself not too long after you reach the main quad. You also turn to leave, sparing Hyunjin a curt farewell in the process. He hooks his pointer finger around the handle at the top of your backpack and lugs you backwards with infuriating ease.

“I didn’t like that at all.”

“I don’t care. I have something to tell you.”

“You have a kid, don’t you?”

“Hello—who do you think I am?”

“The one-night-stand’s poster child,” you reply. “The champion of the contraception industry.”

“Yeah, contraception industry. It’s right there in the name.”

You can’t argue with that.

“What do you have to tell me?”

A shadow of hesitation flits across Hyunjin’s face. Your smile falters. Is it possible that you’re about to have a serious conversation with him for the first time? Maybe you should’ve saved the secret son bit for another time.

“I’m failing anthro.”

So much for a serious conversation. 

“Come again?”

He repeats the mystifying statement.

“You’re joking.”

The look on his face says otherwise, though, and your eyebrows disappear into your hair.

“You’re failing anthro?”

“I just said that, yes.”

“You’re failing anthropology?”

“Mhm.”

“Just so we’re clear—you’re failing Introduction to Cultural Anthropology?”

“Yes. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

This is the best day of your life. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“Yeah, well, our professor has no media literacy,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Hyunjin clears his throat. “Anyways, I was thinking—”

“Wow! Congratulations. That’s a big—oomf—”

Hyunjin puts his entire hand over your face. Your mangled noises of protest go unacknowledged.

“I was thinking,” he continues, pushing your head around like a stick shift, “you and I can work out some kind of deal.”

You shove his wrist off you with a revolted groan. “I think I just ate some athletic tape.”

“Happens. You wanna hear the deal or not?”

“Does it involve ingesting more sports equipment?”

“Do you want it to?”

“Just tell me the deal, boy.”

“Alright.” He takes a deep breath. “If you help me pass this class—I’ll set you up with Seungmin.”

Your head performs a triple-axel on your neck. You are unable to respond for what feels like multiple hours. Finally: “I’m gonna need you to elaborate.”

“On which part?”

“All of them. Everything.”

Hyunjin sighs, then scans the courtyard. His gaze settles on the student union a little ways off. “Are you hungry?”

You pick up a sandwich and a smoothie in a state of nervous stupor. One would think it’s the prime minister you’re about to have lunch with and not an imbecilic left-side hitter eating from three different entrees at the same time.

He’s chosen a table a few yards away from a planter of flowering cherry blossom trees. You feel jealous eyes on the side of your face as you take a seat across from Hyunjin, but they don’t know that his telephone pole legs still bump against yours even with them drawn as close to your body as anatomically possible. Or that he’s drawing up a literal Ponzi scheme on your sandwich wrapper. You wager you’ve had better company.

“You like anthropology. I like listening to you talk about anthropology.” He traces over the wrapper’s left corner. “And I kinda want you to boss me around. That weird?”

“Yes, definitely,” you mumble around a mouthful of bread. “Please continue.”

“Conclusion one: you should be my tutor.” He taps in place as if applying a finishing touch, then swaps to the opposite side. “You also like my teammate, but he’s neck-deep in volleyball and music this semester, which makes him hard to get a hold of—for most people.”

“Let me guess. Not for you.”

“Ten points to Ravenclaw.” His British accent is nightmarish. “Seung and I live in the same building. We get dinner when we go back from practice together. Conclusion two: you should come with us.”

“To dinner or to practice?”

“To both. Which brings us to my third and final conclusion—”

He slams a fist onto the center of the wrapper.

“—you should manage our team.”

“I knew it!” You slam the table as well, your smoothie wobbling upon impact. “You’re trying to swindle me! You can’t pay for my labor with more labor. What do you take me for?”

“It’s not labor, dumbass! Ask our last manager! He didn’t do shit!”

“Yeah? Who was your last manager?”

“Me!”

Oh, right. “But you hated it!”

“I hate everything that isn’t playing volleyball. Try again.”

You fold your arms over your chest. “You said you’d kill yourself if I managed you.”

Hyunjin starts balling up your sandwich wrapper. “It’s true. I thought about you and my coach getting along and promptly got a rash. But it makes so much sense: you do whatever you want during practice, tutor me afterwards, and then you and Seung can eyefuck over ramen or something. My coach hops off my dick, you hop on Seung’s—”

“STOP!” A girl drops her receipt not too far away, startled by your outburst. “Stop right there. I get it. Stop.”

“It’s a good plan.” He slings the paper ball towards the nearest trash can. It drops into the hole without so much as a brush against the rim. “You know it is.”

You’re loath to admit that you do. “When did you even come up with all this?”

He flicks a thumb in the direction of your anthropology class.

“No fucking wonder you’re failing.”

“What is this, mock trial?”

The owner of this voice is the third man you’ve seen today donning that navy windbreaker, white long-sleeve combo. He has a face that reminds you of your neighbor’s cat from back home, sleek and sharp and only slightly sinister. There’s a dash of humor in his expression as he approaches your table like he’s enjoying the company of a court jester.

“Slamming tables like fuckin’ tariff lawyers,” the cat-man hums, lifting a hand in Hyunjin’s direction. “I could see it from all the way inside.”

“Captain!” Hyunjin crows, dabbing him up without missing a beat. They really do that like breathing. “Just the man I was hoping to see.”

“Really? I thought you’d be avoiding me like the rest of our homunculus team.”

“I would never.”

“You did. Yesterday. When you saw me and started running in the opposite direction.” He pauses for emphasis. “As fast as possible.”

“Well, that was yesterday. Today is a new day.” Hyunjin tosses you a proud glance. “And today, I bring you a new team manager.”

You stiffen. “I haven’t—”

“Is that so!” When the stranger smiles at you, you feel the same satisfaction you did every time the cat let you scratch her on the chin. “Music to my ears. What’s your name, cutie?”

You catch Hyunjin’s eye across the table; he nods enthusiastically as if saying go on, then. You briefly picture yourself strangling him with his own athletic tape. You then picture yourself hopping on Seungmin’s—

Rigidly, you throw a hand out to the cat-man, your face aflame.

“Y/N,” you grumble. “I’m looking forward to working with you.”

He shakes on it heartily. “Likewise. I’m Minho. Welcome to the team.”

“Yes, welcome to the team,” Hyunjin parrots, looking positively jolly. You gnash your teeth together so hard your jaw throbs.

He’s lucky that his proposal holds so much water. He’s lucky that you don’t plan to strangle him until after you try that eyefucking thing.

You do kick him under the table, though.

The team has five weeks to prepare for the Korean University League, the biggest college-level volleyball tournament in the country. You have five days to learn how the hell athletic tape works. You can’t tell which is the bigger endeavor.

“I’m going to cause him irreversible skeletal damage,” you tell Changbin.

The team’s libero is twice as kind as he is talented, a full-time sweetheart working part-time at the university’s sports medicine clinic. Only your first week on the job and you’ve already decided he’s the only person on Earth you would permit to usher you through the gym at 6:45 A.M., a roll of athletic tape pressed to your back like a pistol.

“You will not,” Changbin answers. “One, because this won’t involve his skeleton, and two, because I wouldn’t ask you to help if it did.”

“You’ve misunderstood me,” you return as the two of you stop in front of an examination room. “I want to cause him irreversible skeletal damage.”

“Oh.” He opens the door with a frown. “Oh dear.”

Inside, Hyunjin is sitting cross-legged on top of a taping table, fitted in a loose gray tee and athletic shorts. He watches in pessimistic silence as you enter the room and beeline straight towards the shelf on the right. You slip a thick binder into your hands and bury your nose inside it without so much as a greeting.

“I am going to get maimed,” Hyunjin tells Changbin.

“Have some faith, both of you,” Changbin replies sternly. You find the pages you’re looking for and begin poring over them like you’re cramming for an exam. “You’ll be fine, Jinnie. Y/N studied.”

“Studied?” He repeats. “For this?”

“I’m pretty sure Quizlets was made.”

“Three, to be exact," you interject, sticking out your hand. “Now tape me.”

Hyunjin mouths the words tape me in baffled silence. The latter obliges your request with a smile. “See? What could go wrong?”

The answer to that, actually, is a lot. Especially after Changbin gets called away to help stretch out a teammate named Felix who allegedly “sprained his ass,” leaving Hyunjin to you and your binder.

You detect no smoky rose in the air around him today, just the subtle smells of cedar and cypress—laundry detergent or shampoo, maybe. Figures he doesn’t wear that insufferable cologne to practice.

“Go easy on me, yeah?”

While Hyunjin’s tone is teasing, yours is downright somber.

“I can’t promise anything.”

With that, you turn your palms face-up in a silent request for his hand.

A few strands of hair fall into your face as you lean in for a better look. It’s the first time you’ve seen his fingers untaped; they’re pretty, long and slender and surprisingly manicured, but also battered in their delicacy, the veins running over the back of his hand and forearm prominent, his bottom knuckles discolored from the healing bruises they bear. His hard work is palpable upon the smooth skin as evidently as if tattooed.

Hyunjin says your name in close proximity. You respond with an absent hum.

“You’re not nervous, are you?”

“No. Maybe a little.” You let his hand fall free and go to rummage for supplies. “Fine, yes. Very.”

“But you made Quizlets. You’re prepared for anything.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” You realize only after spotting the gentle smile on his face that he’s making fun of you. “I hate you.”

“Actually,” he hums, “I think you care about me, love. That’s why you’re nervous.”

“Nonsense—I care about disappointing Changbin. That’s it.”

“And me. And hopping on Seungmin’s dick. All these things don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

You try to tackle him. Hyunjin catches your hands a few inches away from his face, fingers closing around your wrists with obnoxious agility.

“Have you lost your mind?” You whisper-shout, your face on fire. “Don’t bring that up here. I’ll maim you for real.”

The laugh that explodes out of him throws his entire body backwards, turns his eyes to crescent moons and his mouth into a little rectangle. You hate that you don’t hate when that happens.

“My bad, my bad. It slipped out. I won’t—”

One incremental shift of Hyunjin’s body later, you find that you’re precariously, alarmingly close to one another.

So much so that you notice the mole beneath his left eye for the first time, that you're nearly cross-eyed looking at it. That the tip of your nose actually brushes against his before you pull away with a quiet intake of breath. 

Things are awkward between you often, you’ve realized recently. You’re both professional yappers, always quick to digress, quick to find a new topic to bicker about before the awkwardness marinates. But hours later you’ll look back on the interaction and still remember how the air shifted: like a layer of dust had been blown away and something untouched and unknown was discovered just underneath.

Since you’ve met him, Hyunjin has spent more time on your nerves than on your mind. You’re not exactly losing sleep over such a circumstantial acquaintance; you know that his presence in your life will end the way it began, naturally and anticlimactically and inside the ANTH 111 lecture hall. Still, it doesn’t go unnoticed when your heart and stomach launch into an elaborate gymnastics routine in the wake of something he says or does, just as they’re doing now.

Hyunjin glances into your right eye a moment, then your left. The mole just below his left eye disappears when he smiles, the expression soft, saccharine, and sincere. How anyone casually looks the way he does is beyond your abilities of comprehension.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Your face continues to burn, now perhaps for different reasons. “What for?”

He lets go of your wrist, sweeps the lock of hair that keeps getting in your eyes behind the cuff of your ear.

“Caring about me.”

Then he flicks your forehead. You recoil with a quiet ow.

“Now stop stalling and tape me, dumbass.”

“Okay,” you mutter, rubbing the injury tenderly. “No need to get violent.”

It turns out the arduous taping procedure described in the instruction manual is for serious hand injuries. Hyunjin splints his fingers together for support, not rehabilitation, so it takes all of five minutes for him to talk you through his process. You finish taping both of his hands with nineteen minutes to spare. So maybe the Quizlets were overkill.

As you’re walking him down to practice, you take his hand and lift it to eye level, scanning your craftsmanship dubiously. “It’s not too tight, is it?”

“It’s perfect.” He swivels the hand around and grabs onto your entire face, the sensation by now eerily familiar. “Want another taste?”

You shove him down the stairs that remain. Unfortunately, there are only two. “You are truly grotesque.”

The gym has come to life since you arrived earlier this morning, now illuminated by shining ceiling lights in addition to the sun spilling through high, narrow windows. Most of the team has yet to step onto the court, still stretching or jogging along the sidelines: Minho and Coach Bang are talking strategy on the bench, the coach taking notes on a handheld whiteboard every now and then; Changbin is leaning over a recumbent Felix below the scoreboard, presumably trying to fix his ass.

The only one already with a ball in hand is Seungmin, setting to himself by the net. Once, twice, thrice straight up in the air, and then he glances in your direction and sends the fourth towards the left side of the court in a buoyant arc.

You only glean bits and pieces of the next few seconds. Hyunjin is at your side one moment, making a break for the net the next. His arms draw backwards in perfect synchrony. Feet hit the floor with laserlike intent. His entire body unravels like a fraying chrysalis as he rises to meet the ball, pounds it over the net and into the ground at an angle so clean that the sound of its landing resounds within your ribcage. It rebounds over the railing of the second floor and barely misses the doorway of the examination room you just emerged from.

Hyunjin drops lightly back onto his feet, following the ball’s tumultuous trajectory with proud eyes. A leftover breeze tosses a strand of hair over the bridge of your nose, and time starts moving again.

“Oi, this isn’t your backyard! Go pick that up!” Their coach booms, though his words lack their usual bitterness after what he just witnessed his ace hitter do.

Hyunjin swivels towards Seungmin first. “Crazy bitch. What the fuck was that?”

“Lower and faster. Further from the net too,” Seungmin returns. “How’d it feel?”

The grin on Hyunjin’s face reminds you of a wildfire, untamed and all-consuming and frightening in its fervor. “Like we just won everything.”

He tousles your hair as he jogs past you and back up the stairs to fetch the volleyball. Seungmin waves at you with one hand and palms another ball into his other. His face is warm and bare, his slim build flattered by his volleyball gear. You’ve witnessed few people so nice to look at and even fewer things as elegant as his setting form. But you are still thinking about Hyunjin—and you can’t move.

It is debilitating, watching somebody do the very thing they were destined for.

A little less than a week later, Hyunjin is approaching hour three of spewing hot garbage into a Word document when he decides to give up and call you. 

“Hello?” He immediately starts laughing. “Where the fuck are you?”

You poke the top of your head into the shot of your ceiling, gesturing to your headband. “My face is preoccupied at the moment.”

“Oh, you have to show me. Please.”

You flip your phone up for no more than half a second. A camera shutter goes off, followed by a shriek so loud that it peaks your mic.

“Motherfucker!”

He basically sprints to his camera roll. His prize: you with your face slathered in cleanser, hair pinned back by a Miffy headband, looking like the abominable snowman if he liked cute merchandise.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly. “I’ll treasure this forever.”

“You’ll be punished, Hwang.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You brandish your middle finger at him in response. He props his phone up against his computer screen with a chuckle. 

“Aaanyways, I have a thesis statement to run by you.”

The first thing you did as Hyunjin’s tutor was help draft an email to Professor Kim, begging her to let him resubmit the two essays he royally botched. She replied with a lengthy quotation from her syllabus, specifically the section that talked about (and prohibited) resubmissions, but ended up making an exception for Hyunjin on account of the “truly piteous timbre” of his email. You fell out of your chair laughing when he read you her response.

“You should’ve opened with that,” you grumble.

“I tried! Someone distracted me.”

“Read it before I change my mind.”

You spend a few minutes at most on the thesis itself, advising him to avoid passive voice, answer the prompt, establish a refutable argument, the works. Then he asks you a question about the research topic itself, allusions to the afterlife in Ancient Egyptian artwork, and the tutoring session takes a turn into what feels like a podcast episode.

You talk about the God of Death, Anubis, and his connections to the underworld; the elaborate, lavish funerary rituals intended to ensure the souls of the dead traveled safely; the vibrant murals that flanked their final resting spots as pictorial requests for divine protection. And you talk about them all with such confidence, such eloquence, that it’s as if you’re leading him through a history museum rather than talking to your phone as you do your skincare. He could listen to you for hours. He does, actually.

Around 1 A.M., Hyunjin stops typing mid-sentence when you come into frame for the first time, collapsing into your bed with a sigh of relief. Your eyes are soft and sleepy as they blink at your screen, strands of damp hair clinging to your cheeks. He feels his heart physically shift inside his ribcage when your mouth stretches into a yawn. It is the same sensation as the time you shot him a smile over your shoulder and he couldn’t move for ten minutes.

With that, his attention span has run its course.

“Baby,” he interrupts gently. “Let’s stop here, okay? You seem tired.”

You open your mouth as if to protest, only to yawn again.

“I suppose I am,” you concede. “Will you keep working tonight?”

“I think so. I hit my stride.”

“Text me if you have questions, then. I’ll respond when I wake up.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smiles. It copies onto Hyunjin’s face incurably quickly. 

“I had my doubts about this tutoring thing, you know,” you murmur.

“Why is that?”

“Well, you told me this class was the closest thing to daily naptime you’d experienced since preschool.”

“It really is.”

“You also told me you would rather slam your tongue in a car door than read more than three sentences in one sitting.”

“I really would.”

“And you once referred to academia as ‘Virgin Village.’”

“Didn’t you come up with that?”

“No, hello? I live in that village.”

He grins. “I know. I just wanted to hear you admit it.”

“Fuck you.”

“Ah, don’t threaten me with a good—”

“What I’m trying to say,” you cut in, “is that I didn’t think you would take this seriously, but I’m happy to be proven wrong.”

Hyunjin leans back. “Well, turns out I might give a fuck about anthropology after all.”

“Really?”

“No.”

You pretend to punch him through the screen. It’s so cute that he forgets to think before he opens his mouth next.

“But I do give a fuck about you.”

There’s nothing crazy about the statement. You’re friends, sort of. You manage his team. It would be strange if he didn’t. But the seconds that follow are terrible, a silent prophecy of something disastrous, like a cloud of rubble before an avalanche, the standstill during a star’s final breath. And Hyunjin’s heartbeat is hounding against his ears like a performance of traditional taiko.

He says good night in a haste. The call ends. He stares at the wall of his bedroom in a muddled haze for who knows how long.

Then he opens his texts.

Hyunjin: We have team bonding tomorrow btw Hyunjin: Don’t forget Y/N: i forgot. Y/N: pick me up at 6:45? Hyunjin: 🫡

He picks you up at 7:53.

You approach his car with your fists balled and your eyebrows knitted together like a mean old curmudgeon and he’s walking too close to your lawn.

“His fault,” Hyunjin says before you start yelling.

Minho simpers at you through his open window. “Hey, you! So glad you could join us!”

You fix the man with a judgmental glare as you slide into the backseat. “Aren’t you the captain? Why are you this late?”

“Whoa, okay. I would’ve scheduled this for earlier if I knew right now was honesty hour.”

“You did schedule it for earlier,” you say. “You scheduled it for way earlier.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fired.”

“You can’t fire me, Minho.”

“I can too. Tell ‘em, Hwang.”

“I want nothing to do with this.”

When you step through the doors of the arcade, you’re met with a surge of sensory input that you haven’t experienced in years. The air hangs thick with the smells of greasy concessions; everywhere you look are flashing screens and neon signs, stuffed animals and fading posters; clamoring against your ears are the sounds of games being won or lost, of balls being pocketed or launched, and of a horde of fully grown men spectating a match of Dance Dance Revolution so passionately (and loudly) that they’ve scared everyone away from that side of the room. You recognize the current competitors as Changbin and Jeongin.

“I’ll go pay,” Hyunjin says. “How much time do we want?”

“Infinity,” Minho answers. Hyunjin doesn’t move. “Two hours.”

He flashes him a thumbs-up. “And you?”

“I’m okay, I think.”

“No you’re not,” the two men answer in perfect unison.

You glance between them warily. “I don’t mind watching, seriously. I don’t even know how most of these games work—”

“There’s Tetris,” Hyunjin cuts in.

You purchase an hour.

One would imagine the point of the evening is to break the SNU men’s volleyball team, not to bond them. You’ve never seen so many strained blood vessels in your life. Nor have you heard of half the insults they spew at each other as the night goes on. Felix has to pay a fee for lodging an air hockey puck in the side of the MarioKart machine. Changbin loses at skee-ball and has to down an XL slushie like it’s a shot. It��s a scary amount of boyishness expressed in scary ways.

But they’re happy. You’ve picked up on it when they’re on the court, noticed the raw elation they emanate just from playing together. Yet, their closeness has never been more evident to you than tonight. The men are either laughing or making someone else laugh, arms draped over each other at all times, equally happy to celebrate victories as they’re eager to punish losses. It dawns on you at some point that you’re glad to be here with them, grateful to be a part of something so special—especially because there’s Tetris.

“Have you ever considered going pro?” Hyunjin asks over your shoulder.

You waited until most of the team was distracted to slink off to your beloved machine. Hyunjin tagged along, undoubtedly with the intention of making fun of you, only to be rendered speechless by your mastery. He’s been watching in a state of stupor, forearms propped against the back of your chair.

You don’t respond for a while, too focused on a precarious patch to even blink, let alone partake in conversation.

“I already did,” you finally answer.

“Sorry, what? You played professional Tetris?”

“In middle school. Then I got bored and switched to backgammon.” You pause. “Then I got bored again and switched to chess.”

“How do you look like this with these hobbies?”

Your run ends a few minutes later with a somber sound effect. You turn around in your seat with an anguished groan. “I think I’m washed.”

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind. “You just set a new record by three hundred thousand points.”

“It’s a small pond,” you say, and an idea occurs to you. “Do you wanna try?”

“I get the feeling I don’t have a choice.”

“Then you’re smarter than you look.”

“Well, you look—”

His eyes move between your shoes and your face, and then his voice is an inaudible mutter as he sinks into your seat. You think you hear something along the lines of unfair.

“What was that?”

“Ugly. I said you look ugly.” He cracks his knuckles. “Now let’s break some fuckin' blocks.” 

When Hyunjin learns that the pieces can be rotated (so six or seven attempts later), a man walks into the arcade. 

He has hair the color of dark chocolate, the face of a fairy prince—and he’s with someone. The two of them appear arm in arm, laughing at something he said. He looks at this person the way astronomers do to the sky.

Something shatters inside you like old porcelain.

Your hands loosen around the back of Hyunjin’s chair. You can’t watch. You can’t think. You can only feel a void of disappointment rip open, stretch over you like an elongating shadow.

“Seung!” That’s Jisung, you think. “You made it!”

“Yo, sorry we’re late.” That’s Seungmin. That is undoubtedly Seungmin. “Dinner took longer than I thought.”

“Min, are you sure I’m allowed to be here?” You don’t know who this voice belongs to and you’re not sure you want to. “I feel like I’m intruding—”

“Hwang,” you say suddenly. “I have to go.”

He turns around, confused. An unattended block falls into a terrible spot on the screen behind him. ”Already?”

“I forgot I had an important call to make.” You turn away, training your eyes on the patterned carpet. “Sorry. I’ll see you on Monday.”

You have touched Hyunjin’s hands many times. He’s asked you to tape his fingers every day since the first; he likes the way you cut off his circulation, says it helps him hit harder. But you never hold his hand so much as you examine it, the act stiff and unfeeling, cordoned within the professional pretense of athletic treatment. 

Now, Hyunjin catches your hand like a gardener repotting their favorite flower: delicately, careful of leaving its roots intact and petals untouched, but firmly, securely, so the flower continues to stand tall even when it’s been extracted from the soil, not even a speck of dirt slipping through the cracks between their fingers. That is the image you conjure when he slips his between yours, his metal rings cold where his fingertips are warm.

He says your name. There is a pinch of pain in the word, and you know that he knows.

“Do you want to be alone?”

You have never been asked such a thing—you have never asked to be asked such a thing—but, for some reason, the question brings tears to your eyes. 

“Yes, please,” you whisper, and you pull your hand away.

When you stalk past him, you hear Jisung notice you, call out to you, a note of worry in his question. You also count three pairs of eyes on your back: one concerned, the next confused, and the last you are wholly incapable of meeting. 

Unknown to you is the fourth pair fixed upon the top of the Tetris machine, where you’ve left your phone.

You emerge into the parking lot. The frigid air stills your mind for a fraction of a second, the last moment of mental quietude you will allow yourself that night.

Hyunjin’s right; the team manager doesn’t have to do much.

Coach Bang allows you to come to whichever practices and games you feel like, during which you might at most lug around a ballbag or fill someone’s waterbottle before holing up somewhere to do your own thing. But you like the people you work for too much to do so little for them, so you attend everything  your schedule allows. 

Last week, you could be found helping Minho put down the volleyball nets, your laughter echoing throughout the spacious gym as he complained to you about his biochemistry professor’s distinct “cabbage scent.” Or running to grab materials for Changbin as he treated his teammates’ injuries like you were assisting an orthodontist giving someone a root canal. The dinner invitations you extended to Seungmin were always turned down, but his teammates were more than happy to assist you and Hyunjin in your quest to establish the best kimbap joint in the area once and for all. You even had a heart-to-heart with Coach Bang during one of the team’s water breaks, in which you managed to get half a smile out of the guy; Hyunjin was convinced that was his way of asking you to elope. You’d spent more time in the gymnasium in those ten days than you had in the last ten years.

Then came the arcade.

Five days have come and gone. You haven’t attended practice since, but you still see Hyunjin every morning at anthropology. The two of you sit in uncharacteristic silence for most of the lectures. You’ve taken the best notes of your life. He doesn’t mention the previous weekend; he doesn’t mention much of anything. 

In person, that is.

That Friday afternoon, you’re reading on the terrace of the library when you receive a text. It’s from Hyunjin, a two-minute voice note. You hesitate for a moment, stick a pencil into the gutter of your textbook to save your place, and slip your earbuds in. You listen to it.

Then you listen to it again.

And again as you wrap up your study session and go home. Again as you cook yourself dinner and load the dishwasher. Again as you shrug on a jacket and pocket your keys, setting off on the familiar trek to the gym.

As for what you plan to do there on a Friday night, long after the team has finished practice, you haven’t the slightest clue. You continue to move regardless, fueled by the feeling that there is where you need to be.

Coach Bang is leaving the building just as you’re approaching it. He halts in his footsteps and raises his eyebrows when he notices you. The man has always been difficult to read, but his face is exceptionally opaque now. Maybe it’s the shadowy landscape; more likely it’s the uneasiness that began to mount within you once you noticed the lights in the gym were still on.

“It’s been a while,” he greets.

“Coach,” you return, lowering your head. “I want to apologize for—”

“Save it,” he says, not unkindly. “There’s nothing to apologize for, alright? The team is lucky to have you.”

You manage a grateful smile. “I’ll be back starting next week.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He starts to walk away, stops himself, and glances into the illuminated building. “I would give him some space, by the way.”

Your uneasiness morphs into anxiety as you watch his broad back retreat into the shadows. You remain outside the gym for a few minutes more, accompanied by the distant melodies of cricket chorales and the muffled squeaking of shoes against laminated hardwood, the harsh sounds of flesh meeting leather.

Briskly, you walk home, rummage around, and return to the gym ten minutes later with your textbook tucked beneath your arm. This time, you unlock and enter the building without a moment of hesitation. 

Hyunjin is positioned multiple yards behind the service line, rotating a volleyball in his hands. A high toss, two resounding steps, and a collision like the crack of a whip. The previous ball has barely landed in the furthest corner of the court when he’s picking up the next, retreating to the same spot to do it all again. His tank top is the color of charcoal over his sweaty skin, his hair auburn where it’s plastered to his neck. He’s alone.

You only catch sight of Hyunjin’s face when you descend the stairs. His expression is crystalline, hardened with concentration and fortified by courage, but fragile all at once, rendered delicate by fatigue and fear, spilling from his every seam and splintering off his person like a broken vase. You recognize it as clearly as if you were looking at a picture of yourself from the worst years of your life.

“I was told to give you space,” you call out, and Hyunjin drops the volleyball he’s holding.

His lips fall apart. Nothing comes out of them. The only sounds to follow are your footsteps as you make your way towards the bleachers, a vertical wall of plastic now that they’ve been retracted for the night. You fold your legs into a criss-cross as you take a seat at their base.

“Is this enough space?”

More silence. You gesture to the volleyball nervously.

“Don’t make me go further, please. I’m not ready to die.”

Finally, this earns you a smile. It’s not much, but it loosens the nervous coils in your heart, permits your lungs to contract once more, and it remains on his face as he swipes the ball back into his hands. You open your textbook.

The rest of the night elapses in turning pages and soaring volleyballs. You don’t care for minutes or hours; you give him all the time in the world, as he did you.

The only time you glance at the clock on the wall is around midnight, when Hyunjin hobbles to the middle of the court and collapses. You’re worried at first. Then he rolls onto his back and releases a guttural groan into his hands, and your held breath comes out a laugh. You set down your book and stand up.

There’s a lake of perspiration forming around him. You pay it no mind and flop onto the floor, your eyes instantly narrowing beneath the fluorescent lights. 

“How do you see under these things?”

“I don’t,” he returns. “I complained about it to Coach once.”

“And?”

“He made them brighter.”

“Sounds about right.”

He spends the next few minutes catching his breath, his chest rising and falling in your peripheral vision. You sift through your mind for phrases of consolation or gestures of support and come up empty. You wish you had Hyunjin’s way with words.

But you think about the way his smile reached his eyes as he thanked you for caring about him, the tenderness with which he caught your hand at the arcade, the I give a fuck about you he blurted before ending the study call. You think about the voice note. It’s not that Hyunjin has a way with words; it’s that he’s brave enough to break the silences that you can’t, like he perceives your anxiety for the aftermath, shouldering the responsibility so you won’t have to.

This cannot be his burden alone.

You inhale. “What’s on your mind?”

Hyunjin doesn’t answer right away. You give up on squinting and close your eyes; the lights are still bright enough to dance around the murky darkness.

“I don’t think I know how to put it into words.”

You nearly laugh; you know how that feels. “Don’t think, just talk. I’m here.”

The same advice you gave yourself seems to work on him as well.

“Do you remember Ishikawa Yuki?”

“Your role model?”

“He’s currently playing for a club team in Italy called Allianz Milano.” He blows out a deep breath. “I’ve been talking to their coach, Roberto Piazza, for the last six months.”

The gears in your head creak in their effort to process the implications of these words. “Holy shit, Hwang.”

“He emailed again, this morning. Said he was coming to the tournament later this month, he’s excited to see me play in person, whatever. And it hit me, finally, that this is all real. Like, this is actually happening to me. I spent all of today freaking out and asked Coach to let me stay back after practice. Usually, it wears out my brain if I tire my body, but it only half-worked today. I couldn’t wrap my head around anything. I still can’t.

“I am who I am because of that man, and now…I have a shot at playing with him. I keep asking myself why I’m not—not happier. I should be bouncing off the fucking walls, no? If I told my past self that this would be happening to him one day, he would—”

You open your eyes, confused by the sudden silence.

Hyunjin is sitting up next to you, staring intensely into the bleachers. You first notice the tip of his tongue prodding into his cheek, then his shuddering breath. He lifts a hand to his face, pressing against his eyes.

You stop thinking after that.

You sit up with him. When you settle your fingers around his wrist, he allows you to pull his hand back to his side. But he turns away as if trying to hide from you; he squeezes his eyes shut as if that would obstruct your view of his pain.

You reach to cradle his face, bringing him back to you. The cuff of your sleeves wipe at the saltwater on his cheeks, push the hair off his forehead with gentle sweeps. The two of you are close, close enough that your lips would meet the space between his eyes if you so much as lost your balance. His gaze traverses to your face, but you resolve not to meet it. You know you will traipse into uncharted territory the moment you do.

“Don’t fight it.” You trace over the hill of his cheek. “Healing becomes easier if you let yourself hurt. Trust me, Hyunjin.”

His first name should feel foreign on your tongue, yet you suspect the syllables have accompanied you all your life.

“You don’t have to continue if you can’t.”

“S’okay.” Hyunjin lifts your hand away from his face, presses a kiss to the base of your palm. “I want to.”

You feel yourself stumble ungracefully into the uncharted territory from before. Does he do the same?

“I used to play volleyball on this expanse of cracked blacktop, behind my primary school. It was pretty brutal on my feet—I blew through so many different pairs that my mom almost made me quit.” He smiles at the memory. “But every time I came close to quitting, I’d go home and rewatch the same USA vs. Poland match from the 2008 Summer Olympics I asked my dad to record, and I’d promise myself it would be me on some other kid’s screen someday.

“That kid would tell everyone who’d listen about how cool I am. That I’m a secret superhero. That I’m living proof humans can fly if they really, really try—just like I talked about the volleyball players I grew up watching on my TV.

“The other day, Coach told me that hope would consume me. I thought it was just some senile drivel at the time, but..I think I get what he means now. I would do anything and everything to make that kid proud—even if it meant losing myself.” He lowers his head, auburn strands falling into his eyes. “That’s what’s on my mind.”

Amidst the ensuing pause, a storm approaches. It does not come in the form of rain or snow, sleet or hail, no; it is a gathering of words unsaid and emotions unacknowledged, all emerging from the deepest chambers of your heart in synchrony. The same entities you used to scapegoat for all the times things were awkward between you and Hyunjin when you were the culprit all along. You and your blind cowardice.

The storm tears open the seam of your lips. You do not resist; it’s long overdue.

“Every time Changbin sees you, he turns into a smitten schoolgirl,” you say. “He is physically unable to contain how endearing he finds you. He told me so himself.”

Hyunjin looks at you with widened eyes. You think you can see your own reflection in them, and you are the spitting image of a lighter dropped into gasoline, unstoppable in your vehemence.

“Jeongin comes to you for advice before anyone else,” you continue, “even for things related to school—which I still find hard to believe, I’m not gonna lie. But you have his best interests in mind, and it shows in everything you do for him. Of course your opinion matters more than anything in the world.

“I know you think he can’t stand you, but you are the reason Coach Bang loves this job, why he loves this sport. It’s written all over his face every time he calls you something mean, every time he makes you run another lap, every time he looks at you. You’re like a son to him. Everyone sees it but you.”

“Then there’s me.” You pause to catch your breath. “When I think about what my life used to be, I remember a lot of things. I remember loneliness. Insecurity. I remember my books and my backgammon boards and the way I taught myself to disappear inside them so the world would never find me. I remember avoiding mirrors like a vampire because I didn’t like seeing my own reflection. I remember feeling like I had to put on someone else’s personality every time I left the house because nobody would want to know me for me. All I ever wanted was a place where I could be myself, love myself, without consequence. I have yet to find that place.

“But I found a person. Someone who wouldn’t know time and place if they kicked his dick into his body. Someone who thinks instant ramen is high in nutritional value because it comes with dried vegetables. Someone who sweats the same amount of rain the Sahara Desert receives yearly—your body is not normal, by the way.”

Hyunjin giggles; it is soft and short, a small, tearful huff into the quiet air that makes you feel like you’re flying.

“Don’t get me wrong,” you say. “Your sense of humor sucks and your taste in coffee is so boring and you are the one with no media literacy, not Professor Kim. But I love spending time with you. I love who I am when I’m around you. And none of that has to do with volleyball.”

The next time you blink, you discover that he’s not the only one with tears in his eyes. How long has that been going on?

“There’s so much about you to be proud of, Hyunjin.” You give him a watery smile. “That kid will be spoiled for choice.”

When Hyunjin pulls you into his arms, you fall into each other like going to bed after a long day. Your face burrows into the crook of his neck in your embarrassment; he is laughing and crying at the same time when he mumbles something into your shoulder: “I knew you cared about me.”

You are so happy for the comedic relief you could sob. It helps that you already are.

“How the fuck are you still sweaty?”

You think you like his cologne after all.

Six days later, Hyunjin opens the door of his apartment.

A fun-sized flurry of black and white barrages into the hallway outside and almost runs headfirst into the figure waiting there. You fall to your knees like you’ve just been gravely wounded, emitting an ear-piercing wail to match. All it takes is a few good head scratches for Kkami to stop yipping bloody murder and start whining for attention instead. 

Upon minute five of watching you and his dog cuddle in the hallway directly outside his home, Hyunjin sighs.

“Can you come inside, please? My RA will think I’m doing some freaky shit again.”

You side-eye him as you walk into his apartment, Kkami perched happily in your arms. “What, exactly, does freaky shit entail?”

He smirks as the door falls shut. “You want me to tell you or show you?”

You turn to Kkami, disgusted. “Your owner’s a bit of a pervert, my dear.”

Kkami licks you on the chin. Hyunjin’s eyes narrow to slits.

“Traitor.”

Naturally, Hyunjin’s parents chose the eve of his final anthropology exam—and the week before the tournament that will determine the trajectory of his career—to ask him to look after Kkami for a few days. He nearly canceled their plane tickets himself, but his impromptu roommate is currently ransacking your face with kisses on his couch, and he thinks your laugh complements his studio better than any decoration. 

“Do you want anything to drink?” He calls from the kitchen area.

You meander over, Kkami (still) perched happily in your arms. “What do you have?” 

“Alcohol.” He opens his fridge far enough so you can peer over his shoulder. “Americanos.”

He stops speaking.

“Is that all?”

“Yes. Wait—and apple juice.”

“You are about to be a professional athlete.”

“What the Italians don’t know won’t hurt them. You want apple juice, don’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

“Maybe. Can you open it for me? My hands are full.”

Hyunjin does so with far less reluctance than he feigns. You thank him jubilantly, popping the straw into your mouth.

“Let’s get this over with.”

At 10:32 P.M., all is calm. You are sitting on the floor, your back against the side of his mattress. Hyunjin is where the universe intended: curled up in bed, both him and his laptop lying on their sides. You have studied eight out of ten units in only two and a half hours, and the night is still young. Kkami is but a fluffy, sleepy Oreo by your waist.

At 10:33 P.M., the Oreo begins to retch.

You startle a foot into the air. Hyunjin is out of bed and on his feet in the blink of an eye, the very image of a dog dad on duty. He grabs three different things off the kitchen counter with one hand and scoops up the long-haired chihuahua with the other, and then he’s kicking open the door.

Seungmin appears out of thin air carrying two heaping bags of groceries. Hyunjin nearly knocks him and a month’s worth of fresh produce down four flights of stairs.

“Hyun—Kkami?” Seungmin swivels. “Yo, what the fuck is—”

Hyunjin is already out the door.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin squats off to the side, pouring fresh water into a portable dog bowl. A little ways away, Kkami is throwing up ebulliently; a set of footsteps approaches.

“What is this thing?” Seungmin squats down next to Hyunjin, picking up the piece of patterned fabric lying on the grass. 

“Kkami gets sad after throwing up,” he sighs. “His blanket makes him feel better.”

Seungmin watches the chihuahua for a few moments, a soft flinch crimping his features. “He ate too fast again?”

Hyunjin rakes a hand through his hair. “I don’t get it. Nobody’s gonna take his food from him.”

Seungmin laughs. “I didn’t even know he was on campus.”

“I picked him up last night. My parents are traveling for work—they say hi, by the way.”

“I say hi back. I miss your mom’s cooking.”

“Me too,” Hyunjin says, smiling. “She would love to cook for you again—she’s always saying you’re too skinny.”

“She really is.”

A beat passes; it is then that Hyunjin has an epiphany.

Seungmin was the one who put a volleyball in his hands for the first time. Back then, Hyunjin was the lesser troublemaker between the two of them—a concept that neither of them can wrap their heads around to this day. Seungmin suggested they use the clotheslines in Hyunjin’s backyard as a makeshift net, despite Hyunjin’s dissuading; half of Hyunjin’s father’s wardrobe caught on fire, Seungmin had a black eye for a week, and nobody knows what happened to that volleyball. The two of them have been attached at the hip ever since.

It is a crazy thing, having your best friend as a teammate; a singular flick of the wrist or a point of his shoe and Seungmin will know exactly Hyunjin wants the ball down to the net’s fraying fibers; Hyunjin will be exactly where Seungmin needs him down to the flecks of paint on the volleyball court. Hyunjin has always been Seungmin’s hitter—Seungmin, always Hyunjin’s setter. Nothing will ever change between them so long as that remains the case.

At least, that’s what Hyunjin used to think.

Learning that Seungmin was in a relationship was as much a wake-up call for Hyunjin as it was for you. At first, he was just fucking pissed; how could Seungmin be so stupid as to turn down someone like you, especially when Hyunjin had shot his mouth off about his wingman services? More importantly, how long had his best friend of eighteen years been in love, and why was he the last to know? 

Only now, as they wait for his nine-year-old chihuahua to finish barfing, does Hyunjin realize that he can’t remember the last time he and Seungmin talked. Not “talked” as in a brief exchange inside the locker room or the lecture hall, about a new approach he wants to try or what Seungmin got on number four or if he wants a ride to practice—“talked” as in talked, about Hyunjin, about Seungmin, about the eighteen years they shared, about all the years yet to come.

Hyunjin sees his setter every day; he stopped looking for his friend a long time ago. 

“Yeonwoo, right?”

He senses surprise in Seungmin without having to look at him. But he also senses a smile, a subtle show that Seungmin recognizes what he’s trying to do—and forgives him.

“Yeonwoo,” Seungmin affirms. “We’re in the same songwriting intensive this semester.”

“Also a singer?”

He shakes his head. “Piano player. Performed at the Carnegie Hall in the United States at, like, seven years old. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so talented.”

“Wow, that’s—hi, old man. You done?”

Kkami walks over with his head hung low and tail between his legs, and Hyunjin hurries to drape the pup in his favorite blanket, pulling the bowl of water in front of him in tandem. Seungmin runs a hand over the top of Kkami’s head as he hydrates.

“You’ve suffered,” he tells him solemnly, and Hyunjin snorts.

“As I was saying—that’s crazy to hear, coming from the most talented person I know. You guys looked so good together.”

“Thanks. It’s weird. I’m happy.”

“You deserve it. You really do, Kim.” They exchange smiles, and Hyunjin gives Seungmin a playful nudge. “When are you introducing us?”

“The arcade wasn’t enough?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Whenever you want, then.”

“Dinner with my mom, dinner with Yeonwoo,” Hyunjin recounts. “I’m holding you to it.”

“Bet.”

They shake on it. If Hyunjin wasn’t already reassured by Seungmin’s smile, he knows by his clasp around his hand that they’ll be okay.

“What about you?” Seungmin asks. “Are you together yet?”

Hyunjin knew this was coming. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Seungmin strings his hands together, letting them dangle in the space between his knees. “Someone you have questions for that you’re too scared to ask. Someone who’s lived in your mind since the day you met. There’s someone like that, isn’t there?”

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek. 

Ever since that night on the gym floor, Hyunjin’s been having these dreams. By the time his alarm goes off in the morning, every detail of the dream has eluded him, leaving behind only a ghost of emotion, akin to the breeze that grazes your face moments after walking past another person.

But then he’ll get out of bed, and walk to that café on the east side of campus, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. There, he’ll order a vanilla latte with extra sweetener, then turn around to see you standing five feet away, holding an Americano and trying not to laugh. And he’ll just know, with everything in him, that you are where his head goes when he’s not keeping watch.

He still addresses you by the pet names you hate. He still finds any excuse to be close to you; he still pesters you like a child with a crush. But now, he calls you his baby like one wishes on a star; his eyes drift to your lips every time you’re within two feet of each other; he makes fun of your likes and dislikes only because he’s happy to know about them at all. Ever since that night on the gym floor.

It’s impossible for nothing and everything to change at once. Two people teetering on the precipice of something cannot withstand a gust of wind so powerful. He’s already hanging off the ledge, losing his grip; where are you?

Next to him, Seungmin lets out a soft laugh. “There is.”

Hyunjin doesn’t know what to say.

“It might’ve been me, at some point,” he hums, returning his hand to scratch the back of Kkami’s ears. “But it has always been you, Hyun.”

Four floors above them and inside Hyunjin’s place, you are pacing between his fridge and his bed, nervously awaiting his and Kkami’s return.

Something catches your eye, wide and flat and hung on the wall by his bathroom door. You approach it curiously, your lips pulling into a fond smile the moment you realize all that’s in front of you.

Many of the photographs are of Hyunjin: him in his preteens, dead asleep in bed while dressed head to toe in volleyball gear, braces visible because his mouth is open; an action shot taken at what must’ve been a U21 match, the South Korean flag stitched into the shoulder of his jersey; him with half a birthday cake in front of him and the rest smeared all over his face. There are headlines, too: Underdog team earns district’s first high school volleyball state title; Hwang Hyunjin proves himself worthy of “ace spiker” label at South Korea V. Croatia U19 match; Coach Bang “Christopher” Chan leads Seoul National University to second consecutive KUL championship. There’s one—Who is Hwang Hyunjin? Meet the twenty-year-old instigant of South Korea’s imminent volleyball revolution—beside which he’s written the singular word “mouthful.” You laugh; you agree.

But pinned to the corkboard is also a photograph of Minho, surrounded by stray cats in the alleyway outside a K-BBQ restaurant; his parents cradling Kkami in an apple costume; his high school volleyball team silhouetted against a pretty sunset. Him and Seungmin as kids, covered in grime and scrapes but beaming nonetheless; him and Seungmin at age nineteen, stadium lights on their backs, unadulterated elation on their faces as they charge towards each other, beaming still. Changbin piggybacking Felix through the hallways of the gym, neither of them wearing a shirt; Jisung offering Coach Bang a beer while the latter looks direly unamused (you make a mental note to ask about that one later); what looks like a Rock Lee cosplayer grimacing in the middle of your anthropology classroom.

You rush forward as if decreed by gravitational force. Not too far away is another picture of you, in which you boast a Miffy headband and a face full of foaming cleanser. Then another, your eyes narrowed like that of a sniper taking aim as you’re playing Tetris; you with so many volleyballs piled into your arms that you can’t see your own face; your cheeks squished by a bandaged hand after you lost a bet about pandas (they can swim); you clutching your stomach on the library floor, brought to hysterical tears by Professor Kim’s email. You, you, you.

You bring your pointer finger to this last image, tracing it over the curve of your own cheek. You see a dimple on your face you didn’t know you had. You realize it only comes out for him.

It has always been him.

The front door opens. A man with telephone poles for legs and a long-haired chihuahua in his arms appears behind it. You sense in him that something has changed since you last saw each other. The two of you lock eyes. 

It’s not awkward this time.

Multiple yards behind the service line, Hyunjin is rotating a volleyball in his hands. It feels solid and sentient, an extension of himself held in cotton-clad fingers. He knows how this story will end.

He moves his eyes to his best friend’s back. Four fingers flash back at him twice, signaling a high lob set to the left, the very play they’ve practiced tirelessly for the last five weeks. The breath Hyunjin blows out of his cheeks seems to crystallize in the air, almost solid in all its exhilaration. 

He bends low and throws high. His arms drop behind his body like a spread of feathered wings; his feet fall into place below him like a meteor shower, two consecutive strikes against the earth that fissure its mantle. The lights overhead are bright. His palm pulls taut when it slams into leather. He knows how this story will end.

The volleyball tears towards the ground. It trembles as if scared by all that it holds: the guarantee of a flawless denouement, the catalyst of a radiant future. Hyunjin’s heart is beating hard enough to crack his ribs when he lands back on the ground, when the volleyball lands in the furthest corner of the court. He’s not scared at all.

He balls his fingers into fists.

“JUST LIKE LAST YEAR, BACK TO BACK ON AN ACE—”

An arm seizes Hyunjin’s neck; another drags him onto the floor. His head thuds onto the hardwood with a sound he hears over the whole world detonating. His vision fills with the faces of the people he cares for most, some covered in tears and others rivaling the ceiling with their blinding smiles. He can’t feel most of his body; his sweat drips into his mouth. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t care.

“—DEFENDING THEIR TITLE FOR THE THIRD CONSECUTIVE YEAR—”

His eyes find Seungmin’s among the fray. Their hands clap together with such force that Hyunjin cusses at the impact. Seungmin’s gaze burns into his with a ferocity that Hyunjin plans to take to his grave. His setter. His best friend.

He says something inaudible, but Hyunjin reads the words off his lips, and his eyes fill with tears: we win everything.

“—YOUR NATIONAL CHAMPIONS: SEOUL NATIONAL UNIVERSITY!”

Hyunjin’s post-game interview is a lawless affair. He is allowed at most half an answer before a new teammate is barreling over with an animalistic screech or a new friend is screaming congratulations from out of frame.

The reporter is visibly agitated by her final question, unpursing her lips to ask: “Is there anyone you’d like to thank?”

Hyunjin exhales. “You want the short answer or the long—”

Changbin seizes him by the head. Hyunjin bursts into a peal of high-pitched laughter as the libero litters kisses all over his face, nearly crumpling to the floor in his attempt to escape.

“Love you,” he yells before hurrying off. 

“Love you too, Bin.”

Hyunjin turns a sheepish smile to the reporter.

“The short answer,” she deadpans.

He starts counting off his fingers. He thanks his family—his first and last teammates, his eternal anchors. His other family, his actual teammates, the best boys he’s ever known. His coach, who will let him call him Chris someday. His best friend and setter, Kim Seungmin, who set a clothesline on fire once and changed his life forever.

In the distance, a figure emerges from the locker rooms. There’s a navy blue SNU banner draped over your shoulders, two overflowing duffel bags in your hands. Jisung and Jeongin run over to take them from you, and the smile you give them is wide and flushed, a remnant of the elation you shared from afar. The three of you start walking out of the gym.

Hyunjin thanks you.

You didn’t ask for the position, he tells the reporter, but some idiot roped you into it, and they’re all so grateful that you decided to stick around. You know the team better than they know themselves—it’s hard to believe you’ve been with them for five weeks instead of five years.

What are you like? What aren’t you like, is the better question. You’re caring, smart, strong; you see so much goodness in the people around you, all while unaware that it is your warmth that brings it out of them. Flowers only bloom in the sun’s doting radius, and so did he.

You have the sort of soul that incurs the scorn of the stars. They are the only ones to deserve you, they'd argue; you’re wasting your potential among humans when you belong to the sky. They’re right.

Hyunjin pokes his tongue into his cheek, suddenly annoyed. “Why the fuck am I still talking to you?” 

“Pardon?” The reporter returns, but Hyunjin is already vaulting over the bleachers, making a mad dash for the exit. She gives her cameraman an affronted glare. He shrugs.

He explodes onto the concrete, looking around in a frantic haze. He finds the blue banner heading toward the team bus and flanked by his teammates with ease.

He calls out to you.

You glance backwards. Your smile is purely effulgent, your laugh but a faint sigh against the area’s busy thrum. His heart is pounding against his ribs like a battering ram again, but he’s used to this feeling by now. Jeongin and Jisung make themselves scarce.

You’re beautiful. God, you’re fucking beautiful. That was the first thought to enter his mind when he spilled an iced Americano on your lap all those months ago and you looked at him like he hailed from another planet. And it is the first thought to enter his mind now, when he runs up to you and cradles your face in his hands, his touch infinitely, impossibly gentle, and you look at him like he’s everything that has ever existed, everything that ever will. 

Tendrils of your body spray reach him from here, floral and light like a tropical coastline. He could’ve counted your eyelashes—if he didn’t have something far better to do.

“Tell me now if you don’t want me to do this,” he whispers.

A stupid smile crosses the face of the smartest person he knows. “My lips are sealed.”

Hyunjin kisses you. He kisses you until the banner around your shoulders is wrinkled under his touch, until your hands are tangled in his hair and aching his scalp, until the breaths you take are breaths you share, passed between your mouths like a puff of smoke before they’re colliding again.

He kisses you until he’s crying, again, until he’s no longer tasting your lips but your grin, and he kisses you only harder when those scornful stars start to dance before him, for you are his, not theirs, and he’s really won everything, now.

“Hwang, I need you in my office.”

Six months later, Hyunjin sees Coach Bang standing a few yards away with a grim air about him. He stops in his footsteps and glances at his captain, confused.

“I know nothing,” Seungmin says, walking away. “Good luck!”

“Thanks, cap.” Hyunjin swears he’s had this exact exchange before.

Head volleyball coach Christopher Bang’s workspace still reminds Hyunjin of a morgue. But there are two picture frames on his desk now: one of his family in front of the Sydney Opera House, the other of a band of boys clad in navy blue, draped over one another in exhausted bliss. The latter lends the room a much-needed sense of vitality. Too bad it still houses a rusty cyborg.

Hyunjin closes the door and takes a seat. Bang taps a knuckle against the tempered glass of his monitor. “Read.”

From: Nicola Daldello «ndaldello@pvm.com» To: Bang “Christopher” Chan «cb97@snu.edu» Subject: Re: Allianz Milano V. Pallavolo Perugia practice game Christopher, Allow me to apologize for my delayed response as I shared your request with Chairman Piazza. It is my great pleasure to inform you that we would love for Mr. Hwang Hyunjin to participate in our practice game versus Pallavolo Perugia. The match is scheduled for Monday, October 7th, 5-7 P.M. CET in the Giurati Sports Centre in Milan. Mr. Hwang will be playing for Allianz Milano as an outside hitter alongside Mr. Matey Kaziyski, Mr. Osniel Mergarejo, and Mr. Ishikawa Yuki. Please let me know of your availability to call regarding Mr. Hwang’s travel logistics. His transportation and lodging costs will be paid for by the club. I’m looking forward to speaking with you and welcoming Mr. Hwang to Italy once and for all. Yours, Nicola Daldello Assistant Coach, Allianz Milano

“I told you, some opportunities just present themselves,” Bang says, turning his monitor back around. “As for next steps, I need a holistic calendar view of your entire month of October, including social ev—Hwang, is that foam coming out of your mo—NOT ON MY CARPET! HWANG!”

In a park about a ten minute walk away, a small crowd of elderly people are scattered across a few stone tables, hunched over the fading chess boards painted into the granite surfaces. Mrs. Choi whisks away Mrs. Baek’s king with a triumphant yelp.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! That opening is unbeatable!” She swivels towards you, shaking a fist threateningly. “You! Get over here. Your reign is over.”

You are sitting cross-legged in the shade of a broad magnolia tree, clearing out your storage. You tried to take a picture of a particularly rotund pigeon to send to Hyunjin earlier and couldn’t even do that. It was then you decided you couldn't live like this anymore.

“As excited as I am to beat you again, Mrs. Choi, I need ten more minutes,” you call back. 

She presents you with an unpleasant hand gesture. You turn your attention back to your phone, grinning. Two new notifications sit at the top of your lock screen.

Hyunjin: Omw now. Sorry had to talk to Chris Hyunjin: Same park? Y/N: yes Hyunjin: Who’s the opp today Y/N: mrs. choi Hyunjin: Not that bitch again Y/N: ?

He’ll be here in eight minutes.

You return to the task at hand. You’ve already cleared out your apps, your documents, and videos; all that’s left is the audio files. You conduct a quick mental review. Surely you’ll live without your downloaded music and accidental voice memos.

Instead of hitting the “delete” button, you extract a pair of tangled earphones from your jacket pocket.

You go back to your texts with Hyunjin, open the shared attachments tab, and scroll for a long time before you find the voice note he sent you seven months ago.

He finds you a sobbing mess.

“Hey, hey, whoa.” He’s on his knees in an instant, gathering your hands into his, a world of concern in the brown of his eyes. Your earbuds fall out and clatter onto the cement below. “Baby, what’s happening? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you say in a flustered haste. “Yes, I’m okay. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s happening.”

“Did that hag do this to you?” He asks this question so seriously. “I’ll beat up a senior citizen, I don’t give a fuck—”

“No!” You let out an ugly laugh through your tears. “No, no. Leave Mrs. Choi alone.”

“Then what is it? What’s wrong?”

Eventually, your vision clears enough for you to look at the man kneeling in front of you. His roots grow out longer every day, his hair by now nearly equal parts gold and black. A spot of sunlight infiltrates the magnolia leaves and lands on his left eye, turning it the hue of melted bronze.

Your fingers drift to the sides of his beautiful face as you lean in close; he smells like a combination of smoky rose and tropical coastlines.

“I’ll tell you later,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his hairline. 

He is dissatisfied with this, hooking a pointer finger beneath your chin, guiding your face back to his. He laves the saltwater from your lips, your tongue, and then you’re smiling again, barely able to remember why you cried in the first place.

You rest your foreheads together. “Have I told you that you look like a bumblebee these days?”

He smiles. “Does that make you my flower, then?”

“Because you’re irresistably drawn to me?”

“No, because I wanna put my pollen in—”

You shove him away. “You are grotesque.”

He returns in a flash. “You love me.”

You kiss him again. And again. And one more time for good measure, during which you mumble I do against his lips, and then you remember something.

“Why did Coach hold you back, by the way?” You pull away, tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “Are you in trouble again?”

“No, no. The opposite, actually.”

Your brow furrows. “The opposite? What—”

“In this lifetime, please,” Mrs. Choi hollers from the chess tables. You roll your eyes. Hyunjin smiles helplessly.

“Duty calls, my love.”

“Tell me your thing later too?”

“Of course.”

You dust yourself off and stand up, making your way to the battleground. But not before you whisper to Hyunjin, “now watch me beat up a senior citizen.”

He laughs with his whole body, his eyes the shape of crescent moons, his mouth a little rectangle.

“Hypocrite.”

Hyunjin: [1 Audio Message]

This is my seventh take and I’m not recording an eighth. What you get is what you get. I don’t care anymore.

I understand if you don’t wanna talk about what happened at the arcade. I wouldn’t, either. I just wanted to say that you don’t have to do this tutoring thing anymore. I won’t be able to fulfill my end of our deal, so…yeah, it wouldn’t be fair to you. You’ve already done so much for us. For me.

As for team manager, you’ll have to talk to Minho and Coach Bang if you wanna quit. Doesn’t sound like a fun conversation, I know—but if that’s what you decide, I’ll have your back. They don’t scare me. Well, they do. Sometimes.

You’ve been…distant, this week. I’ve known peace and quiet for the first time since we met, and I fucking hate it. I realized I couldn’t care less if you’re my tutor or my team manager or whatever—I just don’t want you to be a stranger. Maybe that’s selfish of me to say, but I’m tired of pretending the idea of losing you doesn’t terrify me. It does. It truly fucking does.

I’m gonna end this here, because I almost just stopped recording on accident and I would’ve committed first degree murder if I had to do this all over again. Sorry that this got so long, and…I’m sorry about everything. You deserve better.

Come back to me whenever you’re ready, okay? I’ll be waiting.

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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

[driaswrld]

i just read the extended cut and i feel blessed. i mentioned it was my favourite and these 4k additional words were just. just. ugh. maybe i'm too emotional but that one chapter has a particular heart wrenching, tugging feeling to it that leaves me feeling in a particular kind of way ;; the binding vow definitely gives it a completely deeper undertone that imo makes other chapters have a different weight?? if that makes sense??? (am i rambling???)

anyways. i'm glad now since we know the mc's cursed technique!! i was wondering about that earlier so it came just at the right moment. plus also the clarification of when things got stablished because i had a mental emptiness in that regard and i couldn't fit the pieces??? (you can tell i'm enjoying myself ,,,,,)

soooo, in order to not make this any longer. thanks for the food, you're amazing ♡

-🫧

NONNIE !! no ur not rambling i love reading your asks sm <333

AND YES ! the binding vow does give it a certain weight esp when you consider how comfortable and intimate the trio are with each other in other chapter like im just for example.

ALSO !! mc's cursed technique yay! i wanted to talk ab it for a while now actually, and there's a fic coming soon that will expand on it more to give a general under of just how their technique works and why the binding vow puts them in an extremely vulnerable position.

and abt when it all began! yes feels SO GOOD to finally let y'all know that yes they became a thing the night before sugu left again and when he came back things went straight into what they are now — or at least a semblance of that!

(i also want to go in depth about the creation of the binding vow and just how it happened and the thought process behind it)

BUT IM SO HAPPY U LIKED IT OMG AND I'D LOVE TO HEAR ANYTHING ELSE U HAVE TO SAY 🤭