#that said i probably would have less of that social meter to fill up if i didn't work remote + have nobody to talk to

[cerbreus]

While it's a good thing that... my eyes are a lot more open to how discontent I am with my life in general, so i can fix it and make it a life i enjoy more... it feels silly that it all hinged on having somebody to talk to every day and be really nice about sharing my work progress... like somebody telling me 'good job!' was really the one thing standing between me and realizing JUST how badly i need to change careers? 😳😅💦

[plasmasimagination]

Oh, fear panic terror, communicate ideas

Hello, I saw all the people giving comments and requests about them. I would like to request the pairing of HSR with the men in the game, the women are cute but I see them all in a platonic way here

I went off the rails... Your opinion about my relationship with any of the HSR men, please do not feel pressured by the request

I'm a human, the term gender is too confusing and ambiguous for me, so I just got used to calling myself a woman because that's how I was born. My MBTI is INTJ, I tried to get my enneagram but I got bored and never tried again to tell you the truth.

My height is quite short for my age, usually people have taken up to 4 years off me, approximately 1.56 meters (I have no idea how much that is in feet) and something similar really happens with my voice and general appearance, I usually wear a lot of pink and pastel colors. My favorite color it's pink, red, purple and white

My personality is usually quite calm, I like to listen to others and sometimes say a controversial comment for the mere pleasure of listening to others debate with fervor. Listening to their reasoning usually says a lot about them, more than any presentation would. For the same reason, I tend to be quite assertive, if someone feels slightly different than usual, I have probably already noticed and tell that person's friends so that they can take care of it, I don't like to be very nosy with the rest, the vast majority don't talk to me and starting to talk to them because of their change in behavior can scare them and leave them on the defensive.

I tend to understand people quite quickly on that side, their emotions are easy to see even with less wrinkled skin, their tone of voice and words give it away instantly.

Outside of my problem of analyzing the social behavior around me... I usually stay in my storybook or my phone all day with headphones on, if my friends don't talk to me I can spend hours reading Andersen stories (Hans Christian Andersen, his stories are my entire existence💕), I usually listen to my friends calmly talk about their hobbies or problems, they usually tell me that I look like a loving mother

When I'm at home I like to cook, clean, organize purchases and play video games on my PC... A housewife practically, When I grow up I would like to take full charge of my home, even without a partner, filling my home with my emotions and experiences seems beautiful to me (I once said that to my best friend, and he said "Like my grandma" in the most neutral voice possible, sigh sigh)

I like to read, write short stories or the beginnings of novels, play with my cats and place a cardboard box inside my head to relieve the sensory load of the day.

Hyperfixation? Cardboard boxes, cats, cannibalism, criminal cases and metaphors

I just wrote a lot, sorry for some misused words or strange phrases, I have a hard time with English and Spanish is actually my first language

(I JUST SEE EVERYTHING I WROTE, I'M SO SORRY)

SWEEETIEEE HAYY ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ • *✰

A/n- I don't know how concerned I should be on a scale of one to ten about the hyperfixtion on cannibalism /j

Also please don't worry about the length, it provides me a better insight and it's a lot easier to write that way ( ๑ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵)و ♡

Anyway your matchup iss...

.

.

.

DAN HENG

Calm x calm

Two rational cutiepies

The fact that you can analyse humans so well will be very useful to decide what Dan Heng actually feels, since he's quite reserved and doesn't like sharing his feelings

He appreciates your calm nature, it's refreshing after hanging out with march all of the time-

No but really, he does like the fact that he can chat with you about things, he appreciated being listened to, and he is also a good listener

He's usually spending time in his room, either reading or simply doing other things, except socializing

But the only person he lets be in the room, is you

Cuz you guys have this thing, where you can just simply sit in the same room in silence, without that awkwardness, its a comfortable silence

He also likes cats, though it may take a bit convincing, he'll give in eventually and you can get a cat, after all how could he deny his darling

Generally I think you guys would love a calm and comfortable life, not much changes in your routines and just generally two people living a normal life together loving each other.

[five-rivers]

Three Twilights

Can be considered a loose sequel to Deep Sea Diver (same vibes).

Warnings: Soft body horror, Danny totally ignoring objectively horrifying things

.

.

.

“I was thinking,” started Maddie over breakfast, “we could start observations of that island that came into view last week, the blue one.”

Danny shook his head. “You’ll have to use the Speeder, then,” he said. “I’ve got an errand to run.”

There was a pause as both of Danny’s parents looked at him, confused. He didn’t blame them. Danny rarely went out as a human anymore, and certainly not for anything like errands. Looking like he was still fourteen after all this time made doing anything even remotely official difficult.

But this wasn’t a human errand. “Yeah,” said Danny. “In the Ghost Zone. I’ve got to go to Three Twilights.”

“Where?” asked Jack.

“It’s, um, a city,” said Danny. “Well, three cities, I suppose, depending on how you want to group them. One Realm. On the shores of the Celestial Sea. I’m sure I’ve put it in your files.” Probably a direct copy from his files from before he came clean to them, but still. He stirred his cereal counterclockwise, letting his ice powers chill the milk.

“Yes,” said Maddie, “but there are a lot of places in there. I’m not sure we’ve had a chance to properly look at them all, much less memorize them.”

“Okay, yeah,” said Danny. “I guess that makes sense.”

“What kind of errand are you running, Danno?”

“I’m picking something up for a friend. A book,” he clarified. “They lent it to someone there, but they need it back.”

“A book,” said Maddie. “For the Library of Tongues?”

“No, they’ve got a contract service for overdue loans.”

“Contract service?” asked Jack.

“Yeah. Moonlighting bounty hunters mostly.”

“For a library?”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” said Danny, shrugging. “They’re really serious about their work.”

“If it isn’t for them, who is it for?” asked Maddie. “The princess? Wulf?” Wulf had actually been over a few times, and his parents had… Well, saying they got along would be an overstatement, they didn’t really have anything in common beyond ripping portals in the fabric of the universe, but everyone had been civil. “The boy at the school?”

“No,” said Danny. “Wulf would just get it himself.”

“Who, then?” pressed Maddie.

Danny put a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, delaying. Maddie hadn’t eaten anything since Danny had mentioned the errand. The errand was, in fact, for Clockwork. Danny was always more than happy to do anything for Clockwork. The older ghost had saved him too many times for him to be otherwise. But Jack and Maddie were wary of Clockwork. Danny didn’t get it, but talking about it hadn’t been productive so far.

He didn’t want to lie to his parents. Not ever again.

“It’s for Clockwork,” he said.

Ah, yes, there were those suspicious looks. The ones Danny could have interpreted even without being able to almost literally taste emotions.

“I see,” said Maddie.

“Anyway,” said Danny, quickly, “if I haven’t shown you Three Twilights yet, it’s really cool. I don’t want to take the full rig, but maybe the little ectocam would be okay? The one that I can clip on.”

“Why not the normal camera with an ectofilter?” asked Jack. “That has more features, and it’s easier for us to get data from.”

“Three Twilights. It’s dark there,” said Danny. “It might work in Civila, but not so much in Naŭtika and Astronomia, and I sort of want to go down to the beach and see if I can find any star pearls, and that’s really dark, so if you want to see anything properly, it’ll have to be the sonar setup, which I’m not doing, the noises that thing makes are offensive, or the ectocam.”

“And the Fenton Phones?” asked Maddie.

“Sure,” said Danny. “But I always bring those.”

“Yes,” said Maddie, after a moment. “You do.”

“Great. It’s settled, then.”

.

Most of the journey to Three Twilights could be made by air. Or, rather, what passed for air in the Infinite Realms. But when the rocky edge of an island came into view, Danny touched down. Further in was a blue wood, and Danny walked under its inviting branches.

The atmosphere started sunny, summery. The leaves and needles of the trees were the color of a clear blue sky. But as he got deeper, the leaves were touched with sunset colors: golds, reds, oranges, purples, and pinks. They fell to the ground, crunching beneath Danny’s feet. The sunset grew longer, deeper. The leaves on the trees grew sparser, revealing patches of sky.

By the time only bare branches framed the sky, it was a dusky, dim, purple. A few lonely stars twinkled in the sky.

He passed out of the forest. The city of Civila rose above him. Windows glowed in the near dark like eyes.

Danny had changed, too. His aura had dimmed. The whites of his suit were now dark gray, and patterns swirled on its surface like camouflage, like wind-twisted clouds, like nebulae.

Shadows bled around the corners of the city buildings like ink in water. Will-o-the-wisps bobbed, casting pools of illumination in lieu of streetlamps. Ghosts walked up and down the streets, or floated only a few meters up.

The buildings glittered. Everything was dark, vibrant, colors. A sharp, sweet scent filled the air, something dark and rich beneath it.

The canals in the center of the street were filled with flashing fish. Or perhaps serpents. Or perhaps worms. Between how fast they moved and the dimness of the light, it was difficult to tell.

Danny could feel his irises contracting, shrinking down to needle-thin rings. His teeth were sharp. He matched the other ghosts around him. This was how the Civila liked it, how things were in this part of Three Twilights.

Everything in order. Everything peaceful. Everything civil.

Danny walked through the market square, and bought some charcoal-colored cherry pastries from a vendor who looked like someone’s nightmare demon with a chip of ghost ice.

Much to his parents’ protests. They didn’t care for him eating ghost food.

There were seven bridges to Naŭtika, which was built half underwater and half on boats that floated both on the water and in the air. As the dark waters of the inlet lapped at his feet, Danny felt the changes ripple across his skin. To a human, he would look pure black, except for the faintest glimmer of rim lighting and the stars of his eyes. He and the other ghosts moved silently, cutting through the waters like shadows.

To Danny’s ghostly senses, the place was alive with emotion and force, energy loud and crackling against his senses.

“We’re solely on the ectocam, now,” said Maddie. “You were right about that.”

“Mhm,” said Danny, half distracted by a whispered sea-shanty backed by a choir of not-voices and not-sound that wove together with the mastery of a hundred years of practice.

He glided up a rope net, and began to navigate the ropes to the taller ships. The very tallest, the ones that scraped the ever-darkening sky and blotted out uneven sections of stars, moored the glass-like ships that floated above. He’d need to reach them, to get to Astronomia.

“What’s that?” asked Maddie, breaking his concentration on his path.

“What’s what?” asked Danny, whisper soft, drawing some looks. He turned, slowly, on the spot, planks barely creaking under his steps. A gentle wind ruffled his hair.

“There,” said Maddie. “By the ghost that’s registering red.”

It had taken Danny a long time to learn what color on the ectocam’s artificial sensor signified what, but he had, if only to reduce the guessing when they played this game.

“Star pearls,” said Danny, eyeing the ropes of stone that glimmered brighter than his eyes currently did. They were one of the only reliable forms of light, out on the Celestial Sea, although they were valued for other things, too.

“They’re putting out a massive amount of energy,” said Maddie.

“You mentioned them before,” said Jack. “You wanted to look for some?”

“On the shore,” said Danny. “Out past Astronomia.” He wanted to find his own, rather than buy them.

Partially because they were expensive. He didn’t really want to think about how much unmelting ice he’d have to conjure up to equal one of them. They were usually bartered in exchange for… more significant things.

The ghost by the pearls beckoned him closer, clearly hoping to make a sale. Danny shook his head, broadcasting regret and admiration for his wares. Speech might be faster but, under these circumstances, it would not be polite.

When Danny left, the social rules of Three Twilights would only leave the faintest impression on his mind. But, for now, they were a heavy, but not uncomfortable weight. One he could shrug off if necessary, but which was currently useful.

“What are they?” asked Maddie, as Danny turned away.

“They happen when big enough things fall into stars,” said Danny. “They’re all the memories of what they used to be… and the imagination of what they could become, when the star dies. Well, that’s what they’re supposed to be. I don’t think anyone really knows for sure.”

“And you can just… find these? Lying around?”

“Not… not really,” said Danny, slowly drifting towards a crow’s nest. “It’s like that one national park. That one where you can collect diamonds? You never really find anything good, but you can look.”

“I see,” said Maddie. “So, you don’t expect to find one?”

“Yes and no,” said Danny. “If I don’t expect to find one, I probably won’t. Unless the sea is feeling ironic, which it usually is, apparently. I mean, it’s an ocean and the stars. And prophecy is, like, ninety percent irony, but mostly for an outside observer. Which honestly makes sense, I think. An observer, not an Observant. Those are different things.”

The kind of silence on the other side of the line was the one that emerged when Danny used too much ghost logic.

“Anyway,” he continued as he scaled the crow’s nest and started traversing the glass ropes and chains to the all-but-invisible glass ships, “no, I don’t really expect to.”

The path to Astronomia was a staircase carved from moonstone harvested in October, when the moon was full and orange-red. It burned Danny’s eyes to look at and feet to walk upon. Like many ghosts who fixated on things like astronomy, he adapted quickly and thoroughly to the spiritual dark.

This darkest twilight was built of delicate bubbles, whorls, and arches of glass, any of which could cradle a ghost, all of which could be phased through with impunity. There were no true roads here, but certain places were easier to travel through. Addresses were carved in the glass in glimmering, holographic sigils made from glass-caught starlight that humans would never be able to read, but Danny could understand with a glance. It was not silent in Astronomia, the high wind sung through the glass like the immense instrument it was, playing ethereal and eternal music that mirrored heaven.

As always, Danny was enraptured. Perhaps the stars here were not true stars, only their memory and imagination (or simulacra made from stripped ghost cores, he remembered with a shudder), but he felt so close here.

“Danny? Are you still with us?”

Danny started to reply, but realized he had forgotten, once again, that he had no mouth here.

A phantabulist played a story for a group of not-quite-children, characters made of carefully constructed light chasing each other about with vigour. Danny stopped for a while to watch the story, a parable about spiders and fish. They were common here, storytellers who plied their craft this way. The stories could be pressed into glass prisms and orbs that served as books and viewed even in other environs of the Ghost Zone.

He moved on, passing through a glass bubble full of ghosts that snatched at and stroked him as he passed by, leaving stars and dark clouds to swirl across his skin. His suit had long since smoothed over and sunk in. His skin was a thin surface, a membrane holding in liquid night. He was like smoke, like vapour, thin and easily overlooked.

The places he passed were homes, places of business, warehouses, and hotels, organized without any apparent reason. A phantabularium glowed like a struck match, snatches of story visible inside its walls. He walked by.

Eventually, he reached the palace at the city center.

The ghost who lived there was old. Older, perhaps, than Pandora. She filled the vessels of her palace in placid pools connected by crystalized threads and looping tubes. Seven round-bottom flasks, radiating outward, like the spheres of heaven. The music here was almost deafening.

This was Urania, Muse of Astronomy. Astronomia was her city, and subordinate to her will before all else.

Danny resisted the urge to kneel. He was not here as a supplicant, and they both knew it.

The lowest pool bubbled, and slowly a glass prism, a dodecahedron, floated to the top. Danny took it with careful hands and left Urania’s direct presence as quickly as possible.

Being near her was always difficult. She was the Muse of Astronomy, and she felt he did not indulge his second Obsession as much as was proper.

Indeed, she thought it should be his first.

(The starlight inside him pulsed. He was never sure how much influence Urania could exert on him when he visited Three Twilights, never sure how much the relationship between his passions shifted when he was here. He loved it here too much to stay away forever.)

Astronomia did not end all at once. Instead, as one walked farther from the palace, the delicate, clear glass was replaced by black sand. When Danny had feet again, and could feel the grains beneath them, he knew he was no longer in Astronomia, but on the Shores of Night. The Isles of the Moon were faintly visible in the distance, sea-spray framing them in silvery halos.

He felt human here. His breath moved in his lungs, and his skin rose in goosebumps, the sleeves of his t-shirt fluttering in the wind. The sea and the sky were the same, and twice as beautiful for it.

“Sorry for going silent on you there,” said Danny. “I keep forgetting I don’t have a mouth there.”

“How do you forget that?” asked Jack.

“I don’t know.” Danny shrugged, even though he knew Jack couldn’t see him. “Do you think the ectocam might be able to spot buried star pearls?”

[poptod]

Will You? (Rami Malek x Reader)

Description: Meeting Rami in the back alley behind an awards show.

Notes: ugh ive been having writers block for the first time in like two years so ive only been writing short stuff. i have a couple fics backpiled for various rami characters so thats coming up! gender neutral as usual WC: 1.5k

+

Ugh.

How quickly it all became too much. You wondered, clutching your aching head, why you even came here; large parties were never your scene, public events even less so. A world-wide broadcasted movie awards event was nothing near anything you'd done before. Earlier in the day, as you were dressing and readying yourself for the evening, you stared into the mirror and wondered then, as well, what you were doing.

Maybe––probably––it had to do with the fact that one of your favorite actors' presence was assured, and you rarely ever visited New York, making this the first time you'd been in the right place at the right time to have the opportunity to do this. You steeled yourself then and you steeled yourself now, digging into your clutch bag to pull out a carton of cigarettes.

You fumbled with the cigarette as you reached back in, searching for your lighter. A frustrated grumble grew in your mouth and came out as a curse. With a harsh sigh you yanked your hand out, throwing it up into the air, and sitting with a thud on a wooden box laying by the side of a large trash bin. You rubbed your face harshly, attempting to wipe away the irritation. To no avail––you had no lighter, and your nerves were itching, teeming with aggravation that crawled like bugs beneath your skin. You needed this and the world didn't like you.

The door you'd left the building from opened once more, swinging shut with a loud clanking sound that seemed to echo in the vacant alleyway. Drops of water fell into the puddles at your feet, still present from the earlier rain, and now filled with bits of trash. The very same water almost splashed onto you as a car passed by, its' wheels revving and spinning away through a massive puddle. It must've been midnight, but assholes were still awake as well, and the city lights showed no sign of stopping.

This was why you only visited New York City.

"Here," someone with a deep, rough voice spoke, and you looked up to find a vein-filled hand balancing a blue lighter between the second and third fingers.

There weren't any active lights in the alleyway, but the puddles reflected the street lights that stood a few meters away. That was enough to recognize him when you glanced to his face.

Rami fucking Malek.

He turned almost the second you looked up at him, meaning he didn't catch the sudden, stumbling recognition that flooded your expression. Thankfully, you had the time to calm yourself before he sat down across from you on a dirty (and probably wet) stool.

"Thank you," you said, lighting your cigarette and breathing in the sweet smoke before you said anything else. "You're a lifesaver."

"No, I just have a smoking problem," he said.

You both laughed, softly, and looked away.

You took another drag.

"You're Rami Malek, aren't you?" You said through the smoke that escaped you. It was rough on your throat, but you didn't especially care anymore. Somehow, you remembered a flask of water––just not the lighter.

"Yeah," he said with another soft, bashful, chuckle.

"I like your work. Or, your style," you mumbled as you tapped the ashy end away. He might've been a star of your dreams, and mere images of him might've taken your breath away, but you would treat him like a regular person. "It's.. unique, but familiar."

"Thank you," he said, nodding, a charming grin on his face. "May I ask your name?"

"(Y/N)." You shifted in your seat as you looked down. An ounce of humor came to you once you said, "you won't recognize the name."

"No, but I'm happy to recognize it in the future," he said, tilting his head in your direction.

You broke out in a laugh and a wide, blushing grin, shaking your head. God, he looked good in a suit––all black. Silver in his lapel. His neck revealed colored veins that led up to a jawline that would surely cut you. Why was he talking to you? Why was he being nice?

"You're a charmer," you finally said through your giggling, continuing with, "do you want some?" before he could say anything.

You handed the cigarette to him and he took it, pursing his lips and letting go with a puff of smoke. Even in the hot, humid air, those clouds coalesced and drifted away just as usual.

"You're not an actor," he stated, his eyes fixed on the cigarette as he tapped the ashes away. "Not here for that, so why are you here? Just out of curiosity."

"That's... a very good question," you said with an exasperated laugh. "I'm a teacher, I don't know what I'm doing here."

"Teacher?" He repeated. "My brother's one of those. What d'you teach?"

He handed the cigarette back to you.

"Third graders," you grumbled. He sucked in a sharp breath in a wince. "I usually do first graders, but not this year."

"That's rough, I've heard those are demonic years," he said, earning a laugh from you.

"Yeah, that's a good way of putting it," you said as you doted on the cigarette. "I guess this is just the first time I've visited New York when an awards show is happening."

"How do you like the big screen life so far?"

"Not very much, but I never thought I would," you said quietly, but he still chuckled. "I... I did think about being an actor, when I was a kid. I think a lot of kids do these days, though. Actors are.. like the new Gods. You know, in ancient times people would worship idols, and that's what people call you now..." you met his gaze and couldn't tear yourself from it, "... idols. Images of something to strive for."

He nodded, his brow creased in deep thought.

"After a while the world shows you what celebrity life is really like, and you read all sorts of things, see how people change... eventually you don't really want it anymore," you said, shrugging. "Or you decide you want it, or want part of it despite the other stuff."

He nodded again but had little to say despite being a celebrity himself.

"Which was it for you?"

"Hm?"

A spell broke over his eyes and he appeared to return to normal, having not heard or comprehended your words.

"Did you become an actor because you wanted all of it, with the bad parts, or you wanted a specific part and still became an actor despite all the other things?"

"... complex question," he said after a moment, rocking his balance back and forth awkwardly as you laughed. "I wanted to become other people, transform myself into characters. I was attracted to the job. Not the other things attached to it."

"Well I'm glad you became an actor anyway," you said, relighting the cigarette with a quick drag. "That way I could meet you."

"And I could meet you, as well," he said in that same, deep voice he used when he first spoke to you.

You could do nothing but chuckle and cast your eyes down, shaking your head.

"Yeah, I guess you could," you mumbled.

He reached forward, snagging the cigarette from between your fingers. That made you look up, drawing your attention back to the subtle lines marking his face, and the glow of fire that revealed cool, green eyes behind thick lashes.

A loud wave of cheering came from inside the building, and the both of you looked back at the steel door. Still unopened.

"I should probably get inside, the cameras might notice my seat's empty," he said in a similar mumble.

The cigarette, now nothing more than a filter, dropped from his lips and fell to the ground, squashed beneath his shiny, black shoe.

"Ready?" He asked.

"Have to be," you said as you stood. "Not wasting a fifty dollar ticket on my damn social anxiety."

He chuckled and said, "I'd invite you to sit with me, but there aren't any free spots. How about..." He'd been opening the door, but he paused, causing you to misstep and halt yourself only when your chest was an inch from his. Your eyes darted up to his. "Come see me after the show. I have a '97 bottle of Montalcino at home that I think you'd enjoy."

You nearly choked on your own spit, but fortunately for you, it only came out as a cough and a clearing of the throat. 'What', almost escaped your mouth in the most astounded tone before you bit it back.

Was he propositioning you? Was this a friendly invitation? Why was, again, Rami fucking Malek asking to spend anymore time with you than he had to?

You realized a silence had spanned between you when his eyes flickered down to your lips, at which point shock fully brought you back into your body.

"Will you?" He asked hopefully.

"Yeah," you murmured. "I'd like that."

[neovisioned]

♡ꜜ eddie ate dynamite﹫johnny suh

fangs - matt champion PLAYLIST

pairing : johnny x reader (f), feat. ten as johnny’s best friend and roommate and jaehyun as your college friend. 

genre : fluff, another case of smut with too much plot, pianist!johnny, guitarist!reader, college!au, neighbour!au, strangers to friends to lovers, warnings : ten being a cockblock, it’s overall really cute. heavy making out, grinding, marking, slight choking, slight thigh riding, mutual masturbation, slight panty kink and menhandling, oral, penetration. word count : +22k synopsis : where you never really tried to make friends with your neighbours. after all, most of them – if not all – are families that would not have much time to talk to a college student. you don’t mind, you’d rather spend some time with your guitar. but your new young neighbour doesn’t seem as anti-social as you are, it’s eleven past meridiem when someone airdrops a tab sheet on your computer, you play it. a/n : i got this idea while i was showering just after i ordered my electric guitar, i also felt like shit so figured writing about my ult would cheer me up.

Calm and clean streets, pretty cherry trees dotted in red, small park filled with multicolor flowers, you remember the day you moved in your neighborhood like it was yesterday. You don’t say it much, but you love everything about your district. Yes, it might be mostly – if not totally – filled with small families and couples in their thirties, and they usually don’t have much to tell you, you still love the tranquility.

No college students being obnoxiously loud, no parties every week, no gatherings of wannabe frats.

You have to say, you got lucky. The small – but convenient and comfortable – apartment you’re ranting is what you could call a “perle rare”, a gem.

After searching and searching for anything that could fit a college student and it’s budget, you found this very building, freshly built. Only fifteen minutes away from the city center, exactly seventeen minutes away from your university, you couldn’t really believe your eyes, you even thought it was a scam at first. A more than decently sized apartment at the second to last floor, elevators, almost soundproof walls, balcony, big windows facing south, you couldn’t ask for more.

Even better, the owner was a family friend, a deal that made everyone happy was quickly made and, a few days after your twenty-first birthday, you moved in.

It was a bit more than a year ago and you have to say, you quickly made yourself at home, you didn’t mind leaving alone either. Besides, you had friends over a few times a month, and your family didn’t hesitate to visit without any notice.

Ah, and, a few days after moving in, you found this very cute and cosy coffee shop down the street. Oh, how you got addicted to their éclair au chocolat and their croissant. You’re a regular there, now, and the short brunette girl at the register still makes fun of you for your pronunciation. They also make a pretty good iced vanilla coffee, one you’re drinking this very moment, hands turning cold over the transparent plastic.

“Y/N, hey ! I have something for you !”, a voice you quickly grew familiar to sings the moment your badge opens the front door to your building. Sun Sangkyu, building H7’s concierge, doesn’t even wait for the glass door to close behind you to stand up from his chair, searching for the said “something”.

He’s a balding man, you’d say he’s around sixty-something years old. He agreed to work at the desk for good money despite his age, you remember him saying he loves it, it distracts him for the day while his wife volunteers with kids in a less wealthy area. Sangkyu wears big glasses that often fall down the bridge of his nose, eyes half moons whenever he smiles with his little diastema.

“Ah-a, I know what it is !”, you match his tone almost perfectly, a smile stretching your lips. Walking a bit closer to the men’s cubicle, one he customized so much it contrasts with the minimalist style of the entrance.

Red banner for the Chinese New Year, you’re surprised he did not take it down sooner. Next to it, he has multiple drawings from the kids in the building, pictures of him, his wife and kids.

“There it is. Such a tiny box, what did you order ?”, he asks, and the middle aged men doesn’t hesitate to shake the box a little, bringing it to his ear. He’s a bit too curious for his own good, but you don’t mind, it’s funny.

“Guitar picks.”, you tell him with a laugh once he lets the cardboard box fall into your waiting hands.

At that, he frowns.

Small pout on his thin lips, his dark brown eyes shift to the left as he tried and search in his memory.

“But…What about the ones you brought last winter ?”, he asks carefully, almost like he’s scared of not recalling things well. But, after all, you were the only guitarist in the building.

“I…lost them…”, you answer after a few seconds of silence, like a child admitting they misplaced something to their father.

“Ya…”, his instinct kick in with the noise escaping his face, slightly rolling his eyes, drawing out the last letter. “Anyways, I have something else for you.”, he looks at something on the floor, probably where he left his leather bag.

“But, I didn’t or-.”

“My wife made some yesterday !”, he cuts you abruptly, wide toothy smile as he slides a paper bag. And, oh, you already know what they hold by the smell alone. Baozi, steamed stuffed buns Sangkyu’s wife can make like a real master, your mouth salivates with the thought alone.

“Oh, bless her.”, a sigh tumbles from your lips, clenching the small bag against your chest. As you open your mouth to thank him, the slight buzz of the door opening catches your attention. You notice a rather tall men pushing the door with his back, strong arms holding boxes.

“Thank you very much, Sangkyu. Have a nice day !” You conclude with a smile, nodding as the oldest returns the gesture, face already towards the unknown men.

You don’t pay much attention, quickly walking towards the elevator with your two precious items in hand. Your index taps the code and your floor number like a mechanism and, just before the metallic doors close, you catch the unknown men sighing, “One more box and we’re done, Mister Suh !” Ehm, the apartment on the second floor probably found a new owner, you think at first, the thought brushed away in a second.

The ride to your floor is a quick one, your full attention on the small box in your hand, one you’re trying to open as best as you can. But you quickly find hard to rip the thick duct tape with your left hand occupied with the wrapped food.

“Oh, fuck !”

What was meant to happen, happened. As the feminine yet weirdly robotic voice announces your floor with a “Floor number nine, floor number nine.”, you drop the small box. The cardboard hits the floor with a small sound, laying lifeless a few centimeters away from your shoes. Great, that will teach you. Leaning down, you pick the box up with a sigh, straightening your back as the grey metallic doors open in front of you, left wrist twisting to let your digits wrap around your keys. And it’s your turn to frown. Eyebrows furrowed, you take a step forward, taking your body out of the elevator before the doors close and head down again.

Boxes, boxes everywhere. Your door’s on the left, body naturally facing your apartment but your eyes can not help but look at the overwhelming amount of…stuff laying there. Probably a dozen cardboard boxes in the hallway, the door’s open to the empty apartment if it’s not for all the wrapped furniture in the entrance. Uh, so it’s not the second floor. You have to say, you’re a bit surprised. When you moved in, you remember this very apartment being owned by a middle-aged woman, the fake blonde told you about the three other places she owned and ranted all year around. Be it to travelers, students, young adults. Someone ranted it for two months at best, before moving out, you don’t even remember their faces, to be honest. You never asked why it was always empty, you just figured the area was more appealing to families that would rather buy their own place rather than rant it for god knows how much.

Well, seems like you have a new neighbor. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll introduce yourself later, once they’ll be done with moving in. Let’s be real, you’re not Bree Van de Kamp from Desperate Housewives but, you were well raised. Ah, and, you should probably tell them about your habit of playing the guitar a bit too late at night, you think as you finally take your attention off the open apartment and go for your own. Everything might be pretty well isolated, you don’t want to risk starting beef with people you barely know leaving right next to you.

Plus, who knows, maybe they’re nice.

Knife stabs the duct tape, the brown layer easily ripping under the sharp object. Comfortably sat on your bed, you quickly tear the cardboard with your hands, leaving the packaging on the floor of your bedroom, neatly leaving the small bag of picks you ordered on your white sheet.

It’s around ten and a half post meridiem when you finally get around opening your order. College life is one you knew would be busy, but seventeen years old you never knew you’d spend hours on an essay’s introduction. But thank god, you finished a good chunk of your assignment, showered, ate and now, it’s time for a bit of relaxation.

It’s sort of a ritual for you, a way to reward yourself after a productive day. You take a long shower or a good bath – it depends on the bath bombs you have in stock –, you eat a good, hot meal and get to your room for some alone time with none other than your beloved guitar.

The sun’s already set, the streets’ lights filling your bedroom. And, that’s when you notice the dim light coming from the room right on front of you. The layout of every apartment being identical, you know it’s another bedroom, few meters away from your own. It’s a bad habit you developed after your old neighbor left, you’d pull your curtains to the side and eventually took them out, they clashed with your room’s aesthetic anyways. After all, if no one was leaving there, you would let your window wide open for a bit more light.

You figure you should maybe go and find where you stacked them and get ready to struggle for an hour before eventually, putting them up again. But for now, you don’t mind, if your new neighbor actually pulls his curtains to look outside, all they will be able to see’s your light purple colored walls, paintings and pictures, your overly packed schedule stuck right on top of your desk.

You don’t let your mind wonder too much, after quickly opening the thin packaging, you let the small plastic picks fall on your bed. Medium sized, you choose the color you like the best, abstract design in red, black and white. Now that you think about it, you really don’t know where the six other ones disappeared, you even used to keep the last one in your phone case.

Digits wrap around the slender neck of your electric guitar, picking it up from the stand it rested on for a few days now, instrument easily finding its place on your lap. Ah, how you love the feeling of the smooth material under your fingertips, left hand on the body to keep it from falling as you lean forward. The Jack cable you left laying there a few days ago moved a bit, hiding under your bed but you’re quick to grab it, plugging it where it belongs. A flick of the wrist, you turn on your amplifier, turning a few settings. Now that you have neighbors, maybe you should turn the volume a bit down. Until now, you could play as loudly as you wanted thank to the building’s isolation and a few other…reasons. The men living right above you was a bit older than Sangkyu, and he had a few hearing problems, plus he didn’t mind the music at all even if he heard it a bit, when your window was opened. The women leaving right under you is in her mid-thirties, a nurse that had a working schedule you cannot wrap your head around. One thing you know, she’s never there from nine post meridiem to some ungodly hour in the morning.

You’ll talk to your new neighbors tomorrow anyways, brushing the thought off as you place the strap on your shoulder.

“Eddie ate dynamite.”, you mumble under your breath, pick plucking at the three top strings. In tune, great. “Good bye Eddie.”, the three last strings are slightly out of tune, but your quickly arrange that with a few twists. Right hand flat on the six strings, you stand up from your bed, walking to your desk with a few steps. You had left a tab sheet open on your devise before going for your bath, screen lighting up as you open it. It’s a song you practiced once a few weeks back before forgetting about it. Bold, black letters, “Fangs – Matt Champion”.

Eyes scanning the numbers, your fingers quickly find the strings without you needing to even look at your guitar’s neck. Your body follows quickly, shoulders and head moving at the rhythm, it’s a chill tune you can warm your fingers up to. It’s a moment you adore, when your entire building’s silent, fresh breeze of the early summer sneaking into your room, multicolor lights flashing in your bedroom (tiktok made you buy them). Tones and sounds of stings being pulled fill your room, it’s no hard for you to remember the notes at the end, eyes closing as you finish the song.

A good song to start on, you think before opening your eyes and…?

“What’s that ?”, you ask out loud, eyes squinting at the window that opened itself on your screen. Apparently, someone’s trying to airdrop something. It’s probably a mistake, you think at first. A weird mistake, for sure, your laptop clearly had your name on it. Your index finger’s about to decline the request before you take a look at the actual picture sent. Is that…A tab sheet ? Your eyebrows furrow a bit more. Clearly, this was not a mistake. Eye travel to the window, could it be ? Your neighbor’s room is now lit up, but you can’t make anything up in it, unconsciously waiting for a head to pop-up. But hélas, no movement comes from the other side. It could come from anyone, but you doubt

“The Less I know The Better – Tame Impala”.

Ah, you’re not a stranger to the song, you have it in multiple playlists, but you never took the time to look at the tabs. At least the person has some good taste. It’s a weird situation for sure, is this…a request ?

Unconsciously, your fingertips press on the right strings. Eh, might as well try it, right ? Tune familiar, you go through the intro easily, though maybe you should’ve taken something to loop the sound. Irises focused on your screen, you try your best not to mess up, eyes sometimes traveling from your computer to the neck of your guitar. Brown polished wood glow under the purple light, it softly transitions to blue, green, and you stop after the chorus.

Maybe you’ll keep the sheet.

Cold morning breeze, sounds of a city waking up. Birds singing a bit too loudly, a few cars driving by, chatter from families and young adults all around, voices muted by how high you’re apartment is.

You follow along, body turning in your bed, though maybe in a less graceful way, softly shaking the sleep out.

You changed your sheet right before going to sleep, after playing a few other songs, flowery fragrance comforting, nose deep into the soft fabric. You almost think about not leaving your bed but hélas, you have some classes to attend today.

At least, they’re starting a bit late. Sleepy eyes shift to your clock, the very one that woke you up, nine ante meridiem, you have an hour to get ready, that should be enough.

Another bad habit, your hand grabs your phone as you roll over to your side, cheek squished on your pillow, one eye closed. Maybe you should not do that, apparently the second eye's vision can and will go down if you do this too much. You have an appointment soon anyways, working on your computer all day long got your eyes dry.

Checking mails, social media, texts, you tour your phone before finally stepping out of bed.

Music theory class, multiple hours of it. But, at least, it didn’t end late at all, today was your only free day. But again, depends on what is your vision of freedom, you'll probably end up at the bakery slash coffee shop down the street to study a bit more.

Arms stretching above your head, your lips part in a yawn you quickly hide behind your hand. Fuck, you probably slept on your arm, shoulder aching under your fingertips massaging the muscle.

Walking around your bed, you take a few steps, dragging your feet on your floor towards your window. You needed a bit of fresh air before anything else.

The weather's pretty good today, you note as you fully step in front of your window, skin gratefully taking in the sunlight, a few white clouds here and there in the sky but nothing to complain about. The sun seems to already be heating the air up, maybe you can go for a light coat today, or a thick top alone.

Naturally, your eyes fall straight forward, to the very window you were looking at the night before.

Curtains pulled to the side, your curiosity gets poked, maybe you can have a quick look at the room, right ?

It looks empty anyways, you think at first, but it seems the universe wants to annoy you a bit today. Just as you're about to detail the room opposite to yours, a figure walks in.

His shadow is the first thing you see, stretching on the beige painted walls of the room before he eventually steps in front of his window as well.

Fortunately for your dignity, the men has his back turned but how... Broad do they look, even from a distance.

You have no idea why, but you're stuck there, one side of your brain telling you to leave before you get caught and inevitably get label as the creepy neighbor while the other whispers that you might want to see the strangers' face.

Shoulder blades move against the tanned skin, hands quickly run in his honey colored locks, pushing them back, it seems your neighbor's getting ready too.

That's when you realize your hand's still gripping your window's handle, right hand falling to your side, you really should go and get ready too but... You wonder, is he the one that sent you the tab sheet yesterday ? Wouldn't you want to put a face a the music taste ?

As you're about to take a step back, the men turns slightly, applying what you can only assume is cream to his face, digits running down his jawline as he angles his head as desired. And oh, the one second long glimpse you get at his profile is enough to make your lips part.

Shiny locks falling in front of his eyes, straight nose, full lips, sharp jawline, a curse almost falls down from your lips. You'd think anyone would find the guy attractive from the small peak you just got but... Isn't this a bit... Weird ? You suddenly feel like a whole voyeur, your eyes detaching from the stranger as your morals kick in.

He doesn't look like a father, or maybe he's very young father ? But again, you didn't see anything for a baby yesterday, nor did you hear one crying yesterday night...

Maybe he moved in here with his significant other, even though young couple usually go for the other side of the city.

Or maybe, he's a college student like you are, does he have a roommate ?

Pupils traveling up again to the window, you're about to get on your toes for a better look. Maybe you should say introduce yourself tonight, rather than guessing and throwing hypothesis out there. And maybe, just maybe, you want to get a better look at his face.

He turns around, you duck to the side.

It’s around six after meridiem when you finally, finally get up from the sit you occupied for several hours now. Maybe you should’ve taken a break between two massive paragraphs to write, you think as your arms stretch up above your head. Thank god, the beloved coffee you decided to drop your bag in had some comfortable light beige chairs, cushion as still cloud-like, exactly like you found them the first day you entered the shop.

You wonder how they keep them so clean, someone must’ve dropped their dark coffee or chocolate on the unforgiving fabric at least once, you surely fear being one of these clients.

“You done ?”, familiar voice hums, and you just nod at the question, eyes falling on the black clock right behind the counter.

“Yeah, I can’t think anymore.”, you tell your friend, hand grabbing the second cup of coffee you brough, shaking it lightly to estimate the amount of liquid left. Jaehyun, maybe your closest friend in your university, pouts at that. Dirty blonde hair fall in front of his eyes as he grounds, before he lets his forward press against his computer’s touchpad. The poor guy had been struggling for an hour now, the rhythm of his fingers tapping on his keyboard gradually loosing speed. You have to say, you were in the same situation, writing and rewriting the same sentences again, brain refusing to cooperate after already vomiting out a few large paragraphs. But, unlike your friend, you decided to stop there for the day, you still had a full week to finish it anyways.  

“I can’t do this anymore.”, the Korean grounds again, dramatic nature kicking in as his head snaps back, rolling backwards, the men cannot go a day without faking death.

“Save it, we still have a week to do it.”, you sigh out, but you don’t hide the smile growing on your face at his antics. Though, you don’t wait for his answer, saving your own file before closing your laptop.

“Six days. Six.”, he corrects, like a day changes anything anyways. See, Jaehyun needs to turn his paper in a single day before yours, since he had chosen to attend the very class twenty-four hours before you. Rolling your eyes, you know the men cannot read your facial expressions, bag turned as you drop all your belongings into your bag.

“You gonna stay ?”, you simply ask, there’s no need for you to point out the slight difference in days. Jaehyun nods fingers running on his touch pad as he zooms out his Word Documents, eyes scanning over his six pages for any underlined errors. “Well, good luck. I didn’t finish this, want it ?”, you ask, eyebrows slightly raised as you push the still fresh iced coffee towards your friend, who doesn’t need more, lips wrapping around the straw.

“Text me when you’re home.”, Jaehyun mumbles, mouth filled with tiny ice pieces, pieces he quickly swallows. “Don’t work too late, text me too.”, you finish it like you too usually do, quickly waving before you walk out of view.

“Are you done, Y/N ?”, another familiar voice calls you out, one you know pretty well by now. See, the coffee shop is getting more and more exposure as days go by, but it does not meet the owner and workers will forget about the regulars, like you. “For the day, yeah. Still have a few things to write but I should be done tomorrow or the day after.” You smile at the brunette, Hana, coffee “Flâner”’s cashier. As said, she’s a brunette with the longest locks you’ve ever seen. Or maybe she has black hair, you think it depends on the lighting. Anyways, she’s been there since the opening, working 4 days a week, greeting costumers with a smile and a light French accent whenever she spoke, thought you remember her saying she was born somewhere else.

“Ah, I hope you’ll have a good grade !”, she says cheerfully, black irises leaving your form as she places some cakes into their signature black box. “Is…Jaehyun staying ?”, the smallest asks, even behind the counter, you can’t help but notice her small, petite figure. It’s like she doesn’t dare to look at you, and a small smile stretches your lips. Oh…She doesn’t hide her crush very well. You wonder, is Jaehyun staying late for another reason as well ?

“Ah, yeah. He’s proofreading what he wrote today.”, you explain, fainting obliviousness.

“Oh, alright !”, she responds with a smile, eyes flickering from your figure to the your friend’s. You’re about to leave, let them somewhat alone if you forget about the three other costumers drinking their tea, when your eyes fall the small cakes she’s arranging behind the glass. And god, how they look tasty. You guess they’re make of a chocolate mousse, a shortbread at the bottom, your mouth salivates. As said, you’re not the Bree Van de Kamp of your building but, if you’re going to greet your new neighbors today, shouldn’t you bring something ? And no, you’re definitely not doing this because of what happened this morning, no way.

“What are these ?”, you ask, taking a step closer.

“Un royal !”, she answers in French, your eyes squint as you try to say it back. How the fuck does she do that -r sound.

“Can I have two of them ? And a croissant, please.”, you order, hand already fishing for your phone. God, this shop will make you go bankrupt, they will also make you addicted to their food, if you’re not already.

“Sure, ma’am !”, the young girl answers, before she grabs yet another black box. Fingers push the cardboard until it takes the shape desired, iron tool dropping the cakes into it. You’ve done this so many times, it’s ironic. Right hand grabs the box, left hand turning your phone screen towards the young girl so she can scan the code.

“Thank you, good bye !”

“See you soon, Y/N !”

The glass door is pushed with a shoulder, smile stretching your painted lips when you give another look inside the shop, catching Jaehyun walking up to the counter. “Buying three coffees isn’t a way to flirt, Jaehyun.”, you laugh to yourself before leaving.

It looks like the sun is about to set, sunlight a lot less aggressive compared to the beginning of the afternoon. Cakes in hand, the walk to your building is a short one, though you come across the Hwang family from the fourth floor going to the park, greeting the mother with a smile, waving lightly at the twins she’s holding hands with. Ah, you really do love this area, you think as you walk along the park’s barrier, catching a few giggles and screams from young kids. And, from the sound of it, they started opening the water in the fountains.

“Cakes again !”, Sangkyu might be on the older side, he still has some sharp eyes, you note. The door closes behind you with a small noise, the lock activating itself. “Yes, cakes again.”, you say, shooting him a fake-ly offended glare, left hand to your chest. “But these aren’t for me, they’re for the new neighbor.”, you point out, walk slowing down in front of the men’s cubicle.

“Ah ! Mister Suh and…”, his face contours as he tries his best to recollect the second name. Oh, maybe it was a couple, good thing you got two cakes, even though you got one for yourself… “Right ! His roommate, Mister Leechayapornkul !”, his features light up with a smile as he correctly – you assume – recollects the second name. Ah, a roommate, you think, interesting. “Oh, I didn’t know they were two. I’m going to introduce myself now.”, you tell him with a smile.

“Ah, by the way, have you heard ? Miss and Mister Jeon want to organize something for the building’s anniversary, I’ll keep you up to date !”

On that, you leave the old men with a smile, quickly strolling to the elevator. The metal cubicle stops at the third floor, a young girl you don’t really know polite greets you before pushing the fifth button floor, she’s probably friends with the kids on that floor.

“Floor number nine, floor number nine.”, the metal doors open on your small hallway, and for the first time, you walk towards the right door. Deep, dark green color like yours, your shoes barely make a noise on the light beige carpet as they lead you to your neighbors’ place. You stay there for a second, mind questioning the dumbest things, should you wait a bit ? How many times should you knock…? Raising your fist up, the first joints of pointer and middle finger tap a few times on the dark wood. One, two, three. You wait.

Though, everything seems silent, if it’s not for the small noise of the elevator going up and down. Are they…Not there ? A small pout on your lips, you shift on your feet, both hands grabbing onto the black box. The apartment was silent, you guessed your new neighbors were not there, your luck.

From : Jaehyun, 8:37 pm. : “im home !!” : “ended up proofreading and wrote the second to last part” The well familiar name flashes on your phone, alongside a picture you took when you visited his family on the country side. Jaehyun’s rather tall body’s folded as he tries to ride on a small tricycle, legs so long his knees are above the handlebars. Quickly, your thumbs tap on the small keyboard as you walk toward your room.

After entering your bedroom, you decided to eat a bit earlier, taking a shower before going back to your guitar. The shower was a cold one, if the sun had already set, the air was dense, heavy. Moments after stepping out of your shower, a thin layer of sweat managed to gather around your hairline. It’s like the weather suddenly switched to the middle of summer, and you definitely were not ready for it.

To : Jaehyun, 8:38 pm. : “is it because of the third coffee you bought :D ?”

To : Jaehyun, 8:40 pm. : “…i do not know what youre talking about .” To : Jaehyun, 8:40 pm. : “when are you gonna ask her ?”

You send the message before locking your phone, throwing the devise on your bed. You’re quick to set up your guitar, since you left you amp’ plugged in yesterday. Right index flicks the switch up, before you plug the Jack cable in. However, as you’re about to flop on your bed again, you notice the screen of your phone lightening up as your college friend calls you.

“How did you know ?”, it the first think he asks, tone whiny, the second you accept the call and press the speaker button. “It is very much obvious, Jaehyun.”, you laugh out, left hand finding its place around the neck of your black and white guitar as you bring it on your lap.

“Do you she’s int-.”, Jaehyun starts as you play out a few random chords, thumb stroking the six strings ever so softly. “Yes.”, you cut him before he even manages to finish his sentence. “She’s into you. I thought you knew.”

“I, uh, I wasn’t sure.”, he mumbles, and you hear his fork pick whatever his eating. After hanging out around the male for some years now, you figured your good friend was a bit clueless when it came to his looks and charms. Yes, Jaehyun knows that’s he’s handsome, you don’t miss the opportunity to remind him whenever he gets dressed up or send you a selfie, as a good and supportive friend.

But, Jaehyun doesn’t really weight the affect he has on girls, guys, and everyone in between. You remember when this guy in your Music Therapy class, and another girl, you don’t really remember what hear studies were about, but she was in your distant group circle and they both had a big – massive – you’d say, crush on your friend. You remember both of them throwing some light hints at first, thought the girl went a bit harder after as the first eventually dropped it. Jaehyun, him, was completely oblivious until you told him one night, when he was staying over after a night out. “Ask her out already !”, you sign out, left hand over your guitar’s string, blocking any sound.

“I will soon, okay ! Give me some time, I’m…Thinking about the right way to do it.”, your friend starts, drinking something in between his words. “Anyways, moving on ! How’s your neighbor ?”

You sigh at the question, opening your laptop as you search in your files for something to play, you really should organize your things a bit better, you think to yourself.

“They weren’t there.”, you breath out, eyes unconsciously flickering to the window. From this angle, you can’t really see much, apart from the vague shapes behind the curtains, yellowish light on before you even came in your room.

“They ? Oh…Is it a couple ?”, Jaehyun asks, tone slightly disappointed. See, this morning, you obviously told your friend about the airdrop…Thing. Obviously, you had texted him before going to sleep but decided to keep much of the details for a real life conversation. After a hushed story-time, eyes travelling to your teacher every now and then to make sure he was not looking at you, you told him about what happened this morning.

Of course, it immediately poked the blonde’s curiosity, who would not be. As said, you and Jaehyun had been friends for some years now. When you two met, he was in a relationship that ended a few months after, you being there for him had strengthen the bond, he had been single ever since and you, had been single all the way. Sure, you had a few crushes, two or three people shooting there shot but, the crushes were always short-lived, nothing serious.

So, when Jaehyun heard that you found someone attractive after months of radio silence of the channel of your earth, someone who lives next to you at that, your friend jumped on the occasion, already hoping for something to happen before you even got to introduce yourself to the guy.

“I don’t know, Sangkyu said they’re two roommates.”, you inform, trying to recall the two names the oldest men told you hours before.

“…Are you sure you don’t want me to stalk ?”, Jaehyun proposes for the second time today. As soon as you finished your small story this morning, the Korean asked if you wanted him to do some stalking, promising and selling his apparently, amazing, skills in the domain.

“Jaehyun, no. I didn’t even introduce myself.”, you breathe out, half-desperate, half laughing at his antics. “Alright, alright. Go see them soon, alright ?”, there’s a small silence, you simply hum at his question. “Play me something while I do the dishes.”, your friend yawns and you oblige pretty quickly, after finally finding a song to practice to. Maybe you need a little more practice on the song, one by Frank Ocean in the “channel ORANGE” album he put out in 2012, if you recall correctly. On the other line, the sound of water running and dishes being done drowns the voice of your friend slightly singing to the song, one you two have on the collective Spotify playlist you have. Your attention stays on your screen, just in case you forget a chord and, as you’re starting the second chorus, something comes between your eyes and the sheet. Your hand comes flat on your guitar strings, stopping the music at once. You already know what it is.

Jaehyun does not stop the water, but his voice does comes closer, microphone muted every now and then as you hear him struggle. “Why did you- Oh, fuck, nooo. There’s sop everywhere.” You laugh breathlessly at his whines, eyes quickly looking at the black screen of your phone, like you’d be able to see your friend. Though, you hear him wipe his screen, cloth going over his microphone again.

“There ! Why did you stop ?”, he asks, bringing his mouth a bit too close to his phone. Staying silent for a second, your finger tap on yet another Airdrop. “He sent another one.”, you simply say, a bit quietly, as if your neighbor will be able to hear you. Pupils look over at the window, you almost want to get up and walk to your window but…

Jaehyun gasps softly over the phone, “Play it, play it.”, he says as you’re scanning the sheet sent. And oh, he’s that type. It’s crazy how two songs alone help you draw a quick sketch of your neighbor’s personality, or his music taste at the very least. Unlike yesterday, you don’t hesitate and open the file sent, though you have to say you already know the chords.

“Jae’. He sent The Neighbourhood’s Daddy Issues.”, you squick into the phone after grabbing into with your right hand. Jaehyun knows well, you still love the band but had an unhealthy obsession a few years back, not to mention your massive crush on Zach Abels.

“Oh. Ooh. He’s like that.”, Jaehyun notes as well, before he presses you again to play it. Urged by your friend, you lean forward to adjust the reverb on your guitar. “That’s…Kinda hot, though.”, your friend whispers out and you, yourself, can’t comprehend the sound that comes from your lips, something between a laugh and a choked gasp.

“Jae’…What ?”

“No, but, I mean…Daddy Issues, that’s hot.”, he tries to explain himself, you quickly shut him up by running your fingers over the six strings. You don’t really need to look at the tabs, from memory, your fingers find their rightful place.

“3D, 5D, 3G, 5D, 5B, 5G.”, you say as you play the notes, humming the rest as you play the intro.

“C minor, G minor, B flat major.”, and from then, you remember the song pretty easily. Between two chords, you turn the volume on your guitar up, just to make sure your neighbor’s hearing you play.

“That’s flirting.”, concludes Jaehyun once you’re done with the song, you know him well enough to know his mouth a bit agape.

“It is not.”, you tell him, though you’re not sure yourself what this is.

“You have to talk to him like, right now.”, he urges so loudly you have to turn the volume on your phone down.

“Now ? No ! I’m in my pyjamas, and I don-.”, you start, and it’s your friend’s turn to cut you off. “’kay, okay ! Go talk to him tomorrow, please ?”

“I will, don’t worry.”, you start, but before you can continue, you’re phrase’s cut again but this time, it’s by…A piano.

Your mouth parts for a second, a single syllable falling from your lips before you close your mouth. The tune’s familiar, but you never heard in played on a piano. Your head slowly raises, eyes fixated on your window.

“Can you hear this ?”, you quietly ask Jaehyun, who answers with a soft “Yeah”, sounding as dumbfounded as you do. Slowly, you get up from your bed, leaving your guitar on your bed, that’s when you realize how hot it is. The fabric of your shirt sticks to your skin, hands lacing into your hair as your push them up in a makeshift ponytail to let your neck get some air.

It's after a few notes that you finally put your finger on it. The Weeknd's last album, “After Hour”. “Repeat after me.”, you tell Jaehyun, I single “Oh” coming from his lips as he recolls the song.So he's a musician as well, you conclude easily. You never heard anyone play this very song on the piano, you wonder if it's his own arrangement.

On the other end of the line, the blonde's silent, carefully listening to the soft piano tunes as you do the same. Few steps take you to your window again, just like you did this morning. This time, curtains are pulled to the side, enough for you to  see the same broad shoulders under a black hoodie, back straight as his head hangs down towards the keyboard.

From your spot, you can't really see his fingers, but you do see his hands quickly running over the black and whites, pressing confidently. Seeing a pianist's always mesmerising, eyes stuck on the figure, you try your best to get a better view but, what can you do from your room ?

When the song ends, unlike this morning, you don't hide behind your wall. Your neighbor doesn't move, stretching his arms above his head, fingers laced together, a curse falls down your lips.

“Y/N. Send him a sheet.”

It's around five in the afternoon when you find yourself in front of your neighbor's door, holding a black box of cakes, for the second time this week. Your classes had ended two hours earlier today and maybe, maybe you should use that time to work on your assignment but since last night, you don't think you can go another day without introducing yourself to the building's new people. Plus, you have enough time, you tell yourself.

It's ironic, isn't it ? You weren't the type to go out of your way to speak to your neighbors, most didn't have a lot in common with you but now. Now, this nameless, a bit too handsome young guy moves in and you're bringing some patisseries in front of his door.

Music brings people together, you've always thought, you've always known and this, this is a pretty good example. You're pretty sure you wouldn't have went out of your way like this if the guy didn't send you a tab sheet, if he didn't play last night.

Like yesterday, you bring your first up, knocking a bit more confidently this time, thought you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding.

You barely have the time to let your hand fall down to your side when a deep, voice a bit far away let's out. “Coming !”

Of course, broad shoulder guy had to have a deep voice to go along side.

“Oh, hi.”, your soul almost jumps out of your body when the deep green door abruptly opens to reveal none other than your - handsome - neighbor.

“Hi...! Uh, I'm your next door neighbor, the name's Y/N.”, you let out, maybe you should thank your past self for practicing this very line right before stepping out of your apartment.

Your right hand's stretched out in front of your for him to shake, but your attention's on something else. Deep brown eyes stare down at you, they almost make you feel small. Or maybe they're a honey brown, you wonder as the plane blocking the sun finally moves away to reflect into his eyes.

Yes, definitely honey brown eyes, the same eyes that turn a crescent shape, just like before a full. moon.

He smiles at you with the same full lips you saw from your window, hands wrapping around your own.

“Ah, yes. Johnny, nice to meet you !”, he says, hand slowly shaking your own. Finally, a name on the face. You quickly notice the slight simple in the middle of his cheek before he lets go of your hand.

“Oh, I bought some cakes from the coffee shop down the street.”, you tell Johnny, both hands one the black box.

At this, his lips turn from a smile to an - o shape, eyes round. Maybe you guessed right at the moon phase.

“You didn't have to !”, your neighbor blurs out, hands at his sides for a few seconds before they eventually accept the gift when you slightly push the box towards him. Your eyes fall to his hands for a quick second and yes, definitely some pianist hands.

“It's just a small welcome gift ! I wanted to drop them yesterday but, I think you weren't there.”, you explain, a lot, lot more relaxed, though turning your attention away from the men's hands. This isn't the moment nor the place.

“Ah yeah, me and Ten we're out for the first grocery shopping trip.”, he explains, right shoulder leaning against his door frame. You get a quick glimpse at the apartment itself, though you don't look at it too long, everything looks already set up. You remember taking a week to get everything as home-like, but you guess having a second pair of arms help.

“Ten ?”, you ask, right hand wrapping around your left upper arm. Probably the one Sangkyu was talking about the other day.

“Yeah, he's my roommate.”, Johnny answers, letting a silence settle between the two of you. “Do you want to come in ? I won't be able to eat two cakes by myself.”, the men proposes after a few seconds, pupils landing on the black box. He probably saw the two cakes thank to the transparent part of the cardboard box, at the top.

Come in ? And... Eat with him ? Suddenly, your palms grow sweaty, slightly shifting one foot to another. “Oh, but. Your roommate.”, you mumble out.

Sure, at first, you bought two cakes, one for him and one for you. Though you thought you'd eat them by yourselves, when Sangkyu told you about the second person living there, you figured you'd keep the two cakes for your two neighbors.

“He's at his parents’ house to get some things, he won't be there until the day after tomorrow.”, the brunette tells you with a smile. His body moves a bit more, enough to let you enter. “Come on, I need someone to help me eat all of this.”

How can you say no to this ?

“Wait, it ends like that ? There’s no way he does that.”, laughs Johnny, a full laugh that shakes his chest, right under his plain white t-shirt. Short sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, his body leans back, black jeans covered legs spread on his one person sofa.

“I swear he does, watch the second season !”, you interject quickly, straw mixing the iced tea in your long glass, ice cubes clashing against each other before eventually melting away.

“Yeah, I guess I will…! I never thought he’d kill her.”, you neighbor says, and he seems genuinely choked, bushy eyebrows raised.

After taking a step in his apartment, the pianist led you to the biggest sofa, where he left you for a few minutes. People say boys are bad at decorating their place, but you have to say Johnny and Ten’s apartment was already looking pretty good. Beige walls, a few black and white pictures were hung up right above the dark sofa. Wide windows on your left, your apartment has the opposite view. While you have a view towards the city center, street lights fascinating at night, Johnny has an amazing view on the park.

Large television right in front of you, you quickly notice de PlayStation 4 and switch neatly placed under it. On your right, just like your apartment, the small open kitchen, counter the only thing separating the two rooms. The honey-eyed seemed to have found his marks easily, navigating in the kitchen quickly. After taking out two plates and two small spoons, he placed the two cakes, refusing your help every time you offered it.

“Iced tea ?”, he had asked, taking out two long glasses when you agreed. Red hibiscus iced tea was poured and handed, before he sat in front of you. You do not remember well how the conversation around the series “You” started, but you recall seeing his Netflix profile on the tv screen.

“So, you live alone ?”, he asked after some seconds of silence, pillow lips wrapping around his metal straw.

“Yeah, I’ve been there for a year, I’d say.”, you start out, spoon digging into the chocolate mousse. “You’ll see, it’s lovely here.”, you tell Johnny with a smile he mirrors.

“I’m sure it is, everyone’s really nice. Especially Sangkyu.”, you laugh at that, the old men really has the power to give one memorable first impression.

“Ah, Sangkyun-.”, you laugh, “He’s something.”, you point out, yourself taking a sip of the iced tea. “Really good memory too, he made fun of me for buying two sets of guitar picks in a few months span.”

“Oh, right, the guitarist.”, Johnny smiles, placing his empty plate on his table. Pink tongue pokes out to wet his lips, your eyes shamefully follow the movement before forcing yourself to find his honey eyes again.   There it was, you didn’t know when nor how to bring the subject up, but you were thankful it happened naturally. For two people, two strangers, the conversation was going pretty well.

“Exactly ! By the way, sorry if the music’s too loud.”, you add quickly, yourself reaching towards the table to leave your empty glass. You’ll have to ask for the receipt. Johnny’s reaction is almost comical, his head shaking from left to right. “No, no ! It’s not too loud, not at all. T-That’s why I sent you a sheet, I liked it.”, he blurs he words out quickly, cute, you think.

Crossing one leg over the other, your eyes shift to the left for a quick second at the small compliment. “Thank you. You’re a good pianist.”, you return with a smile, spoon scraping the last bit of biscuit.

“Thank you very much, it means a lot. Have you been playing for long ?”, he asks, glass a quarter full left on the table. His right arm comes behind his sofa’s backrest, getting more comfortable.

“Since I was…eleven. Got an acoustic for my birthday and ended up selling it for an electric a year and a half later. What about you ?”, you explain, remembering the light brown instrument your parents got for you, you also remember it being way, way too big.

“Ah, yeah, I’ve always liked the sound of an electric guitar better. I was seven, or eight. My mother wanted me to learn and I ended up really liking it.”, he explains, fingers tapping on the sofa’s fabric.

Music brings people together, you tell yourself a second time when Johnny tells you about how her mother loves the sound of a piano, how she’d always stop next to her when he played. A kind of art that helps you learn more about a person, when he tells you his favorite songs to play and you tell him yours.

“But you do have a real pianist’s hands !”, you argue back when Johnny down plays one of your compliments, to which the brunette looks down. Crescent shaped eyes fall on his ring clapped fingers, a small smile on his lips he struggles to hide. “You noticed ?”, he asks, and you try to convince yourself his voice did not get lower.

“Well, yeah. A music student always looks at people’s hands.”, nice save, Y/N.

You learn the young men kept music as a hobby and currently studies international commerce et economics, Ten is a long, long time friend pursuing performing arts. You learn your neighbor’s not only a good looking men, brown locks falling in front of his, nose crunching up every time he finds something funny, rosy lips tugging up to reveal a row of white pearls. He’s also extremely well mannered. Soft spoken, polite, his chuckles put you in a comfort zone, the way he almost doesn’t let you help him clean the two plates a bit too cute. You find his presence entertaining.

Maybe it’s because you just met him, things to learn about him awaiting, but you don’t see the hours running by, nor does he.

It’s around ten post meridiem when Johnny insists to walk you to your door, handwritten receipt of his hibiscus iced tea in hand.

“Do you want me to st-”, Jaehyun asks over the phone for the third time in a week, or maybe for the fourth time, you lost count. Your devise rests right next to your laptop, which is propped on your desk.

“No, Jae'. I don't want you to stalk him.”, you breathe out into your microphone, fingertips tapping on your touchpad at a random rhythm. A paragraph, the conclusion, and you should be done on your essay.

“Too late. Got him !”, he almost chants out and, at that, there's a silence. Clear sign of your disappointment and your blonde friend's concentration. “Oh, wow. He's a photographer too ?”, he asks as if you can see his screen.

You hate it, you hate how your curiosity gets picked by the simple sentence. Needless to say, Jaehyun was filled in by every bit of information you got once Johnny walked you to your door, at least he waited two days before searching for your new neighbor's Instagram. Or at least you think.

“Oh wow. OH. Woah.”, your friend gasps into his microphone, your index taps aggressively on your keyboard, deleting the last sentence you wrote. He’s obviously doing it on purpose, pushing your bottoms. The blonde knows how curious you are, he’s just trying to see how long you can keep it together.

“Uh, Ja-. Show me, what did you find ?”, not very long, obviously.

“Ah, see ! Wait, I'll send you some screenshots. He's hot.”

He is, you want to answer, but would rather shut your mouth for now or you’ll never hear the end of it. Eyes finally leaving the screen of your laptop, they travel to another, finger unlocking your phone.

Your text messages with your friend enlighten your features, bubble appearing at the bottom.

“Finding him was extremely easy.”, Jaehyun points out, before a few screenshots are sent at the same time.

And indeed, you see how easy it must've been for your blonde boy. User johnnyjsuh.

He must've been pretty popular in his old schools, you think after looking at his followers.

Pictures of him in the same white shirt you saw him in days prior, pictures of him with an argentic camera, selfies, mirror selfies, outfit pictures. His feed is almost as good as Jaehyun's. And that says something.

Unlike Jaehyun, you don't have to be careful, worried you'll accidentally like one of his pictures. Shamelessly zooming on the screenshots your university friend sent you, you unconsciously pull your bottom him between your teeth.

He's cute. Too handsome it should be illegal.

“That's a lot but, yeah.”, Jaehyun giggles, you learn you don't have much of a filter between your mind and mouth. “Follow him !”

“Are you crazy ?”, you almost scream out, eyes wide at the suggestion. “He'll know we searched him up.”

Basic social media rules, you can't follow the guy when you don't even have his number, nor talked to him more than twice at this point, if him talking to you in the elevator counts.

“Alright, alright. Don't scream in my ears like that, I have earphones.”, he complains, not leaving you a second before continuing. “Y/N, don't be a coward, airdrop something.”

“I-.”, you start out, attention drown back to your computer. With one tap of your finger, you manage to hide your word document, piano sheet open behind it. You’ve searched a few sheets the day prior, downloading one before going to sleep that night, just in case.

After all, he sent you two tabs, why wouldn't you send him something ?

Tap, tap, you open the airdrop settings. You really should, hm ?

“Alright. I'm doing it.”, you finally say, more to yourself but your friend softly cheers on anyways.

“Ocean Eyes - Billie Eilish.”, from the songs he sent you, it's a fair guess your neighbor is familiar with this one too, you’d doubt he doesn’t know who Billie Eilish is.

“Johnny's IPhone”, it's a click away. One you reach, tapping on the touch pad again. Sent. There.

“Now we wait.”, you announce, leaning back .

“Tell me if anything happens, I have a call to take.”

On that, simple goodbyes are said, you promise Jaehyun you’d tell me if anything happens, he hangs up after saying good bye a second time.

Minutes go by, you don't really know how many, maybe five where you debate going back to your essay, finger frantically tapping on the Word Document icon. Before a few notes are heard.

Piano notes, fingers pressed down on white and black keys. It has the power to make you smile, lips tugging upwards, there’s obviously not a doubt who’s playing at this very moment. Even the way he plays feels confident, he's sure of himself, he knows what he's doing.

Attention for your school work long gone, your pupils naturally find your window again.

It's slightly open, the music would come in easier if it was fully pushed, you think to yourself.

Do you even have to hide anymore ? You guess not. He knows, you know, it's just music you want to enjoy, you convince yourself even though your palms are slightly warm, heart fluttering in your chest.

Leaving your phone on your desk, you quickly walk to your window, right hand in the handle pushes it towards yourself. Warm breeze enters your bedroom, in a soft gush that sends your baby hairs floating away from your face, framing your features.

The sun's just starting to set, purple hue tiger stripes on the blue sky but your eyes are on another shade of purple.

Johnny's wearing a light lilac hoodie, brown locks the only thing you can see, he hasn't moved his piano, his back facing you again.

Forearms against the window frame, you lean forward, humming at the summer sent floating in the air.

A bit too quickly, your neighbor ends the song, hands lingering on the keyboard. Finally, his right hand grabs the very phone he propped up on his piano to see the sheet you sent him, sliding it in his back pocket.

He stands up, fingers toying with a button on his instrument, probably turning some things off.

He turns around, you don't duck to the side.

The men's visibly taken back, his turn stopping mid-way, lips slightly parting for a second. Honey brown eyes find yours before his pupils travel down at your body behind your glass window. He genuinely smiles after a few seconds, eyes half crescents, full lips tugging upwards, you can almost hear his giggle.

“Hi.”, voice soft, Johnny says once he opened his own window a bit more, forearms on his frame, mirroring your own posture.

“Hey, that was very good.”, you tell him, head tilting to your left.

“Ah, thank you. I messed up somewhere in the beginning, though.”, one hand scratches the back of his neck like an embarrassed teenager, before his elbow rests on the frame, hand holding his jaw.

“Ah shoot, I'll send something easier next time.”, you tease, to which he laughs lightly, the sound airy.

“Would be easier to send it by text, wouldn't it ?”, Johnny asks, one eyebrow raised and you have to say, you took a second to understand. But when the brunette hands you his phone, pricy devise between two apartments on the ninth floor, your eyes grow wide.

Your number, he wants your number.

Probably just because you two are neighbors, you have a bunch of your neighbors’ phone number too...

And also probably because sending sheet via airdrop isn't the most convenient thing in the world. Don’t over think it, Y/N. Don’t overthink it.

Two hands grab his phone, just in case, and you struggle to remember your phone number all of a sudden.

You have to retract in your room, too scared you're going to drop the devise with your slightly trembling hands before eventually typing in your name and phone number. You don’t get why you’re so nervous, maybe it’s because Johnny didn’t stop looking at you, slightly giggling at your antics.

“Oh, by the way. I'm sorry if sending that tab sheet the first time was too much. I just couldn't resist.”, Johnny blurs out once he gets his phone back, sliding it back into his pocket. It’s his turn to look slightly nervous, hand rubbing at his shoulder.

“Ah, no, not at all ! It was fun, plus I think we might share the same music taste.”, you reassure him with a smile.

“Really ? You should send me your playlists.”, your neighbor says with an enthusiastic tone, eyes lightening up.

If Jaehyun was there, he'd tell you this was blatant flirting. Maybe you'd agree. At that very moment, you thank your past self for having a pretty organized Spotify accounts, you're one of these people with matching playlists accounts and vague names, a playlist for each feeling almost.

“Yeah, sure ! I'll send you my Spotify user !”, you immediately tell him, as keen as he is.

“Nice, and I c-.", his sentence is abruptly cut by a surprised noise falling from his lips, brown eyes looking up at the sky. He sticks out his right hand, palm up.

Rain starts pouring down.

Saturday, laundry day. It’s not a moment you particularly cherish but at least, you do not have to walk meters or kilometers to wash your clothes. Half thorn basket on your left hip, your right hand mindlessly scrolls through Johnny’s playlist, small smile on your features.

See, after the rain started pouring down, you two decided to return to your rooms in unanimity. Now that he had your number, communication was a lot, lot easier. As promised, you sent him your Spotify profile, where he followed you and you did the same.

User youngho’s listening to “The Weekend – SZA” from “late summer nights and city lights” playlist.

Your playlist.

User citylight’s listening to “Angelina – WIINSTON” from “yellow” playlist. His playlist.

Blatant flirting, Jaehyun would say.

Johnny has his playlist organized by colors, a simple theme you quite like. You have to say, you like all of them but, you had to follow his “purple”, “blue” and “yellow” playlist, where your neighbor managed to capture the color’s feeling. However, after a few days, the “red” playlist sat untouched. You didn’t dare. For having a similar playlist Johnny was actually shamelessly listening to, you knew exactly what the “red” playlist held.  

To : Johnny, 1:25 pm. : “how does angelina only has 40k view on youtube !!”

You quickly type on your keyboard, right after saving the said song to your likes. Finding new artist and finding new song’s always fun, especially when Johnny’s as invested as you are. He’d send you his thoughts on some songs, and you quickly learned the brunette was musically more intelligent than some people in your course.

From : Johnny, 1:27 pm. : “I honestly don’t know….” : “It’s such a catchy song too like”

Double text. Fuck, Jaehyun really got into your brain, didn’t he ? The notification bar slides down for a few seconds, enough for you to read his texts. At the same time, the metallic doors of your elevator open up to the lobby. Leaving your devise in your basket of dirty clothes, you figure you’d answer in a few minutes, once you’re done with your laundry.

“Good afternoon, Sangkyu !”, you call out the the older men before he manages to see you. It’s a fun thing you like to do, catching him off guard whenever you can. Turning his face towards you, the bold men vigorously waves.

“Y/N ! Hello !”

You don’t stop by his cubicle, rather turn to your left right before. There’s built the building’s laundry unit, you thank the architect every week for this. You do pay a little for it every month but again, it’s better than having to walk for minutes with a basket of heavy fabric. Four small machines and four bigger, it’s enough for everyone in the building. It’s also where some announcements are tapped, probably because people usually sit around the laundry room waiting for their clothes.

You’re probably going to watch an episode of Chambers while your clothes watch, you think to yourself as you open the door. It seems the universe has some other plans for you.

By now, it’s almost comical how easily you recognize Johnny’s back. Brown t-shirt on his broad shoulders, his head bob to a rhythm you can’t hear. He’s dropping his wet clothes in the machine to dry them, face turning towards the noise as you close the heavy door behind you.

“Oh, Y/N, hey !”, his smile is heard through his voice, right hand taking his earphones one. Johnny places his Airpods in their case, one you quickly notice is Marvel themed.

“Hey, Johnny.”, you wave with a hand, taking your earphones off as well.

“I was just listening to your playlist.”, the brunette says, shaking his earphones in his hand. You laugh at that, leaving your basket on the table. You assume the second basket there is Johnny’s. “Same !”

There’s a comfortable silence, the brunette pushes a few buttons on the machine and his clothes are sent for a cycle. You, yourself, drop your clothes in the washing machine after setting your phone on the brown table. You’re about to turn around and sit down, but you’re abruptly blocked by a tall figure, accidently bumping into Johnny’s chest.

“Oh, sorry.”, he breathes out, you hear him place another basket on his machine, right hand on your shoulder as if his chest did anything more than surprise you. “No worries…How many clothes do you have ?”, you ask with a laugh, not meaning to sound rude. But your neighbor’s dumping a second whole basket into the machine right next to you.

“Ah, Ten. He needs an entire outfit every day. Sometimes he even changes in the middle of the day.”, the machine quietly starts after the blue liquid is poured, Johnny leans against it. You’ve never seen your neighbor so up close, how is his face so symmetrical ? Slender eyes curling inwards, short little lashes batting a few times.

“Y/N ?”, fuck. His lips sure were moving and you didn’t register anything at all, you probably look dumb.

“I’m sorry, wh- what did you say ?”, clearing your throat, your eyes travel down to the machine, looking at the settings like you forgot to turn something on.

“I found your guitar picks. I mean, I assumed they’re yours.”, he says again, but he doesn’t hide the wide smile on his lips. You probably look dumb, really dumb. Right hand fishes into his back open, before he presents what indeed is one of your guitar picks, the light blue one. He holds it between his thumb and index, you notice he does so the right way, maybe he plays guitar.

“Oh, yeah. That’s definitely mine. Where did you find it…?”, you half ask, already knowing the possible answer. His palm opens to reveal not one, but two other picks of different colors.

“Washing machine.”, he says simply.

You learn Johnny uses a detergent that smells like vanilla and some flower blossom you can not distinguish, but the smell sure is comforting. It floats in the air as he folds his clothes next to you while doing a very detailed report on The Weeknd’s new album.

“But he’s right, though. “Repeat after me” is just a song where he brainwashes her but it’s so good.”, you tell Johnny while you take care of your wet clothes.

“His storytelling skills just keep getting better.”, he approves while popping a candy in his mouth. “Want some ?”

“Oh yeah, thanks !”, dropping the small chocolate in your hand, both your attentions are caught by the sound of the door opening. A lady in her mid-thirties enters the room, dyed red hair stopping at her shoulders.

“Miss Jeon, hi !”, you great the lady with a smile, one she easily returns. For the entire year you’ve been there, you don’t think you ever saw her without one tugging her lips.

“Hey, kids !”

Ah, yes. Miss Jeon also insists on calling everyone slightly younger than her “kid”. You don’t mind, though. You notice the rolled up paper in her right hand as she takes the hairband out.

“Doing laundry, eh ?”, she starts out, “Ah, it’s a great thing you two are here. Me and my husband are organizing a little gathering for the building’s anniversary.”

Right, Sangkyu told you about it, you remember. You hear Johnny hum behind you, to what Miss Jeon continues.

“It’ll be Saturday in two weeks ! Johnny, you and your roommate could come and get to know everyone a bit better, yeah ? Though I see you’ve already made friends with our Y/N.” Oh no, there she goes. You love the Jeons, but they’re so, so talkative, and they never know when to stop. They’re like parents taking your old embarrassing pictures out when your friends are over. Your eyes grow wide, a slightly embarrassed chuckle coming out of your lips.

The lady struggles to unwrap the paper, to which Johnny leaves the shirt he was folding to help her out.

“Ah, thank you. You know, Y/N isn’t really that talkative, but I think it’s because we didn’t share a lot in common, and we’re not as young and handsome as you.”

God. Stuck on your chair, wide eyes look at the scene as your neighbor chuckles. “Oh, really ?”, he urges her to continue to your misbelief,  but you quickly understands he’s doing it on purpose, crescent eyes sparkling with amusement as he looks over at you, the young and handsome bit wasn’t necessary but it sure did boost his ego.

Miss Jeon finally unfolds the paper, a big announcement on the anniversary gathering she’s holding. In the park, with the date and hour, you guess you should find an appropriate dress for the event and something to eat to bring.

“Anyways, it’s great having new faces ! You’ll come, right ?”, sticking he paper to the wall, the lady claps her hands, a little joyful jump when Johnny nods.

“Yeah. We’ll go together, yeah ?”

You learn Johnny isn’t only a good looking guy, he’s also a really good friend.

The friendship grows easily, after Miss Jeon left, he helps you out with your clothes while already planning what to bring for the gathering. The brunette tells you he’s better at cooking salty dishes than sugary cakes. You agree on that, it’s one of the many reasons why you buy anything sugary at the coffee shop down the street. Nonetheless, you and your new neighbor decide to challenge yourselves, you propose some French crepes and Johnny agrees on using his kitchen for it, with the help of Ten who’ll surely be here. Surely, the kids living in the buildings would love them and, they aren’t that hard to make.

You two walked to your apartment floor, basket in hand, though Johnny’s ability to carry two at the same time is rather impressive. One on top of the other, you try to be as discreet as possible when your eyes travel down to his arms, flexing, to his ring clapped fingers, gripping at the handles. He doesn’t walk you to your door but, is it really necessary ?

It’s funny how the universe seems so willing to put him on your path.

Every now and then, you catch a glimpse of the men through your window, walking in his room, mindlessly walking back and forth when he’s thinking about a composition, pen taking on his full bottom lip. He seems really concentrated whenever he tries to write something, eyebrows furrowed, whispering quietly to himself. He catches you carelessly dancing to songs late at night under your lights, moving like nobody’s watching, hands in the air as the singer’s angelic voice seems to control your body, silently giggling when you catch his eyes and abruptly stop.

He seems to vaguely have the same schedule as you do, you see him getting ready some days of the weeks, applying cream on his face like the first time you ever caught a glimpse at his sharp features at a distance. And you bump into him in the elevator every other day, both so exhausted with your classes, heavy backpack carelessly throws over your shoulders, so tired you two would rather smile and stay silent in the metal cubicle. You see him with his roommate a few times too, the first time happens to be right in front of their door, both of them carrying two bags of groceries.

Finally, you’re introduced to Ten, a much smaller and a bit thinner guy, though you quickly find out his personality might be as big as Johnny himself. His bright smile and laugh are both extremely contagious, and you also notice for yourself how much he cares about his appearance. Just like Johnny told you when you first saw him in the laundry unit, he wears different outfits like he’s going for a runway every day. Sharp eyes covered under his jet black hair, you can’t help but notice the multiple piercings on his ears.

Funny enough, you catch your new friend at the “Flâner” coffee shop, getting the exact same cake you brought him and some dark coffee, he tells you he got addicted to everything they do but regret not having enough time to sit down and study here.

On top of that, he never stops texting you, you never stop texting him. Conversation flows easily to the point where you sometimes have to pause to type out a response while you’re on the phone with Jaehyun.

Ah, your dear friend Jaehyun. Your blonde friend follows the events like a drama, though you tell him multiple times that “Nothing will happen, we’re just neighbors.”

Are you, though ? You don’t know if neighbors send each other sheet, you and Johnny never stopped, it became easier with his number. You don’t know if neighbors talk to each other by the windows, for so long it leaves marks on both your arms at the end of the night, red dent on your skin. You don’t know if normal neighbors talk to each other that much.

You and Johnny tip toe on the lines between neighbors and friends, the line between friends and…a little more ? The line snaps right before the building’s anniversary.

Thursday, one in the afternoon when the metal doors of your elevator open to your hallway. The sun’s shining, birds singing, your teacher’s car broke down, leaving you with a free day. Truly, the universe was on your side, you thought when you got the text from your classmate. After texting Jaehyun who told you he already went to the mall at your opposite, you decided to use that time to buy some curtains and take a day off your studies. A well deserved day off, you might add.

After searching again and again, you thought it’d be better to get new ones. You remember the old ones got dirty anyways. Plus, it’s not like you want to hide yourself from Johnny, he has some and you figure you should too for some privacy every now and then. A pack of clear curtains in your hands and some cushions in a bag for your living room, you step out of the metal cubicle, only to be greeted by a Johnny standing right in front of your door. Attention caught by the sound, your friend turns around, half expecting to see you and, he looks slightly flustered ? Short eyelashes bat a few times, rosy cheeks as he opens his month just to close it right after.

“Hey, Johnny ?”, you start, completely clueless at first, you don’t notice the white fabric he has in his hand. “Do you need something ?”, you ask, setting down all the new things you bought down, alongside your bag as you fish for your keys inside.

“I-uh…”, he starts. Why is his voice so shaky ? Eyebrows slightly raised, a knee down, you look up at your friend with a curious look. At that, the brunette looks away. Honey eyes diverge to his right as he shifts his body from left to right.

“Johnny ?”, keys in hand, you rise to your feet, slightly turning away to open your door, struggling a little at the last lock.

“We uh, got some clothes mixed up.”, he tells you, pink hue on his cheeks. You take a few seconds to understand, before recalling the meeting in the laundry unit.

“Oh ! I didn’t even notice anything missing.”, you tell him with a laugh, before your smile wavers to a more…stunned expression. The white fabric he’s holding in a hand, you only need a second look to distinguish the lace waistline you know too well. Your panties. He’s holding your panties. God, you didn’t even notice ? You wear these often, you don’t have that much panties. “Oh.”, you say again, with a much different tone. Heat washes over your body, a much deeper shade of pink coloring your cheeks.

Lips dry, you extend your hand down, almost timid to hold your own piece of clothing.

Johnny stays quiet, handing you the white underwear, hand hiding in his pocket right after.

“Erhm, thank you.”, you mumble out, hiding the fabric behind the pack of clear curtains, like he did not have the time to look at it before.

“I’m sorry, I found them in my shirts this morning and I first thought about just leaving them at your door but it would’ve been even more awkward.”, he laughs slightly, hand rubbing at the back of his nape again. You laugh lightly at that, it sure would’ve been even weirder to find your panties in a box in front of your door. Creepier too.

“Would’ve been very Joe-like.”, you tell him with a smile, the atmosphere immediately a lot less tense. You’re thankful for it, it’s clear Johnny didn’t want things to be…weird either. He laughs a little, cheeks high, before noticing your new purchase, especially your curtains.

“Oh, redecorating a bit ?”, his arms cross in front of him, biceps building up, stretching the sleeves of his shirt. “Ah, a little. I just needed new curtains, I forgot where I stored the old ones.”, you tell him, shoulder leaning again your door. “Putting them on was a nightmare.”, you sigh a little, head resting on your door as well. When you first moved in, you had to put the curtains all alone and only remember the ache in your neck and arms.

“…Was it ?”, he asks with a sly smile, eyebrows lightly furrowed like he’s questioning your experience.

“Some of us aren’t blessing with your height, Johnny.”, you tell him with a fakely annoyed glare, “I almost fell down and broke my back.”. You dramatize with a pout on your lip, to which Johnny only smirks lightly.

“Need some help ?”, Johnny finally, head tilting to the side. “I don’t want you breaking your back.” Yet, Johnny thinks.

“Ah, please !”, no need for him to propose a second time, you’d take anyone to help you with these demons any day, let alone someone like Johnny. One hand turns your door handle, proceeding to push it with your body. “Welcome to my humble home.”

Johnny lightly chuckles at your antics, curious eyes scanning over your apartment. It’s always weird to see an apartment so similar to yours yet so different, he hums at the sent of the light incense you blow out right before leaving. Sliding your shoes off, your friend follows quickly after, though he takes them with one hand to neatly store them right next to your door.

“It’s really pretty.”, he hums behind you as you walk towards your living room, letting the back full of cushions on your table. Smiling brightly as his compliment, you have to say you were pretty proud of your decorating skills. You took multiple months to pile everything you wanted up and, after a year, all your plants grew green and luscious.

“Thank you very much !”, hands gathering your hair, you quickly attach them with a hairband you always have on your wrist. “Do you want something to drink ?”

“Hm, maybe later ! Let’s start with these nightmare curtains first.”

“Alright, let me just get the stool.”, and on that, you take a second to remember exactly where you stored it before quickly jogging to the small closet near your entrance door. You don’t remember the last time you used it, you take a few seconds to take the cold iron object out of its hiding place, one foot stuck in a random box you still have there. You finally pull the object with a sharp tug and not without a small sound of struggle. Johnny is quick to grab into the heavy object and lets you take care of the pack you just bought. For the few seconds you take to move from your living room to your bedroom, you pray you didn’t leave anything too embarrassing there, you really didn’t think you’d have Johnny over today. But thankfully, when you open your bedroom door, the only think you left on your bed’s your pyjamas or rather, shirt you sleep in you didn’t fold the morning.

“So that’s the room.”, Johnny notices softly, the very room he seems fragments of from his own. Curious eyes look over your desk and the multiple things you sticked right above it, before they travel to the side he definitely never saw from his window. Denty fingers gaze at your guitar’s neck like he’s afraid of touching it without your permission, though it’s definitely clear you don not mind.

“It is ! Is it weird seeing it entirely ?”,  you joke a bit around as you sit the pack down on your desk. Scissors you leave on your desk are used to cleanly open the transparent protection as Johnny opens the stool and places it where he desires. “Really weird, I’m used to…this.”, he jokes too, thumbs and pointers digits forming a frame in front of his eyes. “And that’s what you see. My room looks so empty from here.”, Johnny notes, leaning a little in front of your window.

“It looks like you only have a bed and a piano in there.”, you tease him.

“I don’t ! I spent two entire days decorating it ! I’ll show you next time.”, he promises and somehow, it has the power to make your lips part a little, heat slightly burning your cheeks. The brunette doesn’t notice though, and immediately starts helping you out with your curtains.

Or rather, you help him. Johnny does most of the work on your curtains and you won’t complain. The men takes things into his hands, stepping onto the stool. Where you needed to climb the four steps, Johnny barely needs to climb two, body barely needing the extra height. His hands work quickly to detach the metal bar on each side, fingers twisting at the sides. When the black bar is finally off, he hands it to you so you can work on the hoops and slide the curtains in, which you do quickly.

As easily as he took it out, Johnny slides the metal bar back in before screwing each side in. From this angle, his jaw looks even more sharp, eyes focused never leave his work. He looks even more intimidating, especially when his eyes look down at you and you have to dodge eye contact. “Much easier like that.”, you say, almost dumbfounded at how easily he just did…that. Johnny laughs with the breathy giggle you’re starting to get used to. “See, only took a few minutes at best.”, Johnny says while stepping off the stool, hand lightly touching the curtains.

“Wait, let me throw this away.”, you mumble out, picking the packaging in your hands. Again, Johnny isn’t slow to follow, telling you he’ll help you with your stool. The young men follows you quickly, easily finding the small closet you store anything and everything in once you point it with your index. From your small kitchen, the sound of the stool being pushed inside and the door closing is followed by Johnny’s joyful “Done !”.

“What do you want to drink ?”, you finally ask when the brunette sits down right in front of your kitchen counter. Elbows on the cold grey material, he stares for way too long at the two choices you offer him. Tropical juice in your right hand, still unopened bottle of some bubbly beverage in the other, your friend acts like it’s a life or death decision. “C’mon ooon.”, you laugh out, arms getting tired at the way you’re holding the heavy bottles.

Finally, the brunette points your right hand with an index.

“Oh, you’re a slytherin ?”, he asks when you open your cupboard. Glasses on the bottom and mugs at the top, you look up at the same exact mug he noticed. Right in the middle, the grey and green logo is a clear statement on your Hogwarts house.

“Yes, a very proud slytherin.”, you tell him while setting the two tall glasses on the counter, pouring equal amounts of juice into them. “Let me guess, Gryffindor ?”, you ask, arching an eyebrow.

“I actually never took the test.”, Johnny says, to which you dramatically gasp. “And I never watched the movies. One of my friend’s just a really proud slytherin as well, I bought so many slytherin themed gifts that I just can recognize the logo right away.”

Double gasp, you set your glass down, eyes growing wide as you’re trying to judge if he’s actually joking or not. You found he definitely isn’t, but he does find your reaction quite funny. His laughs resonates into his glass, liquid half drowned.

“Are you for real ?”, you ask him just to make sure, and your neighbor just nods.

“A hundred percent, I just never really had the chance to watch it.”, poking his tongue out, pink muscle collects the drop of juice threatening to fall down.

“In 2020 ?”, you’re dumbfounded, you never thought someone could actually go so long without watching it. “You have to watch it.”

“I will. One day. Maybe.”, Johnny teases, eyes falsely rolling back.

“Now.”, you tell him, a certain sense of urgency in your voice. “I won’t let you get out of my house uneducated, young sir.”, you tell him before looking through another cupboard, hand pushing some unopened chips bag and opened for too long biscuits. Finally, your hand find the flat package you were looking for, proudly taking out for Johnny to say right after checking for the expiration date. “I have popcorn.”

How can Johnny refuse ? How can he, who he has to say, already has a soft spot for you, say no to such a proposition ? Not when your clutching the said uncooked popcorn bag against your chest, slight pout he’d probably kiss away on your lips. Wait, what. Johnny understands he’s utterly fucked once he agrees after a very short time thinking, he’s fucked because he knows the more time he spends with you, the more he’s probably going to fall. You, on the other hand, only understand what you did once Johnny comfortably takes place on your coach. You’re unaware of it, but you have the same exact soft spot, the same small butterflies whenever music is heard from the other’s bedroom, the same tiny smile creeping up whenever one sends a song recommendation, the same tingly feeling in the middle of your chest whenever one catches a glimpse of the other.

Another thing the two of you have in common, you two have some impressive actor abilities, if Johnny acts cool and unbothered, totally not lowkey stressed and watched over by adrenaline at this very moment, you can do the exact same.

Has his thighs always been so…Muscular ? Firm ? Your eyes quickly move away when you catch the train of your thoughts, looking into your bowl like it’s most interesting thing ever as you pour down the hot popcorn. Picking one up, you pop in into your mouth, unconsciously trying to distract your thoughts. This brand’s popcorn really good, right amount of caramel on each piece, you wonder what hickeys look like on Johnny’s caramel skin.

Fuck, bravo. Way to go. It’s his jeans, you blame it on his jeans and how they seem to perfectly hug his legs as he spreads them on your coach, one arm right behind it as he scrolls on his phone with the other.

If the brunette’s thumb is scrolling ever so slowly on his twitter timeline, his mind isn’t really able to read the small tweets at this very moment, not when you set the bowl full of popcorn down on the table before dropping on your knees in front of your tv. Why does he have to see everything in such a way, Johnny quickly blinks and tries to get his attention back on his phone but what can he do when you’re right in the background, in the peripherical vision.

He sees you looking for the movie in the pile of CDs and games you have, before finally finding the very first Harry Potter, a triumphant “Ah-ha !”, coming out of your lips.

“You’ll love it.”, you tell Johnny once you place the CD in the CD player, something you haven’t done in actual months, seating down right next to him. You’re some what grateful you only own one single sofa that’s enough for two people and a bowl full of popcorn right in between.

“Wait, is that how Cedric dies ?”, Johnny’s mouth hangs open at the young actor laying seemingly lifeless on the grass after a fatal spell, a gag sound coming out of your friend’s lips when Voldemort’s bare feet comes in contact with the Hufflepuf’s face. “I hate this shot.”, you tell him, slightly disgusted at the scene, before you yawn loudly against your hand. The glass you refilled many time is now empty, you leave it right next to the empty pizza box Johnny insisted on buying.

It’s midnight, you can barely process the hour it is, not how long you stayed by Johnny’s side to the point where you’re curled up next to him under the blanket you two are sharing. At the end of the first movie, you were happy to see a pretty speechless and invested Johnny, it was still pretty early, around four and a half in the afternoon and you both agreed to watch the second. At the end of the second, he offered to buy pizza and something to drink while you popped the third movie. Let’s just say Johnny got a bit excited when you said the four movie was your favorite and midnight being still a bit early for two students, you agreed on watching a last one.

“So, what do you think ?”, you ask once the credits starts rolling, lazy smile stretching your features. Your tall friend flops off the coach, letting his body slowly fall on the ground to grab his phone charging. “This one’s definitely the best, I mean, the whole Marauders thing ? Love it.”, he tells you, head resting on the sofa you’re still on. “I wanna know what my house is now.”, he mumbles while unlocking his phone, searching the right quizz.

“Wait, wait. Let me read the questions !”, you tell him, hand stretching to get his phone, and the brunette gives it to you without hesitation. You, who took the exact same official test four times, are familiar with questions and ask them one by one. Day or night, forest or beach side, Johnny thinks about his answers before. Familiar animation before the sorting hat reveals his pick, you hide the phone with a hand. “Guess.”, you tell him after looking at the result, results you would’ve easily guessed.

“Gryffindor ?”, he asks with a slight bit of doubt in his voice.

“Gryffindor !”, you tell him with a dramatic shout, mimic the sorting hat’s. His head rolls back with a grown, eyes screwed shut even though he has a smile stretching his full lips.

“Ah-! I lowkey wanted to be a Slytherin.”, he tells you, big puppy like eyes looking at you from below.

“Oh, really ?”, you ask, slightly surprised. You had to say Johnny was more of a Gryffindor than a Slytherin.

“Yeah, I wanted us to match.”

Full lips out in a pout, it’s your turn to think about kissing it away.

You understand you’re fucked when Johnny helps you out in cleaning your living room, washing your glasses while you dry your plates and bowl. He understands he’s fucked again when you hum a song he’s familiar with but can’t put his finger on the name. You both are fucked when he slides right behind you to set your glasses in your cupboard, chest brushing against your back. It feels strangely domestic, comfortable and…Normal ? A soft “Be careful”, comes out of his mouth and his breath moves a few pieces of your hair, arms stretching up to carefully place the glasses he just washed. It’s your turn to walk him to his door, where you two understand Ten’s already fast asleep, loud snores coming out of one of the rooms.

How strange it is, people say time alters in airports, empty trains stations and others. Time alters in front of Johnny’s door. He leans against his door frame like the first time you two met, lazy eyes looking down at you as you stretch a bit more.

“It was fun.”, he tells you quietly, tired smile stretching your lips. You return it, sighing as your muscle wake up.

“Yeah, glad I got you into Harry Potter.”, you tease him a bit, “Might have to buy you some Gryffindor themed things.”

“Ten’s gonna lose it when he learns he wasn’t the one to get me to watch it.”, you frown at that, head tilting to the side.

“Wait, he tried ?”

“Yeah, but he never sold it like you did.”, he hums and for a moment, it seems his mind isn’t really where his words are. Honey eyes drop for a quick second to your lips, but he regains his thoughts as quickly.

“Oh, he’s gonna kill me, isn’t he ?”, you joke a bit, though you’re surprised you managed to get Johnny into the saga quickly when he told you before that him and Ten knew each other for years. The brunette’s laugh is breathy, controlled so he doesn’t wake up his roommate who’ll probably kill him right before killing you. “If he finds out, totally. We don’t have to tell him, though.”, and, did his voice just drop even lower ? You didn’t think it was possible, the man’s voice is already deep but right now, in the dead of the night, it almost seems sultry.

“Oh wow, having our secrets already ?”, you breath out, biting a laugh down on your bottom lip. It does it for Johnny, his attention was already on them right before but, his slightly clouded mind could not really help himself. He doesn’t take his eyes away, not even when your mouth slightly parts at the realization. Only then do you wonder if it is mutual, your breath alters for a second, just when the taller let’s a simple “Yeah” tumble from his lips.

He leans down, or at least, you think he does. A millimeter, maybe you dreamt it, maybe he was going to hug you, a millisecond, a third voice gets heard from the deeps of the apartment.

“Johnny ? Turn the fucking light off.”

“Y/N-ah, Y/N !”, Sangkyu sings the moment you step foot in your building with your grocery bag. You guess quickly it’s because of tomorrow’s gathering, the old men always loved a reason to party, with moderation obviously.

“Hi ! You seem particularly happy today.”, you tell him, stopping in front of his cubicle, you notice he added another drawing to his wall, probably the kids on the first floor.

“I am ! We finished making the cakes a few hours ago and they are de-li-cious.”, his eyes disappear as he smiles brightly, you decided you love this man with all your being.

“Ah, I can’t wait to taste them !”, you hum, switch your bag from your left hand to your right. Even without knowing what him and his wife did, you can at least guess without a doubt that it is going to be as delicious as he says it is.

“Just a day ! What are you making ?”

“French crêpes !”, you tell him while lifting your bag, proud smile at your pronunciation, you just went and bought some milk and flour for it right after leaving your university, Johnny told you he had everything else.

“Ah, yes, with our new neighbors, hm ?”, he starts, smile turning vicious and oh, you know where he’s going. You wonder if Jaehyun and him are working hand in hand. Let’s just say Jaehyun did not drop the subject, not when he learned you accidently ignored his texts the other night because of a movie night with the brunette. Not when you told him you think Johnny almost kissed you. Or hugged you.

“Yes.”, you tell him simply, not going any further. You hope he will drop the subject, but you know he probably won’t.

“We hear you two playing, but you should both play something together.”, Sangkyu tells you, not taking the hint or maybe, he decided to ignore it. But he is not wrong, you two should play something together. You have to say, you didn’t know your playing was so loud but if no one ever complained, it was a good thing, right ?

“We should.”, you tell him with a smile, ready to go towards the elevator, his voice stops you a second time.

“Do you like him ?”, he suddenly asks. God, he really is acting like a father who also wants to be a friend. You suddenly stop right in your track, hand turning towards the oldest.

“Who ?”, you ask dumbly, but Sangkyu isn’t one to take your fake attitude.

“Johnny.”, he tells you straight forward and a bit too loudly, arms leaning against his counter with a too happy smile.

“Sangkyun…”, you whine, quiet in case anyone walks in.

“Y/N-ah…!”, he mocks the tone of your voice and you whine even more.

“Come on, you can tell me.”, you says, you know he won’t ever let you go and even if he does, he’ll draw his own flowed conclusions, better tell him already.

“Maybe, yes.”, you tell the oldest before walking a bit too quickly towards your elevator, index jamming into the up button.

“I knew it !” and, when you hide yourself in the metal cubicle, you see your old friend making a few happy dance moves with his arms, you wonder if you’re seeing Jaehyun in the future.

“Alright, how’s this ?”, you ask Jaehyun after stepping right in front of your phone. You’re actually video chatting with your blonde friend, but you can barely see half of his face, he decided to hold his phone so close you could only see from his hairline to the bridge of his nose.

“Turn around.”, he says, breath overloading his device’s microphone. You do so anyways, showing him the outfit you decided to wear for tonight. Obviously, it was just a small gathering between neighbors, you didn’t have to go all in with a cocktail dress but, a nice and pretty one was expected. Following your friend’s order, you turn to show off a black, thin strapped, body hugging dress you got a year ago and yet, never wore.

“Is that your mom’s jacket ?”, Jaehyun asks, chewing on what you think is a handful of chips. You hum at the question, you’re indeed wearing the oversized jean jacket you mother used to wear when she was in college. “The dress looks hot, when did you buy it ?”

“Eh, last year ? Around the middle of the summer.”, you tell your friend, stepping out of your phone’s camera to search for your earrings. “Wait, you never wore it, right ?” “Nope.”, from a distance, you can hear Jaehyun mumbling something about you having too many clothes. Maybe he’s right, but you brush the remark anyways, taking your rings.

“How’s my makeup ?”, you ask, kneeling in front of your phone, you step closer to let the blonde have a closer look at your eyes makeup. “You know I don’t know shit about makeup !”, he complains, finally letting you see his face as he moves his phone. “Jaehyun, does it look good ?”, you ask him, acting annoyed at his antics.

“Yes, you look good.”, he says, voice somewhat a high pitched tone as he snaps a picture once you stand up again. “If lover boy doesn’t kiss you tonight.” Small smile stretches your lips at the compliment, you decide to brush the second sentence off, applying some lipstick before checking your watch.

“And you’re telling me he acted like nothing happened ?”, Jaehyun asks, sound of the chips bag covering his voice. You sigh at that, eyes rolling a little, you think no matter how many times you’ll tell him, he’ll keep asking. “He did. I mean, his roommate was there so, he couldn’t really…Y’know ?”

A quick glance at the bag you’re supposed to bring down to the gathering starting in fifteen minutes, it holds the dozens of crêpes you, Johnny and Ten made a bit earlier. Just like it was planned before hand, you showed up after class to their apartment, Ten was the one who opened the door. Apparently, Johnny was a bit late, his teacher’s lecture went on for a bit longer than anticipated and when he showed up, he immediately helped with the batter. The brunette greeted you like he usually would and acted like nothing happened the night before, though you don’t blame him, not when his roommate was between the two of you half of the time. You had to bring your own pan after realizing how many crêpes you’d actually make and, after about two hours, you left to get ready. Let’s just say Jaehyun was not happy with the lack of exciting events. You weren’t either, but you still somehow hoped something would happen tonight, somewhere deep in your thoughts. However, you didn’t want to think too much about it, tonight was a gathering to celebrate and have fun, you didn’t want to overthink what happened the night prior.

“Anyways, I have to go.”, you finally tell you friend, who simply tells you to enjoy yourself and text him after before hanging up.

Heavy bag of crêpes in your hand, you slide out of your apartment after spraying some perfume on your neck. Locking your door, your neighbors are quick to follow as you agreed to go together and, fuck.

He looks hot, Johnny looks hot. There’s a slight second where you stay silent and take in his figure, legs hugged by a tight pair of black jeans, cotton white blouse slightly open on his caramel chest, the golden hour isn’t even here and yet, the slight bit of sun hitting his skin makes him glow. You know, you know he caught you staring and yet he stays silent, slight smirk tugging a side of his full lips.

“Y/N, Ma’am !”, Ten’s voice drags you out of you reverie. The men takes a step closer, you notice the very pricy Yves Saint Laurent grey and white top he’s wearing. “You look fucking good ! Right ?”, it seemed the men only needed a few hours to get familiar with you, but you don’t complain and smile at the compliment.

“You do, you look amazing.”, if Ten managed to make you smile brightly at his antics, Johnny’s low voice only makes you blush and your eyes waver a bit, not knowing where to look, almost unable to keep eye contact with the tallest. “Thank you. I-, hm, you too.”

Great.

“Thank you. Let’s get going, I don’t want to be late.”, thankfully, he doesn’t say more, hand grabbing onto his own bag where you assume he has the chocolate and strawberry spread.

“Wait, what about me ?”, his roommate asks, acting so offended you wonder if he isn’t actually hurt by the lack of compliment you and his roommate showed. The smallest frowns, angry glare at Johnny who doesn’t even notice him as he went towards the elevator to call for the metal box.

“This shirt looks amazing on you, very pricy too.”, you tell your neighbor with a laugh, stepping right behind the tallest, waiting.

“And I already told you it looked good.”, he says, right before stepping in the elevator.

“Thank you, Y/N.”, the black haired says your name a bit louder, but you don’t pay too much attention either.

Poor thing, if you and Johnny aren’t aware yet of the tension, Ten sure is, and he hates every bit of it when he understands, stuck in an elevator where he’s the third wheel. By the way, has your elevator always been so small ? Your back leans against one wall as Johnny does the same right in front of you, honey eyes traveling from your eyes to your uncovered collarbones. The brunettes tries, he really tries to stop his eyes from traveling down but they do eventually, swallowing built up saliva when his pupils travel down your hips, to your naked legs.

Ten’s almost about to say something, just to break the thick silence before the doors opening saves the young men, he decides he definitely is not going to stay with the two of you tonight.

You, on the other side, seem to finally be able to breathe once you step out the elevator, Johnny’s attention did not go unnoticed. Try and act normal, probably the only thing going on your mind and Johnny’s.

“Hey, look who it is !”, Miss Jeon’s voice is heard before you can even see her. You’re familiar with the park the gathering is taking place in, but it sure looks amazing in the late afternoon. At this time of the year, the grass’ green, flowers bloomed, small fruits are starting to turn red under the summer sunlight. Even better, the water fountains are on, the one right in the middle is large, tall, multicolor lights when the moon shines. Finally, when you and your two friends turn the corner to enter the park, you’re physically greeted by Miss Jeon who’s wearing a really pretty pen skirt, hair flowing in the soft summer wind. “Miss Jeon !”, you greet her with a smile which isn’t enough for the lady who pulls you into a hug. One hand grabs yours and the tallest makes you swirl around, a high pitched “Wow ! Look at you !”, coming out of her lips.

“You look amazing, darling. You two, too.”, as always, the lady is extremely cheerful. You notice hers and other neighbors’ kids already playing around in the park, loud screams every now and then. A bit closer to the fountain, multicolor light are hanging from the threes, you can faintly distinguish a song playing. Large tables are set there, alongside chairs were parents and others are all talking together, setting whatever they bought.

“Go set everything there, we’ll start eating soon.”, Miss Jeon instructs, and you follow her orders as she stays in front of the park to greet anyone coming.

Everything is quickly set up where all the deserts are, neighbors come until you they flood the park, you almost think everyone’s here. “I did not expect so many people.”, Johnny tells you, taking a plastic cup to get himself some juice right before giving you a cup.

“Me neither.”, you tell him, eyes glazing over the last people walking in. Almost everyone responded to the call, a pretty heart warming sigh. Some of your neighbors you never actually talked to are here, mostly because they’re from other buildings from the same project.

“I see Ten is already making friends.”, you continue, eyes catching your friend talking to another neighbor, one you think is in his early thirties, you’ve talked to him once, maybe.

“Ten is a social butterfly.”, Johnny laughs into his cup, before eventually taking a step forward toward the black haired. If his roommate was going to socialize, he might as well too.

“I think it is overrated.”, ah yes, now you remember why you did not much to this guy. James is a foreign, blonde, man bun type of guy who finds everything overrated, it’s almost impossible to talk about your hobbies and interests with him without being ripped apart. He probably isn’t that mean just, not that good at social interaction. You see Ten’s expression turning from excited to somewhat confused, to what you intervene.

“What is ?”, you ask, and you don’t really like when the blonde acts like he did not notice you and Johnny walking.

“Oh, Y/N, hi. Long time no see.”, he says, not paying any attention to Johnny. You greet him anyways, slightly taken back by his attitude. “And you are ?”

“Johnny.”, the men behind you says, stretching a hand out to shake his.

“Oh, strong grip.”, slight contortion of the blond’s face, he quickly retracts his hand when Johnny lets go.

“Anyways, when are you letting me see you play ?”, James ask and oh, how you have to search in your memory to understand what the fuck he’s talking about. The blonde wants to learn how to play the guitar, that was, maybe eight months ago.

“Oh eh. One day, maybe.”, you awkwardly laugh.

“We hear you play every night, don’t say you don’t have time for me !”, he tries and laugh off the sentence. Ten shifts, poor thing seems taken back but thankfully, Johnny’s quick to react. As you’re about to respond, his hand slides on your waist, “I’m pretty busy with uni’, but I can send you some great guitarists’ videos.”, you choke out, mind slightly bugging at the brunette’s touch.

“She’ll let you know when she has time for you.”, the tallest does not hesitate and, it visibly annoys the blonde. A sharp “Okay .”, tumbles from his lips before he leaves towards the salty foods.

“He’s weird.”, Ten finally says, Johnny doesn’t take his hand away.

It takes hours for Johnny to address it again.

The midnight breeze always feels special, soft, fresh, it licks the thin layer of sweat the bolt sun created on your skin. Your jacket’s off your shoulders, loosely hanging on the crook of your elbows, seating on the cold marble of the fountain.

Soft sound of the water running behind you, all the kids have been sent to sleep, alongside their parents and other hard working adults needing of sleep, just the low sound of some jazz music you’re unfamiliar with and some chatter as the background noise.

You shoes kick off some small rocks and sand, eyes looking up at the multicolor lights still hanging on the trees. You laugh off one of Johnny’s joke, before he gets serious again, his left hand lightly touching the fountain’s water.

“By the way, sorry about earlier. I didn’t ask if I could touch you like that.”

You have to think for a slight second to understand what he’s talking about, hand grabbing onto the bowl of ice cream you set aside for yourself. Your spoon digs into the chocolate cream, taking a fair amount of whipped cream.

“Oh ! Oh, no. Don’t worry about it, I don’t mind.”, I liked it, you would’ve said if you were a little bit more brave. Spoon in your mouth, you eagerly gulp down the frozen desert, Johnny only softly smiles.

“Is he always like that ?”, he asks, body turning a bit more to face you. He’s close, really close, but it became normal. It became normal for him to have your naked thigh against his, you shamelessly look down at it for god knows how many times tonight. It became normal for you to almost be able to feel his breath die on your skin.

“I don’t know, tonight was the second time I ever talked to him.”, you tell him, tongue quickly cleaning the tiny drop of ice cream forming at the corner of your lips. Johnny stays silent for a second, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips, before its feels like he shakes his thoughts away. His gaze stays fixated on your eyes so confidently it’s even worst than him looking at your lips, you shift under his pupils, crossing a leg over the other.

“He seems really pushy.”, Johnny breathes out, and he finds the exact same octave he was speaking to you in just last night, right in front of his apartment. It’s clear he only is replying for politeness.

“You have hm, some ice cream, here.”, the brunette hums, again ripping you out of your reverie. Left hand covers your mouth, index and middle finger brushing at the corner but it seems you are not picking the right side.

“Wait, no-.”, he laughs for a quick second, crescent eyes before they shift to something else. His thumb quickly wipes the other side of your lips, and you freeze. You lock dead in your position, eyes slightly larger as he helps you clean up with a soft yet deep “There you go.”

For hours now, Johnny had been the only thing on your mind. From the moment he stepped out of his apartment, the moment his eyes seemed to devour every bit of your body, the moment he left is hand lingering on the small of your waist. To the moment he sat down to eat, legs, strong thighs spread, the moment he talked to the smallest kids from the second building, the moment he lead you behind the fountain with a hand in the small of your back.

But, when Johnny lets his lips capture the tip of his thumb, cleaning the bit of ice cream, you think you might never be able to think about anything else but him, but Johnny.

You have to look away, desperately trying to gather your thoughts, something you can’t do when the brunette’s looking at you with such innocent eyes.

“You okay ?”, he asks like he didn’t do anything, like he did not just do that.

“Yeah, I-.”, you have to leave you plastic bowl somewhere behind you, brain fuming to find something else to say.

“You’re blushing. You had the same look yesterday.”, he notes, and…He knows ? He knew before you did, that’s what his slight smirk tells you. “It’s a shame Ten had to ruin it, but I like this setting better.”, Johnny hums, but he never takes his eyes away.

“Could’ve kissed me anyways.”, you dare to say. Your mouth goes dry, for some reason, biting down on your bottom lip. The brunette comes a little closer, and just like last time, you can't help but get lost in his irises, notice the way his eyes curl at their inner corner, now how his pupils slowly eclipses the soft brown of his eyes.

Tongue poking at the inside of his cheek, his lines a bit closer again, hand sliding under your chin. You stop breathing for a second, eyelids involuntarily growing heavy.

“Did I miss my shot ?”, you can almost feel him mouth the words.

“Maybe, but I can give you another one.”, you manage to tease, face tilting to the side before he even does anything. If he doesn't do it himself, you'll break the distance, but he holds you in the palm of his hand, so hypnotise under his spell you can only anticipate his next move.

“Good, would've hated myself for missing it.”, he says and, as you hoped, the brunette finally lets his lips crash against yours. It's soft, a kiss to taste the water, though he himself taste the chocolate you just ate.

Pillows lips slowly starts moving against yours, you easily follow his rhythm, sighing when his hand moves from your chin to your neck, deepening the exchange.

Your hand easily finds his hair, finally letter your fingers grasp onto the soft locks. It's a soft grip, yet Johnny sighs softly against your lips, sound turning into a slight groan once you bite down on his bottom lip.

That does it for him, the kiss quickly turns needy, desperate, he touches where he can, second hand lightly running up your thigh.

Arms wrap behind his neck to keep him close, body leaning backwards, Johnny has to plant a hand on the marble behind you, second hand wrapping behind your waist.

The brunette doesn't hesitate a second more, like he's afraid of letting go of the moment, afraid you're gonna slip away between his fingers like the clear water of the fountain. Pick tongue laps at your bottom lip, you part them without a moment of hesitation. It's eager, rushed, the taste of the desert you just ate still lingers on your tongue while you get the fruity drink he was sipping on moments before.

Finally, when you have to let go for some air, breathing altered by the exchange, Johnny doesn't let go. Long kisses are planted at the corner of your lips, he takes his time until he travels down to your jaw where you stop him.

And, before he can ask you anything, you quickly grab his hand in yours, “Let's go inside.”

He follows quickly behind, leaving everything behind, you take the second gate of the park. Shorter, you also don't have to walk in front of all your remaining neighbors like this, lips swollen, eyes blown.

You don't think you've ever walked so fast to your apartment, you don't think you've ever been so happy to see Sangkyu's spot vacant.

The silence is heavy, breath still uneven when you push the button of the elevator and the doors open immediately.

If you didn't know the men behind you was as desperate as you were, you definitely understand once he pushed you inside the small cubicle.

He blindly pushes the button to your shared floor, right hand wrapping around your throat to swiftly push you against the cold wall. If he doesn't tighten his grip, you sure wish he did, but you have other things to care about at the moment. The hand previously around your neck plants itself right next to your hand and this time, he has to lean down to capture your lips another time.

Completely pinning your body to the cold metal, he uses his hips against yours, a gasp escaping your lips he uses to slip his tongue between your lips again. And, you let a breathy moan come out of your lips when he pushes his hips flush against your, hard on pressing against your body. Even with the two layers, you can feel him.

You never felt so hot inside this elevator, it moves without stopping at any floor, no music as the silence is filled by your soft breaths and the sound of his mouth against yours.

Beat washes over you, if your panties weren't ruined already, they sure are now. Now that the brunette rolls his hips, slowly, tentatively slow, just to make you feel every inch. Your mind's clouded, body reacting by itself when it archs away from the wall.

He lets his forearm rest against the metal wall, about to travel down to your neck, hips grinding against yours.

When he's about to bite down on the skin of yours neck, teeth grazing over the flesh, the doors open to your floor.

It's Johnny's turn to grab onto your hand, pulling you out of the elevator but he never stays too long away from your body.

Full lips pepper kisses on your face, before he breathes out against your skin.

“Your apartment, yeah ?”

Obviously, you want to tell him, naturally walking towards your door.

“Unless you want your roommate to walk in on us.”, you let a breathy giggle out, facing your door.

Fuck, now out of all times, you can not find your keys. Maybe it's because your shaky hands can barely search your pockets. Hard to blame yourself when the brunette stands behind you, hard cock pressed against you, arms tightly wrapped around your stomach, face buried in your neck.

“Baby, they're here.”, the tallest hums, voice so low it vibrates against your skin. His right hands pats one of your front pockets. A simple “Oh.” tumbles from your lips at that, mind hardly registering the way he still his moving against your body, nickname rolling out of his tongue too easily.

Finally, you manage to force your key into your door, quickly twisting the metal piece before you push the door open.

This time, you don't know if you pull Johnny in your apartment or if he pushes you in, the door is loudly shut before the men tries to take your near your coach, as you drop your jacket off somewhere.

“Johnny.”, you try to whine, but it comes out as a breathy moan as the men soflty sucks on the skin between your neck and shoulder, a pale purple petal blooming. His name coming from your lips sounds oh so delicious, Johnny decides he loves the way it sounds, determined to hear it again and again, louder and louder. “Let me at least close the door.”

When he lets you do so, not whitout a pout on his lips, they find yours again in a desperate kiss, hands grabbing the back of your thighs.

“This dress looks so fucking good on you.”, he growls once you let him pick you up, black fabric riding up your thighs.

“Got dressed up for you.”, you confess, your own lips traveling down his neck when the brunette sits down on your coach. He chuckles lowly, head rolling back, humming at the small attentions you're giving him. “Hm, saw you putting your makeup on and knew you'd look ravishing.”, he says.

Large hands on your hips, Johnny easily pushes your hips down on his thigh.

“Wow, I'll make sure to pull my curtains next time.”, you tease, blooming flowers on his collarbones.

“Give me a fucking show next time.”, he growls out, hand ghosting over your neck before his thumb traces your bottom lip again.

You almost freeze, mere thought of following his oder the next time you catch him in front of his window a little bit too appealing. Having him so close yet, too far to feel his touch, you already felt it for days.

“Come on, ride my thigh.”, you moan out.

Forceful hands help you find a rhythm, one you easily follow once your thoughts get over your dizzy mind. You mouth hands open, hands grabbing onto his arms at the sudden gesture. Johnny only smirks, an eyebrow arching up.

If he didn't before, he sure does look like a god at this very moment. Blown out pupil look directly into your eyes, honey color you know so well eclipsed. Swollen, red lips, a hue painted over his cheeks, small love bites trialing down. Soft brown hair messy by your hands.

“What ? You think I didn't see you glaring ?”, there's a slight mocking tone in his voice, slight embarrassment washing over you but your body follows his voice anyways. Strong thigh under your core, you can barely gather words to reply, it's even harder when he flexs his muscles under you.

Your hips rocks back and forth, delicious pressure against your nub but you need more, more than just his thigh. He has everything to offer and if you don't get it now, you might go crazy.

And so, you tell him. “Johnny, need more.”, your voice sure sounded a lot less weak but the men obliges.

“Impatient little thing.”, he gestures towards your room, and when think you might not be able to walk all the way there without him pushing you against another wall, you surprisingly do.

When you turn around and crawl up your bed, Johnny's quick to follow, hands gripping onto the fabric covering his back before he pulls it over his head.

Defined abs under his caramel skin, strong arms holding himself up, you need a moment to take everything in, hands running down his chest when he hover over your body.

“Take it off.”, he demands, voice almost strict. Leg over his hip, you barely use any force to change positions.

You sit on his lap a second time, supporting yourself on your knees to take off your dress. The brunette uses his elbows, mouth parting when you pull the fabric over your hips. He barely needs any support to sit up, hands grasping the black dress to help you take the fabric off entirely.

The brunette mumbles praises into your skin, lips ghosting over your neck, hands touching wherever they can. Desperate, he maps your body, learning every curve, every inch.

“So beautiful.”, he mumbles out, before his right hand traces the line of your panties.

They're soaked, wet patch on his black jeans and he doesn't fail to notice.

“Already so wet, hm ? Fuck, can I ?”, he doesn't hesitate once you give him your verbal permission, a finger running over your folds over the light fabric.

What a simple touch can do to you, you don't doubt the men doing it also has a huge part in it, but you shiver under the slight attention.

Biting down on his bottom lip, ring clapped hand dips into your panties, where his index and middle finger gather your juices, humming contently.

You're about to complain again, ask him to do something already but he beats you at it, both fingers effortlessly sliding between your lower lips.

“Fuck, ah— Johnny.”, hands gripping his shoulders, your eyes screw shut once he finds a slow and torturing pace, moving in and out as his thumb brushes over your bud.

It's sensual, burning, one hand travels down his chest until you're met with his jeans, quickly working on them once he nods.

You curse his tight jeans for a moment before he helps you push the fabric just enough, alongside his grey briefs.

And fuck, he's big. You knew when he grinded against your inner thigh, but the way his cock slaps against his stomach, head red and hungry, has your mouth parting, core clenching against his fingers.

“Shit, yeah. Good girl, right there.”, Johnny loses himself in praises, head rushing with thoughts he groans out once your hand wraps around his length.

It's probably the honest thing you've ever seen, Johnny's head rolls back, it hits the wall of your bedroom, Adam's appel bobbing up and down. The pace of his fingers matches the rhythm of your hand around his cock, eyes slightly opening just to watch your slender fingers around him and the way you take his.

“You're so fucking tight, god.”, a third finger goes alongside and you have to pose, jaw hanging open and the brunette can not resist.

His mouth finds yours again, kisses deep, messy, hurried. It's like his starving, he growl against your mouth when your thumb runs over his slit and your hips move against his fingers.

“Fuck, wanna taste you.”, he flips you over too easily, a gasp coming out of your lips when you back harshly hits your bed.

Strong hands gripping at your panties, your hear the sharp snap of the elastic breaking under his soaked fingers.

“Johnny !”, it's between a whine and a moan, how can him ruining your panties be so fucking hot.

“Will get you new ones if you want.”, you can barely recognise his voice, his fingers slide the fabric down and he looks up at you, eyes hungry, lips red.

“You have no fucking idea how hard I was when I found your panties.”, he confesses and, before you can reply, his mouth dives in. Tongue flat against your core, your legs instinctively close around his head, but his hands are quick to pin your thighs to the mattress while yours find his hair, messing it even more.

“Yeah ? Fuck, you're so good, your tongue feels so good.”

Johnny only hums, tongue running up and down until he wraps his lips around your button of nerves. The brunette's eating you out like a starved men, shamelessly, the wet sounds filling the room.

When he takes a break to breathe, he pops his fingers into his mouth, cleaning them.

“Taste so good.”, every word he says fires your body up even more, his mouth doesn't even need to speak for it to affect you, but you need him.

He dives a second time, fingers joining this time. Pace a lot less slow, his lips wrap around your bud a second time, focusing on the small button while his fingers quickly move.

In, out, in, out. Long fingers quickly build up the tension in your stomach, cold rings contrasting with his hot breath.

You only need a little bit more, when his fingers curl the right way, his groans vibrate at the right moment. Your fingers tighten around his locks as you come undone, loudly, unapologetically.

Wet lips, glossy eyes, Johnny looks at your figure as you arch your back away from your bed, moaning into the air.

It takes almost minutes for you to come down but, when you do, Johnny's about to dive a third time. Your hand stops his head.

“Want you inside, want to feel you.”, you tell him once you pulled him towards you face again. A quick kiss is planted on your lips where you can taste yourself, before he hides his face again in your neck, breathing heavily.

“Do you have a condom ?”, he asks, blown out eyes looking into your own.

You nod quickly, pointing at your bed table. You hear the brunette thanking the gods, he didn't want to have and walk all the way to his own appartement to get one. Leaning towards the said bed table, he pulls the small door open and find the box there.

Taking a little foil package between his lips, Johnny quickly closes the small door before hovering over you again.

Pearly teeth are used to open the packaging, he doesn't wait a second to roll the material out on his hard shaft, sighing slightly.

“So tiny, can you even take me ?”, it seems the brunette asks himself, hand jerking himself off.

You answer him anyways, “I can, please.”.

Soft smile on his lips, the brunette uses his hand to align himself with your drenched core.

The tallest thought about this very moment for hours the night before, but nothing prepared him for the tightenes, your wet, hot core wrapping around his head.

You both moan in almost unison, Johnny has to hold himself from slamming in. You, on the other hand, have a hard time wrapping your head around how he's stretching you out so nicely.

A mixture of pleasure and slight pain you're quickly addicted to. A hand claws at his back, the tallest moves inch, by inch, by inch.

“So fucking tight. When's the last time someone fucked you properly ?”, his sudden change in behaviour gives you whiplash, you can only whine at his question and mumble something about not knowing when, exactly.

“Please, fuck me.”, if you have to beg, you will but thankfully, Johnny doesn't have much patience tonight. Once he's fully in, he doesn't hesitate to pull out just to ram in. Your body rides up, head thrown back, moan silent.

“Gonna fuck you nice and deep. Stretch you, yeah ?”

You can only nod eagerly, Johnny laughs breathlessly. His forearm supports his body right next to you head, necklace hanging over your body, right hand tightly holding your hip.

He barely gives you the time to adjust, hips snapping at a steady pace.

Headboard sharply knocking against your wall, your thankful your neighbors aren't here. Still sensitive, your moans turn breathless, barely audible. Forehead against your own, Johnny doesn't hide his moans, your name, any profanities coming to his mind.

“Fuck, turn around for me, baby.”, breathless, chest irregularly moving up and down, he helps you do so after moving out.

Flipping you on your stomach, the brunette curses at himself a second time. His body flush against yours, he supports himself next to your head again, second hand affectionaly running in your hair.

He takes you from behind, cock easily sliding in this time. Moans hidden in your pillow, Johnny doesn't take that, using the hand locked in your locks to turn your head.

“Don't hide your moans, wanna hear you.”

Just like he wanted after stepping into your apartment, the tallest has you whining his name, loudly, until you're numbed, fucked dumb until his name's the only thing you know.

A snap of his hips reaches deeper, it's there you feel the tension threatening to break.

It's like he can read you, he does it again, breathy laugh coming out of his lips.

“Come around me, let go. Let go for me.”, it's all you need, you easily follow his order, core tightening around his shaft.

“God, your pussy’s gripping me.”, his hips alter, lips finding yours again. “Gonna make me come so hard.”

Fucked out, yet you managed to raise your hips, core clenching around him. That does it, loud growl resonates in the room, mixed in with your name.

“Are you okay ?”, Johnny asks, voice soft after he pulls out, throwing the condom in your bin.

You hum, too tired to answer, you smile nonetheless when he takes you into his arm, arm pushing your hair to the side.

“This isn't how I wanted things to go.”, he hums, picking a fallen eyelash from your cheek.

“Oh, really ?”, you ask, tired, his hand running up and down your spine putting you to sleep.

“Wanted to take you out on a date first.”, he admits. “But how do you want me to resist when you were calling me like a siren singing at a lone traveler.”

© NEOVISIONED l NO REPOSTING OR TRANSLATIONS ALLOWED.

[dizzyingdaze]

no seats | s.r

a scenario where you can't keep your mouth shut and steve rogers wouldn't want it any other way.

only warning is cursing

New York was somewhere you never thought you'd visit let alone live in, yet here you were. Clutching the bag of your friends coat as she shuffled her way into the busy cafe during lunch time, the worst time to be in any cafe in the city.

Women in pencil skirts exchanged pleasantries with men in dark suits, briefcases occasionally knocking off the guitar case lain against one of the long sofas a group of teenagers occupied.

The jazzy playlist was overtaken by the loud chatter of the customers, the scent of fresh toasted panini's and cinnamon buns intermingling with the raw coffee bean tones. It was chaos to be short if the screaming baby who knocked over their babysitters iced coffee, smack in the middle of the bustling building, was any indication.

Hearing a hefty sigh pass your side, a young worker grabbed a mop and placed down a wet floor sign, shooing anybody standing nearby away.

"Oh no, we're not going to get any seats I think," your friend Karolina said to you, eyeing the usual window seats taken filled up completely.

You signed in response as the line waddled forward, names being shouted out as you continued to eye all tables, eager to jump at any tables with packing bags and empty drinks.

"I'm going to shoot upstairs and check, get me a mocha?," She nodded her head in reply as you broke away from the impatient grumbles and weaved through the tables.

As you neared the end of the stairs, accidentally kicking an empty cup on the floor, you eyed a girl sitting by herself, nestled in the of the window sets. Her bag sat on one chair while an empty one sat across from her.

Eyes widening with an idea you began to walk towards her when a couple beat you there. An almost six foot boy placed his hands down on the table, garnering the attention of the lone girl.

"My girl and I need somewhere to sit and I see your cup is nearly empty. Mind moving? Thanks," He bared his teeth at her in an almost smile, the annoyed crease between his blonde brows giving him away.

His girlfriend seemed less than interested, typing out a message on her phone, only glancing up when the girl opened her mouth.

"Actually I'm waiting on somebody as I'm meant to be tutoring, I don't mind giving you one of the seats though?" She gave a watery smile, her hands beginning to slowly shake at his direct nature.

He downright glared at her response, leaning further into his hands until his face was an inch away from hers. "I was being courteous, now I'm annoyed. Move it,"

Her face flushed red at the embarrassment as his girlfriend began to giggle behind him, clearly used to his egotistical nature. Your own face flushed too but rather in anger, just who the fuck is this dick ordering around random girls?

What a huff you strode up to till you stood between the two, pushing him back with your hand you glared harshly at him as a "What the fuck?" escaped his lips.

'What the fuck yourself, who are you to tell this girl to move? Everybody here wants a seat to yet you don't seem them acting like a little child," You spat watching his neck go red at the confrontation, clearly not used to it.

He stumbled for a second finding words before shooting back "I can tell whoever I want to move especially if she's been sitting there with an empty coffee cup. I don't have to listen to any bitch trying to boss me around!" The cafe had gone quiet as he shouted out the last sentence, Karolina looking on surprised, the drinks held in her hand. She moved forward to pull you away from the scene but you didn't even budge.

"Oh I'm the bitch? That's rich coming from a dickhead picking on somebody smaller than him, tell me, do you always start throwing tantrums when you don't get what you want? Like a child?," Hearing you call him a child again seem to strike a chord in him.

His girlfriend moved to pull him back as his hand balled in a fist, Karolina whispered to you "Not again, let's go please," into your ear. But you both shared the same stubborn nature, refusing to move.

The tension rose as you just stared each other down, veins almost bulging, jaws clenched so tight they began to ache. The man pointed his finger right in your face, the thought of biting it ran through your mind. "You do not tell me what to do and I'm not a fucking child you hear me? You better learn to keep your sharp tongue to yourself and out of my goddamn affairs!" His attention shifted to the girl he had originally spoken to, her eyes beginning to tear up as he moved the finger from you to her.

Pushing him back again, outraged at the audacity he had to even speak to her again you pushed him back full force with both your hands, grounding your boots into the sticky floor. Taken aback he stumbled into his girlfriend and you swore you could see his pride take a physical hit.

Without missing a beat he rolled his shoulders and balled his fists and you did the same before two large figures stepped between you two.

"Easy there tough guy, hitting a dame the best way to win a fight you shouldn't have started?" The voice wasn't familiar but the metal fingers peeking out of the black denim jacket was, clutching the boys shoulder so hard he bent forward at it. "Let me go what the fuck-" He started before the stranger grabbed the back of his lettermen jacket and dragged him out of the shop through the back exit, the girlfriend shouting along with him as she followed them out.

The second man had bent down in front of the girl in the middle of this all, her shoulders shaking as the man whispered soothingly to her. You coughed awkwardly uncurling your fists, clocking all the eyes on you and your friend just deadpanned at you. "Don't you even try, why does your ass always have to get in the middle of other peoples business? I said, don't start!" She placed a finger over your lips as you obediently went quiet.

You could always explain later. You turned to face the man and the girl, to see how she was when you recognized who he really was. Light blue eyes stared into yours as you took in the broad shoulders and blonde hair peeking out from under his cap. You just blinked in surprise but said nothing, choosing to crouch in front of the girl who was no longer shaking.

"Are you alright?" She nodded, thanking you as she bent forward for a hug you gladly returned, albeit a bit quickly because there was so many people here. "I probably would have moved and most likely cried in the bathroom so you know, thanks for that," You grinned at her response, standing up as Karolina threw her free hand up.

"If you're not outside in the next five minutes i'm throwing your drink down the drain," She stalked out, blonde ponytail bouncing behind her as the onlookers resumed their previous activities, leaving you standing rather stiffly in front of Captain fucking America.

"I take it from your friend being annoyed, you do that thing a lot?" His lips curling up as you nodded shortly. "She's not actually annoyed at me, she'd be more annoyed if I let that twat continue to shout at her and do nothing," He chuckled at that, stuffing his hands into his jacket pocket as you stared at the door your friend left.

"Well don't let me hold you back but hey, Captain America approves of your social justicing! Or in the name of social justice? You get what I mean," His cheeks blushed a light pink as you giggled at his roundabout way of complimenting you.

"Yeah I'll say that next time it happens. Nice to know an Avenger approves! I'd better go..." You trailed off as he stepped to the side and sent a curt salute your way.

As he watched you saunter away Bucky, who re entered the shop from the entrance, clapped a hand on his shoulder, sighing lowly. "She reminds me of you in some weird, female way, hopefully she doesn't end up in back-alley brawls" He commented, Steve scoffed as they made their way back to the two seater in the corner of the cafe, drinks now a gross lukewarm temperature.

"Please, did you hear her? Her words alone could get a guy bleeding internally," The words slipped out and Bucky whistled at them. "Didn't know all it took was some curse words and authority to get you mushy. Yet, Natasha is a poster child for it and you couldn't care less," Bucky grimaced after sipping his hot chocolate, the once sweet warm mixture now cold and slimy on his tongue.

The other soldier slowly circled the rim of his latte, thinking of how fast you stood up to him, pointing your finger up in his face. "Nat sticks up to assholes 'cause it's her job but she did it for the sake of it. Excuse me, I am not mushy!" He sent a quick dig to his friends shin the offended's brows furrowed at the sharp pain.

"Oh yeah? You're wearing the same damn look you did when Peggy came into the pub all those nights ago. Bet you even tried to find her name on those coffee cups the blonde had," Rubbing the attacked body part, Bucky snidely remarked.

Steve said nothing in response, choosing to stare out the window next to him. He was right, your quickly scribbled name was engraved in his mind as was the white ford fiesta you had hopped in a few meters down from the cafe. Not that he was looking, of course, it was mere coincidence his eyes never seemed to leave your figure.

Mere coincidence, he thought to himself as Bucky rolled his eyes at his friends behaviour. He wondered what weird excuse Steve was going to give for the rest of the week or month it would take to run into you again.

[likeshipsonthesea]

withdrawal

wangxian modern quarantine au! warning for quarantine and covid references

Lan Wangji doesn’t touch other people.

He doesn’t remember when, exactly, this started being true. Sometime after Mother died, but before he left for boarding school. Xichen enjoyed touch, would ruffle Wangji’s hair, nudge their feet together under the dinner table, but when he left for school, Uncle never so much as pat Wangji’s shoulder. Lan Wangji doesn’t fault Uncle for his own aversion to affection, but he assumes it must have contributed to his current relationship to touching in some way.

The point is, Lan Wangji doesn’t like touching other people, and yet, by the third month of quarantine, he is craving it.

It’s ridiculous. It isn’t as if quarantine has drastically changed the amount of tangible affection he receives on a weekly basis -- before lock down started, the most touching he had to endure was from Wei Ying, which was as inconsistent as it was devastating. A tipsy Wei Ying leaning into his chest, a brush of fingers as they exchanged utensils before a meal, a brief press of Wei Ying’s smiling cheek into Wangji’s shoulder when he said something that made Wei Ying laugh.

These moments were important, at least to Wangji, but by no means frequently occurring enough to warrant an addiction and subsequent withdrawal, and yet Wangji sits in his apartment, meditating, trying to clear his mind, and all he can think about is hugging Wei Ying.

The third month of quarantine is spent, in addition to adjusting to online interactions for work and school, daydreaming about touching Wei Ying. And not even in an untoward way! He daydreams about sitting next to him on the couch, or letting Wei Ying use his thigh as a pillow, or -- Heavens help him -- holding hands.

On the fourth month, Wei Ying texts him with several emojis and the words no pressure bc i know u don’t wanna risk ur uncle’s health, but would u be down for a totally properly socially distanced dinner tomorrow night????

Lan Wangji, for one of the first times in his life, is grateful for texting, if only for the fact that he can’t say yes as desperately fast as he would’ve in person.

Dinner happens on the balcony of Wei Ying’s small apartment, his tiny plastic porch table filled with take-out. They sit on either end of the balcony, a little less than two meters between them. Wei Ying talks with his mouth full and gestures so vigorously with his utensils that spicy red sauce goes flying across the table. Lan Wangji drinks it all in like a drowning man might gasp in air.

“--and Uncle must be faking his Zoom incompetency at his point, there’s no way anyone could be that bad at it. I think he just pretends so Madam Yu has to set everything up, which of course frustrates her to no end, and then Jiang Cheng tries to help and gets so red in the face that he looks like a slightly pixelated tomato. So every call starts off on a bad note, but that’s alright because then shijie puts Jin Ling on the screen and we all shut up and look at how cute he is--”

Lan Wangji is accustomed to the weight of his own feelings for Wei Ying, and it isn’t as if he hasn’t spoken with Wei Ying at all since quarantine started, but it’s just so good to have Wei Ying in front of him, laughing and talking and moving and here. Lan Wangji wants to touch him so badly his skin aches.

He knows why he shouldn’t. The virus, of course -- he still sees Uncle regularly and Wei Ying is hoping to visit his sister and her newborn son this weekend, Wei Ying picked up the food for them, Lan Wangji walked over, the possibility of either of them having contracted it is low but not zero -- but more than that, even, is that Lan Wangji has no idea how to ask.

“Wei Ying,” he tries to visualize the words, “Wei Ying, may I hug you?”

Wei Ying would probably blink, scrunch up his nose in that way he does when attacking a particularly difficult problem set for his courses. He’d probably shrug, agree, confused, or, worse, suspect Lan Wangji’s intentions are impure and suffer through it awkwardly. It isn’t unusual for friends to ask for hugs, but Lan Wangji asking for a hug? Unheard of.

If Wangji hadn’t spent the past three months wishing to see Wei Ying in person, he would probably be so distracted by his thoughts of touching that he wouldn’t hear a single word Wei Ying says. Fortunately, his obsessive touching thoughts aren’t enough to draw his attention away from Wei Ying’s happy rambling, and so he manages to get through the meal without giving himself a coronary.

When it’s been at least an hour since either of them have touched a bite of food and the sky has gone so dark that they can hardly see one another across the table, Wei Ying says, “Ah, I guess I’d better let you leave.”

Lan Wangji doesn’t ask to stay, but it’s a near thing. They put their masks back on and Wangji helps clean up, despite Wei Ying’s protests, and when everything is away and Lan Wangji has his leftovers in a plastic bag, Wei Ying walks him the four steps to the front door and his eyes squint above his mask.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, rocking on his feet. “I know you’re trying to keep your uncle safe and stuff, but I really missed you.”

Lan Wangji’s chest clenches as he stops breathing for a moment. He wants to tell Wei Ying how desperately he’s been missed as well but all he says is, “Mn.”

Wei Ying’s eyes squint tighter. “We should do this again. Soon.”

Lan Wangji manages to nod.

Wei Ying nods back, and this is it. This is the moment where Lan Wangji should turn and leave and look forward to their next meal together, try to figure out on his walk how to reasonably quantify “soon,” arrive home to a plethora of indecipherable emojis on his phone from Wei Ying to smile at, alone in his apartment.

The thought of that, though, of standing alone in his apartment with only an inadequate proxy of Wei Ying’s presence to accompany him, has Lan Wangji saying, “Wei Ying.”

Wei Ying’s eyebrows go up, expectant.

Lan Wangji swallows around his suddenly dry mouth. He should leave. He shouldn’t give himself away like this, but oh -- oh, how he wants to. “Wei Ying, may I -- hug you?”

Wei Ying blinks, once, twice, and then his eyes squint thinner than they have all night. “Of course!” he says, and steps right in, arms coming up around Lan Wangji’s shoulders. It takes Wangji a moment to coordinate his own hands, one occupied by the leftovers, but he raises his free hand and presses it into the center of Wei Ying’s back, holding him close.

He’s warm and firm and right there, his chin settling perfectly on Lan Wangji’s shoulder, his hands pressed into Lan Wangji’s neck and shoulder blade. His thin t-shirt is soft and worn, his hair messy, fly-aways tickling Lan Wangji’s cheek. He smells familiar and cozy and Lan Wangji can’t help the way he presses his face in closer, wanting to get more of the scent only to remember he’s wearing a face mask.

Wei Ying doesn’t ask him why, doesn’t question it or tease Wangji, even when the hug goes on longer than Wangji thinks regular hugs do (he doesn’t have much experience in the area). When they finally disconnect, Wei Ying stays only half a meter away, closer than they’ve been the whole night. His eyes are still smiling. He says, “Thank you,” nonsensically and Lan Wangji only nods.

He does leave, after that, as much as he would like to curl up on Wei Ying’s second-hand couch and snuggle (Heavens, what’s become of him?). But the sense memory of Wei Ying, close, warm, smiling, gets him through the next week, until they have dinner again, and he doesn’t even have to ask before Wei Ying is opening his arms.

[kabira]

06 | disguise

pairing — spider-man!vernon x ofc

featuring — joshua, yeji (itzy), felix (skz), yangyang (nct)

word count — 2.5k

genres — spider-man au, marvel au, fluff, action, angst, humor

warnings — none

go to fic masterlist | main masterlist

Joshua walked into the cafeteria alert, his head held up and gaze searching for a familiar brunet head amongst the thick crowd in the room. Usually he’d be late, probably held up talking to a teacher or waiting for Vernon, but after the experiences of the past week, he knew better than to wait up for his distracted friend.

“Sorry!” he yelled after almost colliding with a girl and making her spill her banana milk down the front of her shirt. She glared at him as he gripped his tray tighter and winced, quickly shouldering through the group before him to get to his table and as far out of her reach as possible. “Coming through!”

He reached the empty table as the same time Vernon did, both of them putting down their trays at the same moment. Joshua raised his eyebrows, letting a small smile form on his face as he slipped into the seat next to Vernon’s. “The prodigal returns,” he announced. “Where have you been, dude? I’ve barely seen you all week.”

Vernon shrugged, tapping his fingers on the table. He seemed distracted, eyes darting around the cafeteria as if waiting for something, or someone, to appear. Joshua knew that look—it was the one that indicated that something bad was about to happen, most likely within a ten-meter radius. “Um,” the blue-haired boy muttered with a small frown, “I don’t have to worry about that Rhino guy busting down the door, do I?”

“What?” Vernon glanced at him with wide eyes, as if only just having noticed he was here. “Uh, no. At least, I don’t think so.” He smiled sheepishly, hands sliding over the tabletop to grip his tray again, though Joshua guessed it was just to stop them from moving. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Joshua sighed, placing a fingertip against the bridge of his glasses and sliding them up his sweat-slicked nose. It wasn’t even hot out, but being in a room packed with sweaty, hormonal bodies will do that to you. “I was asking you what you’ve been doing to keep busy in the last few days.”

“Nothing much,” Vernon said, twirling his plastic fork. He looked distracted, maybe a little tired, but despite the dark circles under them, his eyes were alight. “Because of the new team, I have to do all of these S.H.I.E.L.D. training projects with them, and they keep giving up these random hero assignments like stopping robberies and rescuing cats from trees. You know, the usual.” He shrugged. “It’s kind of annoying that I have barely any creative freedom with my fighting these days.”

“Maybe it’s for the best,” Joshua quipped. “If you call flying solo creative freedom.”

His best friend grinned. “Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you,” he said, suddenly excited as he leaned forward on his elbows, eyes glittering. “I got a job in Dr. Connors’s lab.”

“That biotech guy who worked with your dad?” Joshua raised his eyebrows, looking impressed. “When?”

“Last Tuesday.” Vernon’s eyes had taken on an almost dreamy quality as he talked about his new job. “It’s just the post of research assistant, pretty basic stuff really, but he lets me take part in some of the data collection sometimes. Man, you should look at all the amazing equipment in his lab. He’s got a BOD incubator, an electrophoresis chamber—”

“Vernon.” Both the boys looked up at the source of the voice, which stood before them in the form of Felix Liu (or, as he was better known, Felix Lee). The boy’s eyes glazed over Joshua as if he wasn’t even there before coming to rest on Vernon’s with a kind of communicative intensity. “You’re wanted in the principal’s office.”

Vernon stared at the boy for a few moments, looking confused, and Felix raised his eyebrows, glaring at him meaningfully. Joshua glanced between them, wanting to say something but a little apprehensive of doing so. “The principal’s office?” Vernon echoed, a defiant note in his voice. “Why?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Felix asked, scowling. “Coulson himself stopped me in the hallway, so it must be urgent. You should probably go talk to him.”

Something like realization flickered across Vernon’s features. “Oh,” he said. “Oh, right. You’re right.” He got up suddenly, casting an unsure look at Joshua as if he’d just remembered there was a witness to their exchange. He glanced at Felix with a conflicted look in his eye, clutching the back of the chair uncertainly. “Uh, there’s something I should tell you—”

“Tell me later,” Felix cut him off impatiently, waving him away. “Just go.”

Vernon glanced at Joshua again, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to say something, then stopped himself. He shook his head, chest deflating as he let go of a long breath, before turning around and making his way towards the exit.

Joshua kept his eyes on his retreating back as he went, not turning even when he felt Felix pull up a chair opposite him. Only when Vernon finally disappeared behind the double doors did he turn to his food, which lay untouched on his plate. Something was up, and he had a good idea about what it was.

“Aren’t you going to eat that?” Felix asked, making Joshua look up at the sound of his voice. The boy’s cheeks were puffed out, mouth already filled with whatever they were supposed to consume by way of food for lunch. When Joshua didn’t answer, he cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I don’t feel like eating,” the blue-haired boy murmured, but unwrapped his sandwich anyway. The new kids had started eating at his, Luce’s and Vernon’s usual table in the past week, which Joshua was completely okay with—except he usually had at least one of his old friends to keep things from becoming too awkward. Between the three of them, Joshua was probably the one with the worst social skills.

He took a tiny bite of his sandwich, and glanced despairingly at the door, waiting for Luce to show up. Heck, even Yeji or that other guy—Yangyang?—would have been welcome. Felix had always struck him as the silent type, but he didn’t yet know if it was a strong silent or a sensitive silent. Eating this way was awkward, to say the least, but the only topic of conversation Joshua could think of was probably not fit for discussion in public.

Ah, to hell with that. “You’re Iceman, right?”

Felix looked up so quickly Joshua heard something crack in his neck. He felt a sudden, sharp, bite-like pain in the back of his right hand, which had been lying much too close to Felix’s tray. “Ouch!” Joshua pulled back his hand with a hiss, cradling it against his chest. “What the hell was that for?”

“Sorry, I—” Felix stopped with a small scowl. “Hey. Don’t go around saying stuff like that!”

“So you are Iceman,” Joshua said. “Can’t really deny it now.”

Felix blushed at the statement. The color that flooded his cheeks was startlingly bright against the pallor of his skin. “Who told you that?” he demanded. “Was it Vernon?”

“No, I kind of figured it out by myself.” He lightly touched the back of his hand again, making sure the feeling in it hadn’t been stopped entirely. “Between three new superheroes showing up with Spider-Man and three new kids dropping right into the middle of the session less than a day apart, it wasn’t hard to guess,” he said. “You were sent here by the biggest super spies in the world and the best disguise they could come up with was hair dye and a last name change?”

Felix didn’t snap at him again, but the look he was giving him was definitely hostile. “You have a better idea?” he countered. “In case you haven’t noticed, no one in the school has realized my identity yet.”

“Except me.”

“Except you,” he added, though a little sourly. “And that’s probably because you already know who Spider-Man is.”

Joshua considered this. “Well, that is true,” he admitted. “But it’s still kind of surprising that none of the kids that go here have figured it out yet.”

“They probably don’t want to believe there’s a mutant in their school,” Felix muttered. Joshua noticed how his face darkened as he continued staring at his food, stabbing the mashed potatoes with his plastic spoon. “People believe what they want to see.”

Joshua studied the boy, noticing the tension in his shoulders and the probably unconscious crease in the middle of his forehead. “Are you…” he started, then hesitated. What was he supposed to say?

Felix waved the half-question away, and spooned in a huge mouthful of his potatoes, indicating that the conversation was over. Joshua took another bite of his sandwich, wondering what was going through the blond’s head. Not having a secret identity, he didn’t know what it would feel like to have a common high school kid figure it out within days of meeting you. Something bad, probably.

There was a metallic clunk as someone placed their tray on the table. Luce swung her bag off her shoulders, dropping it to the floor, and took a seat next to Joshua. “Sorry I’m late, got caught up in a meeting,” she said, seemingly oblivious to the tension at the table. “What’d I miss?”

Joshua cast a furtive glance at Felix, only to find the boy’s eyes already trained on him. He hadn’t noticed before, but Felix’s eyes were brown. Joshua had never taken a close look at Iceman’s eyes, but somehow, he knew the brown eyes were a result of contact lenses.

“Nothing,” he said. “Nothing at all.”

Running in the hallways wasn’t allowed, but when you were going to the principal’s office, Vernon guessed it was an exception.

He sprinted all the way to the room, equal parts concerned and annoyed by the summons. If Coulson had called on him in school, then it was probably something important—but on the other hand, he hadn’t asked for Felix. Maybe it was a specifically Spider-Man related emergency.

When he burst through the door into the office, Coulson was leaning against the side of his desk, arms folded over his chest. The only other person in the room was Yangyang, who was seated on one of the chairs before the principal’s table, picking at the stuffing peeking out of the worn-out arm of the chair.

Vernon let the door shut behind him before stepping in, glancing between the two in confusion. The atmosphere definitely didn’t feel urgent. “Agent—I mean, Principal Coulson,” he said, wincing slightly at his slip-of-the-tongue. “You asked for me?”

“I did.” Coulson uncrossed his arms, placing the heels of his hands against the edge of the table. “Take a seat.”

Vernon crossed the room hesitantly, slowly sitting on the unoccupied chair. “Uh,” he said, glancing at Yangyang’s lounging figure with a frown. “Is this about something important?”

“It is indeed,” the agent confirmed, straightening. “If you consider the Shocker important.”

“Shocker?” Vernon repeated. “Isn’t he in S.H.I.E.L.D. jail or something?”

Yangyang snorted, and Vernon shot him a murderous look. “Unfortunately, no,” Coulson answered. “We’ve been trying to apprehend him, but he’s been laying low for a while.”

“Shocker, laying low?” Vernon raised an eyebrow. “Not something you see every day.”

“Yesterday, he robbed a bank on Madison Avenue,” Coulson continued, ignoring him. “I didn’t call you in then because you had a pop quiz in history going on, but—”

Yangyang groaned. “Seriously? Man, I could have used the distraction.”

The agent gave him a sharp look, before facing Vernon and speaking. “He’s out again today, terrorizing citizens in Central Park,” he said. “Usually, I’d prefer for other professionals to take on him, but orders are orders, and you, Vernon, have the most experience with him and will probably be able to take over him the most quickly.” He looked almost regretful, probably about them having to miss school hours. Damn, he was really getting into his role as the principal. “You are to leave immediately.”

“Wait, what’s he doing in Central Park?” Vernon frowned. “That’s not the most lucrative venture for a small-time villain.”

“Terrorizing citizens.” Coulson raised his eyebrows. “As I said.”

“Terrorizing citizens…?” Vernon muttered, sitting up a little. “That’s strange.”

“What’s up, Parker?” Yangyang asked with a mocking grin, uncrossing his legs and getting to his feet. He stretched, flexing his shoulders. “Disappointed in your little pet project?”

“Shut up, bucket head,” Vernon murmured. “It’s just not his usual style, but I guess he’s branching out.” He pursed his lips. “Still, I can’t imagine why.”

“And I can’t imagine why the two of you would stand around bickering and wasting your time when there’s a dangerous criminal on the loose,” Coulson said firmly, giving them a very teacher-like look. “Get going already.”

Vernon blinked. He glanced at Yangyang, who stood by the door looking at him expectantly, and then at Agent Coulson. “Wait,” he muttered, brow creasing as it slowly dawned on him where this was heading. “What about Tiger and Iceman?”

“They’re not needed for this simple mission,” Coulson said. “I’m sure the two of you can handle this problem by yourselves just fine.”

“Unless you’re scared of old Shocker, that is.” Yangyang gave him a lopsided smirk. “In which case, I’m sure Agent Coulson wouldn’t have a problem packing you an extra pair of underwear when you wet your pants.”

Vernon glared at him, his grip tightening on the armrests as he refused to get up. His gaze swiveled to the agent, eyes going round and pleading. “What about sending me with White Tiger instead?” he asked imploringly. “I’m sure we could take Shocker down more efficiently since we’ve had more time to practice our maneuvers together—”

“Go. Now.” Coulson was definitely not taking no for an answer as he gave him a stern look. Vernon stood up slowly, not taking his eyes off the man, just in case he got a last-minute break, but he was unrelenting. “Today would be good.”

“What are you going to tell your teachers?” Vernon asked desperately as he reluctantly made his way towards the door, where Yangyang was still waiting for him. He gave the boy a disbelieving look, surprised that he was willing to go along with all of this. Their animosity was, on most days, mutual. “We have bio lab later, and we’re both partners, and if I miss this class I might—”

“Don’t worry about that, leave it to me,” Coulson said, now simply looking impatient. “And stop making excuses to get out of the situation. Every little second you waste here doing that means another second of those innocent civilians being in danger. What happened to all your preaching about responsibility?”

Saying this, he pushed the two boys out of his office and shut the door in their face. Vernon stared at it glumly, finally accepting his fate.

“Come on, then, partner,” Yangyang said. He stood next to him with his arms crossed over his chest, grinning like a cat after a catch. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

[thedistantdusk]

Hi, I’m the nonny! Thank you for such a kind response, it means a lot. I was thinking the year she’s back at school post DH and they’re rebuilding their relationship and dealing with the distance after being together all summer. Thank you again, I hope you’re doing well during this crazy time!

Nonny, I can only hope this provides you a bit of happiness right now and that I addressed the prompt! :D I’m so sorry you’re going through this and that everyone will find peace.  HUGE thanks to @floreatcastellumposts for reading this a billion times and Brit-picking and @el-eye-zee-aye for the same, but not the British parts! ;D Also on AO3. Not pure smut, but definitely M! __________ Harry wasn’t here last year. 

But he followed her everywhere, anyway. 

She spent most of a school year with his memory lingering in the shadows of every corridor. She could almost see his hands in his pockets, his expectant smile stretching as she approached and then faltering as she passed. She was haunted by his graveled moans from the corners of the quidditch pitch, his sharp gasps beneath the tree on the lawn, his low, reverberating pleas in empty cupboards they knew so well. And she didn’t realize it at the time, but that kept her going, really... his silent presence. The revenant of what they’d been before the world fell to shit. 

There are a few reasons why Ginny doesn’t think much about Phantom Harry during the summer after the war. First, she knows it’s a bit pathetic that she constructed it — constructed him — out of a relationship that lasted three weeks... although she’d fight anyone to the death who dared describe it as such, themselves.

Second, she’s away from school for months and thus lacks a real trigger. And third, she finds that Real Harry is infinitely more fun — especially when he’s in her arms and in her bed and doing all the things he’d once promised he’d do... even though he hadn’t said he’d do those things, either. They’d been quiet Harry things, the sorts of things he’d said with his eyes while he’d stared at her like he was drinking her in. The sorts of things he’d conveyed with a trail of his fingertips or a low groan. The sorts of things that were no less tangible for remaining silent. 

Unfortunately, all good things must come to an end. So after a summer of learning and discovering and rebuilding, there’s no small irony that Ginny and Hermione must return to Hogwarts to learn, discover, and rebuild. They stand on the platform on September the first with their respective boyfriends and share hurried, awkward farewell snogs and promise to send filthy letters — all while pretending the other girl isn’t doing the same. Together, they then make the doleful journey to the school that hasn’t been their proper home in ages, regardless of when they visited last. Together, they start a new-old life that’s both alien and familiar, both dull and soothing. 

Ginny and Hermione grow closer too. As the days turn to weeks, Ginny wonders if they’re more compatible as friends now because Hermione’s finally loosened up just as Ginny’s started to take non-quidditch topics a bit more seriously. Living under Death Eater rule was roughly comparable to living with Tom in her head, but it nonetheless taught Ginny a series of valuable lessons about holding onto anger versus letting things go. 

This too, perhaps, is why it takes until a Hogsmeade visit in October for Ginny to realize what’s missing — or more aptly, who’s missing. 

Harry and Ron greet them just at the entrance of the Hogsmeade gates. Just like when they’d departed at the start of term, they each share awkward, hurried snogs of greeting and pretend they aren’t desperate for activities they can’t do in front of their siblings. 

Ron and Hermione, however, seem to take this social norm as a suggestion rather than a rule. Ginny vaguely hears them shuffle off behind a shrub, and Harry takes the cue to lift her against him, duck-walk them across a path, and put her down in the shadow of the apothecary, all without breaking a kiss. He smells warm and fresh, like broom polish and soap and Harry, and she doesn’t mind at all when she feels extra definition in the arms that he uses to caress the small of her back. Ginny’s not sure how long they spend snogging, but when Harry pulls back with a choked moan, his glasses fogged, she’s equally sure she can’t see straight, either.

“I erm. I got you a present,” he manages, Adam’s apple bobbing. 

Ginny thinks they’ve both underestimated how badly she wants him, though, because she immediately makes a joke about sex.

“I noticed,” she says dryly, brushing against the hardness pressing into her waist.

Harry chuckles. “That’s... a remarkably low bar to be considered a gift, Ginny. Someone should really talk to your boyfriend about giving you better presents.” 

“Oh, so you’ve met my boyfriend!” she says brightly. “Brilliant, I was dreading the awkward introduction.”

Harry pulls back to clear his glasses with a quick Impervius. “Yeah,” he says fairly, examining the lenses in the light. “I mean, I wouldn’t call us friends, but I hear he’s quite talented.” 

He slides his glasses back on and takes her hand. She has no idea where he’s taking her, but she doesn’t question his deliberate strides down the street.

“Mm,” she agrees, skipping a bit to keep up. “There are two main talents I can think of.”

“Oh?” Harry takes a distracted look around, like he’s searching for someone.

“First, coming back to life,” she says, giving his hand a grateful squeeze. Harry swallows and shoots her a soft, affectionate look from over his shoulder. 

“And the second?” he deadpans, his green eyes darkened with lust. Even while turned on, he has the nerve to know she’s setting him up for a joke. Unbelievable!

As they come to a stop outside Three Broomsticks, Ginny decides to make it a good joke, indeed. So she arches a brow and plainly enunciates, “Of course, the second talent would have to be eating—“

“—HEY!” Ron’s voice booms as Harry chortles into his palm. 

Ginny looks up, unperturbed, even as Harry falls to pieces. Ron and Hermione are standing a few meters ahead, each red-faced, each with their clothing askew. Harry rolls his eyes, but she knows exactly what he’s thinking: Just imagine how they’d look if she’d finished that thought. And they’d heard it.

Ron’s demeanor changes when he sees them… and for a split-second, Ginny’s afraid she has finished the thought, and he has heard her. As she and Harry walk closer, Ron loses his confident swagger, his face paling, his shoulders slouched; if Ginny didn’t know better, she’d say that her brother was thinking (very broadly) about the concept of her and Harry. Together. Because Merlin knows she’s seen that expression on his face more times than she can count. 

But when the four of them are standing nearly toe-to-toe, Ron sets his jaw in grim determination and peers over at Harry. “Did you tell her?” he mutters, squinting in the dying sunlight. 

Blegh. 

Now Ginny’s the one feeling queasy. She knows it makes her a bloody hypocrite, but she can’t handle hearing her brother’s voice all deep and scratchy, like he’s been groaning and moaning and—

“Erm, we never got the chance?” Harry says weakly. The corners of his lips twitch. “We were... a bit busy.”

Ron makes a disgusted sound in the back of his throat as Ginny turns to Harry with narrowed eyes. “Tell me what?” 

Harry shrugs. “Like I said, I got you a present.” 

Ginny swats him on the chest. “I told you, I don’t need a present!” But then she drops her voice, leaning in to trail her finger along the seam of Harry’s jacket. “What I could use, though,” she murmurs, meeting his eyes, “is a good—”

“We have rooms at Three Broomsticks!” Harry blurts, loud enough for everyone to hear. Ron explodes with a swear and mutters something about “terrible fucking ideas,” and it’s not until then that the pieces in Ginny’s head slide into place. 

Oh! She glances at the pub behind them, which suddenly seems far more warm and welcoming than she’d ever thought. 

That’s… oh! 

But wait, no, something doesn’t quite— 

Ginny rips her head away from to peer over at Ron and Hermione, her eyes narrowed — and ahh, fuck, this whole this has been a sham! They definitely knew! She can read it on their bloody faces, can’t she, as they do that thing where they shuffle in place?  For two people allegedly good at strategy, they’re shit at hiding when they’ve been caught bang to rights. 

At least Ron has the decency to look a bit green at the gills as he peers in the direction of the pub, like he’s just realized — or perhaps just accepted — that Harry and Ginny are about to do what he and Hermione are about to do. Hermione, though, couldn’t seem more flush-faced and content, like she’s wearing her smugness as a badge of honor. Bloody morons, the pair of them… 

Ginny turns back to Harry with a raised pointer finger, her mind filled with questions (How long did Hermione know? Was Ron really involved in this process… really? Should I get used to this during these weekends?) but before she can ask any of them, he cuts her off with a nod towards the pub. 

“So erm... shall we?” Harry asks, his voice unexpectedly timid. Then he gives her that familiar sheepish grin as he rubs his hand on the back of his neck. 

Ron makes another disgusted sound from behind them — which Hermione quickly soothes with a murmur. 

And although Ginny would love to maintain an air of self-righteous indignation, she decides to let her boyfriend try this grand-gesture-chivalry-thing, after all.

 ________

The second they’re in the room, Harry shoves her against the door.

“Does McGonagall know?” Ginny demands with her last bit of brainpower as Harry’s mouth nibbles on her jaw. “Because I can’t... mmm... I imagine her being ok with—”

Harry replies with a startled laugh, but it seems the reminder of McGonagall has cooled his ardor a bit. 

“Not unless you plan to tell her!” he says darkly, taking out his wand. “But fair point, this place could probably be more secure.” Then — with one jacket sleeve dangling from his shoulder, his shirt halfway unbuttoned, and a visible bulge pressing against his trousers — Harry proceeds to very stoically cast a series of charms around the room, his eyes flitting from corner to corner. 

Ginny would laugh if she didn’t match his desperation. 

“No, no, I’m not really worried about that!” She sinks down to the bed to toe off her trainers. “I was just wondering if you’d got permission for us to stay a bit longer, but you answered my question. Anyway.” She waves her hand dismissively and unbuttons her jeans. “Why are you so paranoid? Everyone and their mum knows we’re shagging, Harry. You can’t expect that to be a secret!”

He gives a humorless chuckle and casts the contraceptive charm. “Yeah, but knowing in theory is a bit different from seeing my pasty white arse on the front page of The Prophet.” He puts his wand on the bedside table and shrugs his shirt off the rest of the way. “Trust me when I say that I’ve seen some shit these past two months, Ginny — and I don’t mean dark shit. I mean like, middle aged women who somehow find me delectable!” 

He shudders and he tugs off his jeans; Ginny wonders if he’ll ever accept what a fucking hero he is, but she answers her own question almost immediately: Of course he won’t. He never will. This is the man who saved the bloody world a few months ago, but never even thought to ask for permission to actually shag her overnight. 

Ginny bites her lip as he finishes undressing. He’s heartwarming and ridiculous at the same time, isn’t he? Harry. This person who’s carelessly sexy and sloppy and perfect... this person whose idea of a grand gesture involves hatching a plan with her brother. 

Then he lies down beside her with a timid smile that doesn’t match the arousal jutting out in front of him, and as he softly brushes the hair away from her face, Ginny will be damned if her heart doesn’t swell to a million times its size. 

__________

He fucks her deeply, passionately... the type of shagging she knew she was in for when she first heard about his plan. It’s the type where he stares into her eyes and watches with breathless wonderment as he makes her come — twice. It’s the type where she feels his heartbeat with his pulse as he finally spills himself inside her with a strangled roar. It’s the type of shag that sets her nerve endings on fire and steals her breath and makes her feel a startling sense of connection... to the universe. To her body. To her soul. 

But most importantly, to him. 

To Harry. Her Harry... the one with the racing, reckless mind and loose grasp on authority and suddenly defined arm muscles that he uses to roll them over until she’s lying on his chest. 

He came — and hard. She knows he came so hard that he’s scarcely breathing, so hard that his world is surely an array of pinpricks exploding in the darkness... but he’d never, ever be blind enough to forget about her. And as she lays there, her cheek pressed against his heart (the one that’s miraculously, somehow, still beating), a realization that’s been glinting at the edges of her mind slams into her like a ton of bricks: He hasn’t haunted her this year at all. 

Ginny exhales on a shudder and bites her lip, but his warm weight keeps her from slipping. He anchors her to earth, this Real Harry... the one she’d ached for and pined for and craved, but not as a figment of a memory. 

Her heart hammers, her pulse races, as she makes sense of it all. As she tries to come to terms with it. As she considers how to explain to her boyfriend that he’d once been everywhere (when he wasn’t happy), and how he’s now nowhere (when he is). 

Harry gets there first. 

“What’s wrong?” he rumbles, his hand coming up to stroke her hair. 

A smile lifts her left cheek, still flush against his chest. What else can she do, really, but smile? “Nothing’s... exactly wrong.” 

“Nothing exactly,” Harry agrees, threading a tendril through his fingers. “But seriously, Ginny, I know you a bit better than that by now.” He trails off with a chuckle that makes her head bounce, and she grins even more broadly; she loves the proof of him, the evidence he’s here. 

“Erm, you do know we’ve shagged quite a lot, yeah? Enough times for me to know what’s normal with you — and what’s not.” He shifts his thumb to brush her jawline and clears his throat with an air of formal importance. “So. If you’ve got any complaints about my performance, I highly recommend you formally share those with the HR department before—“

“—Last year was fucking horrible,” she breathes, her eyes trained on the far wall. 

The silence that follows is more deafening than if she’d shouted. In any other circumstance, she’d feel guilty for throwing at him without context. Now, though, she can’t stop... especially not when she hears his reassuring murmur. Not when she feels his hands grip her closer, wrapping around her middle. 

And with that, it’s like he’s uncorked a stopper; every bizarre, mortifying thing she did to keep him alive suddenly spills over. “So I guess I... I guess I pretended I saw you everywhere at Hogwarts — even though I didn’t do it on purpose — because even for me, that would be a bit much,” she babbles, her thoughts only half-formed. “For some reason you were in all the places we used to snog, and also everywhere else, and I don’t know...” She trails off with a huff that ruffles the hair around her face. “It just... I didn’t realize until now that I haven’t done that this year and how fucking pathetic that was while you were gone, and—”

“Hey!” Harry interrupts, his arms gripping her waist more tightly. “Of all the things you are, love?” He kisses the top of her head. “Pathetic doesn’t make the list. Not even close.”

Ginny gives a delirious laugh and shifts until she’s propped on her elbow; she’s seized with the desire to see him, to prove (again) that he’s more than a memory. She’s not disappointed with what she finds. Harry’s put his glasses back on, but they’re lopsided and smudged and unmistakably human. His grin is lazy and warm, the type she couldn’t make up, not even if she tried. His eyes are roving over her chest, his jaw tense, as he attempts to take her seriously even though she’s naked. 

“Anyway,” she adds, extending her finger to trail down his chest. “I guess it just hit me all once, that you haven’t, you know, been there. Even though I’ve missed you terribly.”

Harry arches a brow. “How terribly?” His hands start to dance up her side. “Please don’t spare the details, Ginny. A poor, lonely bloke needs something to go on.” 

She rolls her eyes. “You know damn well how bloody terribly! How many pairs of knickers have I sent?”

Harry clucks his tongue. “Not enough, I’m afraid,” he laments, brushing the underside of her breast. Then he peers up at her, his face stretched into a grin. “After all, it’s hard to top the red ones.” 

Ginny snorts before she can help it. Even though she’s naked — even though they’ve just shagged — she can’t help but feel vaguely abashed. “I still can’t believe I did that,” she mutters, running a hand down her face. “And more than once! For fuck’s sake, if my mother ever found out...”

Harry just laughs, shaking his head, but then something catches his eye behind her.

“Shit,” he swears, his eyes going wide, “is that really the time? We were supposed to be downstairs to meet them five minutes ago.” 

He gives her a final, moaning kiss before he leaps to his feet and searches for his clothes. Ginny rolls her eyes again as she begrudgingly flings the blankets off. Even after all the time, he’s still more terrified of her brother than anything else...

“A lot of doors will open the moment you realize you’re Harry fucking Potter, you know,” she says archly, reaching for her bra. “You could even, you know, ask to properly spend the night with your girlfriend!” 

Harry laughs from the corner of the room. “I do feel pretty terrible about shagging you and running off. But what can I say? You’re in school, and I’m training. It’s just not a good time.” 

“Mmm.” She flips her hair out over her cloak and turns to examine herself in the mirror. She’s a bit pink in the cheeks, a bit bright in the eyes — but if you didn’t know, you wouldn’t necessarily know. At least that’s what she tells herself when she considers facing McGonagall later tonight.

“Will the next Hogsmeade visit be a good time, then?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. “Because a girl could get used to this, Harry.” 

He shoots her reflection a surprisingly tender look before throwing his cloak on, too. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling. Assuming there isn’t too much drama at work.” 

“Shouldn’t be,” Ginny says fairly, “so long as we keep those middle-aged witches at bay.” She smirks and turns around to eye the red patches on his neck. “I think I’ve thoroughly marked you, but you never know...” 

Harry laughs and uselessly tries to run a hand through his hair. Ginny muses, not for the first time, that his unruly hair serves a purpose in times like these; no one can tell if he’s been shagged or not. 

With that in mind, she turns to the door with a skip in her step — but she quickly discovers Harry’s not on the same page. He’s suddenly become a bit contemplative, a bit sullen. His brow draws in a grimace as he kicks the floor with his trainer.  

“Erm… but seriously, Ginny,” he says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “I’m sorry you went through that last year.” He winces again, staring at his cuticles, before he turns to her with a shrug. “I’m glad I’m not there anymore, though. You seem… happier.” 

“Definitely happier,” she confirms, taking a step forward. “Definitely. With real you.” 

A ghost of a smile flits across Harry’s lips as he takes her hand. Ginny just leans into his warmth. Leans into him. Desperate to prove — again — how real he is. 

“I’m quite fucking in love with you, actually,” Harry murmurs, eyes still focused on their joined hands. “Even if I can only show it by shagging you in hotel rooms every few months.” 

He pulls back with a reluctant sigh, and when he peers at her again, his eyes are filled with so much love and devotion and compassion that she could cry.

If she were the sort who did that, of course. Which she’s not. 

Right. 

So Ginny pushes down the swell of emotion, the warring forces of pleasure and pain, the feeling of the past meeting the present… and opts to torture him, instead. She rises to her tiptoes, drapes her arms around his neck, and leans in to deliver the final blow.

“You only visit me when I touch myself,” she whispers, nibbling at the shell of his ear. 

And in retrospect, Ginny will accept that Harry’s answering groan was 100% worth the snide looks she got from Hermione the rest of the night. 

[apollos-favourite-bastard]

I’m going to say this once, and honestly probably several more times while defending my stance, but here goes- Gate keepers are bad people, and almost everyone agrees on that. We all hate the people who gatekeep different bits of culture, as is right. They’re selfish people, and arrogant, too, believing that they get to dictate who does and doesn’t get to participate in something. The act of gatekeeping is, in and of itself, hostile and bigoted. It depends on one placing their own self higher than those around them and passing judgement, trying to push someone out of a space because they find that they are more rightfully entitled to that space than someone else.

There are two very bad fronts of this in the LGBTQIA+ community in particular. The first, which is very well known and acknowledged, but not what this post is about, are TERFs and other groups that are transphobic in nature. Fuck TERFs is an extremely common sentiment on tumblr, as it should be, because fuck TERFs. TERFs are bigots, and their stance comes from a place of bigotry. We mostly all agree on this, except for the TERFs who think that they’re rightful and justified in their bigotry, and nothing that I say, think, feel or do is going to change that. Until they recognize their own bigotry and realize that they don’t want to be hate filled sacks of pus shaped like a human, they’re going to continue to be hate filled sacks of pus shaped like a human. However, most of the LGBTQIA+ community agrees that TERFs are bigots and wants nothing to do with them.

So, why do we give aro/ace exclusionists a pass? Why do we, as a community, not band together to fight it the same way that we do with TERFs? Why do we look at this gatekeeping of our community and not feel disgust in the same way that we do with TERFs? Why do some people in our community think that they have the right to exclude others?

Well, I have a theory about that, although I’m going to say up front that it’s just my opinion. Ace/aro people have, for quite a long time, been partially invisible. Up until the advent and popularization of social media, and even to this day in a way, the LGBTQIA+ community has been pretty heavily segregated. At first, this was out of necessity. People opened gay and lesbian bars and clubs decades ago, out of necessity. We built specific spaces for ourselves because that was literally crucial to our survival. While our communities banded together when necessary, there was always a sort of rivalry or distaste for other members of the community if they fell under a different letter. This was heavily present all the way up until the early 2010s. As a teenager in the aughties, I saw so many examples of queer people who didn’t like other letters on principle, because they had nothing in common with one another, and that hasn’t exactly vanished. I knew gay men who hated lesbians, lesbians who hated gay men, both who hated bisexual people- The list goes on.

Then Myspace and Facebook happened, and people began finding solidarity with one another without having to be in a shared space. People began sharing their experiences, and became more comfortable expressing themselves. While pride has existed for decades, it wasn’t nearly as accepted or widespread as it became AFTER social media exposed people to the realization that these communities encompass more people than they realized, and also encompassed people that they knew and cared about. It eased the way for a second wave of the LGBTQIA+ rights movement that helped the community gain several rights, including marriage rights, adoption rights and legal protections. It eased tensions, particularly in the gay and lesbian communities, and paved the way for the more solidarity focused community that we have today.

HOWEVER

After gaining these things, many members of the community decided that that was enough. Discrimination against gays and lesbians had lessened, and acceptance had become more mainstream, so they stopped giving a shit. Trans issues didn’t affect them, so they didn’t care. Ace issues didn’t affect them, so they didn’t care, and they stopped fighting for the other members of the community. That doesn’t apply to everyone, but it applies to more people than anyone should be comfortable with. 

Like I said before, the communities were pretty segregated, and we continue to be. What so many people don’t realize is that our community only has strength together. People under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella represent a sizeable chunk of the population, but each individual group doesn’t represent that much on their own. We don’t have power on our own. Unlike religious or racial minorities, the LGBTQIA+ community is completely random. Anyone could fit into it. The people in our community don’t necessarily have the same experiences. And while shared experience was a founding principle of our community out of necessity, it cannot continue to be so.

Let me explain that point, because I feel like people are not going to realize that it’s the entire point of this post unless I highlight it. Defining our community based on trauma and discrimination was, at the time, necessary. In order to increase our safety, we clumped together, because there’s strength in numbers. There’s also the completely human desire for community because as a species we are not designed to go at it completely alone. Shared experience is a good foundation for that, and if that shared experience is negative, it can make those bonds all the stronger. But that also creates a system wherein the validity of people’s experiences is judged on a sliding scale, which creates the even more unpleasant sliding scale of validity applied to a person’s existence and position in our community.

In particular, this is applied to aro/ace people, bisexual people, and transgender and nonbinary people. There are so many arguments that I could write a book on the subject, but there are more talented and knowledgeable people than I am who have written on the subject, and I implore people to seek out literature and media that can help them understand these things. But I made this post, and I’m going to talk about the main argument that I have seen applied, which is privilege.

Privilege is something I know all too well about having, as a cis white man. It has kept me safe where other people would not have been, and given me more power than I have deserved at times. I do my best to amplify voices that are shouted over, without speaking over them myself, and while I hope I have done a good job of that, I know and openly acknowledge that I am not perfect and have probably messed up too many times to count. I know that when I was younger, I certainly was not as supportive as I could or should have been to people who needed that support, because I saw someone different than I am reaching out for help, and decided it wasn’t my problem. That made me part of the problem. Over time, I have been humbled, sometimes painfully, and forced to recognize that privilege. I am not proud of things that I have done and said. I am embarrassed by who I used to be, and strive every day to be better than I was the day before. I don’t always get it right, but I am trying.

The point of that isn’t to pat myself on the back, or say ‘look how much I’ve grown!’. It’s to tell you that I have been in that place. I have seen someone different than I am and decided to keep quiet and turn a blind eye to their suffering. I have thought to myself ‘they haven’t had to struggle with the things that I have had to struggle with, so it’s not my business’. It’s also to say that privilege is a WILDLY inappropriate way to gauge someone’s position in a community.

Our community cannot and must not continue to use the meter-stick of privilege to judge the validity of someone’s worth and place in our community. It promotes its own kind of bigotry. That’s not to say that cis or white people in the community shouldn’t examine their own experiences and privilege, because we should. What I mean is that it shouldn’t be used to JUDGE someone else. Aro/Ace people and bisexual people have somehow gotten the reputation as having privilege because they are’ more easily able to blend with cishet society’, and are therefore safer and less oppressed, but that’s a bullshit argument. Trauma and oppression cannot continue to be the way we determine someone’s worth. What we should be fighting for is for discrimination to end, not for people who are more oppressed to be the only valid voices in our community. It is tearing our community apart when we need to stand together.

Otherwise we aren’t a community, we’re just a bunch of different people only standing with those who are like us, and nobody else, which is exactly how systems of oppression have been maintained throughout all of human history. People point to the most different group from themselves and say ‘they’re different, and different is bad, so they’re bad’. That’s the insidious nature of bigotry at work, and I refuse to allow myself to fall into that trap. I refuse to be a part of the problem anymore, and that means that I’m not going to keep quiet on subjects like discrimination against people just because their experiences are different than my own.

People who gatekeep communities are coming from a place of bigotry, and it has to stop. People have to speak up about it, and I hope that they do it better and less rambling than I have. TERFs and exclusionists and racists are too prevalent in this community, and we have let their bigotry form the insidious cracks that will tear this community apart if they aren’t spoken out against.

[voiceracha]

voices | chapter two

a stray kids thriller au

genre: crime, thriller, angst

warnings: violence, mature themes & language

voices masterlist

watch the trailer here

read chapter one

02 | HEART TURNED COLD

word count: 2.3k

Making a commotion at the police station is probably not one of his brightest ideas, but Bang Chan regrets nothing.

He sits on a bench outside the station, his shoulders shaking as the tears keep streaming down his face. Nothing accompanies him save for the frigid air as the clock inches towards one o’clock in the morning. With every breath that hitches in his throat, a piece of his broken heart shatters on the floor.

“Son,” a policeman interrupts him. He stands by the entrance, leaning onto the doorframe with one arm while his eyes remained on Chan. “I know it’s hard, but I think it’s better if you go home.”

Chan sniffles and wipes his tears with the back of his right hand.

How could he tell the stranger that his home had been taken away from him, and he’d never have it back?

“Bang Chan? Sooner or later you’re gonna have to leave, son. Do you want me to drive you back to campus? Back home?”

“I don’t have a home anymore!”

He snaps. The words sink into the depths of his thoughts as soon as they escape his mouth.

Felix is gone. And Chan will never see his smile ever again.

He’s going to enter his music studio, and Felix won’t be there waiting for him. The drama studio will await Felix’s return, but those walls will never hold his presence again.

“Chan?” another voice pulls him back to reality.

The music student realizes that he now stands despite his shaking knees. His breathing becomes hard and ragged, and he can feel the invisible walls closing in on him, his bones digging into his flesh and crushing his insides.

“Hey, hey calm down, I got you.”

The voice becomes clearer. His eyes struggle to focus on the person who now stands before him, their hands squeezing his shoulders. He blinks profusely, waiting for his vision to finally make out the face of the man in front of him.

“Breathe, Chan,” Minho says, desperation increasing with every word. He pulls his friend to his chest, rubbing his back as the latter begins sobbing into his shirt.

Minho runs his fingers through Chan’s hair, whispering empty promises into his ear knowing well that he isn’t listening. He turns and nods at the policeman watching from the door, silently mouthing I got him.

Several minutes pass achingly slow, and Minho blinks back the tears in his own eyes every single time Chan’s sobs echo in his ears. There is no room for his own grief—he has to be strong for his friend, and that’s all that matters right now.

“He’s gone, Minho,” Chan’s voice breaks as he speaks. His fists grab the fabric of Minho’s shirt, his face reddened and stricken with salty tears. “He’s really gone.”

-

Wednesday, 17 June – Two weeks before

“Are you sure this printer still has lots of ink left? I feel like I’ve used it too many times now,” Felix said, eyeing the noisy printer that vomitted paper after paper on one corner of Chan’s desk.

“Who do you think I am? Of course there’s lots of ink left, I just bought a cartridge yesterday!” Chan proceeded to open the top drawer of the desk to show Felix the empty box of ink cartridges. “See?”

Felix rolled his eyes, “Fine, fine. All the more reason for me to use it to print more scripts.”

“Okay now you’re pushing it,” said Chan, punching his friend’s arm lightly.

The two sat in Bang Chan’s dorm room, the film student by the printer arranging his script pages and the music major at his desk, composing a new song. He tapped away on his laptop, adjusting beats and overlaying tracks with his headphones on.

Sometimes Felix would steal glances at him, forever amazed at the talent that the man held. Song after song, he let the magic of his fingers work the keyboards, and Felix could never get tired of admiring the authenticity of the sight before him. He leaned back onto the wall, stretching his legs out in front of him as his gaze remained glued on his best friend.

“Take a picture it’ll last longer,” Chan smirked, taking his headphones off and turning his chair to face Felix.

Felix only scoffed before taking the last pages of his script from the printer. He stood up and placed the script in front of Chan on the desk with a proud, satisfied smile appearing on his lips.

“I did it,” he said, watching Chan’s fingers graze the spot on the front page where his name was written beneath the title of the script.

“Lix, this is amazing,” Chan glanced up at him, speechlessness evident on his face. He slowly flipped through the pages, taking in some words that caught his attention. “Your short film’s gonna be a hit, I just know. I can imagine seeing your name on the big screen already.”

Heat rushed into Felix’s cheeks and to the tip of his ears, but he swallowed it down and slapped Chan’s shoulder.

“Please,” he said, as nonchalantly as he could muster, “you’re talking nonsense.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ve known you for years, Felix. I’ve read every single script you shared with me, and I loved every single one of them. Even your short films in high school were amazing, let alone this one. This is gonna be a good one.”

Chan handed Felix his script, and the latter accepted it with a smile that spoke louder than the words that he didn’t say.

Before Felix could open his mouth, his phone beeped several times.

“You gonna get that?” asked Chan.

“Yeah,” Felix mumbled, taking his phone out of his back pocket. “Oh, it’s Hyunjin.” He paused to unlock the device and read the text messages. “We’re meeting in front of the library to work on the short film in, like, ten minutes? You coming?”

“Bold of you to assume I’d miss it,” Chan replied, already shutting his laptop and standing from his chair. He held his laptop in one hand and fetched his room key from his nightstand. “Let’s go.”

-

Outside the library was a small garden.

A roofed walkway stretched from the entrance of the building and cut through the colorful flowers, leading straight towards a gazebo in the center of it all. It became a hangout spot for the film students shortly after it was built. So many conversations that sprouted ideas were born there; plans that evolved into writing sessions and soon became short films—all witnessed by the nature that circled the area.

Seated quietly on a bench, Chan continued to arrange his new song while Felix went to discuss the setup of his short film with Hyunjin. He glanced up from his screen to find the two boys sitting on the floor of the gazebo, Felix explaining his visions for the film and Hyunjin listening intently beside him.

Chan smiled to himself and went back to the tracks spread out on his screen, waiting for him to put them together.

Not too far away from him stood Yang Jeongin, walking from the direction of the Social Sciences building. The journalism student had slung his backpack onto one shoulder, a battered notebook in one hand while the other was shoved into the pocket of his light blue hoodie.

Jeongin let his gaze wander around the area, not really trying to see anyone he recognized until his eyes landed on Chan.

The older man looked as busy as he always did, and Jeongin hesitated to approach him although his feet steered him towards the bench. He took a deep breath and forced himself forward, his lips automatically tugging into a smile when Chan noticed him.

“Jeongin, hey!” Chan greeted, ever so cheerful and excited to meet someone he knew on campus. “Where are you headed? Come here, come sit with me.”

“Hey, Chan,” Jeongin sat down beside him and placed his notebook on his lap. His fingers started to subconsciously toy with the thread that held the frayed pages together. “What are you doing here? I mean, no offense, but I never see you outside.”

Chan laughed as he nodded, his hands moving to save the changes he’d made before closing the laptop.

“None taken. I’d be a vampire at this point. But yeah, I’m just here waiting for Felix to finish his discussion over there.”

He pointed in the direction of the gazebo, and Jeongin looked, only for his eyes to widen instantly. The color drained from his lips as if he’d just seen a ghost, and Chan’s voice was drowned out by the sound of his own heartbeat thumping against his eardrums.

“What… What’s Hyunjin doing with Felix?”

“Oh, they’re short film partners,” answered Chan, noticing the sweat breaking out down Jeongin’s temple. His eyebrows were pulled into a frown while he placed the back of his hand on the latter’s forehead, “Are you okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

But Jeongin didn’t answer him.

He was too busy having a staring contest with none other than Hwang Hyunjin, who was standing less than fifty meters away.

Hyunjin felt his surroundings darken with every sharp breath he inhaled. It pierced through his lungs and left him fractured inside despite his eyes narrowing and shooting daggers at the younger boy from across the yard.

The thoughts and memories from that one night came flashing in his head like midnight thunderstorms.

Jeongin was there.

He saw everything.

His breathing became more uneven as he delved deeper into the maze of memories—the vacant look of the stranger’s unblinking eyes, his fists painted crimson, sore and throbbing from colliding repeatedly with skin and flesh, and Jeongin… Jeongin standing there on one side of the road, watching every scene unveil before him with quivering lips and trembling knees.

The feeling of ecstacy bubbling inside Hyunjin every time he drove his fist into the stranger’s face was unforgettable. Crunching sounds filled his ears like the music autumn leaves would make when stepped on, the warmth of the red liquid dripping on his knuckles and the metallic smell it produced—everything felt so familiar, yet he felt so far away.

It’s as if there’s a switch inside him, and once it’s turned on the darkness would swallow him whole. His eyes would no longer recognize the faces he admired, and his hands ceased to differentiate between right and wrong.

He had a fire inside him but his heart turned cold.

“Hyunjin?” a voice called in the distance. “Hyunjin!”

His shoulders were shaken, and he blinked.

“What?”

“You blanked out for like five minutes. Do you need a break? You’re sweating,” Felix said, his voice laced with genuine concern.

“I… I just, I need to go to the bathroom,” Hyunjin said before Felix could get nearer. He finally broke eye contact with Jeongin, whom Bang Chan looked overly worried about.

His feet began to take him towards the bathroom behind the library that students seldom used because the lights were out and nobody bothered to fix them. It was always his own timeout room; one where he could drop the mask and be alone with his own demons without other people’s eyes to witness.

Hyunjin tried to bury the look on Jeongin’s face as deeply as he could, but seeing him sitting just meters away for the first time after that night, Hyunjin wasn’t so sure he could keep his calm composure in front of his classmates.

He’d left Felix to discuss with the other people on the team, and he broke into a sprint towards the bathroom once out of sight.

Blood was pumping twice faster in his veins, his head throbbing with every step he took towards the place he wanted so badly to avoid. Hyunjin breathed heavily, his vision blurring with uninvited tears as he pushed open the door to the bathroom using unnecessary force.

His foot met with a trashcan sitting right beside the sink, sending it flying and hitting the wall on the opposite side before it clattered onto the floor with a loud bang. Hyunjin didn’t care if anyone could hear him. He doubted anyone did anyway.

Nobody ever heard him when he needed them to.

When the door slammed shut behind him, the darkness returned. The rays of light seeping through the small windows below the ceiling were the only ones aiding his sight.

Hyunjin threw his fist against the concrete wall and cried out loud when the pain shot through his veins. Images of that night came haunting his mind like a film, replaying the same scenes that he wanted to forget most.

Ignorance was bliss until his mind woke him up.

And then he saw his reflection in the mirror above the sink, and for a split second he didn’t recognize the person staring back at him. His dampened hair disheveled and sticking onto his sweaty forehead, his eyes bloodshot and as red as his knuckles, his skin pale and lips colorless, and his eyes—

They had seen so much, but nothing was carved into his brain as deeply as the fear in Jeongin’s eyes when he found Hyunjin straddling the stranger’s waist, the latter’s blood covering his hands.

In that moment, Hyunjin couldn’t stand the person inside him, and he wanted to turn all the mirrors around.

Jeongin knows, he thought.

He punched the mirror as hard as he could, letting the tiny bits of glass bite into his skin and tear through his flesh. A hoarse scream escaped his mouth as he fell backwards, his back hitting the door to the nearest stall and letting him slide onto the floor.

Hyunjin let the tears flow. He let his face bury into his hands while his muffled cries for help were silenced by the absence of his friends.

He knows I’m a monster.

[ CHAPTER THREE ]

[verus-veritas]

Collan's Caption This Catch Up

I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. Coming to live in a college dorm after years of a hermit-like high school existence was culture shock. Back home I was the weird, skinny nerd, the token gay social outcast who did his best to avoid the rest of the small-minded, small town denizens who were all too willing torment the obvious outsider given the slightest opportunity, never mind that I had been born there just like the rest of them. So I had made sure the opportunities they got were few and far between, and I had assumed I would continue staying out of the way in college. Keeping my head down was a winning strategy. Why mess with success? What I hadn't counted on was the reality of being forced to live cheek-by-jowl with a seeming unending parade of ideal male bodies. Within the first hour I was overwhelmed by them. On the paths of the campus they walked, in the lounges of the dorm they casually relaxed, in the halls they fist bumped with their bros, and one in particular even invaded my room. I had requested a single room and had thought it had gotten approved, but in typical bureaucratic fashion I showed up on the first day of Freshman orientation to find someone already occupying an obvious double room. I had a roommate. Cullen McCathers. From that very first day, I discovered that even though he spoke to me in a friendly enough fashion and I apparently responded appropriately to the conversation, none of it really registered. He remained a remote and unattainable object despite our sharing a living space, because my thoughts, my gaze, the core of my very being seemed to be pulled into his orbit on a visceral level. He was muscled and toned like a fitness model, and he had a strong face that lit up when he smiled. His voice was sexy, his eyes were sexy, his walk was sexy. His scent, whenever I managed to get a whiff of it, drove me wild with desire, and after watching him unself-consciously change in our room to go take a shower, I knew he was hung so big that I wondered how he dealt with all of that meat in his crotch on a daily basis.

Within a day my universe shifted, and he became its center. He filled my waking fantasies and starred in my nightly dreams.

I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. ***********

I guess my capability for intense mental concentration and focus, coupled with the depth of my obsession helped trigger the beginning of it. Each night I would think of Cullen as I drifted off to sleep, going over in detail the fragments of him I had collected in my mind that day, cherishing the nape of his neck, the swell of his bicep, the revelation of his tongue darting out to moisten dry lips. I yearned for him and cast myself towards him with wild abandon in my head. And then one night a couple of weeks into the semester, I felt myself drift off to sleep as usual with thoughts of Cullen filling my head, like the proverbial visions of sugarplums, but instead of my consciousness slipping away until morning, it slipped sideways instead and I found myself hovering just off the floor next to Cullen's sleeping body. I looked across the room towards my bed, if what I did can be called looking, seeing as I was a bodiless consciousness, and I saw my own body just where I would have expected to see it, lying and breathing gently in slumber. I was surprisingly unconcerned with what was undoubtedly a highly unusual occurrence. Instead, I was fascinated by what was happening and started to examine my disembodied self. I seemed to perceive some sort of silvery cord leading back to my body, and a scrap of information surfaced from my endless eclectic reading over the years. Astral projection. This is what this was. I had written it off as new age crap, but here was proof to me that not only was it not crap, but I had somehow managed to achieve it. I turned back to look at Cullen and saw the same silvery cord stretching out of his body and out through the wall, anchoring his dream self to his physical self as he journeyed through the night. The instant I realized this, my thoughts became action, and I flew out of the room through the wall, following Cullen's silvery cord.

The world blurred by dissolving into formless colors, before brightening and resolving into a daytime city street. Cullen was there, arguing with a police officer, a clown, and a talking cartoon goldfish in a bowl hovering in mid-air. Cullen was dreaming, and I was in his dream. I sensed some sort of change in myself and looked down to see that I had a body again. I walked towards the arguing quartet, but as I did the police officer flew up into the air, the clown popped like a balloon, and the goldfish in the bowl turned into a demonic cheerleader who began to chase a suddenly terrified Cullen down the sidewalk towards me. I was enraged that anything would dare to try and hurt Cullen, so I grabbed a parking meter out of the sidewalk and stabbed the cheerleader through the chest with it. She dropped to the ground instantly and vanished. "Oh, man! I thought I was dead for sure! You saved my life! Thank you!" said Cullen and hugged me tight. I went rigid in shock. Cullen had spoken to me, and for the first time it had actually registered as words instead of meaningless gibberish. Cullen had touched me. Cullen had hugged me! For the briefest of moments Cullen's dream world had become real to me, and the combination of his speaking to me, touching me, and hugging me threw me into such turmoil that between one instant and the next I was suddenly waking up in my bed in my darkened dorm room, gasping for air and shaking in reaction. I was obsessed with Cullen McCathers. ***********

To say that my obsession with Cullen deepened from that point on would be a gross understatement. Now that I knew I could spend all of my sleeping time with Cullen, I began to do so on a regular basis. He had starred in my dreams and now I began to star in his, sleep-stalking him every night. In his dreams, I found I could actually talk with him in a way that I was completely unable to in the waking world. Admittedly, most of the conversations were variations of his thanking me for one rescue or another since I became his dream protector and hero, saving him from countless monsters, demons, witches, aliens, and bad guys who were gunning for him because someone had framed him for a murder he didn't commit. After that first dream hug, I did everything I could to initiate physical contact between us during our nightly escapades, an arm casually draped over his shoulder, a hand gently tousling his hair, countless little touches, smiles, looks into his eyes. In the waking world, he grew more open and friendly towards me, looking at me more, smiling at me more, continuing to try and engage me in conversation despite the fact that I continued to blank it all out and watch our interactions as an observer, rather than as the active participant I was when we dreamed together.

It also dawned on me that there was a sexual tension between us that hadn't existed before. I was still jacking off to mental images of him every chance I got, but I realized he was spending more and more time wearing less and less when we were alone together in our room. He had never been shy about displaying his body, but as the days went by he went from t-shirts to muscle shirts to tank tops to bare torso, and from sweats to shorts to briefs to nothing at all. I exerted every ounce of my self control to not stare at the obvious things and be as casual and nonchalant about it as he seemed to be. The weeks passed, and the days grew shorter as fall progressed towards winter. I welcomed the turning of the seasons, because longer nights meant more time to sleep and dream with Cullen. Things might have continued on this way, but one evening in early November I went to sleep and slid sideways out of my body to find I wasn't alone in the room. There was another presence like myself, hovering just off the floor next to my bed as I was hovering next to Cullen's. It was another waking dreamer, I knew, and as I looked more closely I realized its silvery cord led straight to Cullen's sleeping body!

"Now it all makes sense," came Cullen's voice in my mind. "This is what you do. This is how you're always in my dreams." "Yes," I replied. "It happened first spontaneously, but it quickly became directed. I'm sorry. I can't seem to help myself where you're concerned." "You love me, don't you?" he asked. "Yes," I admitted sadly, thinking that this was probably going to be some sort of ending. "I've been obsessed with you from the first day. Love followed quickly once I started to get to know you through your dreams. I can't seem to talk to you when I'm awake. I think the reality of you is too much for me to take after a lifetime of isolation, but all I want is to be with you, in all ways, always and forever, to love and protect you, to be one with you. I'm sorry." "Why are you sorry? Can't you tell I feel the same way? Ever since you invaded my dreams and started saving me, I've become obsessed with you too. I go to sleep each night, knowing that you'll be there to keep me safe, even though you can't say so during the day. I could tell the feeling was there somehow, that we were connected on a deeper level. I've been longing to meet you on that deeper level, and now, suddenly, here we are." "You love me too?" I asked incredulously. "Yes," he said simply, and even though he had no body at the moment to express it, I felt the warmth of his smile on me anyway. I moved towards his warmth, and he moved towards me. We met in the center of our dorm room, still hovering just off the floor, and with no transition our bodiless bodies merged into a single being with two silvery tethers anchored at opposite sides of the room. There are no words to describe the unity we experienced in that moment. Pile every description imaginable of physical and emotional intimacy on top of each other, squeeze them all together, multiply all of that by any impossibly large number you can think of, then magnify it all again by an equally impossibly large number and you still won't approach it. Neither of us were prepared for it, and like the first time Cullen had hugged me, I found myself suddenly abruptly awake in my body in my bed. The only difference was that this time, Cullen was awake too. He launched himself, naked and erect, out of his bed and across the room to mine. I had thrown my blanket off, and his beautiful bare body landed on top of me, his mouth seeking mine to devour me. His gigantic cock leaked onto my stomach as he ground his crotch into mine, only my briefs separating us. He moaned his frustration into my mouth as we kissed, then he sat up and back, reached down, grabbed the opening in the front of my briefs, and with a grunt, ripped them open and yanked the remains out from under me, leaving me as naked as he was.

He laid himself fully down on top of me again and our legs intertwined. He kissed me again, and we were touching all along the length of our bodies, from feet to crotch to mouth. His cock ground down into me and my hips pushed myself in turn up into him, trying to somehow physically force our bodies to merge as our essences had in the moment before we awoke. Given our frenzy, we didn't last very long, and we shot together allowing at least part of our physical selves to merge into one as we mixed our cum together between our heaving bodies. As amazing as the orgasm had been, as amazing as it was that I now knew this beautiful body on top of me held a soul that loved me in a way that I had never felt before, my eyes started to fill and tears began to drip down my cheeks with sadness, because I knew that I would never be able to experience in the waking world the unity we had shared as we slept. I looked up at Cullen, and saw tears to mirror my own. I was with Cullen McCathers. ***********

I'm not entirely sure how we got through the next few weeks. We somehow got through classes and kept up some semblance of normalcy during the day, but it all seemed remote and unreal, because at night we left our bodies behind and merged together until dawn. After a while, it became harder to determine where I ended and he began. Our body language, speech patterns, and ways of thinking became similar to the point that at times it felt like we were one person living in two bodies. Thanksgiving approached, and with it the inevitable family obligations. We had become so detached from life outside school and each other that it was almost a surprise when it was time to part and we realized we should have made plans to avoid the separation. There was no help for it, though, so off we both dutifully went, to our individual destinations. Wednesday night was misery. I was back in the place I had grown up, that I hated and that hated me. I went to bed early, eager to experience the all-consuming love that I had discovered with Cullen, only to discover that I was unable to reach him fully. We had a vague sense of each other across the distance, but we couldn't seem to connect. I spent the night lonely and aching in my heart. Thursday was just as bad, spending Thanksgiving Day with my perpetually distant parents. It made no sense to me that they would want me here today after years of not really caring whether I was around or not. I had someone now who wanted me and I wasn't with him. The night was another one of yearning and a futile struggle to connect with Cullen in our dreams. Friday the separation became actual pain. My head hurt, my heart hurt, my body and soul ached to be with Cullen. I begged off the Black Friday shopping trip, knowing I would not be able to bear the long drive to the nearest town that was large enough to have decent places to pointlessly spend money on meaningless gifts. My parents drove off and I went back to my old room and flopped on the bed. After the last two frustrating nights I was feeling defeated and depressed, and I began to resign myself to not being with Cullen again until Sunday. I eventually felt myself drifting off to sleep, only this time, for the first time in months, I actually slept and dreamed. Except it wasn't a dream, it was a horrific nightmare, the details of which I didn't remember upon my panicked awakening except for the sensations of terror and profound loss. I curled up on my side, hugged my pillow, and sobbed uncontrollably at the feeling that if I didn't do something drastic, I would somehow lose the connection Cullen and I had found. I couldn't let it slip away, to become just me again instead of the unity of us. I had slept longer than I had expected to and it was already late afternoon. Knowing my mom, my parents wouldn't be back from the shopping frenzy until late so I had hours left to be undisturbed. Dropping off to sleep had almost become second nature to me, so it was easy for me to roll over and take back control of my unconsciousness. One thought was uppermost in my mind. I had to reach Cullen, no matter what. My eyes closed, my breathing deepened, and unlike earlier in the day, I slipped sideways out of my body as I fell asleep. This time I had a new determination and started to fly across the miles to my obvious starting point in my search for Cullen – the room that we shared. I felt pulled tight across the distance from my body, but I held on to where I was through the familiarity of the location. Uncertain what to do next, I hovered once again in the place that was ours, where I could feel him all around me even without his being there. I knew my sense of time was distorted when I noticed it was dark outside. I had been here simply contemplating Cullen, and hours had drifted by without my realizing. I began to notice, too, that my sense of him was growing stronger rapidly. My excitement and longing for him grew with each passing moment until the door opened, and there he was. I could tell he was as angry and frustrated as I had been. I moved to surround him and comfort him, but he couldn't feel me there. He sat on his bed for a little, but his tension didn't seem to be allowing him to relax. He turned to his travel bag and pulled out a bottle of wine, opened it, and drank some straight from the bottle, then went and sat on *my* bed and put his face into my pillow, breathing in deeply through his nose. He hugged the pillow to his chest and a tear dripped down his cheek. After a bit, he got up, tossed my pillow back on my bed, grabbed the bottle and headed out the door. I followed wondering where he was going. His goal turned out to be the top floor lounge at the back of the dorm, where very few people bothered to go. It was deserted, since it was the Friday evening after Thanksgiving. Cullen drank some more wine and gradually seemed to relax. By the time the bottle was empty, he had propped himself up across a couple of chairs and was staring blankly at the wall. Bit by bit his eyes closed, and then there he was, slipping sideways out of his body to join me. "You're here!" he said with surprise. "I've been waiting for you. I pushed and pushed to get here across the distance. I wasn't sure where I was going to go from here. The distance is difficult, but you came back, and you're here, and now we can be together again." And just like that we were. We were one again and our joy was endless. The unity of ourselves into a single being was a miracle, and all the sweeter for having been denied it the last two days. The only things that marred our joining were the silvery cords heading off to different places, Cullen's to his body in the chairs just next to us, and mine to my far away self. We were one. We needed to be one. All other parts of us were one. The cords needed to be one too. We were tugging on my silvery cord in an attempt to push it into his, when suddenly there was a sensation of severing, and an unattached tendril reeled in from a distance, flailed around as if seeking purchase, then laid itself down over Cullen's cord and into his body. ***********

We awoke with a start, disoriented from being in an unaccustomed place, uncomfortable from having fallen asleep on the chairs, and still drunk from the wine. We felt such an overwhelming feeling of happiness and well-being that we wished we could tell someone, but we knew no one would ever really understand. As I stumbled back to my room, I knew that the other bed would be remaining empty, but that was ok. I was with my love and I was within my love. We were one person forever. I was one person with no further need for two bodies. I undressed for bed and looked down at my body as usual and for the first time, happy with what I saw. I was masculine and strong in my body. I was loved and protected in my soul. I was Cullen McCathers.

Source: “Collan's Caption This Catch Up (10th May)”

[everlasting-deluge]

When We Were Young | 01

↠pairing: park jimin ⇆ reader (female) ⇆ kim namjoon

↠genre: angst, romance, song fic, Ex-lover!Jimin, Ex-lovers!AU, Childhood Love!AU, (kinda) Sugar Daddy!Namjoon

↠warnings: mention of disturbing subjects (Ex. suicide attempt, depression, anxiety), profanity

↠words: 5k

↠A/N: I’ve got the inspiration for this work from the song When We Were Young by Adele. This is the first chapter of the serie. I focused on character’s inner world rather than the outside one. I’d love to hear your thoughts on this work too, so don’t be afraid to send me some feedbacks.

➸  Nothing could prepare you for this fateful and haphazard encounter with him. He was there, right in front of you, looking at you with the same yearning that had been in your eyes for years now. Were you ready to face him? Were you ready to know the cause of those sleepless nights and your wet pillows?

❈ | Moodboard | Masterlist |

One, two, three, four… Ten.

Ten seconds of eye contact was what you needed for recalling the owner of those eyes, those beautiful soft dark brown eyes. They once looked at you with love and care, promised you the world, made you feel safe and complete; now, however, you could only see panic bolting in them.

He was confused, his eyes had widened only for a split-second was clearly hinting that; but his stiffened posture caused by him trying to restrain his emotions made you think something else was in the equation, another factor that needed to be added.

It didn’t really take you long to find that missing element, just following where his eyes were drifting away to. It was simple but also crushing; like, the elephant in the room suddenly decided that it was fed up with only sitting there. So instead, it started to jump on your newly healed heart with its tons of weight. The haphazard stitches became undone, and the blood leaked out from the wounds.

If your heart was like how it used to be, then there should have been no problem with carrying the weight. It had carried all that love for years. That cursed burden called love which brought you nothing but, supposedly, “never-ending” storms that ended with a grave silence.

Jimin was sitting at the table on the rightmost row, which your table was a part of as well; like you, the night view of the city on their right was presented by the huge windows kissing the ceiling from all the way down to the floor.You two could see each other’s faces clearly—against your own liking.

The beautiful lady sitting across from him was the reason behind the hesitation buried in his actions— you were assumming her beauty from behind; she had this perfect posture and a milk-white skin exposed by her back-revealing dark red velvet dress. You could hardly detect her voice speaking to Jimin among muffled background noises of the restaurant. Her voice was like her dress: velvety.

She then giggled, probably expecting him to react the same way, but Jimin was too absorbed by your presence to notice her request. Your whole being was covering his senses like a delicate lace curtain. He could rip you off only with his bare hands and come back to the real world, getting out of your mesmerizing shade, but he didn’t want to; the tulle brushing his face was leaving a funny tingle on his skin. He enjoyed seeing the world brokenly behind the little gaps between embroidery patterns. And everything else looked white, innocent-like. In that whiteness, he forgot what he’d done to you, what he’d done to you two’s “we”. His mind wandered among odds. Could he use “we” with you ever again? He’d considered the possibility for thousands of times before, but he had never dared to want more than he deserved. He could not be greedy; he had no right to be so. But if he had had the courage, he would have searched you everywhere; and when he had found you, he would have never let you go ever again. He did once, and it had almost cost him his life. Almost…

You saw him flinch as he trailed his gaze down, piercing his eyes away from yours. His girlfriend must have held his hand on the table. He smiled softly to her but softness didn’t reach to his eyes; the panic was still evident in them. The lady didn’t notice though, or she pretended to not to. In anyway, you could see that she had this huge impact on him. It was strong enough to not let him show his emotions towards you. This didn’t bother you, however; not like how it did in the past at least.

“____, are you okay?”

You wondered how you looked like through the eyes of the person sitting on the chair right in front of you. Rude, uninterested? A kid who had a focus-span less than ten minutes? You tried to read his expression, but it gave you nothing more than plain concern.

You hated it.

“Yes, I’m okay Namjoon. It was a tough day at the office, ’s all. Thank you for your concern.”

You smiled at him and returned to cutting the delicious-looking steak on your plate—which, maybe, had costed a full shopping cart of food that could serve you for a month. You weren’t paying, so you kept your mouth shut and tried to enjoy what’s given to you. You appreciated it, really. If it weren’t for him, you would never come to this kind of luxurious place, or eat costly meals in tight and revealing dresses combined with a pair of killer high heels. It simply was not in you; you weren’t suitable for these kinds of things. They were too much for your lifestyle shaped by the incomes of you and your parents’—which won’t fill a nutshell compared to Namjoon’s current earnings.

You told Namjoon what you’d felt about how he preferred to live his life. You didn’t want him to quit it altogether, of course not; but you asked him to tone it down a little and respect your boundaries when he was with you. He said that he would do anything for you; he said only you mattered to him, but you knew him better than that. The reflection of you in his eyes was someone else. And she was a complete stranger to you.

She was someone who enjoyed parties, getting social and talkative; she was fond of getting dressed up and minding her manners. The present you in front of him was just an empty shell he can fill up with his desires and standards. You were just a potential to him and nothing more, only waiting for someone to actualize you. Whenever you showed your distress about the whole thing and refused to do as you were told he would say,

“You are beautiful ____, but your own eyes are helpless when it comes to seeing your true beauty under this… Well, neglected layer. You can be so much more, love; you have the potential to be so. We just have to find the real you hidden inside and when we do, I assure you, you’ll feel better. Let me help you, ____.”

Yesterday, you two had planned tonight’s dinner date. While you two had been planning, you’d emphasized that you wanted it to be simple and casual. You’d asked him to come over to your place and prepare dinner with you; you’d thought it would help deepen your bond, plus it would be cute to mess around a little in the kitchen. You just wanted to see him in his “casual” habitat. It’d been two months since you two start dating, but you knew nothing about him other than general personal informations, his family being an acquaintance of your family and him having enough money to spend like there’s no tomorrow. 

Namjoon had promised you a calm and sweet dinner, only you two in a romantic atmosphere.

While you were dreaming about how this date would have been like if he’d just stuck to the plan and had kept his promise, like a cuckoo clock warning you about the passing time, the waitress startled you when she asked if you needed anything else. This made you look up from your glass half filled with red wine and see the painful reality. You two were not alone, neither casual, and were far away from your definition of a sweet romantic dinner. And the privacy… You’d rather not think about that.

“No, thank you. We’re fine.”

The waitress smiled and with a small nod she left you two to your own miserable night.

You fixed your gaze on Namjoon after looking around and thinking how you ended up in there. He was wearing a black suit and his hair was styled nicely, granting him a sharp-look along with the glasses he wore. Everything on him was screaming money and power, everything on him was matched with his aura; he owned it all. Nothing looked out of place, unlike you. You were stiff, unnatural. People would immediately understand that you were not a part of this world; you were unsuited, not born for this. Yet, Namjoon has claimed that he saw something in you that no one ever did, including yourself. He believed that you belonged to where he was standing, the world of elites; he believed that you belonged to him. But you have never been his or someone else’s and you were never going to be. You belonged to you, and you were sick of pretending like someone else. You’ve never wanted to be better. You were enjoying the life plenty with this version of you.

You’ve missed wearing baggy and comfortable clothes when you went out; staying at home, settling on your little counter beside the window (which had an amazing view at this time of the year) and reading your favorite book on there while drinking your calming tea.

Ah, you’ve missed the autumn in Busan; you’ve missed riding your bike to the beach and watching the sun set bit by bit until it submerged into the sea completely, as lines and colors mixed all together and formed the starry sky along with the moon. You’ve missed the autumn in Busan with him. You’ve missed Park Jimin.

And now, he was right there, a few meters away. You’ve always dreamed; what if you saw him again, what if you had a chance to talk. What would you say?

I’ve missed you,

I still love you.

Come back to me…

Just the possibilities themselves were enough to make you nauseous. Whenever the thought corossed your mind, something warm would emanate your heart at the spot; welcoming and familiar… Then his face would appear in your head. Untouched and eternal… As if the cruel time made him an exception and let him pass without giving his youth as an exchange.

The Jimin in your head was young and full of love. He was smiling ear to ear. In contrast with his widening smile, his eyes were getting smaller. You’d loved to see him smile; you would feel instant relief when he showed his pearl-white teeth to the world and blessed the living.

You’ve always thought you would feel the same way when you meet him again, the emotions from the past would flourish and wind your heart with their arms like a poison ivy.

The first taste from the poison would always feel pleasant and heavenly; but when it found its way through your veins and swam in your every cell, it would kill you gradually. Even though feeling the slow-coming end, you would still try to cherish every little piece it’s given to you. Even after all that pain and darkness, you would still feel grateful for all those memories he made with you. But the worst part would always be the time when you realize that you still carved it. Because once you tasted it, it just felt… right. As if it should have been there from the start, as if it was your part you’ve been missing all this time.

The emotions were there still, along with the poison itself; but you weren’t.

The fog in your head was thicker now, concealing the last remaining pieces of who you used to be. The shared laughters, glances, words… Everything was now swallowed by The Fog of Remedy. You’ve done this to yourself, you needed to forget if you wanted to heal. And this was what you’d wanted from the start: to forget.

You’d never thought at some point of your life you would want to get rid of those meaningful memories… to get rid of him. You’d wished not to do so. You’d wished to keep them with you so that the Jimin in those scenes can stay young and hidden. A Jimin had never gotten the touch of Time; a Jimin never gave up on you and what you two once had… You’d felt like that was the only connection you had with him: The old rusty memories smelled like fresh daisies, just like the time when you two went to the forest for your second anniversary.

But people can change, just like how emotions do. Now, the pain in your heart wasn’t the result of those never ending nights you’d kept thinking about where you did the wrong, where you shot the last bullet. Now, it resulted from your overwhelmed state caused by none other than Park Jimin sitting a few meters away: You were glad for seeing him once again; you were angry at him still looking like how he stayed in your thoughts, young and ethereal; you were sad for thinking how you two ended up like this at the very end; two strangers once shared a single heart.

‘Jimin, you bast–’

You irked with the sudden coldness on your hand. Getting your head up from your gold engraved plate, you looked at the culprit of the goosebumps on your arms.

Namjoon was holdings your hand as if it was made of glass. The hold was gentle, and when you’d gotten used to its temperature, it felt warm. He had the same gentleness in his face, too. When you met with his eyes, however; his gaze intensified, making you feel vulnerable and small. He was a man who got the power of money always beside him, but he himself, too, possessed a great strength that made people feel weak under those sharp eyes.

You’d used to compare his eyes with Jimin’s. They differed greatly from one another but also somehow found a way to shine as if they belonged to the same person.

Namjoon’s eyes were a lot more defined than Jimin’s. They were heavy with the given responsibilities at such young age. Namjoon tasted success earlier than most did; but like any other thing in this world, it came with a price. Probably, he’d not had the chance to do most people did at around his age: like not thinking about the fact that actions he took constantly monitored by people who waited eagerly for his demise, or enjoying a single freaking normal dinner date with his girlfriend, etcetera, etcetera…

But even so, sometimes his eyes had this familiar shine in them. You had seen it when you two met for the first time and you had seen it before in Jimin’s eyes too. Namjoon had smiled at you when you two exchanged your names, and that was the moment you had decided to leave the past behind and try to move on. Maybe that familiarity in his pupils had urged you to take a step forward, or maybe you’d been fooled by it just to see that familiar shine was a delusion of your longing for Jimin.

You had let go of the strings and let the destiny do her job; no more playing the blind, playing “the victim”. This had led you to accept your parents invitation to meet with their close friends—who were wealthy and had a handsome and also successful son at your age, according to your parents. Now here you were, sitting across from him with a title always came before your birth-given name:

Namjoon’s girlfriend.

Namjoon’s hand was still on yours. You briefly smiled at him, which led him to do the same. After making sure you were okay again, he lifted his hand and returned to his meal. You were going to do the same– No; you had to do the same, but something was urging you to look at Jimin’s eyes. You wanted to look at them, The Present Jimin’s eyes to see if they were how you remembered, longed them to be. You wanted to be sure they shimmered the same way they did years ago. So you obeyed to the little voice and lifted your head up, but inside you were praying that he was minding his own business so you two didn’t lock eyes. You closed your eyes for a second; after exhaling, you lifted your head to look straight ahead.

Jimin saw your closed eyes and got worried a little. You were not okay, possibly his fault. He wasn’t expecting you to look at him directly; but you did, and he forgot how to breathe. You were still beautiful, as if the time had stopped just for you. Your eyes, lips, nose… Every inch of you drowned him in nostalgia. He remembered how he’d looked at you and you’d looked back at him like you two were the only beings in the universe. He remembered how he used to kiss you starting from your forehead to your chin. If the mood was right, he would slowly nibble at your little sensitive spot just under the right ear, and from there to your neck. Soon after, he would keep going down to ravish your whole body.

He tried to recall how your lips felt like on his skin. You would kiss him gently when you had to wake him up from his slumber, and he would groan to protest. He would smile into the kiss, make you giggle to. He loved your laugh and every sound you’d make whenever you opened your pretty little mouth. From your most heartfelt laughters to your sexiest moans, he remembered them all like yesterday. He missed them; he missed you.

And your eyes… Your eyes that held the galaxy in them. They had never left him, always looking with lust in his most private dreams. The eyes used to brighten his darkest nights… He focused on your eyes solely with a hope to see the beautiful Milky Way in them, but what he’d seen broke his heart. The galaxy was gone along with the warmth always melted him on the spot. The stars were now replaced by meteors wandering aimlessly in the void. Your eyes were looking lost; they were focused on his eyes but somehow it felt like they were trying to see something behind them, something placed way deeper. Jimin could see pieces of hope scattered in your eyes, barely shining but still there. Seeing this, he once again remembered the grave sin he’d committed. He should have never left you. He did this to you, and he never hated himself more than this very moment.

Jimin’s strong gaze made you uncomfortable, but you refused to look away. You needed validation, a proof that the man you were looking in the eye was your Jimin. You tried harder, looked deeper; but, the feeling never came. You couldn’t see him; he was not there anymore. He was someone else, like how you were. Life has been harsh for you both, forcing you to change. You’d done your best to hold on, you were sure he did the same, too. Because that’s how life is like, adapt or die.

Suddenly, Namjoon’s loud voice tore your thoughts, as keen as a fine knife.

“____, tell me what is wrong?! Just don’t avoid my questions anymore, please. I need to know why you’re crying.”

‘Crying…? What?’

You touched your cheeks; they were indeed wet. It was hilarious how you didn’t notice your own tears pouring down. They were visiting the corner of your lips and then reaching your chin. Out of curiosity, you licked the liquid. It was salty, of course; but you tasted something else, too. It tasted like disappointment. Then you realized that the liquid escaped from your eyes, was actually the poison itself; it was pouring out of you, not finding any more cell or joint to fill up. It was spilling out of your eyes. You used to wonder how it would look like in real life, an image of tar was always in your mind; but this transparent form of it had never once crossed your mind. It was looking exactly like tears, taking you aback.

You were sure, however; you knew that it was the poison. You were feeling the fullness inside of you, organs crushing in the fluid surrounding them. Especially your heart was finding it hard to work properly, your lungs were almost giving up. You were full and now it was spilling. One drop fell down to the red tablecloth—like any of the other thing in the restaurant, you guess it was an expensive piece. Looking at the wet spot on the soft fabric, you came back to your senses and without giving it a chance to spoil your makeup any further; you grabbed the nearest napkin and pressed it to your cheeks and eyes, careful not to ruin your mascara.

“I’m sorry Namjoon. I’m as surprised as you are. I don’t know what happened to me. It’s just… I think I got overwhelmed for a second there. I’m sorry. I’ll be okay once I go to the restroom, excuse me please.”

As you were making your leave, he grasped your wrist and didn’t let you stand up. You gasped. He sighed and spoke,

“You have nothing to apologize for, I should be the one to do so. I’m sorry for rising my voice; it was stupid of me. I was just- I was just worried. From the moment we came here, your mind has been somewhere else. You barely said anything and just got lost in your thoughts. You sure you okay? If you want to, we can leave now. Just say the word, I’m here.”

After finishing what he’d thought to say from the moment he had realized something was off, Namjoon closed the gap between you two over the table. He stretched his right arm towards the torn napkin piece stuck to your left cheek, wet from your tears. His fingers gently brushed your skin as he picked up the piece. You couldn’t help but notice the unnecessary contact he displayed. You were not uncomfortable because of his touch, no, but because of your heart speeding up despite the ivy surrounding it. And this was causing an intolerable pain deep in your chest. It wasn’t supposed to be like this, it wasn’t supposed to feel something.

You held your breath until he took his seat once again, thinking t it would help you calm down. It was your first time seeing him this compassionate. You muttered a thanks and then left your table, heading to where the restrooms were.

The restrooms were placed at inner left corner. Men and women both were using the same entrance and then separating their ways. You stopped at the common entrance for a second and looked back, seeing Namjoon checking his phone. Then you felt someone else’s gaze over you; sliding your eyes a little to left, you saw Jimin looking back at you. He, however, didn’t give you enough time to interpret his expression; facing the lady sitting in front of him and saying something. You saw his lips moving but couldn’t determine the words. Leaving him like that, you continued to walk further, finding the door for ladies and entering.

As expected, the restroom was also high quality. Looking at the crystal chandelier swinging from the ceiling, you once again found yourself doubting what the fuck were you doing there. This was simply going overboard. Deciding on finishing as quickly as you could manage, you stood in front of the big mirror placed above the sinks. It was embellished with gold leaves around the corners; the taps were also gold.

You swore under your breath and turned on the hot water. When the temperature was right, you placed your hands under it. That felt refreshing. At that moment you noticed your shaking hands. You squeezed them slightly to stop them. With the water, it looked like it worked; they were not shaking anymore. You wanted to splash some water to your face but the damn makeup was holding you back; since you had left the table in a hurry, you forgot to bring your purse with you.

A sign made its way throughout your mouth as you turned off the running water. Looking at the mirror, you thanked Namjoon for buying you a quality mascara, or else it would be ruined by now after all that crying. Actually, you thanked Namjoon for a lot of things: The dress you were in, this classy restaurant he brought you and paid for all those expensive chef’s specials… But most importantly, you thanked him for helping you gain your life energy back—though at some point he didn’t know where to stop. He was one of your coping mechanisms; you relayed on him to make you forget. He was the one who helped you create The Fog of Remedy; maybe he was the fog itself. You didn’t know for sure. However, denying his impact on your life would be something only a fool would do. You were not a fool, certainly not, and this simple fact was the cause of why you hated yourself.

He was a good person; generous, kind, thoughtful (sometimes way too much thoughtful). He knew what you’d been going through at the time when you two first met. He’d been aware that someone else had your heart with them. Even though he was far, far away, his clutches hadn’t been letting go off you. But he still had accepted to see you, be with you. You told him numerous times that you wouldn’t ever love him like you did for Jimin, that he would never be The One despite how much effort he put in it. And all he’d said was he knew all the consequences and was still accepting you no matter what. He was the one who has suggested to date; he was the one who had chosen you; but still you could shake off the feeling of you taking advantage of him. He was giving you so much, but all you were doing was crying over a man who left you five years ago. You were feeling bad for not returning his love back to Namjoon; it was getting swallowed by the black hole within you, that dark abyss of self-hatred.

Namjoon truly was a good man; he deserved more than this, more than you.

You were still looking at the mirror, lost in thoughts and the memories embedded in your eyes. The sudden opening of the door made you jump, testing your reflexes. They were still working, good.

The woman who had entered the room looked at you, as surprised as you are. She then closed the distance between you two in a second and whilst doing so she spoke, concern was leaking out of her mouth:

“Oh mine, did I scare you, honey? You look like you saw a ghost. I know I’m old but I don’t plan to die anytime soon.”

She laughed, her voice echoing among tiles on the walls. Seeing your panicking face, you not knowing how to answer back; she continued softly to save you from the burden.

“I’m so sorry, I couldn’t control my strength. It happens sometimes when you come to this age.”

As she kept coming closer, you found it easier to examine her features. She was an elderly woman, probably in her mid-fifties or even older than that—you’d learned to not to judge a book by its cover, especially in this world. Her gray tinted hair was made into a decent bun; her eyes were as clear as still water despite her age, emphasized with a subdued make up. Her untouched wrinkles were looking like holding so many memories, like they had so many stories to share.

You loved how she looked so naturally stunning. Her dioptase and diamond necklace and earrings were completing the pine green dress she wore. Everything was in place, everything was complimentary. She was doubtlessly from the world of elites; she owned it all as if she was born for this—just like Namjoon.

“I’m okay, really. I was just lost in thoughts, that’s why I reacted so absurdly. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

Her eyes directed at you were as if they were looking into your soul, but not hastily. They had this motherly tenderness in them, the kind that would make you want to cry on her shoulders for hours as she pats your back rhythmically. Her gaze felt more like she was checking you out if you were okay as you claimed to be. But then they narrowed, had she found something?

“You don’t look okay, young lady. And I’m sure that’s not just because of that little incident we had. Now tell me, are you okay?”

Tonight for once, you wanted to be honest. You wanted to be true to yourself, so you looked straight into eyes of the beautiful woman standing in front of you; smiling sadly,

“No… No, I- I’m not okay.”

You fought to stop the building tears, but it was a futile attempt. They ran, and you chased.

You always hated being a burden to people around you. Even when the time Jimin had left, you’d lived everything inside, suffering silently. The storms must not reach the others, just you. But now, you were crying… in front of a complete stranger. Not knowing her name, her age, her job… But this vagueness calmed your heart, freed your emotions. You were vulnerable, and that was okay, for the first time in your life.

You saw here blurry form hesitating over whether to hug you or to let you be, at the end she put her hand on your arm and rub it comfortingly. It did wonders, and you thanked her.

“I’m sorry. It might not look like it, but actually I’m not the type to burst into tears in front of people. The things happened today finally started kick in, I guess. I’m sorry again, and thankful as well.”

She smiled sympathetically, showing her adorable dimples. It warmed your heart.

“It looks like a personal matter, so I won’t meddle any further than this. But I do want to give you an advice, if you can accept this old lady’s habit came with age.”

You nodded slowly, giving her the cue she needed to continue.

“To me, it looks like you have too much weight. You might think you need them all, but believe me, you don’t. Once you sit down and think you’ll see it too-the unnecessary weight you’ve carried all this time. You need to throw them down to rise. You’ll soar like a bird.”

“Your sky might be still dark; but when you pass the clouds, the moon and the stars shall brighten up your darkest nights. So trust me, just let go. Because if you continue to carry the weight, it will drag you down further; and when you pass the line, the naked branches of trees sharpened like knives will be there, waiting for you.”

The lady was frowning now, exposing the deep wrinkles around her eyes and between her eyebrows. You looked at her with round eyes. You wanted to deny, to once again start play the blind; but she was right. She was right ‘till the fucking end. And you were frightened, confused. Noticing the face you were making, she grabbed your shoulders and gave them a fine squeeze. Her action made you return to reality. You had to make a choice, and you had to do it as soon as possible. The weights were not only dragging you down, but the people around you too. For their sake, for your own sake. You had to cut their ropes immediately, free yourself from that burden.

You thought about the first thing had appeared in your mind while listening to her. The seeds of the idea were already had been sown from the beginning, but not until now you realized their roots caging your heart in. It sounded wrong, stupid; but you’d decided. You were going to do it no matter what the consequences will be. It was your life, your call. And broken hearts were inevitable. You had collected the shreds before, you could do it once again; nothing was new.

You smiled, her glassy eyes shining under the soft yellow light of the crystal chandelier

“Thank you so much for your advice, ma’am. I’ll keep it in my heart.”

“In your heart…? Aren’t you a peculiar one.”

She chuckled softly.

“I think I have to return now, someone’s waiting for me. Thank you once again and have a nice evening.”

You smiled.

“You too, young lady.”

You left the restroom after that, saying goodbye to the woman and the chandelier. You were now at the common corridor, the mind full of thoughts. You were looking down while walking, not noticing the person standing on your way. You bumped into them, fortunately you were not hurrying to return your table—not really looking forward to it, either. Your head hit their chest; it hurt more than you would anticipate. You didn’t look up yet, but their muscles were something; they didn’t feel that buff, more like an athletic body.

The person you bumped held your upper arms with their two hands, forcing you to look up. And you did, but you regretted. You’d blinked a few times to adjust the blinding white light coming from the back, you were looking like an idiot, probably. Who could blame you, though? The fucking quality fluorescents were to blame, not your eyes fell victim.

He moved his head to left—The person was a man, you’d figured it out that much—blocking the light burning your eyes. The more your eyes focused, the more strongly you wished to vanish. Your brain was screaming at you to run as far as you can, leave the country, burn your phone, get a new ID, start a life away from all of this. However, it was too late, he had his claws on you now; there was no escape.

You saw his moving lips but his voice wasn’t reaching you. You tried to focus with all your might on what he’d been saying . You caught a few things, but your brain refused to put a meaning into them. Jimin was looking at you worriedly now, you felt his fingers going deeper on your flesh. The pain worked, you once again started to hear, the voices of people speaking, forks and knives grazing the porcelain… But you had to focus on him, so you faced him properly this time; only one word spilling out of your mouth:

“Park Jimin… “

His eyes widened for a split-second; then they melted with affection, softened and sparkly. He was dazzling.

His red plump lips opened slightly—the redness was caused by him chewing them out of stress, no doubt. He spoke, his silky voice caressing your ears and leaving red blossoms behind.

“Hello, ____”

↠A/N pt.2: Hellooooo!!!! I’M BACCK!!! I’m sorry, this took me ages to post but I’m satisfied with the outcome and I hope you are too. This is my longest post so far and it’s only the first chapter. I’m planinig to make this serie two chapters long. I’ve already started to write the second chap. My uni’s starting so I’m not really sure how long will it take me to post it, but I’ll try to finish it asap. Thank you so much for reading. Have a nice day!!! 💜

And if you like it please like or reblog so that I can see!!!

[razberryyum]

The Untamed/陈情令 Rewatch, Episode 8

(spoilers for everything MDZS/Untamed)

[covers MDZS chapter...none, really...Team CQL pretty much goes completely rogue for this ep]

WangXian meter: 🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰🐰

I really thought that Wei Ying should have named his binding technique “无聊” (“wu liao”, aka “lame”, “silly”, “boring”) in honor of Lan Zhan, since that’s his favorite response to Wei Ying. It’s a shame he didn’t end up doing that, felt like a total missed opportunity, especially since he never did decide on the actual name.  The two names he came up with, “sharing clothes” and “no clothes” (according to Viki's translation), felt little more than just Easter eggs for novel readers since we know eventually the two of them do partake in both states of dress and undress. In the context of the actual technique, they really don’t make much sense. However, interestingly enough, in the WeTV subs, the two name choices were actually translated as “binding” and “bonding”, which definitely seems more applicable. Based on my limited knowledge of Chinese words, the Viki translation seems to be a more literal translation of the words used, so I’m not sure how the WeTV team came up with binding and bonding instead, unless those are the figurative meanings of those Chinese characters.  I would love it if a fellow fan who is much more Chinese literate could school me on which is more accurate translation, but seriously, how much cuter would it have been if Wei Ying had just gone with 无聊?

Team CQL deciding to throw in more yin metals to the story was really a stroke of genius considering how much mileage they got out of that little invention: they got to introduce Xue Yang and eventually the Yi City boys earlier, provide a more extensive backstory for Lan Yi which of course also impacted other plot elements downstream, utilize Wen Ruohan more as a villainous character (which I personally consider a minus), stretch out the running time for more episodes, and most importantly, create more bonding opportunities for Wei Ying and Lan Zhan. First time I watched this episode I straight out cheered when Wei Ying skipped out on his Yunmeng fam to go after Lan Zhan; I thought that was so adorable. I was so looking forward to their adventures together. Too bad their alone time only lasted a few minutes...literally less than 4 minutes; I actually kept track this time around. Originally I thought that Nie Huaisang was brought in to be a third-wheeler because it would have been too suggestive for Lan Zhan and Wei Ying to spend time together off on their own, but after finishing the show and seeing all the other times they've spent together all alone, I soon realized I was totally overthinking things and it really was for the story's sake. One point I was never clear on was how did NHS clue into the fact that Jin Guangyao was behind his brother's death, since qi deviation actually seemed a reasonable explanation for his demise. Guy was bleeding through all his face holes, but he also had the ghost puppet lines on his neck. Because of NHS' experience here with Lan Zhan and Wei Ying when they faced off against the Wei villagers he was able to see firsthand how people affected by the Yin metal looks so I wonder if that's how he made the connection with what happened with his brother since Nie Mingjue also had those veiny markings on his neck. This had to be the only opportunity he had to see ghost puppets up close since he didn't really participate in the battle part of the Sunshot Campaign.

I could be way off base of course and perhaps the actual answer is more obvious than that, but one of the reasons I look forward to rewatching the show is filling in these gaps I have in terms of the plot and seeing if my conjectures to what I previously hadn't figured out yet are correct or not.

Another benefit to NHS' sudden appearance was seeing how Lan Zhan seemed almost jealous at how chummy Wei Ying was being with him.  He didn't look thrilled at all when NHS popped up, and then that look on his face before he turned away from them was really the epitome of disapproval. Actually, he looked a little pissed. I wonder if he was actually disappointed to be reminded that Wei Ying's overt friendliness was not just reserved for him, since he was just as exuberantly social to NHS as well.  

But progress was being made in their relationship just the same: take the fact that he didn’t fling off Wei Ying’s hand when he grabbed hold of him. Prior to their time in the cold pool cave, I doubt Lan Zhan would’ve allowed anyone to touch and lead him that way. In fact, he’s straight out said before that he doesn’t like physical contact with others. Obviously that’s no longer the case anymore, especially when it comes to Wei Ying. It's only the first of many more instances of hand grabbing and other touches between them. It's so exciting watching their relationship slowly but surely growing all over again.

Although, when it comes to Wei Ying, I think it takes a much longer time for his feelings toward Lan Zhan to undergo any change from close friendship. I'm probably alone on this, but while I think he likes Lan Zhan a lot, I don’t think his feelings went through the same transformation to love that Lan Zhan’s did until much, much later.  Or at least, not in the way that he is actively aware of.  He clearly felt an instant kinship with Lan Zhan, but I think it takes a long while before he even understands that it’s different from how he feels towards someone like Jiang Cheng or even Nie Huaisang.

Watching him as he admired Lan Zhan's beauty, I was naturally tempted at first to ascribe more meaning to his reaction than just appreciative appraisal because I wanted Wei Ying to be enamored with Lan Zhan already. But the truth of the matter is, now that I’m able to take a step back and really assess their relationship, I don’t think Wei Ying was quite at the maturity level yet to be able to properly comprehend what his admiration may actually be an indicative of. Wei Ying has a big heart, which is one of the most lovable qualities about him, but because of his heart and it's boundless capacity to love and care for others, I think even he himself can't decipher the differing levels of feelings he might have for different people.  And because it will take him a long time to realize the greater significance behind his attachment to Lan Zhan, it’s really heart-breaking how he almost carelessly friend-zones Lan Zhan at various points in this first part of their lives before he finally wakes up. In fact, I can pinpoint the exact moment when I believe he wakes up, but since it's still in the far future, I’ll save my further ramblings on that matter until then.

Bunny Time with the Yunmeng Sibs

I love bunnies a lot and I also love the Yunmeng siblings a bunch, so naturally I wanted to love this moment completely as well, especially since seeing Wei Ying and Jiang Cheng nuzzle bunnies is just one of the cutest sights I've ever been laid eyes on. Unfortunately, there was one thing that put a damper on the scene for me and it was seeing Wei Ying throw that poor bunny at Jiang Cheng.  That wasn't a stunt bunny he tossed, it was the real thing. I rewound several times just to confirm it. I winced so hard the first time I watched the scene that I think I gave myself a toothache, and even now I still grimace a little when I see it. For my peace of mind I have to assume Wang Zhuocheng (who of course portrays Jiang Cheng) did catch the bunny and the take we saw was not a do-over because he actually missed it so they had to redo the scene again. I will also have to assume that the bunny was the same bunny throughout the rest of scene which means it survived the toss and it was just fine afterwards since bunnies are usually fragile little creatures and are susceptible to heart-attacks at just the slightest shock (and being suddenly tossed in the air would definitely qualify as that). The alternative is just too gloomy otherwise. Chinese productions don't generally have a good track record when it comes to animals so...yeah...I gotta stop thinking about it and just focus on the siblings cuddling the cute rabbits.

I hope someone adopted the bunnies and the cast and crew didn't just cook and eat them afterwards.

ChengQing

It actually just crossed my mind tonight that Jiang Cheng and Wen Qing's ship name actually sounds like part of the Untamed's Chinese title. I don't know why I didn't notice it before. The extra "g" probably threw me off. Anyway, the way this scene started was rather odd because based on the way they greeted each other, it was as if Jiang Chen and Wen Qing were on the outs, like they just had an argument or something. Which doesn't make sense because the last time they saw each other was at Cloud Recesses, where Jiang Cheng was still making puppy eyes at Wen Qing while she was making her lantern wish, but then cut to here and it's like he's not even that thrilled to bump into her again. What happened to his little crush on her? I was kinda disappointed.

Wen Chao is a Close-Talking Creep

I don't like Wen Chao but I absolutely enjoyed He Peng's performance of him because he is so effectively creepy and shitty. Just the way he purposely invades Big Bro Xichen and Wen Qing's space as he threatens them totally made my skin crawl.  More than once I've wondered how the hell Wen Qing was able to grow up around him and not get harassed in the worst way.  He's also such a petty dick, with the way he purposefully dirtied big brother's rug for no good reason other than to be a shithead. But then, later on, when he's called to be totally pathetic to the point where he's downright sympathetic, he was able to pull that off with equal aplomb. So even though I almost hate his character, I do want to take this moment to give some love to the actor, whom I think did a really good job. Playing villains is sometimes an equally thankless job as playing the straight man, especially with villains like Wen Chao which aren't meant to be alluring like Xue Yang or likable like Jin Guangyao. He could have easily veered into caricature territory, which I actually thought the actor for Wen Ruohan did so that's why I didn't like his performance nor was I able to take him seriously as a character, but He Peng's Wen Chao always seemed grounded to me. I think a big reason for that is because the actor, in his own words, viewed his character as an arrogant, spoiled rich kid instead of a soulless villain and therefore chose to play him that way. As a result, I think he was still able to infuse Wen Chao with a small degree of humanity.  The fear he felt whenever he had to face his dad was palpable. He's basically like a bully because his upbringing allows him to be one, but ultimately he's still a weak human being. That's why, when he turned into a sad, sniveling shell of a man under Wei Wuxian's torture, I found him really pitiful and actually felt bad for him.

Odds and Ends

Seriously, why the hell was Wen Chao able to hold the yin metal with his BARE HAND like that??? They've been saying time and again how powerful the metals are, how full of resentment they are, how normal people can't just handle them cuz even a highly cultivated person like Lan Yi was done in by just one piece, so how come a medium-powered mofo like Wen Chao was able to just hold as if it was just a some rock he picked off the ground? Even if the yin metals were only just activated from their dormancy, they're still soul-sapping implements of evil, so this really should not have been possible.

The dear translators kept on calling Wen Chao's bird an "owl" and for the life of me I couldn’t figure out WHY. There is nothing about that thing that resembles an owl, imho. It looks more like a raven with eagle talons and the sounds it made were like that of a hawk, so I really can't figure out how they got owl from that. Even the Chinese words for owl ("猫头鹰") is completely different from the characters used for that bird. I mean, I guess it could be one of those deep dives like how they came up with "Childe" for all the male honorifics, but seriously why even bother? Probably would’ve been easier to just call it a raven since that's what the cloudy mass looks like the most. Although I must say, I do love the way it looks: I like that they use the evil smoky effect for it since it’s suppose to be a bad birdy. I think it's one of the more successful CGI effects in the show.

Team CQL can be proud of themselves for the owl/raven/whatever effect, but then they should also dunk their heads in the toilets for this shitshow at the Wen Village. There was no consistency to these guys...some had the whited out eyeballs that up until then, all ghost puppets on the show have been shown to have, but then some, like that female extra in the front had regular eyes. And then some of the extras were rolling up their eyes. It's like, was there NO direction give to these guys? This whole Night of the Living Not Dead scene was a complete embarrassment. Any tension they were trying to build up for this scene was completely destroyed as soon as these walking jokes showed up.

Lastly, I had to laugh when Wei Ying quickly divulged the secret of the yin metals to Nie Huaisang without much prompting whatsoever. He JUST pledged himself to secrecy in front of Big Bro Xichen and Uncle Lan in like the last episode, and he already broke the promise by this one. What was more amazing was that Lan Zhan didn’t even bat an eye at it nor did he even try to stop him. I guess they both completely forgot about the promise already.

Question I Still Have

Actually, I’ve had this question since the beginning but now seems to be a good time as any to ask this, since this episode ended on those guys: WHY they're called "ghost puppets"? I've actually never heard of the Chinese words they used for the zombies before, on any other show.  Was this terminology just a creation of the Untamed’s scriptwriter just for the show. And if so, I still don’t understand why they have to be called ghost puppets since they’re clearly NOT ghosts. Calling them "living" puppets would’ve been more appropriate. If someone has some insight on this, I’d appreciate the knowledge drop.

Overall Episode Rating: 7 Lil Apples out of 10

Disclaimer: The Untamed would not be possible without Mo Dao Zu Shi and Mo Xiang Tong Xiu-laozi.  I mean no disrespect whatsoever with my humble comparisons between the novel and the live action, even when I sometimes favor the changes in the show. All hail MDZS and MXTX-laozi always and forever!  

[the-avengers-ate-my-tongue]

Speachless (part 1)

Summary: after a few days out visiting your mom in other state, Alana calls you to tell you Will was arrested for the murder of Abigail Hobbs and the victims of the copycat killer. You and Will are currently involved, and you know he’d never do something like that but, with consistent evidences and all fingers pointed to him, how would you prove the man you love is innocent? 

Pairing: Will Graham x reader

Warnings: swearing, a little angst

Word count: 2843 

A/N: Hannibal again! Haha, I’m still obsessed and managed to introduce a friend to the show, soon I’ll start a cult (just kidding. Or am I?). One of the things that bothered me and my friend the most at the end of season one was how everyone just turned their backs to Will so quickly. I understand, they’re FBI, there were evidences, but I don’t know, maybe it’s my favoritism for the character talking. My friend also said that she found unnerving how he’s treated like a machine, a tool, especially by Jack Crawford. That stuck in my mind for days, and I decided to write something at the end of season one to let my mind flow my frustration. Hope you guys enjoy it! Probably there will be a second part of this, I still have a few scenes in my mind and this was supposed to be a oneshot. Let’s see how it goes.

XXX

“What do you mean he was arrested?” My voice trembled while I drove as fast as I could back to Virginia. “Alana, you have to tell me what's going on. Will doesn't need to be arrested, he needs…”

“Some evidences where found in his house yesterday, Y/N.” Her voice faulted, and I could hear her sadness bursting out and reaching me like a breeze. “We really tried to contact you. The FBI found genetic material of the victims of the copycat. They... They think Will killed all those people”.

For a second, I felt my hands go numb. My eyes were wide, my mouth dry. I had no reaction. I lost my attention on the road, only to regain it by almost hitting a huge truck. 

I yelled in anticipation, turning as much as I could. The car drove off the road, skidding on sand and finally stopping a few meters ahead.

“Y/n? What's happening?” Alana's voice sounded urgent and took me out of my daze. “Y/n, are you okay?”

“This is ridiculous!” I snapped, and Alana sighed with relief. “Will did not kill them! He wasn't even sick when Cassie Boyle or Marissa Schuur was murdered.”

“The evidences were substantial. And after Abigail, after today, there's nothing we can do for him... At least not anymore” Alana admitted with moderated grief. I felt my mouth dry at the same time I could feel my own sweat soak the wheel under my hands. I could also feel my nails digging so hard the pain woke me up.

“Fucking Jack Crawford” I tried not to sound so revolted, but I couldn't help it. “Damn FBI. We warned him. We saw Will lose his sanity over and over and we didn't do shit. We saw he was breaking. Goddammit... We failed him.”

“I know you two were...” She hesitated, looking for words to put it lightly. “Involved. He escaped custody while he was being taken to Baltimore State Hospital this afternoon. Just promise me you won't do anything stupid and will call Jack or me if he tries to reach you.”

I opened and closed my mouth a few times, uncertain of what to say.

“Y/n.” Alana tried again in a softer tone. “Will's not himself at the moment. He killed Abigail and maybe four more people. I... I don't want to worry about you too.”

I realized how much wrecked she sounded, and a small and unwanted smile crossed my lips.

“I'm a big girl, Lana. You don't have to worry about me, you know?” I tried to laugh it off, but it just came out as a cry.

“Jack wants to see you. You might need to give a statement.” She replied. “We tried to contact you sooner. How's your mom?”

“She’s fine, it was just a warning for her to stop eating junkie food all the time. I can't do this right now, Alana. I can't just chit chat like that and I can't see Jack being this affected. I need to clear up my head. I'll go home, have a shower and...”

My voice just faded as I rubbed my eyes. How was that happening? The last time I talked to Will, he said he was planning to take Abigail Hobbs to Minnesota. That was three days ago. How did so much happen in this short matter of time? 

“What did Hannibal say in all of this? He was supposed to warn Jack if he'd seen Will would break. Where was he in all of this?” I couldn't hide my annoyed tone. Hannibal was an old acquaintance of mine as well as Alana's, and I'm sure he'd find my tone quite insolent if he could hear me right now. 

“He was the first one Will called. He showed me a drawing he made of a clock two weeks ago. It was normal. Whatever it is, it's something that comes and goes and gives him episodes of instability.”  

“Couldn't it be some sort of encephalitis?” I asked after a few seconds of silence, trying to see the evidences. “He had a lot of fever, especially by night time. It got worse after a while. Sometimes he'd like... Vanish mentally to somewhere I couldn't reach. I'd talk to him, but he wasn't really there, you know? In his own mind.”

“I thought about encephalitis, too. He escaped custody before we could run some tests. That's also why we need to find him as soon as possible. It's a dangerous condition, he needs treatment.”

“You're absolutely right. Of course, I'll... See what I can do.” I hated the way my voice sounded so unsure, and I knew Alana would notice it.

She sighed.

“Are you sure you're okay to drive? If you text me your location, I can pick you up.”

“I'm fine. Just half an hour and I'll be home safe and sound.” I said in a melancholic tone. “I'll call Jack later and see what I can do to help.”

She probably was relieved to see some sign of cooperation, even if I didn't really mean it. I hung up and, before I could even realize, drove to Will's place even knowing he wouldn't be there. Of course he wouldn't. I just needed to be sure.

A few minutes later, I parked outside, getting out of the car with my legs like jelly. Not even the dogs were there. That broke my heart even more, as if they extinguished all of Will's essence of the place. I went back to the car with my heart heavy, heading straight home. A shower would do me some good.

By the moment I turned the key on the keyhole I felt the atmosphere changing. Like electric sparks in the air that made all possible hair in my body stand up. I could barely assimilate the hand gripping my pulse and pulling me inside, another firm hand shutting my mouth.

I tried to gasp for air so I could scream but, as I realized the smell that came inside my lungs, my whole body relaxed and I felt relieved.

Will. He was there.

He smelled like pine trees, wet dirt, aftershave and sometimes fish. And dogs, always dogs. A smell that was far from bad and reminded me of him. My eyes were filled with tears as I saw his state. He was pale, sweating and wearing an orange uniform. His breathing was accelerated, he was trembling.

I took his hand off my mouth and pulled him close, throwing myself into his arms. I hid my face in his neck, taking a deep breath. His smell, his essence was still there indeed. I closed my eyes as I felt my tears wet my face, and he hid his face in my hair, grabbing myself in a hug so tight I could feel my bones cracking. I stood away only to see his face. He had this feverish complexion that only made me more worried as I recalled of Alana's words.

“Talk to me, Will. What's happening?” I practically begged, pulling him to the sofa. “God, you're burning up, Will. You have to see a doctor.”

“Y/n, you have to hear me now. Someone is framing me.” He started while refused to sit, his eyes a little wide. “Someone is trying to make it look like I committed the crimes of the copycat. We find him, we find the copycat. It's someone who's close, who knew the case and the evidences, someone in the bureau. Someone we know.”

I felt the shivers go around my body like an electric shock, taking a few steps behind as I covered my mouth with one hand. He sounded very sure, and I couldn't help remember the confusion that stroke his mind in the past few weeks. My mind worked fast and I evaluated all the information I had so far on the cases, trying to make connections. I could see Will was agitated but he allowed me to take my time, and his confidence on me gave me more strength. Even if you could separate the fact that Will was unstable from evidences and informations I had, for me there was still a gap. Missing data. 

So I decided to trust him. Trust the man I knew he was, the man I cared deeply about. The selfless, kind man I could see under his armor. Took me a long time to break through the thick layer, and I wouldn't turn my back on him now. He was not the "catching bad guys machine", and I felt like I was the only one that could see it at the moment. There must be an explanation.

“Someone that had easy access to your house, knew your routine, knew exactly what was happening to you...” I felt my heart pumping through my chest like a hummingbird. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was someone close. Probably someone I knew, someone wearing a social mask I couldn't see beyond it. I started searching for clues in my own mind, but i suspected any single little thing would seem suspicious if I didn't get more information. I looked to Will one more time, and saw a little pity in his eyes. No one wanted to find out that someone they know, probably someone close could commit those horrible crimes.

I sighed, scanning his face. In spite of the fever, he seemed more conscious that I'd seen him in the past few days. His eyes were darker, more vivid, glowing almost sickeningly. His hair was a mess, all over his face and gluing on his forehead because of the sweat. He was sharp. I could see it.

“You know who it is, don't you?” I licked my lips, biting my bottom one nervously. He followed my tongue with his eyes, and they seemed to grow even darker. 

“I might.”

“Tell me.”

“The less you know the better. If I'm right... I... I don't wanna be right.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, probably choosing the right words. “It's serious, Y/n. You don't want me to be right, trust me.”

“I do. And I want you to trust me.” I pulled his hair out of his forehead, caressing his defined jawline.

He held my wrists abruptly, pulling my hands down. I didn't even blink, and he smiled lightly. He'd never scare me. I knew the man standing in front of me. I knew he'd never hurt me.

“You don't think I've murdered all those people.”

“Of course I don't. That was never in question.” I replied in a petulant tone. Will opened his mouth to speak, then closed it without making a sound.

“You seem to be the first.” He said, trying to hide the disappointment in his voice and eyes and avoiding to look at me. That broke my heart in a way that almost made me feel sick.

My eyes filled with tears and I tried to smile, probably grimacing.

“Maybe I know you too well. Beyond you boundaries and everything else. Did you ever consider that?” I asked in a playful tone. He didn't smile or laugh, though. He just came closer, touching my lips with his in a sweet, caring kiss. They felt hot and a little bit dry, probably due the fever. I could feel all the gratitude in his kiss, the way his hands held my face with tenderness. 

He broke the kiss only to keep his forehead on mine, his eyes still closed. My hands caressed the sides of his face as I tried to stop the tears from falling.

“Will. Listen to me. I know you want to catch who's doing this to you, and I think it's only reasonable. But escaping custody will only make you look more guilty, and that's the least you need at the moment. You need treatment.” I tried to sound sensible, but I knew he didn't need to listen to that. He knew I was right, of course, that was obvious.

“You're right. And I will turn myself in. I just have one last stop.” He seemed so certain I knew I wouldn't convince him otherwise. 

“Then promise me something, Will Graham.” I held him by his orange uniform with a pleading look. "Promise me you won't do anything reckless. Promise me you won't get hurt".

He didn't reply, taking a deep breath, his face getting sweeter.

“I have no idea what I've done to deserve someone like you.” He said, kissing me again. I held him by his neck as he touched my waist, pulling me closer, his agile fingers marking my skin. The kiss started to get deeper and deeper as I could feel a certain agitation below my abdomen.

“Well...” I pulled away, trying to regain my breath. “Let's get you out of this clothes.”

He was breathing hard, taking a moment to absorb my words. His eyes were darker than ever.

“Y/n...” He started with an uncertain tone, making me laugh a little.

“Well, you can't move around the city in this orange uniform, can you?” I explained in a false innocent tone. “What did you think I meant? You left some clothes here.”

He lowered his eyes, turning slightly red. But the cynic smile was still in his lips.

I climbed the stairs and he followed me. We entered my room and I went straight to the closet, searching for a few clothes I knew he'd left there. As he changed, I took the orange uniform and hid it in a large shoebox I had, putting it behind other boxes.

“There you go. All packed” I said, trying to hide how nervous I was lowering my eyes and staring at my shoes as if they were very interesting. He noticed, of course.

“Y/n…” He started.

“Stay.” I hated the way my voice cracked, that made me feel so weak. I was a very emotional person, while Will was more rational. Nevertheless, I knew he had his moments, I’d seen it.

He sighed, coming to me and lifting my chin with his index while caressed me with his thumb. I closed my eyes, rubbing my face in his hand like a kitten and cursing myself mentally for the tears that stained my cheeks. I felt so desperate. That was serious, he was being framed for someone else’s crimes, someone dangerous that all of us knew. And I had no idea how to prove it, just my blind belief that wasn’t useful for nobody but us. I was facing it; maybe, the following days, even months, would be seeing Will mostly behind bars.

“You know I can’t.” He said in a condescended tone, his deep blue eyes studying my face. “I wasn’t even supposed to be here. It was reckless. I’m sure Jack has eyes for me everywhere, including here. I’m already running out of time. And if he knows about us, then I shouldn’t have even come here in the first place.”

“I know. I’m just being silly.” I agreed, wiping my tears away with a little smile. “And Will, honestly, I think everyone knows about us by now. We weren’t exactly good at hiding it.”

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Alana was the first to find out, you know?” I told him as I avoided staring at his face, feeling my cheeks burn a little. “She noticed how I looked at you. She says I look like a fool. A beautiful little fool. I asked her not to tell a soul about it, but I’m terrible on hiding my feelings, as you may know. Especially… Especially when it comes to you.”

He listened to my words in silence, his hand still caressing my chin. I noticed how wet they were, he was sweating. I tried to imagine those hands committing violent murder, carving a macabre smile on Sutcliffe’s face, putting Cassie Boyle on the top of those stag antlers. That felt… Wrong. Inadequate. Maybe it was my feelings talking, but I just couldn’t see it.

“So, probably the whole bureau knows by now.” I continued, stepping away and breaking any physical contact. It would be easier to let him go, and he knew it, he saw it in my eyes. I held my body as a form of solace, staring at the floor. “You should go, Will. You’re right. This is dangerous, my house may be under surveillance right now as we speak. Just… Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”

He hesitated, opening his mouth to answer at the same moment my phone rang. I startled with the high-pitched sound, taking the goddamn thing out of my pocket and checking the name on the screen. Jack.

I turned my back on him, picking up the phone.

“Jack. Yes. I’m here.” I tried to fight back the tears, sounding convincing enough. I didn’t even had to turn to know Will was gone. His smell slowly began to fade, and in a few seconds, I felt completely alone.

Part two

[celticfeather]

Akatsuki Fanfic: Campfires

On: FF  Ao3   Tumblr

First. 1. Dawn

Previous: 4. Slaughter’s Court

Campfires chapter 5: Kraken Hall

-Hoshigaki Kisame-

Thukk.

Right by his ear. His awakened eyes slid right. The tag of a paper bomb waved from a kunai.

Kisame sprung away in the fraction of a second before its detonation. Adrenaline damped pain: his neck and shoulder had been torn open, he did not know how much. His priority was seizing a few seconds of distance and time.

Midleap he looked for the boy, he was gone, the white cloth that bound him a twisting ribbon snaking to the forest floor.

Flickers manifested into crouching shapes on tree branches. Their animal masks denoted the Anbu of the Hidden Leaf, though the rogues were outside the Leaf's territory. The masks' inset eyes were round and black like a shark's, but leaf ninja moved like ghostly gray leopards. The assailants were three ninja: two men, one woman, and a ninja hound.

He had to get them out of the trees, the leaf ninja the advantage there. They met him on the ground. He grasped Samehada's hilt, and from the reserves of stolen chakra, his steaming flesh began to rapidly regrow where it was damaged. He grinned at the three masked ninja.

"Tell me, am I next to Itachi in your bingo book?"

There was no answer and a lightning jutsu struck at Kisame then. Huge and white and it sucked the air from the ground. He let it strike along Samehada, most of it was absorbed and channeled along the sword's scales, with the rest of the lightning shocking off into something behind him.

He felt Samehada purr. Or perhaps it was more like a stomach growling. As the leaf ninja stared in disbelief, he smashed the sword into someone's body, the shock traveled up his arms, and the exhilaration of combat flooded him.

He quickly dispatched the other two ninja with crushing strikes from his sword. Then the dog sprung at him. Dogs were not pets in the Mist. He grabbed the beast by its forelegs and winched them apart.

One, two, three, dog, down. Done.

He stepped forward to the bodies to make sure the job was finished, but his limbs didn't obey him. He looked down, an ink black shadow had reached to his foot, and somehow he could not move. One of the crumpled men he'd thought dead had wielded a shadow like a tentacle. He tried to budge his leg,

Kisame struggled against the bind. He could move slightly. A few more seconds of fighting and he would break free. He stared inevitable death at the man, and Kisame did not smile.

At that moment a shape, small and angular, inspective and fearless as a crow beside a carcass, appeared beside the crumpled Anbu. The Anbu's head turned to regard the sudden darkness over his shoulder.

"Uchiha...Itachi..."

Well? Kisame wondered of his partner. What will you do?

Itachi's red eyes looked deeply into the mask. Kisame could not know what nightmare was shared. But what he did see was Itachi's kunai strike. The tentacle around Kisame's leg uncoiled, and the fight was over.

Kisame wondered what summoned the assailants. Like a bird Itachi was so visually focused. Last night he had allowed for no fires, no loud noises. But as fine as his sharingan was, it could never see a scent. From their skirmish hours before, the boy smelled like a bloodbath. And Kisame, feeling responsible, knew that he should have been wiser.

Itachi stepped to each of the three corpses and lifted their painted masks. He stared into their faces.

"No member of the Leaf's two ninja hound clans are among these dead," the former Leaf ninja said.

Kisame's eyes slid suspiciously to the surrounding forest. So, their main course was elsewhere.

Then Itachi placed the masks back on. To face the afterworld as they lived, he supposed. The sanctity of a human body never really mattered to Kisame. Dead meat was dead meat. He accepted none of the people in this clearing, alive or not, would ever receive a proper funeral.

Itachi parsed signs and raised a hand. Dozen of crows and ravens and hulking raptors bigger than cats arrived from somewhere. The birds were fearsome, but lightweights by nature, and Kisame wondered what a bird did with a human pelvis.

"You know what doesn't leave bones?" Kisame suggested.

Itachi's expression did not change.

"Sharks."

Icy Itachi looked at his expectant wards and then at Kisame. "Leave them the hound."

Kisame lifted the human bodies and threw them into the river, and summoned four freshwater tolerant sharks. At a scarcely perceptible twitch of Itachi's finger the obedient ravens plunged. His bull sharks needed no such instruction, and when one did not not focus closely, the splashing sounded peaceable in comparison. The ravens, social and hierarchical, argued noisily with each other over the best positions. With a businesslike demeanor, the two ninja turned their backs to the clamor of devouring.

"The Leaf will have sent a second jounin squad after us. I will reroute them," Itachi said.

Itachi intended to bait an informed jounin team alone, in his condition, and probably half his unimpressive chakra with a shadow clone.

Kisame smiled. "Still slightly suicidal, I see."

"I expect no problems."

"Are you gonna say something to me about last night? Or are you just gonna let it fester?" Kisame said.

Itachi's eyes were sharp. "Do you want me to apologize for attempting suicide? Or for abusing you?"

"I want you to acknowledge that you looked into my head, revived my dead-sister's dead-kid, impregnated her, and stabbed her through the spine. To try to get me to kill you, because you decided that you can't cope with the fact that you're a killer. Have I got that right?"

Itachi continued aloofly. "I am different from all of you. Senseless killing bothers me deeply."

"You are so elitist. You think I wasn't bothered by it? You think when I was a boy, I wanted this?" Kisame gestured at himself, huge and beastly and covered in scars.

Itachi was midstride, but he stopped at Kisame's words. Kisame continued menacingly.

"I grew up in the Blood-Mist Village. I was younger than you when I became a killer. I have no family, no purpose, and almost no friends. So what I want to know, Itachi, is why you don't accept it like the rest of us."

"I can deal with the fact that I'm a killer. What I could not accept last night, Kisame, is my continuing existence in the Akatsuki causing dozens of unnecessary deaths. But whatever. It doesn't matter- you were right anyway. Ending myself is not going to solve this problem. It must be fought directly."

"Directly?" Kisame repeated. The word insinuated rebellion. Wars were won with less manpower than that would require for a rebellion against the Akatsuki, and Kisame knew he was under orders to take Itachi out if he did so.

Wisely, Itachi did not elaborate. The dark haired young man looked somewhere and Kisame followed his gaze down. The dog was just a skeleton. The winged scavengers took the bones in their slender beaks and flew away with them.

"We must leave now," Itachi said.

Kisame stepped onto the now-still water to hide his tracks and scent. He showed the scroll between his knuckles. "I'll start Kakuzu's other mission," he said gruffly.

"Hm."

Only a few wind-trembling feathers testified what happened at the scene, and the two ninja vanished with the wind that scattered them.

—Uchiha Itachi—

Itachi broke a twig between his fingers. In this moist climate, a twig would not have snapped naturally. The Anbu would halt to discuss the stick for a few precious moments and come to the same conclusion. Animals could leave smears in the moss. But only ninja leave decoys. Even if they did not have a second dog, they would know it was him.

But these Anbu would have another dog. No Inuzuka had been among the dead. No Hatake had been among the dead...

Ninja who abandon the rules are scum. But ninja who abandon their comrades are worse than scum.

Itachi thought he had embodied the persona of cold parricide. Apparently not. His ruse of coldness had been translucent as ocean water. Strange round, silver and black eyes regarded him from his memory:

You might just be the only friend I've ever had.

He had been cruel to manipulate his partner last night. Kisame had been uncomfortable fighting him, even as easy as Itachi planned to make it. He would find Kisame and apologize properly for his manipulative attempt. Maybe he could convince him to spare some of the bandits, Kisame probably would probably kill most of them if he did not interfere. Itachi hated these Akatsuki kill missions: Kakuzu, Pain, could just try and punish him for leaving some people alive after the goal was achieved. Kisame was right. Death would not solve the problem of Itachi's existence; he would have to think his way out.

That was far enough to cost the Anbu the necessary time. He parsed signs for a shadow clone, and his double unceremoniously continued forward. Last he tested, he could be separate from his clone for two kilometers before it disappeared. The real Itachi jumped some twenty meters to the water, expecting that if he did not touch solid matter, his scent would vanish in seconds in the air.

But he was not sure. He did not see his world through scent. He threw a final glance towards the past, towards the Anbu, towards his old captain Kakashi, then ignited his sharingan and focused on the way before him. Now, to track Kisame.

—Hoshigaki Kisame—

Kisame lowered the hand-drawn map and stared at the island that filled its place on the horizon. It was a fine little place for a bandit camp.

He stepped across the ocean water to where the stolen wooden skiffs crowded the island's white sand shore. He found the cave entrance by smell. Men: those lazy brutes had taken to pissing where they ate.

He walked into the tunnel. It would be inconvenient to swing Samehada in such a small place, but he did not expect the bandits would want to stay there long. Someone saw him and asked him a question. Kisame shoved their head into the wall and kept walking deeper into the cave. The scroll's task had been to 'eliminate the bandit threat,' and he would do that in the way he decided most enjoyable and convenient.

Two bigshots argued in the common area, surrounded by lower members. The two leaders raised swords at him, but he twisted their arms around, and thrust one into the blade of the other. Then the screams started. He threw the trembling survivor to the ground and stepped on his neck. A surrounding man threw a knife, Kisame returned it.

A woman called her comrades to flee. The remaining members streamed around him, out of the cave, down the beach, and Kisame stalked after the prey unhurriedly. They untethered their rowboats and launched them into the waves, running astride their vessels, tossing oars to each other.

He wet his feet in the surf and shed his robe on the beach. A grin slit his lips. He parsed a few signs and a water dragon overturned the skiffs and spilled their human cargo into the sea. He let Samehada's spiked pommel embed in the skin of his palm. What a terrible day to be a pirate, he thought as the cool tide sloshed against his now-sandpaper hide.

He smashed a skiff with a whip of his tail. The electricity in his snout fired ablaze, they were so alive, so frantic, so afraid. This prey was small, a tenth of his weight, almost small enough to swallow whole. Their tender bones waned and crunched in his jaws. He'd bite, tear, release when the muscles flexed limp, and bite the next thing that moved. The blood was intoxicating, heavy, arousing. The meat in his mouth did not taste bad.

He pictured Itachi. The cruel face he made last night shined in his mind's eye. With his grinning teeth and the weasel look in his bloodthirsty, fight-hungry eyes. Bring out Samehada!

An impulse occurred to him. He had not done that before. But that did not mean he could not start. He was frightfully hungry. A chemical of frenzied excitement flooded his brain, no longer fully human, at the prospect.

He identified a target. He sank into the depths for a pregnant moment. Then he snapped the red-muscled braided whip of his tail, shot dart-fast towards the surface, and a second before he breached, yawned wide a razored chasm of death.

—-—

Kisame staggered human out of the waves. He descended from the fogging rausch, the tremendous high. His hands trembled from ecstasy, from shock, from disbelief.

An uncomfortable feeling plagued him. It was the first time in fifteen years that he felt it. Not quite fear, not quite cold, but it gripped him around the chest like those. It was the unfamiliar realization that, maybe, he had done something wicked.

He swung Samehada off his body and flung it viciously against a palm tree, and he leered at it with shark teeth bared.

"Look what you made me do!"

The words felt hollow when they became reality. He knew better than to decry an object. It was not Samehada's fault, it was not Itachi's fault. The deed had been his alone. He knew not which god to pray to forgiveness, or demon for sanctuary.

"Holy Buddha, Amaterasu, Susanoo, fuck it, Jashin, anybody."

He knelt on the sand.

"Why did I do that?"

Kisame's gods, as always, remained silent.

Looking at the familiarity of his own limbs made him want to retch, but he knew retching would not absolve his sin. He did not know the physics of it. If he ate something big, and then he shrank back down to normal size. But he felt gorged and sick and he could not bear the thought of eating. He could not bear the thought of meat, of flesh. Of muscles pulling under skin, of intricate ligaments gently meshed to slippery bones... He looked away from his own body and towards the ocean horizon.

He did not indulge in the sleep his exhausted body craved. He sat on the beach, feeling strangely nervous. He let the surf wash coolly over him, but it brought little relief. Something brushed by his hand on a wave. He feared what it could be. He held it in front of his face to eclipse the setting sun, but it was just a harmless abalone sea shell, and the iridescent mother-of-pearl material glittered gently like mica in his hand.

He stood up from the surf and took Samehada off the tree. The moment he did, he was blasted with the instrument's chakra sensing ability. Itachi was tracking him, and a shock of unease probed him: he did not want to see Itachi right now.

Water crested around his ankles. He rubbed the smooth abalone shard with his thumb like a netsuke. He felt the sharingan-wielder nearing and decided it would be too much effort to evade him.

"Hey." A pause. "Bandits are taken care of?"

"Yeah."

"Do we have bodies to dispose of?"

"No."

Itachi had speared two fish next to a burning, salt-blue piece of driftwood. "You want some?"

"I'm not hungry."

Itachi's vivisecting black eyes probed him. Or maybe it was just a normal look. Kisame feared what he could see with those eyes, if he could read inside his mind, and pluck his nightmares into reality, like he had with Akaei.

Itachi waved his hand. "Come sit by me."

Kisame sat by him.

"Kisame, I'm sorry I attacked you last night. I thought a world minus me was for the best."

"Itachi, the day men like you are the bad ones, is the day this world has gone to shit," he said.

"I manipulated you, and I terrorized you, and I tried to kill myself. Do you forgive me?"

"Yeah. But do it again, I'll..." bite you in half, he would have said to someone else, sometime else, but he found his usual bravado unappetizing. "Don't do it again."

"Thank you, Kisame."

Itachi ate alone, neatly and quietly. Kisame stared at the abalone shard and stroked it between his thumb and finger. It was smooth and flat and not quite triangular, like a tooth, or maybe a teardrop.

"I did something I regret today, Itachi," Kisame eventually said.

Itachi looked over the moon-streaked water. "At times it's hard to live with our crimes. But we need to understand that we are worthy of our own acceptance."

Did he know? Maybe. Maybe those eyes saw every thought Kisame had ever thought. But Itachi did not grasp the crux of the incident that troubled Kisame.

"It felt good."

Now Itachi understood the severity of the problem. The young man bridged his hands before his nose and closed his eyes, and stayed quiet. Somehow Itachi's recognition sobered Kisame.

"I understand if you want to spend a few days away from me, or want to leave altogether," Kisame said.

"If you're sorry, I'll forgive you."

Kisame raised a calm eyebrow, looking down at his sea shell. This was different from Itachi's crime. "I'm not sure this is yours to forgive."

"Then, I accept you."

He contemplated the sentiment. Unlike forgiveness, acceptance invoked no debt, no guilt, and nothing to prove. There was nothing about it he could interpret as ingenuine or undeserved. It was merely a validation of his existence. He did not ask for forgiveness, or was so forward as to say he deserved it. Acceptance… Kisame liked that.

Itachi's eyes slid to the object in Kisame's upturned palm. "What is that?"

"It's an abalone shell." He passed it to his partner.

Itachi's eyes flashed red for a second and he smiled small. "It's beautiful. It has many unique colors, ones humans cannot even see. What kind of animal lived in it?"

"An abalone is a big, ugly, sea snail the size of a rat that eats slime."

"The universe is wise, how even such a wretched creature must not stay ugly at its core, is it not?"

"You can have it if you want," Kisame said. Itachi was a small, pretty man who seemed to like small, pretty things.

Itachi handed it back. "I think you'd better keep it."

He turned the silvery rainbow shard around in his palm. Yes. He would keep it, to remind him of the stupid, ugly, scum-eating, ocean creature that Itachi decided was still beautiful. He was glad Itachi found him this night. He would be miserable alone. The two ninja sat before the glow of the salt-blue flames, and stared up at the thick belt of stars.

"If you're not a bad person, and you've hated killing in the Akatsuki the whole time, why did you decide after this mission to off yourself?" Kisame asked.

"Utilitarian ethics. I had a goal, but I realized that fewer people will die if I was dead."

"Avoiding physical trauma… it might not be the most ethical thing, you know," Kisame said.

Itachi gave him a doubting look. He was starting to not be terrible at reading Itachi's expressions.

"Have you ever thought about what makes you happy?"

"Rarely," Itachi said.

"Maybe this eye of the moon scheme can make the world a better place for people like us," Kisame said.

Kisame noted Itachi's flinch. Of course Itachi would know, he and their leader were related, after all, but it was a privilege for Kisame to know the secret of the Akatsuki's true plan, the Eye of the Moon.

The Uchiha looked at him intensely. "You know the truth."

"That our leader is Uchiha Madara? Yes. He recruited me personally," Kisame said.

"Even I… was not strong enough to kill the Uchiha clan alone. Madara helped me do it."

Itachi's lips were uncharacteristically loose, and Kisame, always a hunter, identified when to act. "History paints Madara as a fanatic for his clan. Why would he cull his own legacy?"

"Some sixty years ago, Madara thought the Uchiha betrayed him when we wanted peace alongside the Senju."

"Then maybe it makes sense for him to kill his clan. But you… I can't explain why you'd do it."

The silence hung. Itachi did not relieve it with an explanation. Kisame's luck had run out and Itachi returned taciturn.

Kisame looked around. It was well into the night. Itachi probably did not like this exposed beach for a campsite. "Where should we sleep?"

Itachi signaled their departure by standing. "I noted a possibility on my way."

Kisame looked out into the blackness. "You can see in this?"

Red eyes gleamed. "Moderately."

Kisame took a torch from the fire for himself, washed the evidence into the waves, and followed Itachi.

With the starfield and ocean on his left, Kisame followed the small swift shadow through the dark hemisphere along the rocky coast. Itachi sprang down the sharp rocks with the same limberness of the Leaf Anbu, and he realized the boy had spent his formative years among their ranks. Kisame felt somewhat clumsier, hindered by the dark and a torch. They found themselves in a tidal cave which overlooked the sea, with shallow tide pools on its sharp floor. He peered into one: an octopus wilted into the cracks at his face.

"Need we be concerned about the tide?" Itachi asked him.

Kisame noted the lack of algae on the wall and the height of the moon. "No."

Itachi leaned his back against the sharp wall and let his legs sink. Kisame doused his torch in an unoccupied tidepool. With the moonlight that reflected in flashing tortoise-shells from the ocean, he could see the silver edge of Itachi's short, angular face.

Itachi stared at him for a moment, as if deciding to say something. He said, "Good night, Kisame."

Kisame was caught off guard. But he too formed his lips around the strange words. "Good night, Itachi."

Itachi closed his eyes and Kisame leaned himself on the wall opposite him. But now Kisame was watchful, and for a while he stayed awake to the sounds of waves. Comforting, hollow sounds, that like the breaths of ghosts, reminded him of a home that no longer existed.

Author's Note:

Thanks for reading!

I am looking for a new Beta for this story. If you are 18+ and might be interested in looking over this story with me for style and plot, please write me a message. I'd love to have a partner to make this piece as strong as it can be. Thanks!

And if you like reading this, please do let me know your thoughts!

Steadfast,

Kelto