#the internet is one of the easiest places to do that because you can find very loud bad people to yell at and take your frustrations out on
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
sorry for subjecting my dear beloved mutuals to reading the words and opinions of a bunch of very stupid dudes who don’t know how to read but do know how to talk a lot.
got sorta fed up with being talked at all the time constantly with no ability to say what i actually think all the time so i actually did it for once until i felt better.
#speaking my mind until i cooled off definitely helps#the internet is one of the easiest places to do that because you can find very loud bad people to yell at and take your frustrations out on#and because their ego is so high and their victim complex is so deep you can practice saying what you feel in a way that makes sense#with another person who does not want to listen to you and is going to offend and upset you while also intentionally ignoring what you said#people do this in real life but once you’ve practiced the confrontation enough times#you can get used to it and respond when it happens irl instead of freezing up and letting these people bully you#it has no real life consequences and it’s easy to walk away when you’re done#and you can work with realizing when and at what point#your anger gets the better of you and you start to get so worked up you can’t respond#you learn how to keep people from trying to use ‘logic’ to silence you#if they can get away with calling what you say stupid after they’ve attempted to provoke an emotional response from you#then they will. and when you’re angry and distressed THEN they’ll try to force their opinion on you#‘insult you. make you feel stupid by provoking an emotional response and cherry picking what you say’#‘only responding to the things that you said they’ve heard before and refusing to acknowledge or discuss anything else’#‘ignore what you’re actually saying because you’re right’#using more insults to provoke you into giving an emotion based response’#‘use that state to make you give an emotion based response and then calling it not factual thus using it as a way to dismiss#‘the thing you’re trying to say that they don’t want to hear.’#they will often interrupt you and if you do the same to them they will accuse you of being disrespectful and unreasonable#i’ve been dealing with that for as long as i can remember but now#i am finally able to#learn how to respond#instead of letting it go on forever#cause now for the first time i have the power to walk away
2 notes
·
View notes
Text
extra cheesy — e. sohn
pairing: eric sohn x fem! reader
genre: pizza boy! eric, very mild childhood friends to acquaintances to friends to lovers au. college au, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst. mutual pining, slowburn, jealous eric, oblivous reader, the whole lot... includes pizza boy! sunwoo and eric's older sister! lisa manoban.
wc: 31k (31.071)
warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, mention of throwing up, mentions of jealousy, the reader and eric are the same height bc i wrote this for and about myself, talks about the ex-gifted kid burnout syndrome lol.
listen to: so american - olivia rodrigo, love - wave to earth and stuck with u - ariana grande and justin bieber
being a wingman is not always the easiest task - especially not when your roommate's target is best friends with someone taking your attention away from the main goal.
a/n: thank u so much best friend @csenke for beta reading as always and thank u best friend @from-izzy for hyping me up and listening to me ramble hours upon hours about this fic (oh and also for stepping in as the reader's roommate HAHA).
“Come on, we deserve a little pizza for dinner!” your roommate, Izzy, shakes your arm as she clings to you on the sofa the way she always does when she wants you to do something. And although your dear flatmate isn’t usually the one to order in, much preferring to cook meals at home and save the leftovers for another day, you wouldn’t find her desperation for pizza as strange, if it wasn’t for the batting of her eyelashes and her pleading voice.
Surely, she doesn’t need the pizza that much, right?
“I’m not saying we don’t, I’m just saying I have leftover soup from yesterday that I have to eat tonight or else it’s gonna go bad,” you justify your protests, “but you can get one, if you want. I’m not stopping you,” you say, furrowing your eyebrows at the girl in confusion before reaching for the TV remote.
“Oh come oooon, Y/N,” she pressures, pouting at you in disappointment. More weight is put into your body as she clings to you, acting like a child throwing a tantrum. “You deserve to have delicious pizza for dinner today, because you finally bagged that internship! Isn’t that a reason to celebrate?”
“We can just pop the champagne, if you wanna celebrate–”
“Y/N, can we please just get the pizza tonight?” she turns serious for once, the smile disappearing off her face, replaced by a much more stoic expression. And see, that’s a little scary– desperation can make people do bad, bad things. You’d be a fool to turn down your flatmate’s request– you’d have to sleep with one eye open tonight…
“Okay, fine,” you grunt, shaking your head at her ridiculous antics, “from the usual place?”
“NO!” the girl chimes, making you jump in your place on the sofa with the loudness of her voice. If she wants to scream, she should move further away from your ear, goddamn it. After sending her a look full of anger, she offers you an apologetic one before she reaches for her laptop resting on the coffee table in front of you, opening it and pressing in a new Google search. “There’s this place I found with Yizhuo after class one day,” she says, scrolling through the browser and finding the site of the place she wants to order from today, “and they make pretty good pizza. So just choose one and then I’ll put it through the online order.”
“They have online orders?” you hum, interested. “Twenty-first century, this is. Online shopping for pizza…” you snicker, shaking your head in disbelief. Maybe you’re getting old– and it’s not like you don’t enjoy the comfort this gives you, not at all, you just find it a little strange to order food over the internet. What happened to phone calls?
“Yes, grandma,” Izzy sighs, “that’s like, a normal thing, I fear.”
Rolling your eyes at her irony, you scan the menu before deciding on your usual– margherita, extra cheesy. After pointing your finger at the pizza of your choice, your roommate takes it upon herself to add the meal to her cart (while also adding one she likes as well) before she proceeds further with the order. Your eyes stay glued to her, interested in the way this whole thing works– because let’s be real, ordering a pizza without having social interaction is every introvert’s dream– and watch as she hesitantly clicks onto the “add a note to your order” section of the website.
Confusion fills your veins as you stare your roommate down. What more could she possibly need for this order? Does she not just want to eat? Does she need her pizza sliced in a special way, or does she want the pepperoni in the shape of a flower, or something? You really wouldn’t be surprised, with how peculiar Izzy could get sometimes, but still– wasn’t she the one mourning about how hungry she was just a few minutes ago? Surely, she would want her food to get here the fastest it can, with no additional requests that would take up too much time.
“Don’t say anything,” she mumbles as she starts typing, and finally, it all starts to make sense.
The desperation in her voice. The determination. The need to have a pizza tonight, right now. Because after reading out the words she’s written down, you realize that it was never about the pizza itself in the first place. Knowing Izzy, you should’ve known– after the months of sharing an apartment with her, you should’ve been able to predict her antics.
There, proud, black on white, shine five words saying: Send your cutest delivery boy :)
“Izzy what the fuck–”
“I told you not to say anything!” she cuts you off, clicking through the rest of the order hurriedly, as if worried you were going to make her delete her embarrassing request.
“Okay, miss, ‘I don’t chase no man!’, I see that you’re living up to your motto. What? You ate there with Yizhuo last week and saw a cute guy doing deliveries, so you thought you’d drag him to our house instead of asking for his number like a normal person?” you grunt, shaking your head at the lengths your roommate is willing to go to– while also making her own life twice as complicated as it needs to be.
“Well, pretty much, yeah,” she peeps as she closes the laptop after paying for your pizzas– you’re not paying her back, just for the record. Not after she just publicly embarrassed you by making that stupid request with your address attached.
“Are you crazy?” you scoff. “Why didn’t you just talk to him back there?”
“He was busy!” she mourns. “Look, this is me shooting my shot. You’re getting a pizza out of it, so I don’t see the problem here.”
“The problem is you doing all of this when you could’ve literally just walked up to him last week and introduced yourself,” you say, watching your roommate physically crumble under your scolding, but truthful words.
Izzy slides down further into the sofa, as if to shield herself from the attack. She puts her hands over her face, hiding the blush on her cheeks as she mourns into the silent apartment. “Look, I was shy, okay?” she says.
“But not shy enough to be so bold over the internet, huh?” you mock her, feeling your roommate’s hand slap your upper arm in frustration.
“You should’ve seen him, Y/N! There was no way I was going to walk up to him after the whole day I spent at uni. I looked like a dead rat, that’s not how you pull men,” she mutters. “And he looked so perfect, so adorable, it’s… I keep thinking about him and his plump lips and his dark messy hair, and he was so tall and–”
“Okay, okay,” you cut her off, a hint of annoyance tinting your tone. “I’ll see him with my own two eyes in a bit anyway,” you comment, “if he’s really the cutest out of them, as you requested,” you snicker.
“He is! I swear. There is no way he isn’t going to appear on our doorstep in a few minutes, trust me.”
Little did the two of you know that you caused havoc on the other side of the town. It was a slow day in Sohn’s Pizza, leaving the two part-timers on duty scrolling through their phones, awaiting any new customers. It was the middle of the week, 2 hours before their closing, and so the sound of the new online order coming in surprised the two boys, having the owner’s son sit up from his place in the corner of the room and click through the system.
“Dad, it says one extra cheesy margherita and one pepperoni!” Eric yells out into the kitchen, followed by a loud acknowledging hum from the cook himself. Sunwoo looks up from under his chocolate bangs, pausing the game he’s been playing on his phone, licking his lips.
“Do you wanna go?” he asks, obviously too lazy to move from the pizzeria. See, the two part-timers had many responsibilities. One wasn’t just a delivery man or just the server. Because Eric’s father didn’t really trust anyone with his business, he relied only on the people closest to him– which caused this place to operate mostly as a family business. Sunwoo only got the job because he was Eric’s longest friend, and that made the Sohn family consider him as one of them.
That meant the pizzeria was almost always short on staff, though– which was a problem Eric complained to his dad about more often than not, being too busy with deliveries and also wiping down the tables, serving the customers and helping with the sides. The poor boy already learned that his dad won’t do anything about it from the sheer discomfort of having to go through the hiring process with anyone, though, and so after a while, he just stopped trying.
“I dunno,” he shrugs, eyes scanning the order. “It has a note, though.”
“What does it say?” Sunwoo asks, voice barely coated in any interest. Eric would argue that the boy doesn’t really care, but is just asking to seem mentally present.
“Send your cutest delivery boy, smiley face,” Eric hums, snickering to himself. Now, that’s a request he hasn’t gotten before– and the pizzeria has been open for quite some time now.
“Oh, so I’m going,” Sunwoo says, already standing up from his place in the camping chair behind the counter even though the order isn’t ready yet, full confidence flowing through the man’s veins.
“Didn’t you just ask me if I’m going?” Eric jokes, eyes darting towards his coworker.
“Yeah, but that was before I saw the note,” Sunwoo scoffs, “we obviously don’t want our customers to be unhappy, so I’m going to do my job, and as the cutest one, go deliver these pizzas.”
“Where did the confidence come from?” Eric clicks his tongue. “Well, that being said, I am going to deliver these.”
“So you think you’re cuter than me?” Sunwoo looks at his friend with a stern face, and to be honest, it’s kind of funny how serious the matter is for the boys. They would both blame the 8 hour shift getting to their brains, but in reality, it’s clear as day that they both want to win this argument.
“I’d say so,” Eric nods. “Didn’t you say you were more sexy than cute the other day?”
Sunwoo looks at his friend suspiciously. He doesn’t really remember the full context of the conversation, but he does remember stating the fact– and although he’d argue it’s true, he also doesn’t want to lose to Eric. Because look– the job is taking up the majority of the boys’ time, so looking for a girlfriend has gotten severely more difficult.
Why not take the opportunity at work? And besides, everything is more entertaining than sitting around and waiting for the place to close for the day.
“I did,” Sunwoo carefully admits, “but that was more to do with the general attractivity. I’d say those two go hand in hand, and therefore me, as the objectively more desirable one, should go deliver these.”
Eric blinks slowly at his friend, trying to process the self-absorbed words spilling out of the taller one’s mouth. “Are you calling me ugly right now?”
“No–”
“I’m pretty sure you just called me ugly.”
“I would never–”
“I’d say I’m the cuter one,” Eric snaps back, shrugging. “I have this aura around me–”
“Now you’re just being ridiculous. You know the note was obviously for me, so why don’t we stop this and you let me make this delivery? You can always do the next one–”
The argument is growing more heated. Who would’ve thought such a simple note would lead to two men trying to advertise themselves as the cuter one? The room is filled with testosterone, although the objective of the fight was somewhere completely else– the question was who the cuter one was, and if they had to be truthful, they had to go with facts, no?
Small things are cute. Eric is shorter than Sunwoo. Logically, it should be him– but he won’t say this comment out loud in fear of carrying the burden of admitting to his laughable height in front of his spiteful friend’s ears.
“How can you tell it was for you?” Eric scoffs. The arguments were starting to get ridiculous.
“It was the energy, I swear, the note is calling for me–”
“Boys, the pizzas are ready!” the voice of Eric’s dad calls from the kitchen, making both of them snap their heads towards the source and hurry. Never in a thousand years have either of them reacted to an order so quickly– not even in the highest of rushes– when they reach for the two boxes with grabby hands, like it was some sort of a prize.
It felt like everything was on the line. Eric Sohn prides himself in being a fast runner, but when he senses the taller boy breathing down his neck, he breaks all rules of safe workspace and also friendship as he outstretches his leg towards the right, tripping the boy– all to win the title of the cutest delivery boy.
Snatching the pizzas and also the car keys, Eric pays his coworker a victorious smile. Sunwoo glares at him from the ground, breathing heavily, anger roaring inside of his body. Eric finds this as his cue to hurry out before he’s attacked– while he’s a good runner, he was never quite good at combat– and so he jogs out of the pizzeria and unlocks the door to the Honda Civic parked outside, hopping in and typing in the address into the GPS on his phone.
Back over at your place, you try to pass the time by watching the TV. Netflix failed you with its poor selection of things to watch– mainly because you’ve already seen most of the true crime documentaries that you could find– so you just let yourself get pulled into the doom of teleshopping, your brain quickly getting used to the flashing images and over-exaggerated voices advertising the newest sumo slicer. You had a long day at university today– while also finally managing to get the internship with the company you dreamed of working for– and after all of the stress, your brain decided to simply turn off.
You’re only taken out from your trance as the doorbell rings, making you jump slightly at the loud noise. Dinner must be here– your stomach churning at the premise of a good pizza already (you have to give it to Izzy. She was right and you do deserve pizza tonight)– and so you stand up from the sofa in the living room, calling for your roommate.
“Izzy, the pizza’s here! Come get the door if you wanna see the guy!” you yell into the depths of your apartment.
You get no response. Did she fall asleep? “Izzy!” you call again, this time louder.
“Coming!” you hear her reply. You wait a few seconds, standing in the hall, when the doorbell rings again– after not opening the door for at least 2 minutes, you’re starting to get worried that the delivery man will just turn on his heel and take your pizzas away from you.
And you can’t let that happen– not when you were finally persuaded into eating them– all because your roommate is seemingly getting ready to open the door and see the newly found love of her life, probably putting on some cute clothes in her room.
“I’m just gonna get it!” you say, reaching for the door handle.
Opening the door, you are met with the sight of a delivery boy standing on the other side, two boxes in his hands, shifting weight from his heel to the tips of his toes. He sends you a soft smile before he raises his eyebrows at you so high they almost touch the red cap adorning his head, opening his mouth to speak.
“Eric?”
“Y/N?”
Both of you shock the other with the recognition. You haven’t seen Eric Sohn since elementary school– and while you must admit that the son of your parents’ friends grew up to be mildly attractive, you must say he hasn’t changed a bit. Now, this whole interaction grew even more embarrassing for you– you completely forgot about the note.
“Hello?” your roommate calls from behind you, walking up to the door in– you guessed it– her finest clothes. She always wears this outfit out, which makes you roll your eyes at her. She is trying too hard. And for whom? Eric Sohn, of all people?
“Izzy, here’s the cutest delivery boy you asked for,” you awkwardly say, trying to save your face. You won’t allow her to embarrass you like this– yes, you are completely content with throwing her under the bus in this situation. This is the boy you were forced to hang out with the whole entirety of elementary school, after all. You won’t let her humiliate you by making him believe it was you who found him so attractive.
Because let’s face it– he wasn’t. Well…
Maybe he was and you’re lying to yourself. But still– you won’t let him think you’d be so pathetic to shoot your shot by an online order. The boxes in his hands have Sohn’s pizza written all over them– maybe you should’ve paid more attention to the name of the pizzeria you were ordering from.
“Ah,” Izzy hums, and something in her composure shifts. Her shoulders drop and her smile dims– and that’s when you realize Eric is not the delivery boy she was hoping for. You have to laugh at her.
Izzy makes no effort to move or take the pizzas from the boy’s hands, and that’s when you take charge. Sighing at her, you move her out of the way before you send Eric an apologetic smile, freeing him off your order. “Thank you for the pizzas,” you say, watching as the delivery boy nods at you, offering you an awkward smile.
You push the boxes into Izzy’s hands, ordering her with your eyes to take them into the kitchen. As she slowly moves out of the hall and disappears into the apartment, you face the boy again, still standing at your doorstep. You scan him all over– from the top of his red cap that’s hiding his honey blonde locks to the black cargo pants covering his legs– before you nod to yourself, the awkward atmosphere making you tense under his gaze.
“Uhm…” you hum, not really knowing what else to say to diffuse the atmosphere. This is embarrassing. This is humiliating. Why did your dumb roommate do this?
Now she got the poor boy disappointed. Couldn’t Izzy at least act like he’s the one?
“Well, I’ll.. see you around, I guess…?” Eric says, nodding to himself. He scratches the back of his neck as he looks at you– one short glance up and down that doesn’t go unnoticed by you, making you instantly regret getting the door in your sweatpants and the pink socks with hearts and a single hole on the toe on them– before he takes a step back from the doorstep and starts walking away from your apartment.
“Yeah,” you clear your throat, mentally punching yourself with how pathetic you sound, “see you around. And… and thank you again! For the pizzas, I mean…” you hum. Now, you’re mentally kicking yourself. Scratch that, you’re throwing yourself down the stairs. Why are you so awkward? You’re only making it worse.
He flashes you a smile, not oblivious to the shame you feel. If you really think about it, the situation is kind of funny, isn’t it?
“Bye, Y/N,” he says, waving at you as he walks down the stairwell, sending you one last glance over his shoulder.
“Yeah, bye!”
Closing the door behind you, you try to take deep breaths to steady yourself. You will murder your roommate with your own two hands and use her blood as the sauce for your pizza. Slowly walking towards the kitchen, you see Izzy munching on the pepperoni slice, sending you a look full of innocence.
“Well, that didn’t work out,” she says, trying to make light of the situation, ignoring how embarrassing this situation was for both parties involved. Without a word, you sit down at the table, opening the box of your pizza of choice, taking a bite.
“Are you okay? You seem a bit–”
“Shut it.”
“How was it, bubs?” Izzy asks you once you get into the car while simultaneously reaching for the volume button on the radio, turning the music down so she can hear you talk.
“Terrible,” you mourn, sighing as you buckle your seatbelt and watch your roommate back out of the parking lot. She was nice enough to offer to drive you home after your first day of your new mandatory internship, and although you told her over and over how you didn’t need a ride and could just walk home after, you’re actually very grateful for her act of kindness now– for your feet hurt like a bitch and you’re so mentally tired you think you could get lost on your way home, had you not paid enough attention.
“That bad?” she hums, voice full of consideration. Izzy only pays you a short look full of undeniable worry before she gazes back at the road– thankfully, because she is not the best driver and you think her not paying full attention to where she’s going would significantly lower the chances of you getting home safely today– subtly allowing you to vent about the day you had.
A grunt escapes your mouth. “Yeah,” you agree, “it’s just– god. The place is full of morons, my boss is demanding a marketing project from me until the end of my internship, everyone keeps using me as their coffee delivery person because I’m new, and I forgot everyone’s names already…” you complain, furrowing your brows in concern. How are you going to survive going there weekly?
As a business student, you have to go through an internship in order to successfully graduate. Getting one was already hard enough, but the responsibilities that come with doing all the stuff you’re not even educated enough to do yet are only making the weight on your shoulders heavier and heavier to the point where you suddenly start to doubt if you’re even good enough for your major. Hell, you barely have any interest in it in the first place– hence why you lack the enthusiasm your boss would surely love to see from you.
“Can’t they just not make it easier for you?” she shakes her head in disapproval. “You’re a mere student, not the new hire,” Izzy grunts, sympathizing with you.
“Apparently not,” you roll your eyes. “I’m so tired, man…” you sigh, resting your head against the window, letting your eyes close for a bit. “Thanks for giving me a ride, Izz.”
“No worries,” she innocently replies. Almost too innocently, you think– but with the amount of hours you slept last night and the mental overload of new information you had today, you choose to not pay much attention to it. Maybe you’re just making it up…
If the drive was a bit longer, you’re sure you would’ve fallen asleep. The car comes to a halt in a few more minutes, though, and the sudden silence of the vehicle as the engine turns off and the radio goes silent has you opening your eyes, scanning your surroundings.
And you were right. Izzy was almost too nice in giving you a ride home. You should’ve known she always had different motives.
“Why are we here?” you ask, choosing not to face her so you don’t have to look at the dumb smile on her face again, for you think that if she dared to force innocence on herself right now, you’d seriously punch her.
“Oh,” she hums, “I thought we could get pizza for dinner.”
“We had pizza last week,” you deadpan, tone of voice only a bit hostile.
“That’s correct,” she agrees, “however, I am in the mood for some pizza right now. And we don’t really have any groceries at home, so I think this is the best alternative to end your bad day–”
“You’re not dragging me in there after embarrassing us so much last week, Isabelle,” you grunt, pulling out the full name to act more tough and get your point across. “I am never going there again. You simply can’t force me–”
“Oh come on! You’re ruining all fun.”
“That’s because I am not having fun right now,” you note, already too tired after the long day.
“Then let me cheer you up! I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it,” Izzy glares at you, sighing. “Besides, the last time I checked, you owe me pizza, and I would like to redeem that now.”
“Since when–”
“Don’t think I forgot that you didn’t pay me back last time,” she cuts you off, sending you a stern look.
If you were closer to home right now, you would’ve left the car and just walked back to your apartment, leaving your dear flatmate to get her pizza alone. You both know you’re not here for the pizza itself anyway– so why does she need you there? As an excuse? It’s already embarrassing enough for the both of you. Why won’t she just drop it?
But since the circumstances are given the way they are– you’re tired, hungry, frustrated and full of worry about your internship– you figure there is really no need to argue with your roommate right now. When she sets her mind on something, she is going to get it, no matter what. You know her well enough.
“Fine,” you sigh, getting out of the car and slamming the passenger door with as much force as you can humanly conjure in yourself after the long day, satisfaction flowing through your veins at the sound that’s loud enough to make your roommate jump in surprise.
You’re going to give her what she wants, but you’re not going to act happy about it. You’re just gonna get the pizza and leave. That’s the plan.
Walking up to the building of Sohn’s Pizza, you push the door open, ears instantly catching the low music coming from speakers situated in the corners of the room. You haven’t been here before, so you take your sweet time looking around– noticing the neat-looking interior, admiring the wooden furniture– before you walk towards the table in the corner of the middle-sized restaurant, sitting down. Izzy follows you like a lost puppy with its tail wagging because she got what she wanted before she sits down opposite of you, offering you a giant smile. She is like a kid under the Christmas tree with the toy she always desired securely in her grasp. Which is weird– the cute delivery boy hasn’t even shown up yet.
After scanning the menu for a bit– since you already know what you’re going to get– a server walks up to your table, a big, welcoming smile on her face. She is short even when wearing heels, hair pulled up into a ponytail, straight-across bangs sitting on her forehead. It’s been years since you last saw her, but the resemblance is undeniable– it’s Eric Sohn’s older sister.
“Hello! What can I get for you today, girls?” she asks as she takes out a notepad. Her eyes land on you for a bit before she gasps, even a bigger smile appearing on her cheeks, if that’s possible. “Oh my god, Y/N?”
“Yeah,” you nod, grinning. “It’s me.”
“How are you?” she asks, beaming. You and Lisa were never really close– since she was so much older than you back when you hung around the Sohn’s house, but she was always really kind to you. You remember her making snacks for you and Eric to eat in afternoons or taking you two out to get ice cream, your heart squeezing at the nostalgic memories.
“I’m good, what about you?” you ask, genuinely interested.
“I’m fine,” she nods. “Well, just rotting in here, if I’m being honest, but other than that, I’ve been good,” she laughs, making you mirror her actions.
“Well, it’s really pretty here, if that makes you feel any better,” you smile.
She shrugs at your compliment. “I did most of the decorating, so it should be,” she snickers before she looks back at you after scanning over the entire room. “What will you get today, then?”
“Just a margherita is fine,” you note, “could I possibly get extra cheese on that?”
“Anything for little Y/N,” she hums, making you roll your eyes at her teasing– yet the grin never leaves your features. “And for your friend?”
“I’ll get pepperoni,” she peeps. It’s unusual for your roommate to be so quiet in a conversation– you guess she was caught off guard at your sudden acquaintanceship with the staff in her new favorite restaurant.
“Coming right up!” Lisa smiles, walking away from your table.
After the server leaves, you are left with a few seconds of silence from your roommate. You raise your brows at her in question, mocking her change in demeanor, waiting for her to get back to her usual, chatty self. “What?”
“You know her?”
“Obviously,” you snicker. “Our families used to be close years ago,” you note, shrugging. “We lived in the same neighborhood.”
“Wow…” she hums. “So you know that guy who dropped our pizzas off last week as well?”
“I do,” you nod. “We are the same age, so our mums forced us to hang out often.”
“Interesting….” Izzy says, lost in thought. If you didn’t know better, you’d suspect she was scheming something up. Actually, you think you know her well enough– just give it a few more minutes.
The door opens again, making you two look around and watch the people coming into the restaurant. Instead of new customers, you are met with two men obviously wearing work uniforms– white shirts with a pizza logo in red on them– the shorter one with a cap on, the taller one with baggy jeans adorning his long legs. You recognise one of them instantly– and even despite the nature of the restaurant, his presence still shocks you and makes you feel alarmed.
You feel something come in contact with your shin as your roommate kicks your leg under the table. “That’s him, that’s him, that’s him–” Izzy chimes, whispering, making you furrow your brows at her in question. Yeah, of course that’s him. Eric’s dad owns the restaurant. Who the other guy by his side is, though, you don’t–
oh.
So that must be the cute delivery boy your roommate has been thirsting over for the last couple of weeks. She has a lot of determination in her, you’ll give her that. If it was you, you would’ve forgotten about a random mediocrily attractive server after a day or two. Not her, though. What a strange woman…
“Y/N!” you hear for the second time today. Your heart skips a beat at the tone this time, making you remember the events of last week, heat instantly creeping up your neck at the memory.
“Hi,” you peep, watching as the two men make a bee-line towards your table.
“Hello,” he greets. He wears a bright smile on his face– one that makes his cheeks look fuller, something in his eyes glimmering (you think it might just be the reflection of the lights). He is wearing a blue cap today, covering his honey locks– which leaves you wondering if he has a fucked haircut, or if he really just likes to wear hats that much– but other than that, his attire is the same as last time. “What’s up?” he asks.
Casual. Friendly. Like nothing happened– like this whole encounter isn’t totally embarrassing.
Or is it not? Are you just being overly-dramatic again? You really don’t know at this point.
Still, you act nonchalant. “Oh, not much,” you hum, “just got off my first day of internship, so we decided to get some pizza to comfort myself.”
“Didn’t go well?” Eric asks, a sympathetic look on his face. Somehow, his concern seems genuine.
“You could say that,” you note, shrugging.
“It will be better next time,” he says lightly, smiling at you all encouragingly. For the first time in the last couple of seconds, you pay attention to your roommate again– seeing her eyes glued to the taller boy. If this was a cartoon, there would be hearts drawn in her sockets and she would be drooling. Izzy seems to be totally enchanted with the delivery boy currently standing to Eric’s right, and you can’t stand the view any longer.
“Oh, this is Sunwoo, by the way,” Eric says, introducing his coworker.
“Nice to meet you,” you smile, shaking the boy’s hand. He sends you a boyish grin, greeting you back, before he moves towards your flatmate, holding her hand in his.
“Izzy,” she introduces herself, tone of voice a few octaves higher than usual. “We’re roommates.”
“I gathered as much,” Eric notes– almost a little awkwardly– making your body electrify with a full body cringe. Why can’t he just pretend last week didn’t happen?
“Yeah,” you hum, nodding and scratching the back of your neck. “She pretty much dragged me here, haha…” you vocalize the laughter as a word, mentally slapping yourself. Haha? What’s so funny? Y/N, you’re only making it worse.
“Well, it’s nice seeing you again,” Eric says. When your eyes meet, he averts his gaze, an awkward cough battling its way out of his throat. “Uhm… we better get back to work, or else my sister’s gonna kill me–”
“Oh, but it’s not busy!” Izzy suddenly utters out, making you snap your head towards her with shock, a look worthy of many words burning a hole into the middle of her forehead. What is she thinking? “Why don’t you sit with us for a while? It seems like you and Y/N have a lot to catch up on,” your roommate sweetly says, throwing the burden onto your shoulders again.
Why are you suddenly forced into the role of a wingman? You really didn’t sign up for this.
“Oh, I–”
“I could use a little break,” Sunwoo grins, not even waiting for his coworker to immediately deny the idea. You swear you can mentally hear your roommate's excited squealing on a telepathic frequency as the dark-haired boy takes a seat right next to her, sprawling his legs wide and resting his back against the chair, seemingly tired. “Come on, Eric. Lisa has a soft spot for me, she won’t eat our heads off.”
Eric meets your gaze. You hope your brains match at frequencies with the boy as well as you send him mental apologies, the atmosphere once again getting too awkward for you to handle. He seems to be the victim of his friend’s terrorizing strategies as much as you are, though, so you think there is silent understandment hanging in the air over the two of you as he reluctantly sits on the chair next to you.
You’re starting to think Izzy has a death wish. You’re also starting to be fairly certain that you will be the one to fulfill it.
The passage of time is weird. It’s a strange construct to you, finding yourself dwelling on it at times when it’s the least suitable to– especially when you have things to do and a workload to get through. See, it’s incredibly bizarre to you how when you’re doing nothing, time is passing by quickly without you even noticing it: a few episodes of your favorite TV show go by and you’re suddenly well into the evening. When you’re working on assignments, though, it seems like time has stopped.
You promised yourself you’re going to stay in the library and work on the project you were assigned in your internship until at least 6PM. You arrived at 3 o’clock– three hours should be easy, right? Not that much time.
Wrong. Because you swear you’ve been aimlessly searching around the internet and writing things down for at least 10 years now, and it’s only been an hour and you still have two more to go. Time is weird like that. It’s fascinating– at least when you hypnotize the numbers in the right corner of your screen, sucked into the doom of your laptop. Maybe you should’ve taken Physics instead. You’d love to learn about this.
(The fact that this has nothing to do with Physics and everything to do with your focus and attention is a completely invalid argument to you at this moment, so you don’t even let yourself think about it.)
Something finally pulls you out of the hyper focused state that you put yourself in while staring at the time on your screen (as if to mentally push the clock to go faster), and that is a figure moving right opposite of you, resting their hand on the back of a chair.
“Hi,” you hear, making you snap your head up and face the intruder, “can I sit here?”
“Hi…?” you mumble, watching the boy in front of you not wait for your answer as he pulls the chair back and settles his body onto it. He empties his pockets in the true manly fashion– putting his wallet, his phone and his keys onto the wooden table– all while letting you absorb his existence for a bit before you have to react to it some more.
You spent years not seeing Eric Sohn. Now, you bump into him at least every other week. Strange.
He is wearing a simple white hoodie, his hair now not covered by a cap. You glance over the honey blonde locks, noting to yourself that he does not have a messed up trim, which means he just must like hats a lot. You feel like you should probably say something– start up a conversation– but the shock of seeing him is still settled deep in your bones, stopping you from every attempt.
Looking around the library, you note that it’s half-empty– meaning that Eric could’ve chosen any seat, any other seat in the whole entire place– yet he chose to sit right opposite of you at one of the long tables in the middle of the room. Nodding to yourself as you absorb the information, you open your mouth to say something– anything– before the boy beats you to it, acting in his true, nonchalant casualty.
“What are you working on?” he asks. “I mean… you seemed quite miserable when I arrived, so I assumed it was for the best to take you out of the frozen state before you go crazy,” he jokes, having you close your mouth and awkwardly smile at him.
“Yeah,” you hum, shrugging. “I was mainly just trying to force the time to go quicker with the sheer power of my gaze, but I think it doesn’t work like that…”
“You set up a timer for yourself?” he asks, laughing.
“Kinda,” you nod. “I knew I had to hold myself accountable and do work, or else I’m going to leave things until the last minute and hate myself even more for not doing anything sooner, so I told myself I’ll work on my assignments until 6, but it’s… easier said than done.”
Eric nods at you, acknowledging your struggle. He takes out his own laptop and presses the power button. As he waits for it to turn on, he looks back at you, his gaze making you nervous.
It’s not that you don’t like Eric– not at all, you have your fair share of fond memories with the boy when you were little– it’s just that you haven’t seen him in ages, haven’t properly talked to him since you were kids. You know nothing about the man he is right now– aside from the fact that his father owns a pizza place now. You don’t even know what he majors in. Hell, you didn’t even know he went to the same university as you up to this point– which makes everything just a little bit too awkward for you.
How to navigate the conversation? What to talk about? Why does he not just… ignore you? It’s not like the two of you were that close in the first place.
“What do you major in?” he asks. You wonder if it’s sheer politeness, or if he really just wants to know.
“Business,” you say, tone of voice hinting that you’re not really satisfied with your own answer. “I’m actually supposed to be working on a project for my mandatory internship right now.”
“Damn… what is it?” he asks.
Scratching the back of your neck, you lick your lips before answering. “It’s like… I have to make a pitch about a new product for them to sell. I work in the sales section for Trust, the insurance company, so I have to do a lot of… market research… and then also marketing… it’s… kind of a lot, actually…” you nervously laugh, trying to diffuse the fact that you’re genuinely scared of the very project you were assigned.
Eric stares at you with interest, a look of acknowledgement settling onto his face. “Wow. That sounds hard.”
“I mean, I don’t know…” you shrug. “Maybe I’m just too stupid for this–”
“No you’re not,” the boy instantly cuts you off, shaking your head. “I’d say they just have high demands from you.”
His words do a bit to soothe you. You avoid asking your classmates about their internships in fear of being the only one that’s finding things hard and being overly-dramatic. Talking to someone who doesn’t really have the same experience as you makes things a bit easier– you can complain and they won’t judge, because there’s no way they know how it feels. Eric won’t judge you for finding your business internship hard, because he doesn’t know what it takes– at least not on his own skin. But if you’d complain to your classmate Yeji, for example, she might find it weird– what if your tasks are the easiest thing to do in her eyes?
“Thanks,” you hum. “What do you major in, though?” you ask him, somehow committing to keeping the conversation going for just a little more time.
“Communications,” he laughs. “I just… write a lot of papers, I guess.”
“Ah,” you nod in acknowledgement.
You feel like you should add something. Maybe you should comment, sympathize, ask more questions, but in the moment, no fitting words reach your mind. After a heartbeat of silence, Eric’s eyes finally leave your figure to focus on his laptop, and the only thing resonating through your brain is the fact that the last two times you met him, it was painfully awkward and maybe a little strange– which leads you to questioning the fact that he still chose to approach you today.
“Look, Eric, we… you don’t have to act like we’re friends now,” you say, refusing to meet his gaze. Somehow, your blank laptop screen is much more interesting. “And I’m sorry about last week,” you note, tone of voice lighthearted– trying to mask how much you actually think about the encounters and how they make you wish they never even happened. Somehow, you worry about how you’re perceived by him. “My roommate just kind of likes your coworker– Sunwoo–” you call him by his name, “so she has been doing all of this to get his attention, and it’s…”
“It’s okay,” Eric laughs, making you glance up from the blank document and finally meet his eyes. There is no stern look on his face, no signs of disappointment or disgust on his features. It helps you calm down a bit. “I’m used to girls being all over Sunwoo, really,” he says, shrugging.
“Yeah…” you sigh. “Sorry for making it all awkward, and stuff. As I said, you don’t have to feel obliged to–”
“I don’t, though,” he hums. The sentiment silences you. You offer him nothing but a nod, suddenly at a loss for words. “Look, we used to be close when we were kids,” he shrugs, “so don’t even worry about it.”
You’re not really sure what his words are meant to imply. Does he mean that you’re friends now again? Does he mean he doesn’t find this whole thing absolutely awkward? Are you supposed to hang out more often now? Do you get his number?
After trying to clarify everything, you’re left even more confused.
If there’s one thing about Eric Sohn that you remember from your childhood, it’s the fact that he’s friendly. And also… pretty fucking competetive. “It’s almost 4:30. Whoever gives up on their assignment first pays for coffee later, yeah?” he challenges you, looking at you with mischief glimmering in his dark orbs.
You guess both of these qualities stayed with him until adulthood, and although you were awkward with him just a few minutes ago, you don’t really have it in you to overthink the interaction any longer.
“Deal,” you nod.
As if this was all the motivation you needed, you get back to working.
“Jokes on you, drinking is not a forfeit for me,” Jake, the underclassmen you see around the campus sometimes says after a round of spin the bottle in which he refuses to make out with the person to his right (that was friend Sunghoon from middle school, just for the record), “I actually enjoy it. So–”
“You should stop drinking, dude…” the said friend nudges him to his shoulder, looking at the boy with a concerned look in his eye. It’s no secret that both of them are light drinkers, but one of them is clearly handling his alcohol worse– and it’s the shorter one of the two.
“Why? You wanna make out with me?”
“I’d rather not carry you home again, that’s all–”
“That sounds a bit sus, Hoon–” Jake snickers before he downs the shot of whatever alcohol is passed to him, “y’know, if you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just said so…” he slurs, making Sunghoon sigh, closing his eyes for a second to collect himself in time before the frustration in him turns into anger and he swings at his friend.
You can’t help but laugh at the commotion. You don’t really go out to party much– since you and Izzy are introverted, you don’t really search for these types of gatherings– but you figured that doing something other than watching the TV on a Friday evening would be nice. Especially when you were invited by the guy you met in your internship.
It felt rude to deny an invitation to a party by Park Jihoon, given the fact that you wanted to make friends and connections during your stay with the company. He is an intern just like you– maybe a bit more energetic and extroverted, that’s all. Which you welcome with open arms, just for the record. It’s been a while since an extrovert extroverted the way they are supposed to and adopted you– it’s always a pleasant experience.
You’re also not really the one to participate in a game of spin the bottle. You find such games embarrassing and nerve-wrecking. They induce anxiety in you from what you have to do, and it’s not the good kind. The adrenaline in your veins is enough for you to call it quits, but then again, you’re always good at falling for peer pressure and your roommate’s battling eyelashes are ones you don’t find yourself resisting too often.
There’s alcohol running through your system, warming you up. Wearing a cropped top and shorts surprisingly didn’t really help you to cool down as you soothe yourself with alcohol after another week of stressing yourself over your damn internship project (which Jihoon offered to help with, but you’re too much of an individualist to let anyone partake in even just the smallest task of your assignment) and after careful consideration, you realize you haven’t had that much to eat before turning up to the party.
Which is always a mistake. Drinking on an empty stomach is one of the biggest flaws you bring with yourself to social gatherings.
“Maybe I should eat,” you suddenly comment, perking up the attention of Jihoon to your right. He looks at you with considerate eyes and nods.
“There should be pizza coming soon, actually.”
“Really?” you gasp, excitement suddenly flowing through your bones. It’s been at least a month since you last had pizza, and you’re slowly starting to crave it. Did Izzy give up on that cute delivery boy? Maybe you should remind her… the pizza was worth it, you must admit.
“Yeah–”
And as if you wished it into existence, the sound of the doorbell suddenly brings you out of the conversation and has people closest to the door standing up to get it.
It seems like randomly running up to Eric Sohn is your newest hobby. It’s strange how life works– you haven’t seen him in ages, and suddenly, he finds his way to randomly walk back into the plotline of your life casually, as if it was fate. It’s kind of laughable, really.
Because there he is– standing behind the door with boxes of pizza in his hands, accompanied by his friend Sunwoo holding up even more. The amount could feed a whole village, you think, and you’re suddenly glad you aren’t the one paying for the food, since you’re sure it would add up to a big check. The crowd hollers at the two boys at the door, and it takes you a few seconds to realize it’s not because of the feast they just brought into the building.
“Eric! Sunwoo! Come in, you two!” Jihoon suddenly calls from next to you, waving the two over with a motion of his hand. This has the shorter boy look into the spacious living room, eyes scanning the surroundings. His eyes fix on you for a second, offering you a smile, before they move back to the host.
“Can’t, we’re on the clock, actually,” Eric snickers awkwardly, shrugging.
“Oh come on!” Haechan, the boy that was introduced to you today as Jihoon’s best friend, joins. It seems like everyone around knows exactly who Eric Sohn is, and it leaves you wondering just how you managed to unawarely avoid him for all those years. “Just for a bit!”
“Yeah,” Jihoon adds. “Just stay for like 10 minutes, or something. Actually,” the tipsy boy has a million-dollar idea, “I’m not paying y’all until you stay for a bit. How about that?”
“Great, dude,” Sunwoo laughs, shaking his head in disbelief at his friend’s tactics. “Let’s go in, then.”
The two get ridded of the pizzas they brought, walking up into the room. You feel Izzy poking your leg with her pointer finger repeatedly, and when you look at her, she is staring at you with eyes that remind you of someone slowly slipping into a manic state. You think it’s the effect of Kim Sunwoo entering the room with a smirk on his face, but you’re not really sure at this point.
“What are we playing?” Sunwoo asks the obvious as he sits down, dragging his friend with him. Their spot is currently straight across from you. After more careful examination, you realize Eric’s eyes are glued on your figure, making you smile at him and wave silently before he moves to scan your new friend sitting close to your right.
The last time you’ve seen Eric was that day at the library. That was almost 2 weeks ago now, and although you went for a coffee after you declared that you ‘simply can’t do it anymore’ and ‘would rather die than to work on this project any longer’, he insisted on paying for both of your drinks instead of making you do it, as was previously agreed on. You exchanged numbers after chatting and walking around for a bit, and although you waited for him to text you the same week, he never did, and you never tried to make conversation either.
Somehow, you simply didn’t know what to say. Then again– it’s not like the two of you were friends in the first place.
The game proceeds like before even with the new members added. Some of the people hanging out around the living room move to eat the pizzas, but if you’re being completely honest, the idea of eating was long forgotten to you the moment Eric and Sunwoo walked through the front door. Admittedly, maybe you did have a considerate amount to drink this evening, because everything is starting to turn into a bit of a blur from this moment. You watch the game absent-mindedly, not really taking much in, as your eyes sometimes subconsciously move to Eric sitting leisurely on the sofa opposite of you.
After a round where Jihoon is asked to suck on Haechan’s toe and Yizhuo is told to confess the last person she hooked up with (which was a guy to whose name everyone gasped, but left you clueless, since you didn’t really know who it was), your biggest fears are proven to be reality as the bottle lands on you. Heartbeat instantly picking up at speed, making you hear your own blood in your ears, you look up from the cursed item and wait to hear your ordeal.
Who would’ve thought playing spin the bottle would feel like a near-death experience?
“Truth or dare?” Yizhuo asks.
After a second of consideration, you blurt out: “Dare.”
Big mistake. At least you can lie when you pick the truth, goddamn it. What was drunk you even thinking…?
“Okay,” she nods, contemplating for a bit. As the gears in her head start working and the idea comes into her brain, a smug smirk appears on her face, hinting that this whole evening was a bad, bad idea. “I dare you to sit in the lap of the hottest guy here for three rounds.”
The crowd goes crazy.
Girls gasp, guys whistle, and your brain– it completely shuts off. Alcohol should logically make you feel more courageous and daring, no? That’s what they all say.
You’re the one to prove the sentiment wrong as you gulp and contemplate your next decision. Given the fact that you’re one shot away from throwing up, you decide to not drink to protect yourself– making sure you save your image and don’t embarrass yourself by showing the contents of your stomach to everyone on Park Jihoon’s beige rug.
Scanning the circle, you watch the men situated right in front of you in the living room. It resembles window shopping a bit, except you’re feeling really fucking miserable while doing it. You know it’s all fun and games and that if you take the situation with enough nonchalance, everything will turn out fine– hell, some might not even remember this moment in the morning, so it���s really not that big of a deal– but the more you contemplate the object of your dare, the more nervous you’re starting to feel.
Kim Sunwoo is a clear no go. You and Jihoon are close enough where it wouldn’t feel awkward, but somehow, you know you would be lying to yourself if you picked him. Your eyes smoothly drift past Haechan, Jake and Sunghoon, all the way past Renjun and Jeno to Eric sitting right across from you, eyeing you with interest in his dark orbs.
The circle is starting to rush you. Jihoon nudges your side, telling you to ‘just pick one,’, making you briefly glance at him with a stern look in your eyes. After your gaze lands back on Eric– whose eyebrows slightly furrow when he notices you paying attention to your new friend– you come to a downing realization of the fact that somehow, your eyes keep landing on the short boy, not really wanting to look away.
It’s alright. It’s nothing. Eric Sohn is conventionally attractive– you’re sure it’s not that big of a deal.
Standing up from your spot, hearing the crowd pick up the excitement, you walk over to the other side of the circle– while trying not to trip over your own foot and fall over in the process. Eric looks up at you with big eyes glimmering, expecting your final answer, making your palms sweat and voice a little shaky as you awkwardly let out.
“Do you mind…?”
The question is laughable, really. You audibly hear Yeji and Yizhuo squeal in excitement at your action, while Haechan hollers out a laugh from the back. Trying to ignore the reactions, faking nonchalance, you watch as Eric shifts slightly in his spot and moves his hands to his sides, as if to make some space for you, before he shrugs.
“Go ahead.”
Nodding to yourself, you scratch the back of your neck before you turn your back to him and slowly settle yourself onto his lap.
And here you thought the delivery boy incident could simply not be beaten on the scale of awkward and embarrassing moments with Eric Sohn.
It’s now your turn to spin the bottle, you realize– which you try to focus on instead of the fact that you are currently sitting in the lap of the guy you grew up with– making you bend to the ground and proceed with the game. Only three rounds and you can move back to your initial spot, you think. You just have to survive three rounds of this stupid game before you’re free.
Watching the empty wine bottle spin in circles before it stops, your eyes move to the side with the opening, trying to see who it landed on. When you look up, your roommate is staring back at you with a suspicious look on her face, not even waiting for you to ask the question to determine her fate. “Dare,” she spits out.
Her eyes bear into you with such intensity you think she’s trying to tell you something, but right as you try to match her brain frequency and decipher what exactly she wants from you right in this moment, you feel Eric’s hands land lightly onto your sides.
They don’t move, nor do they put any pressure into your skin. They just lay there, fingers on the skin of your bare midriff, sending an electric shock into your brain that completely shuts off your telepathic communication with Izzy, making you blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind.
“Uh… prank call your latest hook up and tell him you want to get together with him,” you say.
She immediately throws darts into your skull, making you regret your decision.
What? Is it not spicy enough? Judging from the reactions of the rest of the players, you’d say you did a good job– which makes you believe she just didn’t want to expose hooking up with Jaemin in front of everyone.
Nonetheless, she moves on with the dare. You don’t really pay much attention to it as a wave of sickness comes over you. You’re genuinely left seeing things twice, which leads you to close your eyes and rest your head in your hands for a second before a low voice lands into your ear.
“How drunk are you on a scale of 1 to 10?” Eric asks.
“Like… 8, I think?” you snicker. “I’m okay, I just need to–”
Before you get a chance to finish your sentence or even barely think of what would help you in this moment, you feel Eric’s hands on your sides lightly tug your body towards him, leaving you to fully glue your figure onto his. Your back meets his front, sprawling out onto the sofa, leaving you to settle your head onto his shoulder.
You can’t say your stomach feels less crazy at the moment, but you also can’t say this isn’t strangely nice. “Better?” he asks.
You think you lost your voice for a second, so you only offer him a nod.
His next actions leave you wondering if he’s always been this touchy and affectionate. While one of his arms sneaks around your waist and holds you to him, his other palm leaves to take its new place on your thigh. The rational side of your brain is telling you that this is just the most comfortable place to let your arms rest when you have someone sitting in your lap, but it’s still enough to have heat rising up your neck, slowly warming up your face.
A few seconds pass before Eric absent-mindedly starts to draw circles onto your quad, your brain hyper-focused onto the feeling of his forearm on your bare midriff. When he laughs at the way Izzy’s prank call is going– to which he earns a warning look from your roommate to keep quiet and not break the facade– you feel his body vibrating under you, making you realize that you’re the only one out of the two that is so affected by this simple gesture.
It leaves you feeling silly. It must be the alcohol, surely– but god,
Eric Sohn surely has hands that make hell seem cold.
You’re woken up in the morning to the sound of your roommate screaming, yelling at you. Not only do you already have a massive headache from the hangover you surely accidentally threw yourself in, now you also feel like there is someone cutting parts of your brain off with a knife. (Which sounds contradicting, because you do know the brain can’t be in pain. Why does it feel like that, then?)
“You had the perfect opportunity to think of something that could make me and Sunwoo closer. You could’ve said anything! But no, you chose to–”
“Why are you screaming?” you ask, voice hoarse and quiet, your throat scratchy as you utter the few words.
“–lay in Eric’s lap like a princess and do nothing–” she continues, making you wince. It’s not that you don’t remember the moment, no– you do. The memory is almost painfully crystal clear in your brain, you just didn’t really mean to think of it the first thing in the morning.
“Isabelle,” you grit your teeth and put your pillow over your eyes to shield them from the sunlight that is only making your headache worse, “I’m gonna need you to shut. the. fuck. up–”
“You’re a terrible, terrible wingwoman, I’ll tell you that,” she accuses you.
Suddenly, the cause for her telling looks and annoyed huffs throughout the last night make total sense. Hell, you’re smarter than this– you shouldn’t need explaining for such a simple task. It was your turn to dare your best friend to do something, and the object of her desire was right there. You will blame the shortcoming on your alcohol-infused brain– in Izzy’s eyes, though, it doesn’t really change the narrative.
“I’m sorry,” you mourn, “I wasn’t thinking properly.”
“Yeah, I could see that,” she grunts, tugging the pillow off your face. “At this rate, me and Sunwoo are never gonna be a thing, and I hope you know it’s completely your fault.”
“How could it be my fault?” you grunt, suddenly frustrated with your roommate. She is the one that isn’t sending him obvious enough hints, and it’s your fault he isn’t catching on? Why are you suddenly blamed for something that is completely out of your control? This is getting a bit ridiculous.
Wanting to sit up on your bed and fight against your roommate, but failing to do so before she escapes your room– sensing that you would throw the pillow onto her as soon as you’d get the chance– you sigh and reach for your phone sitting on your bedside table. There is a notification shining at the top of your screen, and when you unlock your phone and absent-mindedly click on the message, you’re taken off guard by the view in front of you.
Eric Sohn [1:21 AM]: hi, just checking in to see if you got home okay?
You read the message over once, then twice, before you decide to reply. Clearing your throat, as if you were going to record a voice message, you think of the most appropriate answer.
If you’re being honest, you don’t really remember much about how you got home last night– all you know is that after three rounds of spin the bottle, you reluctantly climbed off Eric’s lap, to which him and Sunwoo escaped the party and trailed back to work with excuses of Eric’s sister killing them if they didn’t show up soon. You’re fairly certain that you and Izzy just took a cab home, but since you notice you’re still wearing yesterday’s clothes, you assume you weren’t really with yourself at that moment– which is also the sole reason for you not replying to Eric’s message when you first got it.
You [11:10]: hello!! yes we did :) You [11:10]: sorry for replying so late, but as you could see last night i wasnt rlly checking my phone haha..
Surely this is good enough to play it off. Not suspicious at all! Eric Sohn will never know you were drunk off your face and hardly made it through the front door of your apartment. (Except he does know, and you’re also painfully aware.)
And all of this for what..? A bad week at your internship? You’re one of the weak ones, for sure.
Switching apps and deciding to scroll through Instagram for a bit before you get up and face the day– which includes making lunch, because you didn’t have any leftovers left in the fridge– your phone buzzes in your hands, showing you a new message.
Eric Sohn [11:15]: good to hear :) Eric Sohn [11:15]: are u feeling well?
God. You feel like throwing up– surely the cause of the alcohol still in your system.
Well, it’s not like he didn’t know before. And you’re a grown woman! There’s no shame in a bit of a hangover. You’re fairly certain he gets them all the time– you two are in university, after all.
Faking nonchalance, once again, you text back.
You [11:16]: yeah, just a massive headache that’s all :// You [11:16]: im sure lunch will fix it lol
Eric Sohn [11:16]: speaking of… do u wanna get lunch w me? im sure eating out is a better option for u rn haha
Something inside of you panics at the message. You don’t know what it is, but somehow, you always feel a bit awkward with Eric at first. Maybe it’s the fact that you always remember how you grew up together and then vanished out of each other’s lives– without each other even noticing– or maybe it’s the fact that you always feel like you only embarrass yourself in front of him.
He seems to be casual about things, though. He doesn’t make fun of you for anything– rather, he takes those moments as opportunities to get closer to you and maybe even build back the friendship you were forced into in childhood, but chose in your adulthood.
There is no reason to overthink his words or actions. It’s Eric, after all.
Eric Sohn [11:17]: me and sunwoo that is, btw. u can bring your roommate if she’s down!:D
Oh.
Well, at least you have a way to fix things with your butthurt friend. Clearing your throat before calling into the depths of the apartment– because Izzy left your door open, seemingly hinting that it’s time for you to get up and cook lunch– you slowly start getting out of bed.
“Izzy, do you wanna get lunch with Sunwoo, Eric and I?” you ask, a grin slowly appearing on your face. She rewards you with a few seconds of silence– as if trying to tease you– before she gives you the obvious answer.
“Yeah.”
“Thought so,” you chuckle, sending Eric back a text agreeing to his invitation.
After a few minutes spent showering and making yourself look presentable, you walk out of the building with your roommate by your side (that’s currently smelling a bit like she just poured the whole perfume bottle over her), nearing the building you decided to meet in over text messages. It’s a small Korean place just down the street, making you wonder if it’s the boy’s favorite, or if he just chose something that was nearby for you out of convenience.
When you open the door and walk into the place, you’re immediately hugged by the smell of delicious food making your stomach churn in hunger and the low music playing in the background. It doesn’t take you long to notice the two boys already sitting at one of the tables, chatting to each other. Sunwoo is very passionate about something, waving his arms around, but the moment you two arrive at the table, their conversation dies down a bit, replaced by warm greetings.
“Wow, you look terrible,” Sunwoo lets out when his eyes meet your figure. The comment makes you shrink in yourself– truth be told, you know you don’t look your best right now, given the fact that your headache was still very much present and you didn’t put any makeup on– but still, it isn’t the best experience to hear someone say it out loud.
“Thanks,” you nod, watching as your roommate eagerly takes a seat next to Sunwoo, her body in respectful, yet close proximity to his, “I feel like it too.”
“Auch–” the said boy lets out, glaring at Eric sitting opposite of him. You’re not really sure what happened, but you don’t pay it much mind as you slowly settle yourself in the last spot possible– next to Eric in the little booth.
“Did you order already?” Izzy asks, clearly more joy and cheerfulness in her body than in yours. You don’t really know how or why she’s not currently dying of a hangover like you are, but something is telling you that maybe, just maybe, you were the only one that took the drinking too far last night. (You and Sim Jake, that is. The poor boy had to run to puke only a few minutes after the game of spin the bottle ended, and it was not a fun sight.)
“No,” Eric shakes his head, “we were waiting for you to get here. Wanna check the menu? We already skimmed through it.”
You nod at his preposition, taking the laminated paper into your hand. You’re always indecisive when it comes to ordering food– never really knowing what to get, because everything is either foreign to you or too appealing, nothing in between, leaving you on the fence about what you’d like to eat at the given moment– and the lengthy list of options in this place isn’t really helping you.
A sigh escapes your throat at the sight. Truth be told, you’re not even gonna read the whole thing– so you opt to look at Eric to your right with a begging expression on your face.
“Do you know what you’re getting?” you ask, watching him nod.
“Ramen.”
“Is it good?” you inquire, having the boy nod at you casually, replying to your question.
“Pretty good, yeah,” he answers. “Also, I’d argue that it’s the best for a hangover.”
“Perfect. I’ll have that, then,” you note, putting the menu back to its place on the other side of the table, not really wanting to think about it any longer.
When the waiter comes and asks for your order, you notice Eric taking charge and saying your choice as well, ridding you of the burden. Grateful for his initiative, you turn to smile at him in return, before you choose to rest your head in your hands on the table, still not relaxed enough after the long night you had.
There’s a soothing hand rubbing your back in just a few seconds, pressing comforting circles into the middle of your torso. You think you can’t really blame Sunwoo for making fun of you today– you surely must look like absolute shit.
“Did you two go to the same party?” Sunwoo chuckles, pointing out the obvious difference in your composures. “How come do you not look dead?” he addresses the question to Izzy, curious.
“I can handle my alcohol well,” she hums.
“That’s a lie,” you grunt, eyes still glued to the wooden table, “she just didn’t drink much last night.”
“I think that’s a part of handling my alcohol well–”
“No it’s not,” you squint at her, shaking your head. “Abstinence is not ‘handling alcohol’, you moron.”
“Okay, well, I’m just saying that’s the reason why you look like you have some sort of disease, while I look fresh and beautiful,” she sings in half-seriousness, half-irony, going as far as posing like a flower, offering the whole table her bright smile.
“I mean, you always do,” a low voice echoes around the restaurant, making you snap your head up to gaze at the boy opposite of you that is now refusing to meet anyone’s eye. Eric’s hand freezes on your back, stilling, as a chuckle leaves his throat at his friend’s comment.
Interesting. Sunwoo’s usually cocky demeanor changes as he blushes, scratching the back of his neck. The air gets a little tense as you allow yourself to look your roommate in the eye, a hint of surprise playing with her face. She looks taken aback, but pleased with herself– and you have to give her that. Her magic is finally working.
“So, anyways…” Eric breaks the awkward silence, arm slipping off your back and resting on the table. The absence of the soothing circles on your clothed skin makes you miss it only a little bit, but you won’t really dwell on that any longer or mention it out loud.
The food comes just in time to diffuse the weird atmosphere, making all of you thank the waiter for the meal and get to eating. You can’t say ramen is your favorite meal on the planet, but you must admit that the way they prepared it here really gets your taste buds on Cloud 9. You’re enjoying every bit of it, salvaging the salty taste and chewing on the noodles, looking like a person that’s been starved for five days with the way you’re just inhaling the food like it’s oxygen.
“Feels nice to finally eat somewhere else than at work,” Sunwoo grunts in pleasure, throwing his head back and letting his eyes close, fully enjoying the moment.
Eric nods in agreement, having you furrow your brows at them. “You must work a lot.”
“Yeah,” the boy next to you nods, “I do it to help my dad, but the more I work, the more miserable and absolutely boring it gets.”
“I would imagine it to be kind of fun, I dunno,” you hum sheepishly, noticing the boys eyeing you with a deadpan expression on their faces.
“I mean, everything’s better than a corporate job, in my opinion,” Eric throws a jab at you, a smirk playing with his lips. He’s not wrong.
“Don’t even remind me…”
“Still no progress on that thing?” he asks, genuine interest lacing his tone.
Shaking your head, you sigh. “I mean, I did a bit of market research, but nothing to show my boss, that’s for sure. It’s just been rotting my brain for weeks and I feel like I’m frozen with stress that I can’t actually pick it up, y’know?”
Eric nods in acknowledgement, swallowing the last bits of food in his mouth. “Maybe you just need to think about it less.”
“Yeah,” Izzy joins, “take off some steam. Maybe you just need a little break from it.”
“But if I take a break from it, I might never actually start it–”
“That’s ridiculous,” she cuts you off. “You know you work well under pressure.” You sigh at her comment, shaking your head in disapproval. Procrastination isn’t really your favorite thing under the sun, but it’s something you can’t really control during most projects you pick up. “What do we say we all hang out together when you’re free? To chill, do something fun, get your heads off work…?”
You look around the table with questioning eyes. You’re not really sure if you crawled across the bridge to the friendship side yet, or if Izzy’s efforts are what is going to do just that. Not really knowing where you stand with the boys– because they did invite you to lunch, but you also hadn’t spoken in a long time before that– you don’t push them for an answer. You’re going to go along with whatever they choose.
“I’m down,” Sunwoo nods, “I bet that if we tell Lisa in advance, she can do the deliveries. There’s a new Deadpool movie coming out next week, wanna go see that?”
You’re not really a fan of Marvel movies nor have you seen the first two parts of the series. The same could be said about Izzy, but she grasps at the invitation like a thirsty woman seeing water after 20 days spent on a desert, nodding eagerly at Sunwoo. It’s almost laughable how easily she agrees to everything the boy has to say.
You guess you can’t really blame her, though– he is giving her subtle signs of reciprocation with today’s compliment, isn’t he?
You think about it for a while. Looking to your right, facing Eric, you lock eyes with him, as he was already gazing at you and expecting your answer. The boy shrugs at the eye contact, seemingly down to the offer.
You guess seeing a movie with them isn’t such a bad idea, right?
“Yeah, okay,” you say, “what day is that?”
Foolish. That’s what you are.
Foolish for thinking you could get everything done in time and actually enjoy your time with your friends. Foolish for thinking you could have a day off when you don’t have to think of all the responsibilities that adult life is throwing at you– because as you realize exactly one day before you’re supposed to see the new Deadpool movie in the cinema with Izzy, Sunwoo and Eric, after a discussion with your boss about how he needs some spreadsheets done before the next day, you realize don’t have enough time in your schedule for both.
Frustration, anger and also a bit of sadness fills your bones as you announce to your friends– in person to Izzy and over a text to Eric– that you probably won’t make it. The boy tells you that if you do end up being able to come after all, you should, which makes you only feel worse at the realization that you are now missing out on what could’ve been a chill afternoon.
The frustration only grows in you when you decide to do your work in the library the next day, not even walking back to your apartment after class– because you realize you not only don’t enjoy any minute of your internship, but you also feel like a failure after not being able to finish any simple task with no bigger issues.
After sending one last message to your friends about how you’re stuck in the library for the time being, you try to drown yourself in work– while simultaneously trying to ignore the clock in the corner of your screen telling you the exact minutes you’ve spent missing out on the plans.
You don’t really know how much time passes before a hand lands on your shoulder, making you jump violently in your seat. Your heart starts beating a thousand miles an hour as you turn your head to make out who is the cause of your heart attack, preparing yourself for the screaming match you’re very well mentally ready for.
Up until… you notice who’s standing behind you, offering you a gentle smile.
“Sorry. Did I scare you?” he asks, laughing softly at your shaken composure.
“I almost died, dude!” you scold him, shaking your head at the boy. Something inside of you lights up at the idea of a distraction from your workload, your heart squeezing on itself when you scan your visitor over– from the bottom of his feet cladded in simple Nike pandas to the top of his head covered not only by a beanie, but also the hood of his gray sweater.
“Sorry,” he once again apologizes, eyes glimmering in amusement.
“What are you even doing here?” you ask, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion and checking the time on your laptop. “The movie starts in a few minutes!”
Out of all the people on the whole entire planet, Eric Sohn is the last person you’d expect to appear in the library exactly at this moment. The sheer presence of him right in front of you makes you blink a few times in hopes of figuring out if his existence is not a fata morgana, watching as the boy only shrugs at you in nonchalance.
“Ah, that…” he hums. “I actually brought you a treat, since you said you will be stuck in the library the whole day,” he says, offering you a bag containing something sweet-smelling.
Once you take a better look at what he’s holding in front of you, your stomach churns and your tastebuds yearn for the sugary dough he must have gotten in the bakery at the corner of the campus on his way here– pink glazing and colorful sprinkles, almost bringing tears into your eyes in appreciation. “What? Why?” you ask. “You didn’t have to…”
“I figured there was no use going to the cinema if you’re not going,” he explains– his words making a nervous little bug fly around your stomach. “Since I’m sure Sunwoo and Izzy wanted to go alone anyways, I didn’t wanna be a third-wheel.”
Oh. Right. You forgot about that part.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to leave them alone together, to be honest,” you say, making Eric chuckle at your comment.
“This might either be the best, or the worst thing on the whole entire planet.”
“Agreed,” you nod.
Eric sends you a prolonged look in which you realize you haven’t accepted his offering yet, making you reach for the bag containing the donut and placing it onto the table, right next to your laptop. “But really, thank you,” you nod, “you didn’t have to. I’m sure you have other things you could be doing…”
“I wanted to make your stay in the library more pleasant,” Eric says, shrugging. His figure is still towering over you– as he’s standing and you’re sitting down– something about the fact making you wish he would take a seat next to you and maybe even stay for a minute. “I imagine it’s gonna be a long day for you…”
“Yeah,” you sigh. “All thanks to my stupid internship and my stupid boss and this stupid assignment…” you ramble, watching as Eric’s lips turn into a soft smile. What he’s smiling at, you’re not really sure– the topic of the conversation is already miserable enough for you without actually doing any of the things you’re complaining about– but you drop it as the boy crouches next to you, putting his arm around your chair.
“What do you need to do?” he asks, interested.
“I just need to finish this spreadsheet,” you hum, “which isn’t that hard, it’s just a lot of tedious work that no one wants to do, so of course it falls on the intern.”
“That’s the beauty of an internship,” Eric jokes.
“Do you even intern?”
“No,” he laughs, shaking his head. “But I’d like to see what it’s like. Want help with that? I can read the numbers out for you so you don’t get lost in all those rows and columns,” he suggests, pointing to the amount of reports waiting at your desk, waiting to be digitized.
“Oh, it’s okay,” you sheepishly say, although touched with the offer. He’s probably only saying it to be nice– but that’s still enough for appreciation to grow in your chest. “You don’t have to stay and do boring things with me just because we were supposed to hang out today. Actually, you should hurry so you can get to the cinema on time–”
In your peripheral vision, you watch as the boy stands up from his crouched position only to pull out a chair from one of the empty seats, placing it next to yours so he has a view of your laptop. Before you get a chance to protest any longer, he’s sat in the seat with one of his legs popped up and resting on the bottom construction of your chair, hands reaching for the papers that you could physically drown in sprawled all over your desk.
“Don’t be silly. I’d rather do anything else than to watch Sunwoo embarrassingly try to flirt with your friend,” he chuckles. “So, which numbers do you need?”
“Eric, really–”
“These ones?” he persists, not even giving you a chance to protest any longer.
Eyes meeting– his big and honest, a warm pool of honey– yours a little tired, but still filled with tender appreciation, he waits for you to answer and explain how he can help you. He patiently awaits your instructions, wanting to make your life a bit easier– and something about that makes your heart leap in your chest.
You guess you’d say you and Eric are friends now. Yeah, you definitely are.
“Look, the sooner you’re done, the sooner you can get out of here and get another donut with me on your way home. Because trust me, I thought I could resist, but the more I look at the one I brought you, the more I kinda want one for myself…”
Laughing, you shake your head at his boyish antics. He looks so casual right now– like someone cut out of your everyday life, like someone you’ve known for years and are destined to know forever.
You show him which row he should read out loud for you. You share the donut with him. It takes a bit longer than you expected and the donut place is closed when he walks with you home, but he assures you it’s okay– you can get one another time.
“Five iced americanos, two lattes, one iced tea– do you want anything?” Jihoon turns to you with raised eyebrows, getting a look of your sulking face.
“No,” you bite back, anger getting the worst out of you.
“Okay, so we’ll also add another americano and a flat white, please,” your coworker slash friend turns back towards the barista, smiling at him and paying with the corporate card.
After the two of you move into the line waiting for drinks, you continue on with your little tangent.
“So they think they can make me do all the dirty work, leave me with no time to do anything and announce tasks at the last second, only to be bitchy and don’t even say thank you when I do everything they tell me to?” you snap, scowling at Jihoon. “And then they decide that oh, maybe I’m not good enough to do all those fucking spreadsheets for them, so I am demoted to a coffee runner?!” you yell out, having the heads of the rest of the customers turn to you with annoyed and concerned looks on their faces.
“Okay, so we are going to calm down–”
“I don’t wanna calm down!”
Jihoon laughs at your little outburst– which only makes you more frustrated– before he puts a finger against your lips to silent you, an amused expression taking over his face. “Don’t scream when we are inside, at least.”
After his finger leaves your lips, you are left staring at him with a sharp look– like a child that is mad because it didn’t get a new toy it liked in the store. You acknowledge that you might be acting a bit overly-dramatic at the moment, but you also still think your feelings and thoughts are justified.
You hate the corporate lifestyle. You despise how you have to be a stuck-up to climb it, and how hard work never truly gets you anywhere if you don’t have connections.
Which is why Liu Yangyang is currently helping your boss with all major tasks, getting the experience he truly needs for his degree, while you and Jihoon were sent to get coffee for the whole office. Amazing, isn’t it? The way you can feel so looked down upon, even though you’re aware this is the place you’re supposed to be in, this is how you’re supposed to be treated.
You’re just an intern, nothing else. But sometimes, the uneven weight of responsibilities you get at work makes you stressed and nervous that one day, you’ll have too much on your shoulders to bear while all the other time, you aren’t even worthy of a normal task.
“I hope each and every one of them burns their tongue on that fucking coffee,” you grunt, making Jihoon only laugh harder.
“At least half of them ordered iced americanos, babe.”
A sigh escapes your throat at that. “Okay, so I hope they all spill the drink onto them,” you refute, making Jihoon grin.
“You’re so petty,” he points out as he stands close to you, suddenly deciding to use you as his own personal armrest. “Besides, I think you should appreciate that you don’t have to do a lot today, don’t you think? It’s nice to get a breather. I know I wouldn’t wanna be in Yangyang’s shoes right now.”
“I guess so,” you sigh, looking up to meet the tall boy’s eyes. “But it makes me feel like they don’t think we’re good enough for anything else.”
“And if that’s my crime, then so be it,” he playfully shrugs. “At least I’ll have the experience on my CV and I can graduate.”
“I’d love to have your mindset,” you muse.
“It’s quite easy, actually,” he nods. “You should get it into that pretty brain of yours,” he says as one of his fingers points to the side of your skull, making you scrunch your nose at him and try to avert the contact.
Jihoon is persistent, though, as he suddenly makes it his quest to ruffle your hair to tease you and make it all disheveled. The two of you get into a play-fight of some sort, consisting of you trying to wrestle the boy off and him trying to make your life a living hell in any way he can, when he abruptly stops and raises his eyebrows at someone behind you, offering them a wave.
“Yo, dude! Hi!” he greets, making you turn your head to see who he is addressing.
There, standing just a few meters in front of you in the line, is Eric Sohn wearing cargo pants and a loose shirt, earphones hanging around the base of his neck. After being greeted by your friend, he moves closer to the two of you, smiling.
“Hi!” he says, paying both of you an up-and-down scan. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much,” Jihoon replies for the both of you, settling to his previous position of resting half his body-weight against your shoulder. You’ve grown used to his nature– playful and friendly, much like an older brother would act– so you don’t really mind the casual touch and teasing from him. “We were sent here to get coffee for the whole building, so we’re just doing that while Y/N here complains about everything–”
“I don’t complain about everything, just the systematic oppression of interns in the workplace–”
“Yeah, whatever you say,” Jihoon cuts you off, snickering. “What about you?”
Eric watches the two of you bickering with furrowed brows before he clears his throat, shrugging. “On my way to class,” he says, “I’m late already, so I figured a few more minutes while I get my coffee won’t hurt me in the long run.”
“Very responsible of you,” you joke, watching as the boy in front of you laughs, paying you a short look.
“Look, I don’t have any big responsibilities like the two of you do, so…”
“Y/N, on the contrary, doesn’t think getting coffee for the corporate people is enough of a responsibility,” Jihoon chimes in, making Eric’s eyes shift towards the taller boy, sending him a look slightly different to the one he gives you.
“She just doesn’t really know how to chill out,” Eric nods.
“Hello?” you snicker. “I’m literally right here.”
The shorter one looks at you with glimmering eyes, shrugging. “It’s something you have to hear,” he notes. “Truth hurts, but it’s better than lying to yourself.”
Just after that, an order is called that makes Eric’s attention perk up, turning around to the barista. “I think that’s me,” he says, taking a step back towards the counter to retrieve his coffee. “I better get going, but it was nice seeing you two,” he nods.
“Us two…” Jihoon whispers next to you, making you look at him with furrowed brows, confused.
“It was nice seeing you too!” you nod instead, smiling.
“I’ll see you around!” Eric says. Before he completely disappears to the top of the line and out of the coffee shop, he turns to you one more time. “Oh and Y/N, we should hang out again sometime�� Text me?”
“Oh, sure,” you agree, your stomach fueled with a strange kind of sensation at his words. You know you should’ve had breakfast in the morning– surely it’s just you being hungry. “I’ll- I’ll text you.”
Only after Jihoon waves at him, finally ridding you off the burden of being his personal armrest, do you realize how hot you feel in your cheeks and how you’ve spent the last couple of seconds carefully, intensively watching Eric get his coffee and step out of the building. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, the atmosphere suddenly too quiet to the one there was between the two of you before Eric Sohn arrived, you feel Jihoon elbow you in your side.
“So,” he starts, already hinting that this is going to be a difficult conversation, “what’s up with you and Sohn?”
“Hm?” you snap your head around to face him, almost breaking your neck with the force. “What do you mean, what’s up with me and Eric? There’s nothing up between the two of us.”
“Sure… and he wasn’t staring at me like he wanted to personally kill me with his own two hands just now, correct?” he teases, making you stop in your tracks.
Was Eric looking at him like that? You didn’t even notice.
“Correct,” you agree. “I don’t really think he was…”
“And my name is not Jihoon–”
“Stop being so difficult to talk to all the time, dear god–”
“Okay, miss ‘I find Eric Sohn to be the hottest one in the world’–”
“When have I ever said that?!” you call out again, suddenly feeling a little too hot in your cheeks, ears, and the back of your neck. What’s up with this visceral reaction? You swear you were nonchalant about these things!
“Oh, sorry, let me correct myself. It was the hottest one in the room, actually, but I think that speaks for itself, since Lee Heeseung himself was present–”
“Are you jealous, or something?” you choose to counter attack, leaving Jihoon to laugh at you in amusement.
“As if,” he shakes his head at you. “I just think it’s cute how whenever I see you two interact, he acts like a lost puppy following you and you’re too oblivious to do anything about it.”
“No, he doesn’t,” you furrow your brows at him, the words not even fully registering in your brain. What does he even mean by all of this? You and Eric are friends– that’s all there is to it.
“Sure… stay being like that and end up a bitchless loser forever, then,” he shrugs. You’d react more to his pointless arguments– because let’s be real, he is just making all of this up to stir some drama– but your awfully long order is called right in the moment you open your mouth to come up with a clever comeback, and so you choose to drop the topic, because it’s quite meaningless in your eyes anyway.
Walking back with two cup holders in your hands, fulfilling your one and only task of the day, you turn to Jihoon with a teasing grin. “Wait, did you just call Lee Heeseung sexy?”
“It was purely objective–”
“I really hate this, y’know?” you mutter as you stand in front of the gates of the amusement park, your cheerful roommate standing by your side bouncing on her feet as she waits in excitement.
“Shut up,” she says, a smile never leaving her face despite your gloomy expression, “don’t ruin this for me.”
“Well, it’s either you or me that is going to have their day ruined, and I think that judging by the fact that I’m already here, we know which one is going to turn true,” you say as you aimlessly look around, watching people going in and out of the premises of the park, some with goofy headbands on, some holding balloons– all of them sickly in love.
“It’s not like I invited you to a funeral, y’know,” Izzy grunts, “you could just act happy for me. It wouldn’t hurt you, y’know–”
“I would act happy for you if you didn’t feel the need to drag me to your dates with you–”
“Stop being such a party popper, dude. You’re going to have fun if you just allow yourself to,” she rolls her eyes at you. Yeah, she might be right about some parts of her argument– you got free tickets to the amusement park, which you love, just for the record– and you also have a day off from your internship and classes, which makes any day basically the best day on earth for you, but there is one thing about this whole situation that is making you doubt it just the tiniest bit.
That being the fact that you’re tagging along to a date. And you’re not alone in it– which automatically makes this whole thing seem a little too similar to a double date.
“I just don’t want him to think I see this as a–”
Your argument is quickly shut off as your roommate physically squeals into your ear before running off, feet automatically taking her to her sweetheart. Sunwoo is quick to catch her in his arms when she jumps into his hold, excited to see him despite hanging out with him two days ago, and you’re left walking slowly to the two approaching figures alone.
The moment you see Eric Sohn wearing tan cargo pants and a red windbreaker over his figure, your throat goes dry. His eyes light up a bit when they land on you, which makes the reality of not being able to run away anymore settle deep inside of your bones, and suddenly, you feel strangely nervous in his vicinity.
This hasn’t happened to you yet around him– if you don’t count all the moments where you embarrassed yourself in front of him, feeling painfully awkward. However, the fact that this whole situation is too similar to a double date is making you feel slightly weak in your knees simply because of the fact that you don’t want Eric to think you want this to be a double date. You only went because Izzy promised to wash the dishes for you for two weeks if you did, and that’s an offer nobody should turn down, you think.
The idea of Eric Sohn thinking you want to go on a double date with him makes you feel agonizingly embarrassed. You two are just friends– nothing more, nothing less– and you wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea. You would never think of yourself as someone Eric would invite over for a date in the first place anyway– you don’t want him to have a feeling that you suddenly have high thoughts about yourself.
“Y/N! Hi!” Your thoughts are quickly cut off when you hear the boy himself greet you cheerfully, walking up to you to envelope you in a short hug.
His arms sneak around you only for a moment, but you feel yourself automatically reciprocating the gesture before it even has a chance to register in your brain. You don’t really know when the two of you passed to the level of friendship where you greet each other with a hug– maybe the few text messages you shared since you last saw him in the coffee shop might have done the work– but you try to not question it when he pulls away, leaving you awkwardly standing around and watching Sunwoo and your roommate gaze romantically into each other’s eyes.
“Today’s gonna be tough,” Eric notes.
Chuckling at his words, knowing he’s referring to the honeymoon stage your friends have somehow ended up in– because you still can’t believe Izzy managed to date the boy after her embarrassing attempts– you just shake your head and move towards the entrance of the amusement park, not really wanting to pay any more attention to the couple than you have to.
“It is,” you agree, “I wouldn’t have agreed to go for this exact reason, but the idea of rides persuaded me,” you hum.
“I only went because this was the only way I could get a day off at work,” Eric mutters, “my stupid sister insisted I come with Sunwoo or else she wouldn’t cover my shift.”
“That’s strange,” you chuckle, furrowing your eyebrows at him. “Why would she care?”
“I dunno,” he shrugs, “said something about ‘enjoying my youth’, or something,” he grins. “I don’t really even like amusement parks, if I’m being honest.”
“You don’t?” you gasp, shaking your head at the boy. “Damn. I would think you’re an adrenaline junkie, if I’m being honest.”
“I am!” he agrees, nodding. “The other day, though, I saw a Tiktok about a ride breaking down somewhere in Japan, and that was the same day Sunwoo invited me here, so I think it might’ve been a sign from the universe to not go on any of these rides, or else I will die.”
Laughing at his words, shaking your head, you lightly slap his arm at the comment. “Don’t say that,” you tell him, “you’re just being a scaredy cat, admit it.”
“No…” he suspiciously shakes his head, very obviously lying.
“Yeah, right…” you snicker. “I mean, it’s okay, dude. I won’t laugh.”
“You’re already laughing, though?” Eric points out, an accusing finger in your face. His actions make you burst into even bigger giggles, eyes meeting his. When your gaze lands onto his face– the upper half shielded by the shade casted off his cap, yet still having his eyes crinkled up and cheeks full as he grins at you wide and warm in the sunlight– your stomach does that weird thing again, completely ruining the moment.
Clearing your throat, trying to keep your composure, you turn your head to search for Izzy and Sunwoo. The moment you catch them in makes your eyes go big and a grunt leave your throat involuntarily– the PDA making you even sicker to your stomach. While Sunwoo is standing in front of your roommate, his arms securely around her middle, she is gazing up into his eyes with a pout decorating her lips. The boy holds her cheeks in his hands for a brief moment before he leans in and gives her a short kiss that makes the girl stand up on her tippy toes, chasing for another one.
“Oh wow,” you let out, making Eric sigh next to you at the sight.
“Now that’s…”
“Yeah,” you nod while you turn back forward, trying your hardest to not look at the two of them any longer than you physically have to. “I knew they would be like that if they started dating. It’s like my worst nightmares came true.”
“Sunwoo can’t stop talking about her either. I’m starting to think I will know more about your roommate than you do, at this rate.”
“You might,” you agree, laughing to yourself. “With how many nights she’s spent at his place, I’m starting to think she’s going to move out soon.”
“Well, that’s only good for you then, no?”
“Yeah,” you agree, joking. “The only reason why I still keep her around is to pay half the rent, if I’m being honest,” you chuckle, having the boy shake his head at your playful antics.
The two of you move forwards slowly while looking around the place, trying to see what you should do. The sun is strangely aggressive today, making it hard for you to see as you squint in the brightness– since the amusement park doesn’t really provide you with much shade– only making you a bit more frustrated with your choice of plans today.
“Should we get some drinks first?” Eric asks, pointing towards a stand that sells coffee, milkshakes and other beverages.
The line is long, but you don’t really see a reason not to wait. You have the whole day in front of you, after all, and since it seems to you that Sunwoo and Izzy have taken it upon themselves to ignore you two completely, acting like this was their own date, you choose to stick to whatever Eric wants to do.
As you move to stand next to him– while also moving out of someone’s way– the back of your hand comes in contact with the boy’s next to you, having a slight wave of electricity run through your spine as you clear your throat and move away from him, wishing he didn’t notice. You take it upon yourself to look around to see what your next choice of plan should be.
After ignoring many couples walking around– since it seems that you chose a day when no other visitors were around, just teenagers holding hands and kissing in front of the rides (much like your friends are doing right now)– you opt to point your eyes at the horizon, looking at the tall constructions and rides. You have to shield your eyes from the sun with your hand to really see them, but the sight of them excites you a bit, so you guess it’s worth it. Squinting at the Pirate ride or the big rollercoaster twisting and turning like a caterpillar in the distance, you make a mental note of all the attractions you want to visit today.
Slowly moving to the top of the line to get coffee with Eric, you continue gazing behind him, blissfully unaware that he’s been watching you the whole time, noticing your little struggle.
“After we get the coffee, I wanna go on that roller coaster there,” you hum, “and I’m bringing you with me, because Sunwoo and Izzy–”
Your words get caught in your throat as the man suddenly moves the hand you’ve been resting against your eyebrows to shield your eyes from the sunlight down, replacing it by taking his cap off and making you wear it. Your heart jumps at the action, eyes finally relaxing now that they’re in shade, making you gulp and stare at Eric.
“You don’t have to–”
“I have my sunglasses with me, so it’s fine,” he says, tugging the peak further down your head in a teasing way, a smile adorning his face.
You forgot what you were even saying in the first place– the idea of Eric’s hat on your head making your brain overheat a little with the added fabric on top of your hair. It’s the same cap you see on him often– his favorite one, you think– and your stupid, silly brian is starting to make connotations around the action that you’re sure are not correct.
You can’t say you’re not happy about wearing it, though. It does help your eyes.
“You were saying?” he asks, making you look back at him with big eyes, trying to think of what you were talking about before.
“Oh,” you hum, while also simultaneously reaching to fix his hair– since he hasn’t bothered to after taking off his hat for you– not even thinking about your actions as you run your fingers through the honey strands, “I was just saying you’re gonna have to go on some rides with me, because the lovebirds are ignoring us and I am not going alone,” you repeat.
When you’re done moving the blonde locks to their supposed place, eyes drifting back to Eric’s– now big and watching your every move, making you falter a little under his gaze and heat creep onto your cheeks– it’s his turn to clear his throat, shrugging.
“You’ll have to hold my hand when I get scared, though,” he says. The casualty of his tone shocks you, having you watch as the boy averts his gaze from you and presses his lips together into a thin line, not even paying a second thought to the implications of his words.
You pay them a second thought, though.
You keep repeating the words in your brain over and over, fingertips buzzing at the preposition, hands sweating at the mental image. Do you mind the thought of it?
Well, no. You don’t.
Not a big deal, after all…
“What did you want again? Flat white?” he asks, completely ignoring the previous conversation. You didn’t even realize you got to the top of the line, too deep in your thoughts, and before you have a chance to take out your wallet to pay for your drink (or maybe even Eric’s, since he paid the last time), he is holding the cup up to you already.
As you take it from him, your fingers touch again. It makes a warm pool of honey glisten in the pit of your stomach, foolishness creeping up your bones.
The boy takes it upon himself to shock you even further as he swings an arm around your shoulders, tugging you close to him. “Let’s go back to the lovebirds before they forget about our existence completely.”
You choose to ignore the fact that you forgot about their existence yourself.
When you get on the ride a few minutes later, Eric holds onto your hand. Your heart beats a thousand miles an hour, but you will write it off to the adrenaline– you do, however, foolishly wish he was scared more often.
Turns out having Park Jihoon as your coworker isn’t as bad as it seems. Sure, he is good at making the atmosphere lighter in the office and also amazing at gossip in the workplace, but he is also surprisingly very good at his job– and with the date of your presentation fastly approaching, you had to get all the help you needed.
Which is why you made the boy sit with you in the park as you went over it again and again, showing him your laptop and rehearsing your speech, taking notes of every little thing Jihoon said you should fix or add into the whole thing. You genuinely appreciate what he’s doing for you, which is why you also remind yourself to get him something after the internship is done– but after at least two hours of working on your laptop with him, he gets tired and his attention span seems to get shorter and shorter– and you don’t really blame him.
Actually, you welcome the distractions he offers with open hands. Even more so, you add on to them and fuel them with more conversation, the laptop opened on your thighs long forgotten as you search through your gallery and show the phone screen to your friend, talking about the cute pillows you found at the store last week.
“See? They’re like… sea foam green, but Izzy says they wouldn’t go with our couch,” you hum, furrowing your brows at him, trying to see a different opinion on your newest choice of furniture for the already overcrowded flat.
“What color is your couch again?” he asks as you keep swiping, showing him all the angles of the pillows.
“Brown.”
“Oh, hell no,” Jihoon shakes his head, “that’s a Perry the platypus type of combo, I’m with Izzy on this one– oop, that doesn’t look like the pillows anymore–”
Swiftly turning the phone towards you again, worried of what picture you accidentally revealed to him (while you don’t have any nudes on your phone, you’re sure any selfie would be just as much embarrassing), you’re left with heat rising to your cheeks and shame drowning your system.
“Well, anyways, so the pillows–”
“We’re not talking about the pillows anymore, girl–”
“We are–”
“No,” he keeps interrupting you, making you grunt and sigh as you rest your head against the trunk of the tree behind you, banging it against it in frustration.
“Shut up,” you mutter. The thing is, you know you won’t escape the teasing now– because Park Jihoon watching you swipe through your gallery to a high-angle selfie of Eric Sohn in his work uniform, pouting, is surely a very incriminating image. “We text on Whatsapp and he sent the pic, so it automatically saved–”
“And you just never deleted it, naturally,” Jihoon hums with a shit-eating grin on his face.
“I forgot–”
“You just didn’t want to–”
“Oh shut the fuck up,” you sigh again, locking your phone and throwing it into the grass.
You and Eric have grown close since the day you spent together in the amusement park. So much to the point where you get lunch together sometimes and he sends you selfies when he’s bored at work, it seems. You don’t mind the subtle shift– hell, you welcome it with open arms– you just wish Park Jihoon (and Izzy, at this point) would stop teasing you about something that was not even vaguely true.
There is nothing going on between you and Eric Sohn.
And nothing ever will be– not a chance.
“I think the denial is being a little embarrassing now,” Jihoon chirps, making you swat his shoulder. You are not in denial– there is nothing to deny.
“You are being a little embarrassing.”
“You know I’m right,” Jihoon shrugs, grinning. Does he not have enough drama in his own life to stick his nose into yours? Not that there is any drama between you and Eric– but you bet Park Jihoon would love to create some.
“You’re never right.”
“Sure,” Jihoon hums. “I’ll mention this on your wedding speech–”
“I’ll kill you before I get married,” you grunt.
“But you didn’t deny the identity of the groom–”
Launching at the boy again, a threatening fist almost landing to his cheek, you watch as he wrestles you away with a loud laugh resonating through the space. Something about how lightly he takes the situation makes your stomach churn in an unknown emotion– you really don’t see why everyone thinks there should be something going on between you and your childhood friend.
“Look, all I’m saying is that if you want this to be a thing, maybe you should finally make a move, since the guy seems to be dull as fuck–”
Interrupting, never letting him finish a sentence when it comes to this topic, you try to finally prove your point. “I don’t want this to be a thing. I don’t even know what you’re talking–”
“I should go before I’m killed,” Jihoon suddenly hurries out, making you furrow your brows at him.
“What?”
“See you on Monday!” the tall male waves, scattering to his feet. He doesn’t give you much explanation as he runs off to the other side of the campus, making you watch him with confused eyes. Where has he gone so quickly? He doesn’t want to be killed?
By whom? Should you be afraid? Should you run as well?
Somebody clears his throat next to you, making you jump as you turn your head to see who is disrupting your peace. The moment your eyes meet the intruder, Jihoon’s comment finally settles in– god, you’ll kill him when you see him again.
“Eric! What are you doing here?” you ask, watching as the boy shrugs, taking a seat next to you on the grass.
“Just got off work,” he says, “and you said you’ll be here, so I thought I’d come and say hi,” he hums, yawning and stretching his arms above his head.
The sentiment makes you mentally coo– the emotion going as far as reaching your face in a form of a gentle pout– as you dwell deeper over his words. You didn’t think that complaining about how you have to do work would make Eric think of visiting you after finishing his own, but something about it makes you all warm from the inside.
“You didn’t have to,” you hum. “You seem tired.”
A gentle smile is sent your way, so illuminizing it makes you look away. “I know, but I wanted to,” he says, “I also brought you leftovers, if you want some. It’s almost dinner time.”
An involuntary gasp leaves your throat as you watch the male take out an aluminum wrap from his backpack and offer it to you alongside his bright grin. You waste no time in taking the pizza slices into your hand and carefully unwrapping them, allured by the smell.
“Why did Jihoon run so fast, by the way?” Eric asks, laughing.
“Oh, he said he was late for something…” you hum. (You’re not even convinced of your own excuse. You don’t know how Eric doesn’t see right through your lies.)
“Ah,” the boy nods in acknowledgement, scooping closer to you so his back is now resting against the tree, his eyes gluing themselves onto your laptop screen. His piney smell fills your nose, making your stomach feel like it’s on water, before his soft, tired voice lands into your ear. “Did you make a lot of progress?”
“Mhm,” you nod, clicking through the slides and showing him. The boy makes an acknowledging sound after each new information you tell him– something that makes you find him immensely endearing– as you simultaneously reach for the pizza and mindlessly offer the slice you’ve already bitten into to him, watching as his straight teeth chew down into the dough, sharing one piece with you.
“Are you done for the day? I’ll walk you home,” he says, tiredness completely seeping through his tone now. You can tell he needs sleep– which makes you feel slightly bad about making him take a detour just to meet you.
“Almost,” you hum apologetically, closing your laptop. “I just need to read a few more articles Jihoon recommended for me and then I should be done,” you say, reaching for your iPad as you put your computer away into your bag.
“Okay,” he nods.
“You can go home, Eric,” you say, “you don’t have to stay for me.”
“No, it’s fine,” he shakes his head, smiling at you.
Watching him, eyes meeting for a heartbeat, you see that he won’t budge no matter how harshly you’d tell him to go– so you figure that quickly getting through the articles and going home is your safest bet in this situation. Tapping on the screen and finding the email Jihoon forwarded to you, you open the first link in the message, subconsciously registering as the boy next to you gets comfortable sitting in the grass with you.
You only get through half of the (lengthy) article before you see Eric’s head lolling forwards, sleep taking over him. The motion wakes him, but not for long as he just can’t keep his eyes open anymore– the combination of a long shift, classes in the morning and finishing up his assignments late in the night getting the worst out of him and making you feel immensely bad for the boy. Not focused on the words in the article anymore, you watch as your friend scooches further down in the grass, acting on instinct as his head suddenly rests against your shoulder, soft hair tickling the side of your neck.
Heart leaping in your chest and whole body freezing– begging the universe to not make the boy wake up from his half-asleep state right now– you try your hardest to pay attention to the business tactics described in the article you’ve been reading for the last couple of minutes. It seems to be the hardest task you’ve ever set your mind on, though, as you notice the screen of your tablet getting dark, mirroring Eric’s relaxed face.
His neck is craned and his eyes are closed shut, making you turn your head to watch the sight first-hand, mentally counting all the eyelashes kissing his cheekbones and his puffed-out lips. Something about his pose doesn’t seem the tiniest bit comfortable, though– although it makes a strange wave of satisfaction run through your veins– and so, like any other decent person, you gently cradle your fingers through his hair, waking him up.
“Hmm?”
“Your neck is gonna be sore,” you quietly say as you put your arm around his shoulder, “just lay down, yeah?” you say, doing your best at adjusting his position.
The male lets you navigate him with half-lidded eyes as you make him scooch even further down into the grass before you pull his upper body towards your lower half, essentially making the boy lay his head into your lap. Eric looks up at you from his new position for just a few seconds, eye contact reminding you of a small, shy puppy you just brought home from the road, making you smile softly and treat him as one when you instinctively reach out and pet his head, running your fingers through his soft strands and gently scratching his scalp.
After a few seconds, the male closes his eyes again, seemingly drifting off into the dreamland. Your actions soothe him and simultaneously bring you into some sort of trance you can’t bring yourself out of– eyes glued to his face, studying it.
The angle of his nose and the slope of his upper lip is much more enjoyable to study and memorize than the sales statistics of your job’s concurrency. You find his long eyelashes to be nothing far from angelic, his light hair like a crown of gold under your touch. Everything about him is soft and gentle in this state– with the golden hour shining down onto his features, making his skin glisten like honey– the view so pretty you’d like to take a picture to remember it forever.
Your head spins and your stomach does that weird thing again. This is not the first time you are acknowledging Eric’s attractiveness– just the first time you are appreciating his beauty, his prettiness to the point where you are enchanted by it, not able to tear your attention away. You can’t deny the fact that it affects you anymore.
You can’t deny the fact you feel around him lately. It makes you feel strange and embarrassed, but not to the point where you’d want to keep away from him.
Your iPad is thrown next to you on the grass, forgotten and abandoned. You’re jealous of the sun– for it’s able to kiss his cheeks without fear, without judgment– the boy turning into a putty under your touch, subconsciously leaning into it when you drag his light bangs away from his forehead.
You admit the fact that you stopped working on your project the moment he arrived, not able to put your attention elsewhere than to his presence. You’re also aware he’d sleep better and more comfortably in his own bed, but for some reason, you selfishly want to keep him there– looking like a painting, something akin to a poem you wish you wrote.
Just for the moment, you let the reality down on you– that maybe Park Jihoon was right and there is no use denying the obvious anymore. Just for the moment, you let the feeling consume you, eat you alive. For now, though, the boy in your lap is all yours to admire. Blissfully unaware and painfully beautiful, soft and gentle all around.
The feeling inside of you is too raw, too real and so much different to anything you’ve ever known before.
When you’re satisfied with the dose of skinship, you wake the boy up and let him walk you home. You pretend for a moment the feeling is reciprocated and not left scared and lonely out in the open as Eric helps you carry your stuff for you and pulls you into a bear hug in front of your doorstep. You don’t tell him that you had the scariest realization while he was soundly asleep in your arms– it’s too scary and too real and you’re not ready to get your heart broken just yet.
You pretend everything’s like before. Normal.
You convince yourself that it will pass.
Once you enter the place, you’re instantly surrounded by the sound of people talking amongst each other, forks and glasses being put down, resonating through the whole place, the phone ringing somewhere in the distance, and a cold shot of liquid coming in contact with your stomach, making you gasp out in surprise.
“Oh shit!” Sunwoo grunts as he registers the mess he just caused, looking up at you with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry!”
Noticing the rush everywhere in the pizzeria and the amount of customers he has to take care of, you can’t really blame him for not watching where he’s going. Still, your face slowly morphs into a subtle frown at the realization that there is now a dark stain on your favorite white T-shirt, your outfit for the evening ruined– meaning half of your confidence disappeared just as fast as the Coca-Cola did from the glass Sunwoo has been holding.
“It’s okay,” you sigh, shaking your head. “It’s nothing–”
“I’ll get you a towel! I’ll be right back,” the boy urgently says as he makes you hold the half-empty glass of the beverage he just spilled all over you, making you shrug and question if you should just drink the rest of it as a price of consolation.
“Dude, this place is packed,” Izzy grunts from next to you, “can’t even blame him for being all over the place, at this point.”
“Yeah,” you absent-mindledly nod, eyes searching in the crowd to find the figure you came here for in the first place. Not that you only want his presence, no– it’s just that Eric was the one who invited you to the festival your university is throwing as a celebration of the end of the semester. Supposedly, he knows the guy that’s playing in the band that’s headlining it, and even though you tried to refute his arguments and invitations with the fact that you have nothing to be celebrating just yet– the final season is surely going to kick your butt and the presentation for your internship is in just two days, which means you should be preparing for it really hard right in this moment, but his pleading voice in your speaker as you talked to him on the phone on your way home from class was strong enough to convince you that maybe you do need some time to wind off before the responsibilities sweep you off your feet again.
Once you find the boy himself walking away from one of the tables in the corner, his eyes find yours– as if knowing you’ve been looking for him, sensing your presence. His face is outstretched into a smile as he practically skips towards you and Izzy, but the grin leaves his features swiftly once he notices the ugly stain on your shirt.
“Damn, what happened?” he asks.
“Sunwoo spilled a drink over me,” you shrug, watching as his coworker rolls his eyes in frustration at the new information. You laugh at his fakely mad expression, shaking your head at him. “It’s fine, he was in a rush.”
“Yeah, we’re kinda behind, so I don’t know if–”
“No, it’s fine!” you hear a female voice call out, making you snap your head towards the direction of the counter behind you, noticing the presence of Lisa, Eric’s older sister. Her face is adorned with a wide grin that gets a teasing hint when her brother sends her a questioning look, making you watch the interaction with interest. “You said you’re leaving at 7, so you’re leaving at 7. I told dad my friends are coming up to help today, so you just go and enjoy your time out!”
“Really?” Eric asks, tone full of disbelief. You think he spends more time at the restaurant than he does in his own bedroom, and suddenly, you’re happy his sister is being so kind towards the poor boy.
“Yeah! You have more important business to take care of anyway, so…” Lisa says, wiggling her eyebrows at Eric. The boy sends her a look full of fear– which might be justified, since you don’t really know what’s going on at the moment– before he clears his throat and turns his attention back towards you.
“Anyways…” he starts, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. “You can change into my shirt, if you want…? I have a spare one in the back in a case of emergency, and this surely looks like one, so–”
“Oh, it’s okay, you don’t have to–”
“I mean, the stain is pretty noticeable, so I was just–” he says.
“It’s fine, Eric, I’ll just wash it in the sink, or something.”
“Or you can take my shirt that does not have a stain on it. I swear it doesn’t smell, I only wore it once! I’ll wear the one I forgot in my locker the other day,” he says, looking at you with wide, expecting eyes. Your heart does a flip in your ribcage.
You have to mentally restrain yourself from freaking out over this. He’s just being nice. He’s offering you his shirt because he probably knows that you want to look good– he is offering you his shirt because he knows the stain on yours is bothering you and that it wouldn’t come out as easily in the sink if you don’t wash the shirt properly with laundry detergent that you don’t have on hand right now– and when you weight all the positives and negatives of the offer (which you find far less pros than cons in, just for the record), you realize you don’t really have a reason to decline his offer.
“I mean, if you’re sure…”
The boy only nods, gently takeing you by your forearm as he leads you towards the back. You’ve never been there before and you also don’t really know where Izzy disappeared to, but you stop worrying about those the same moment Eric opens his locker and hands you his black shirt, a tight-lipped smile adorning his features.
“I’ll give you some privacy.”
“Thanks,” you nod. You wait for the door to close before you quickly drag your sticky T-shirt over your head and discard it off your chest, glad you’re ridded of the nasty feeling of it against your skin, fastly putting on the soft material that Eric draped onto your hold before on your upper body.
The smell of his cologne instantly hits you in the face stronger than a baseball ever could, making your head spin and your stomach feel like it’s floating in the middle of the sea. Taking a quick look at yourself in the mirror on the wall next to you, you admire the way the garment fits you just well– since the height difference between you and Eric is barely existent. It makes you wonder if you could share wardrobes– the mental image of him in your favorite oversized graphic T-shirts making a foolish smile creep onto your cheeks, one that you forcefully wipe off the second you see it in the mirror. You smooth down the fabric before you tuck one side into the waistband of your jeans, satisfied with your new outfit.
Giddy, you walk out of the storage room. It takes you a few moments to find your group of friends standing next to the counter, chatting. You notice that Sunwoo has already changed out of his work uniform into his regular clothes– a black band tee and camo cargo pants– one arm around Izzy’s shoulders.
“Ready?” your roommate asks, watching you nod.
“I’ll just go change and then we can go,” Eric says, swiftly turning on his heel and disappearing into the room you just came out of.
Izzy and Sunwoo talk amongst each other before they turn to you, finally deciding to include you in their conversation. “Excited for tonight? Eric said you need to destress,” Sunwoo raises his eyebrows at you, making you shrug.
“I guess,” you hum, “I think I practiced my presentation so many times I could recite it in my sleep now, but it also strangely feels like I don’t know it enough, y’know?” you say, shaking your head. “It’s driving me crazy.”
“I just think you need to take your mind off things, babe,” Izzy chirps, sending you a comforting smile. “You worked hard enough.”
“Well, we will find out soon if it really was enough,” you snicker, making your roommate glare at you with disapproval. Before she has a chance to ridicule you for your self-deprecating thoughts, you choose to change the topic instead, picking one that’s interesting her enough to forget all about your worries. “I heard from Izzy you wanna go bowling?”
“Yeah!” Sunwoo perks up, excitement swirling in his dark orbs. “I haven’t been in a while, actually. I was thinking us four could go after exams are done? As a celebration?”
You four. You find the fact that this is your new usual strange, but also welcome. How you fit into the group, your presence always counted on. Somewhere along the way, you fell into the causality of the friend group– and you can’t say you hate it as much as you thought you would.
“Yeah, I’m down,” you shrug. “I’ve never played, though.”
“Dude, you and Eric go so well together, then. He’s actually shit at it, so I would even go as far as saying you will be better than him after two tries,” Sunwoo laughs.
You and Eric go so well together– your brain repeats like a mantra. You know he didn’t mean it in that way. You can’t help but wonder– if you’d ask, would he further support his point?
“Speaking of Eric, what’s taking him so long? We’re gonna be late for the concert, at this point,” Izzy hums, checking the time on her phone.
“Should I go tell him to hurry?” you ask, receiving a pair of nods ushering you to go get him.
Taking a few steps towards the staff-only room, not thinking much before you pull the doorknob, you peep inside– regretting it immediately.
You’re met with the image of Eric turning towards the door to see who it is, shirtless. Your eyes can’t help but wander over the angles of his defined arms and stomach, making heat rush into your cheeks faster than you’ve ever felt it before, a broken noise escaping your throat as you pathetically try to both apologize and pretend you didn’t just have a visceral emotion to the sight of his bare body right there, a few meters away from you.
“Shit, sorry, I just–” you say as you turn on your heel, your body moving by itself and on its own accord as your brain flashes a few red exclamation marks right in front of your eyes, “they just– we should hurry, they said,” you mutter out, blanking.
“Coming!” Eric hums, the shuffling of clothes behind you making you believe he is now fully dressed. You won’t test your theory and look over your shoulder, though– you fear the dreams you’d have tonight if you saw him shirtless even for a second longer. You don’t take the initiative to leave the room either, though– feet glued to your spot right behind the door.
You hear the locker slammed shut, the sound of footsteps approaching making you all alert. God, you feel awkward. You feel embarrassingly awkward.
You find comfort in picking at the fabric of his shirt on your body, playing with it in between your fingers. After a moment, you feel his palm come in contact with your shoulder, his arm reaching around your figure as he leads you out of the storage room once again, completely ignoring your flustered state. You’re not sure if he’s uncomfortable or if he truly didn’t mind– but the moment he utters out his next comment, your knees almost buckle, making you breathless at the sight of his cheeks dusted a light pink.
Tugging at the sleeve of his own shirt adorning your body, he admits: “This looks really good on you, by the way.”
When you arrive at the festival, the band isn’t playing yet. You and your friends decide to hang out in the back of the crowd, not really wanting the music to blast straight into your ears from the speakers on the podium, and before you even have a chance to ask Eric who is the friend that’s singing in the band you’re here to see, the male disappears to find the toilets.
Chuckling at the fact that he couldn’t take care of the business before you left the pizzeria, but also suddenly too bored without him (since Izzy and Sunwoo don’t count as proper company when all they pay attention to at this point of their relationship is each other), you decide to get in the line for drinks, announcing your departure to the love birds before you go. You figure you should probably get a drink for Eric too, since he always makes it his quest to pay for yours before you even get a chance to take out your wallet, and you suddenly see his departure as the perfect opportunity to do just that– he won’t have a way to stop you this time.
Standing promptly at the end of the line, you people-watch and listen to conversations of the fellow students hanging around the field. The drink stands are the most occupied out of the whole festival, the crowd of people waiting for a beverage accumulating half the population waiting for the concert, making you almost regret going here alone, since it’s pretty boring to just stand around, doing nothing.
“Damn,” someone hums from behind you, making you turn around to face the stranger, “I’m doomed.”
Instinctively, you raise your brows in question at the male, only prompting him to speak more once you make eye contact.
“I’m playing on stage in a bit, but I wanted to get a beer before we start,” the guy states, chuckling. “At this rate, I’m gonna be late for my own set!”
The fact that one of the band members that are supposed to perform in just a few minutes is currently standing behind you in line for drinks is a little amusing, to be honest. You’d say it’s kind of irresponsible to get to your own gig late, but you guess the boy is living the lifestyle of a punk star already, despite bagging only a mere university concert.
“You should try skipping the line and saying you’re VIP, then,” you joke.
“And get killed? No, thank you,” the boy laughs, shaking his head. “I’ll just see if I can make it in 15 minutes. If I don’t, I’ll just make a run for it.”
Laughing, you nod in acknowledgement at his comment. You don’t really expect the conversation to go any further after that, but the stranger surprises you as he offers you his hand to shake, a lazy smile appearing on his face as he introduces himself.
“I’m Yeonjun, by the way,” he says.
“Oh, nice to meet you. I’m Y/N,” you smile, shaking his outstretched palm.
“How come I’ve never seen you around before?” he hums, making a step towards you as the line moves, making you walk back a step to close the gap in the crowd. Still, he follows you a step further and invades your personal bubble, standing too close for someone you’ve just met.
“Maybe you have,” you shrug, “and you just don’t remember it.”
“I’d remember a pretty face like yours,” Yeonjun comments, making you bite back a laugh.
Is he flirting? Wow. You scan the male up and down, his self-assured stance making you believe that he is very confident in his persona. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s very attractive– plump lips, tall, shoulders broad– or maybe it’s the social status that comes with being in a band. Nonetheless, you can see the act working on many women.
Not you, though.
“Well, I study business, so maybe that’s why.”
The male nods, shrugging. “Maybe I’ll have to hang around the business building more often, then.”
“Maybe,” you nod, chuckling. “There's a bunch of weirdos majoring in Accounting out there, though, so I’d watch my back, if I was you.”
“Well, if it means I get to see your face, I can put that past me,” Yeonjun smirks, making you mentally roll your eyes at the cheesiness of his words.
You don’t really get affected by obvious pick-up lines like these. Not that you hear them often– quite the opposite, really– but you much prefer more natural dynamics. One where conversations feel easy and casual, not forced and with deeper intentions. You can’t deny Yeonjun’s attractiveness, no, but you also can’t really say it’s doing much for you.
Not really knowing what to reply, you awkwardly shrug. “And what do you major in, then?”
“Communications,” the male replies. Something in you clicks– is this the friend Eric was mentioning? You should ask him about Yeonjun after he comes back.
Before you even have a chance to open your mouth and say the words, the male cuts you off after taking a quick glance at his phone. “Look, Y/N, I’d love to get to know you more, but I really have to run now. But if you give me your number, we can get a drink together after my gig is done?”
“Oh–”
“That won’t be needed,” you hear a low voice coming from behind you, making your eyes snap towards the source. Your eyes go wide as you recognise the owner of the voice instantly, your heart hammering in your chest at the close proximity he puts between the two of you. “She’s with me, actually.”
“Eric, dude!” Yeonjun beams– confirming your suspicions. “Sorry dude, I didn’t know that was your girl.”
Your girl. The two words echo in your ears, making your world tilt slightly on its axis. It’s not even true– you’re not together and you’re not Eric’s in any way, shape or form– but something about being called that by other people while wearing his clothes makes you feel like you just shifted realities into one where you’re with him and not so scared of his rejection. One where you’re dating and you get to be called that all the time– one where the words are true.
You’re being foolish again.
You look at Eric in shock, noticing him already staring down at you with a panicked expression on his face. You don’t really know what’s going on in his head behind the shaking orbs of his, a tight-lipped smile offered to his mate as the tips of his ears burn red, a hesitant tone of voice making it known that the possessive words caught him off guard just as much as they did to you. “Well, not exactly…”
The male trails off. Your stomach does that weird thing again. You’d say there’s a soaring hint of hope in your chest, swimming around your intestines, that you want to simultaneously help and also drown in fear of holding on to something that is not even there in the first place, as you look back at Yeonjun. He is now staring the two of you down– shifting his gaze from one of you to the other, a knowing grin appearing on his lips as he processes the situation.
“O-oh… Okay, I see what you mean,” he nods, laughing. “Well, see you two later! I’mma head to the stage,” he pats Eric’s shoulder and waves at you before fully disappearing from the never-ending drink line.
A suffocating silence engulfs the two of you after his departure, making you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek. The thoughts running through your brain almost suffocate you before Eric brings air into your lungs again, making your inner monologue stop as he casually speaks up again, showing you that nothing has changed in your dynamic after this interaction and there is no reason for you to feel awkward with him right now.
You just need to silence your thoughts and feelings more efficiently. These slip-ups can’t keep happening.
“What will you have to drink?” he asks.
“I’m not telling you, because then you’ll get it for me and I decided I’m paying today,” you say, batting your eyelashes innocently at the male.
“I can just pay anyway, you know?” he laughs, making you shake your head.
“You don’t have to do that,” you hum. “Actually, I don’t want you to. You keep getting things for me, so I think this is the time to repay the favor.”
“Damn it,” he sighs. “That was me paying the Y/N subscription, though. How will I manage to make you keep hanging out with me now?” he jokes, shaking his head.
“Stupid,” you giggle, teasingly pushing him out of your way. “What will you get? And don’t say nothing, it’s my time to pay the Eric subscription fee.”
“I actually get paid in hugs and cuddles, so this doesn’t work on me,” the male shrugs, avoiding eye contact with you.
“Damn,” you hiss through your teeth, acting distraught. “That payment is long overdue, then. Wonder if they’ll come and take my house, or something.”
“I heard they won’t if you pay back what you owe,” he states casually.
How can he say such things with a straight face? Does he not realize just how much his sweet words affect you? Does he not know you feel like he has a magnet inside of him at all times that is begging to pull you in and glue you to his side, always and forever? Is he unaware of the effect his arms have on you whenever he puts them around your shoulders in public, or to the way your hands sweat whenever his fingers mindlessly drag themselves along the length of shoulder while doing so?
Or does he know and only wants to drive you crazier, more insane? Does he enjoy your misery?
“Hope it’s not a lot, then,” you joke, watching as the boy finally looks at you, eyes soft and glimmering, shoulders shrugging.
“I’ll hand the accounting over to you,” he says. “I trust that you’ll figure it out.”
Punching him in the shoulder lightly, you shake your head at his antics. “Peach iced tea, then?”
“How did you know?”
“You always get that one when you’re driving,” you say, walking up to the counter.
He lets you pay for the drink this time, eyes glued to your figure. You’re unaware of the way he watches you in the crowd, just as much as he is of the fact that he doesn’t have to fear an older, taller band guy stealing your attention away from him.
You come back to your friends with the drinks in hand just in time for the show to start. You watch the stage and grin at the sight of the frontman you just met having the time of his life during his gig, while the boy next to you watches your face every time a love song appears on the setlist. Neither of you are bold enough to dance together to the slow beats the way Izzy and Sunwoo are, lovingly gazing into each other’s eyes. You share knowing looks instead– growing shy when you hum the lyrics off the well-known songs Yeonjun’s band covers and the words get too intimate.
In the tune of love by wave to earth, though, when your heart skips a beat as Eric’s hand accidentally brushes against yours, you decide they wrote the song about him– not that you’ll ever admit that out loud.
The doorbell rings. Alone in the apartment, but knowing exactly who you’re expecting to see on the other side of the door– well, at least who you’re hoping to see– you shuffle towards the hall in your socked feet, taking your sweet time, your pace slow. There is not much energy stored in your body after today, and even though you wish to just bury yourself under the covers of your bed and sleep until you regain everything that your internship took away from you– until you don’t feel so bad about yourself and so defeated with your efforts– your small, fragile heart yearns for the presence of one person in particular, making you sheepishly order pizza through their website, because you know he has work today and there is no other way for you to see him.
Reaching for the handle, you open the door and reveal your busted appearance to Eric Sohn standing at your doorstep with a box of pizza in his hands, a light pink hoodie covering his figure, eyes big as the moon staring at you all expecting.
“So? How did it go?” he asks, genuinely hopeful. The boy has been suspicious of your mood ever since you got the final presentation on your internship over with and you didn’t instantly text him, telling him how it went– and the look he finds on your face only further proves his suspicions.
Your face morphs into a deep frown, trying to bite back your tears. His cheerful demeanor drops the moment he sees you struggling, not wasting a second as he shifts towards you and makes you back up into your apartment, putting the pizza box onto the coffee table in your hall before throwing his arms around your body, leading your grabby hands to hold on to the fabric of his sweater.
“It was terrible,” you sniffle, feeling the palm of his hand cradle your head into the crook of his shoulder, petting your slightly matted hair. A few tears escape your eyes and roll down your cheeks, making your whole body shake and tremble in his hold.
You don’t usually show how affected you are by disappointment. You feel a bit humiliated, a bit embarrassing for both flunking your presentation and also for showing your weakness in front of Eric, but his gentle nature and the comfort you feel in his sheer presence is enough for you to forget about the hurt. You try to focus on the warmth of his skin instead, on the way his arm soothingly runs down your back, making you ground yourself. There is not much you can tell him in your current position, words getting caught in your throat, but it’s still enough for him to understand.
“I worked so hard on it,” you mumble, “I tried so- I tried so hard, and then they said it w-was bad and–”
“Shh, it’s okay,” he hums, holding you closer to him.
You’re not used to not being instantly good at everything. It’s something you have yet to come to terms with after getting into university. You’re no longer the top of your class and you aren’t the best at all assignments and final exams you take anymore– and it’s a big kick to your ego. It makes you feel useless. It makes you feel stupid.
And that’s world-shattering. The image you once had of yourself is now taken forcefully away from your hands, replaced by disappointment and shame from the fact that you’re only mediocre and everything you thought about yourself up to this point was just a mere lie.
“Y/N, you tried your best. And I know you feel bad now, but I’m still proud of you for working so hard– it’s not your fault your efforts weren’t appreciated,” he says close to your ear, trying his hardest to be the calm after the storm for you.
After a few moments spent breathing in his scent, anchoring yourself to his presence, you force yourself to pull away from his chest. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, averting his gaze– because still, this is all so new to you and you don’t really know how to let yourself feel less foolish for your sudden outburst– you shrug and clear your throat.
“Uhm… thank you,” you mumble, “sorry for…”
“No,” he shakes his head, suddenly moving to take off his shoes. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”
“You’re… Eric, you have work, you can’t just stay. I don’t want you to get in trouble–”
“They can’t fire me,” he chuckles, trying to make light of the situation. After you watch him with worried, guilty eyes– because even though the logical part of your brain is telling you to throw him out of your apartment and just go eat the pizza you ordered as you bite back your own tears, the emotional side of you really wants him here, it really wants him close. He moves towards you again and ruffles your hair, gentle eyes watching you, preventing you from protesting any further. “It’s okay, Y/N. You need me here more than they do tonight, trust me.”
“I feel bad now,” you mumble.
“I know,” he playfully notes, “that’s why I’m here. Besides, you’re more important than work anyway.”
“That’s a pretty fucked up list of priorities,” you laugh airly, trying to mask the way his words have your heart squeezing on itself, nervous gold swirling in your stomach.
“It works for me,” he shrugs.
The moment you move back towards your room, the realization of the fact that Eric’s never seen it before sinks in fully, suddenly making you nervous about the act. Everything feels strangely natural as he enters the space, though, feet shuffling towards your bed as he takes a seat on the comfy mattress. However, your eyes still nervously scan your room, chewing on your bottom lip as you wonder if the perception of you has changed after seeing the state of you, the state you live in. “I’m sorry, it’s kinda messy–”
“Y/N.”
Looking at him, noticing the encouraging, gentle gaze he offers you, everything around you shifts in its axis– the world stops, giving you a chance to breathe, a chance to exhale, and the weight slowly disappears off your shoulders.
“Relax,” he laughs softly as he reaches for your hand, tugging you towards him. Taking your place in between his legs, towering over the sweet creature in your bed, you feel like you can finally breathe more easily now that he’s here.
It’s okay, you realize. Magically, today no longer feels like the end of the world.
His thumb gently swipes across the back of your palm, making your insides turn into a putty, a soft smile slowly mirroring his appearing on your previously frowning face.
“I’d like to, uh..” you clear your throat, shying away from his gaze, “pay back the missed subscription fees then, if I can.”
Your bold statement has the room fall into an overbearing silence. For a moment, you forget it’s Eric who you’re with– the man that never judges you, the only one that makes you feel safe– as you go into a momentary panic. When you dare to look at him again, though, you notice him eagerly searching for your gaze, a boyish smile playing with his lips showing you that he doesn’t mind you asking– quite the opposite, really. He enjoys the preposition.
The male leans back in your bed and watches you as you climb next to him. For a moment, you don’t really know what to do, being too shy to hold onto him the way you truly want to, but the male wastes no time as he shuffles a bit in your sheets and moves to his side. One of his arms sneaks around your middle, pulling you to him, as his leg carelessly swings over your feet, trapping you in. His whole body weight rests against your figure, but it does nothing to suffocate you or take air out of your lungs– quite the opposite, really.
You feel content in his hold. Your hand instinctively holds onto his forearm, keeping him close. If you could, you’d crawl into his skin, make a home in his chest and stay there, protected from all bad. What you don’t realize is that there’s a little fort in his heart reserved as a house for you already– one he guards and lets no one into– the unspoken, tender words now hanging everywhere around the corners of your room.
“The pizza will get cold, though,” he mumbles, tone of voice low from the close proximity of him next to you, the desire to protect the intimacy showing through the hushed out words.
“I’m not hungry,” you say lazily– exposing him to the fact that it’s not the food you needed tonight when you were ordering. “I kinda feel sleepy, though” you admit, letting your eyes rest a bit. You’ve been restless ever since you came home from work today– you didn’t know all you needed to finally turn off your endless stream of thoughts was Eric’s presence.
“Sleep, then,” he hums. “I’ll heat it up for you when you wake up.”
You let out a disapproving sound.
“You need sleep. And also food,” he scolds you, his other hand somehow sneaking itself under your figure and into your hair again, playing with the strands and scratching at your scalp. “You’ve been stressing out for so long, no wonder you’re so worn out right now.”
You feel like you’ve been laid bare, exposed right in front of his eyes. You feel naked and fully vulnerable, but you make no effort to shield yourself from his gaze, for it’s not prying and unwanted, but gentle and caring– so much to the point you feel like it’s going to consume you. Your head spins and your heart aches with deep yearning– it’s strange.
You already know what that feeling is:
You’re falling, falling, and falling.
All there’s left is to hope he won’t drop you. All there is left is to hope he’ll catch you on your way down.
Your body shifts so it’s facing him, your breathing mixed. Your faces are inches away from each other, making you afraid to open your eyes and study him from up close– for you think he knows how to read you too well by now, and your lingering gaze would tell him too much. Eyes don’t lie, after all– they never do.
“You did well,” he hums.
The shattered pieces of your tender heart spill themselves into his outstretched palms. You watch as he mends them together, sewing them with an invisible, red string. The boy silently leans into your face and his lips press a gentle kiss to your cheek, only further strengthening your decision to stay blind in the moment, not wanting to reveal just how much you’re affected by the tender action.
It’s been a long drop– a slow one, one you could get used to. Still, you’re falling, falling and falling,
And even though you’re unaware, he’s there all this time, waiting at the bottom, his arms open wide.
The idea of celebrating the end of the exam season with Izzy, Eric and Sunwoo by going bowling is quickly and forcefully taken out of your hands when you arrive at Sohn's Pizza to pick the boys up, all dressed up and ready. The place is full of people, there is screaming coming out of the kitchen, and while usually, Eric or Sunwoo would be greeting you by coming out of the back and welcoming you in, there is no one in your sight– which makes you just the tiniest bit suspicious.
Sharing a concerned look with your roommate, the two of you curiously walk through the place and peek behind the counter, being met with emptiness as more screaming resonates through the kitchen. You don’t mean to intrude or listen in on a conversation you’re not exactly invited to, you really don’t– but you just can’t help it as the sound of Eric’s angry, frustrated voice cuts through the space, catching not only your attention, but also everyone else’s in the restaurant.
“I don’t care that dad is too scared to hire someone into our sacred family business!” he huffs. “I don’t give a single flying fuck, because now, our plans are ruined again, all because they decided to go on a surprise holiday and they left us three to deal with the whole place!” Eric ironically sings the words ‘surprise holiday’ as he expresses his frustration, showing how much the whole situation bothers him.
“Eric, calm down, people can hear you–” you hear Lisa muttering, making you chuckle at the interaction between the siblings.
“So if dad wants to go on a holiday ever again, he either hires someone so we don’t have to be here 24/7, or I quit!” he finishes his little rant.
There is a moment of silence behind the thin walls, making you and Izzy stare at each other with a blank look– a look empty, but full of understanding that there is no bowling happening today and there is nothing you can really do about it– before the sound of dishes hitting the floor hits your ears, making you wince. The fall is followed by a pained voice full of misery.
“FUCK!”
Izzy chuckles, opening the door to the kitchen without much hesitance, inviting the two of you into the chaotic situation. Taking a step towards the room behind the staff only sign which you ignore because Izzy thinks she’s basically a part of the family now, you look around a bit anxiously, being met with the sight of Eric picking up bowls and pans from the floor and throwing them back into the sink to wash, Sunwoo adding topics to a pizza with furrowed brows and his bottom lip jolted out (clearly sulking), and Lisa checking up on the food in the oven.
All three pairs of eyes are glued to you the moment the sound of the door opening fills the space, two sets lighting up and the third one looking at you with pure curiosity.
“Need any help around here?” Izzy chuckles, looking around. The place is messy– covered with sauce in some places, flour all over Sunwoo’s apron, soap and water dripping down the cleaning station. It’s clear as hell the three of them aren’t handling the after-exam Friday rush well by themselves, and although you mourn the idea of relaxing in a bowling alley with your friends after the hard weeks of finals, you can’t say you’re too disappointed.
You can’t play bowling, after all, and you still get to see your friends– so it’s no big deal.
“No, you don’t have to–” Eric starts, ever-so considerate.
“It’s okay, we just–” Sunwoo follows, the two boys not wanting to share the responsibility that’s not yours.
After hearing each other interrupting their dismissive words, the two look at each other and chuckle. “I’m afraid we can’t hang out today, though. As you can see, our parents left the place to us and went on a holiday–”
“We heard,” you cut the owner’s son off, a teasing grin on your face shutting the boy up instantly, to which he offers you a shy look as he drowns his hands in the sink again, trying to tackle the dishes.
Walking over to the poor boy reminding you a little of a wet dog now, since his bangs are damp as well, making you believe he’s been running his hands through in frustration mid-washing up– you take a kitchen towel off one of the shelves and decide to dry off the plates he’s done scrubbing, putting them away neatly on one of the trays situated next to the sink and getting them ready for the next customers. You don’t really ask what to help with, since you’re sure Eric and Sunwoo wouldn’t tell you either– feeling bad for making you work with them instead of taking you out like they promised they would– you only tackle what seems to be the most important task in the moment, helping out the best you can.
“Izzy, I’m really sorry for exploiting you,” Lisa starts out, making the whole room laugh out at her joke, “but for a free pizza or maybe even two, would you mind doing the waitressing for a bit? I fear people out there are mad as hell, but maybe if you tell them we are short on staff today–”
“I’m on it!” your roommate nods and salutes to the older girl, disappearing back into the main area of the pizza place. Since she has some experience with waitressing and working in the food service, you doubt there is anything to worry about.
The kitchen quiets down, the only sounds heard being from the sink, an occasional sigh escaping Sunwoo’s throat– he really must have been looking forward to this day– the atmosphere growing less heavy and hectic with two more pairs of hands in the building. You know they don’t want to admit it, but the boys are secretly glad for the help– it makes working so much easier and less nerve-wrecking to the employed youngsters.
“I’m sorry,” falls out of between Eric’s lips after a while, low and sincere. You look at him from your place to the left of his figure, furrowing your brows at him in question.
“Huh?” you voice out, watching him shrug.
“Well, we were supposed to hang out today and now we can’t, so…” the boy trails off, making you chuckle and coo at him, touched with his sincerity.
“That’s not really your fault, so I don’t see why you’re apologizing,” you say, “besides, we are still hanging out now, no? I don’t mind the location change,” you smile, slightly bumping your hip into his, the kitchen towel now getting damper and damper with the amount of dishes you’ve dried off with it in such a small time frame.
The two of you continue on with the task, all while playfully bumping hips from time to time, trying to catch the other one off guard with the contact, grins shared between the two of you. You barely register Izzy coming in and out of the kitchen, telling the cook– Sunwoo– the new orders, Eric and you pulled into your own bubble, attention focused mostly on each other, then at the otherwise domestic act accompanying you in your interaction.
“Exams went well?” Eric asks.
Nodding, you hum in agreement. “Some were harder than others, but I didn’t fail any, so that’s a win. You?”
“About the same,” he grins. “I mean, the grades aren’t great, but I passed all of them, so…”
You laugh at his comment, shaking your head at his attitude. You wish you could take school and all of its responsibilities with as much ease as your friend does– too bad you’re an anxious over-achiever and don’t really know how to relax ever.
“Academic weapon,” you joke.
“Oh, that’s your title,” he says as he finally scrubs off the last plate and turns the tap off, placing it into your hands to dry, “I don’t even try, because I don’t wanna take it away from you,” he jokes.
“So considerate,” you muse, rolling your eyes at him. The boy wipes his hands on the towel hanging off your arm, the two of you sharing a playful look– Eric’s eyes swirling with honey and gold inside, making you all warm and fuzzy. You find it hard to look away.
The noise of someone suddenly clearing their throat catches you off guard and pops the soap bubble you’ve been trapped in with your friend, making you look at the source, curious what his sister has to say. She is looking at the two of you with a teasing smirk on her face that instantly makes your cheeks burn– for you know you were caught staring too much, too long at her younger brother– before she points to the pizza boxes in front of her, towering so much they almost topple over and drown her in the baked dough and cheese.
“I need you two to do the deliveries,” she muses, “if you don’t mind, of course.”
Shaking your head, showing that you’re completely fine with the task, the two of you walk over towards the impressive pizza tower. Eric takes the bigger half into his hands while Lisa puts the car keys onto the box on top of your smaller stack, sending you a knowing look that you try to ignore.
Walking out of the place, noting that one person could very well do the deliveries alone after loading up the car, but also realizing that even though you could be more needed inside, you kinda wanna spend more time with Eric, you wait for him to shut the car door and tell you the next instructions.
“I think the most efficient way to do this is one of us driving and the other one going up to the doors with the orders,” he muses, watching you nod in understanding. “I can drive, if you want?”
Chewing on the inside of your cheek, not really happy with the mental image of talking to so many people tonight, you huff. “I kinda wanna drive, though…?” you peep.
The male stares at you for a few seconds– as if contemplating if you’re safe enough of a driver, or something– before he places the key into your hand and closes your palm, entrusting you with… pretty much his life, if you really think about it. In his defense, it only takes one wrong turn and both of you could be dead– but he seemingly believes in your abilities.
After you get into the driver’s seat and adjust it to your liking, making sure you can see in all of the mirrors, you pull out of the parking lot with ease, turning with Eric’s directions. You see him watching the map on his phone, making sure you know where to go in time to not turn this drive into an amateur redemption of The fast and the furious: Tokyo drift. You drive smoothly, getting to the destination in short time, stopping in front of the targeted house and watching as your friend gets out of the car with a few pizza boxes, jogging up to the front door.
The sight makes you remember how you met him a few months ago. It makes you chuckle, noticing how much has changed– you didn’t even want pizza that night, but today, you’re driving him in his car, watching as he makes the deliveries.
“No strange notes asking for cute delivery boys?” you joke when he gets to the car and tells you to drive straight until he says to turn right, making him chuckle.
“No, not really,” he shakes his head, “but I think it’s funny how Sunwoo didn’t get to go, yet it still landed him a girlfriend.”
“I mean, they were both pretty desperate,” you admit, chuckling. Your foolish brain can’t help but wonder– what if it could land both of them a girlfriend? What if you were bold enough to confess your feelings one day?
“True,” he nods, “they go well together.”
“It’s still miserable to watch them interact sometimes, though,” you joke.
“I’m sorry, I tried my hardest to prevent it,” he muses.
Furrowing your brows, you look at him in confusion only for a second before you focus back on the road. “Huh?”
“I physically fought Sunwoo so I could go deliver those pizzas to your house back then,” he grins. “Back then, it was because I genuinely believed I was the cuter one, but I think that somehow, I kind of felt it, y’know? Like, intuition. It was telling me ‘Eric, don’t let Sunwoo deliver those pizzas, because then your friend will get into a relationship and make every second with him miserable, because he can’t shut up about his new girlfriend–”
You cut him off by laughing, shaking your head at his antics. Eric points towards a street, hinting that you should turn, having you follow his orders.
“I like your confidence,” you say, “but to be fair, seeing you show up at my door was kind of crazy, after all these years.”
“You make it sound as if you disagree with me,” he casually utters out.
Your hands sweat on the steering wheel. Maybe you should swerve off the road and drive into a tree so you can avoid this conversation.
“Maybe I do,” you shrug, thankful that driving makes it easier for you to avert your gaze from him and not make it seem like you’re forcefully avoiding him.
“So we’re just gonna ignore the fact that you called me the hottest–”
“If you don’t shut up, I’m crashing the car–” you threaten, your voice coming out a bit more miserable-sounding than you intended it to, showing just how not casual the whole situation was for you.
“Look, you don’t have to be shy about it, we both know–”
“Okay, passenger princess,” you shut him off, watching as the boy next to you has a visceral reaction to your comment.
“I literally offered to drive!”
“Whatever you say,” you muse as you make the car stop at the next destination and let Eric out to complete another delivery.
After the boy jumps inside of the car again, he ignores the previous topic of the conversation. That fact makes you happy, since you don’t really know if you’re ready to face the problem at hand– the problem being the very obvious and strong, magnetizing feelings you have for the boy– so you only continue to drive, listening to the radio he puts on and his occasional humming that he slides in through the directions he gives you.
He continues to deliver all the pizzas they baked when he announces that you’re approaching the last destination. You can’t say you’re happy about the fact– since you started to quite enjoy the comfort of the drive, but you guess you can’t really prolong the moment any more and force it to last forever, no matter how much you’d like it to.
Eric walks out of the car with the last three boxes in his hands, knocking on the door. The commotion lasts longer than usual, making you suspicious of the interaction he has with the man at the door, before you see the boy shrugging and walking back to the car, one pizza box still in his hands. To say you’re confused would be an understatement.
“What happened? Did we mess up somehow?” you ask, motioning towards the pizza box in his hands.
“I don’t think it was us who messed up,” Eric snickers, “apparently, they only ordered two pizzas, so I think Sunwoo accidentally made three.”
“Oh,” you hum, nodding in acknowledgement.
“But that’s fine, because that means we can have this one for free,” the boy grins at you as he puts on his seatbelt. “Let’s move a few blocks so we don’t just stay in front of this dude’s house, though.”
You furrow your brows at him, but still start the engine nonetheless. “Shouldn’t we head back? I bet we should hurry, from how packed it was, they surely need our help–”
There is a lack of worry in Eric’s face as he shakes his head in disapproval. It seems that neither of you really want to go back to Sohn’s Pizza and work– because it’s not as fun as driving around together, singing along to the radio– but the lack of empathy towards his sister and his friends surprises you. “I’m sure they will survive a few more minutes. Come on, Y/N, the bowling didn’t work out, so let me make it up for you at least this way.”
His pleading voice does enough to persuade you as you drive down the street and then a few more blocks to the left, trying to find a calm place where you could park the car and won’t bother anyone as you eat the remaining pizza, while also trying to forget about Lisa, Izzy and Sunwoo alone in the pizzeria working their asses off. You feel a bit guilty with the idea in your brain, but you try to push it back with the image of spending more time alone with Eric– and suddenly, the previous is almost too easy to ignore.
Little did you know that this was Lisa’s plan all along. While you may be a bad wingman, Eric’s sister surely isn’t.
Stopping in front of one of the houses that seems to be empty, turning the engine off and undoing your seatbelt, you spin around to face Eric as he opens the pizza box and gasps at the sight of the cheesy dough. “I’m pretty sure this was fate, man,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “There’s no way we are left with your favorite. Extra cheesy too, damn...”
“This is unbelievable,” you agree, playfully clasping your hands together in prayer. “Thank you universe for the sign. You were right, we were supposed to stay out longer.”
“I’m always right,” he nods, watching as you eagerly take a triangle off the greasy cardboard and bite down into it, your taste buds cheering in joy as you chew on the treat.
Eric is quick to follow as he takes one for himself as well, the two of you falling into a comfortable silence as you eat. You didn’t even realize you were hungry before– your intentions being to eat at the bowling alley– and so you welcome this idea even more now that your stomach is less upset. Crossing your legs on the seat, not really caring about getting the car dirty– which in retrospect, you should’ve– you hum before you speak up again, already on your second piece.
“If you were a pizza, you’d be this exact pizza right here,” you hum. You don’t really know where that idea came from, but you think you’re speaking the truth– in your mind, it makes total sense.
Eric stares at you like a confused puppy, a slight grin appearing on his face showing you that he’s trying to see where that came from. “Why?” he asks. “Because you love me?”
Here it is again– the heat appearing on your cheeks from the panic, embarrassment filling your veins. You feel like you were caught in the act, like he sees right through you– with how he’s been acting the whole evening, you think he might have some sort of intuition. Still, you won’t admit to your feelings out loud– because there’s no way they’re reciprocated, and you won’t cause such a heartbreak to yourself willingly.
Eric is just social like that. He is sweet, playful. There is no undertone to his actions– it’s just who he is as a person, and there is no way he likes you back.
“No,” you cough out, almost choking on the pizza. “You’d be a margherita, because it’s a safe choice. Everyone likes a margherita! It’s fun, and it’s–”
“Tasty?” he interrupts you, a shit-eating grin already plastered onto his lips. “I taste good too, wanna check?”
You think he might be teasing you just for the fun of it now. He loves to feed on your misery, because he sees right through you, he knows you’re absolutely, incredibly enchanted by him, and it strokes his ego to rile you up and make you flustered. You’re sure of it now. “Oh, shut it!”
Eric laughs out loud before he swallows another bite, shrugging. “If you were a pizza, you’d be hawaiian.”
“Hm? Why?” you ask, busying yourself with chewing on the cheesy dough in your hold.
“Because you are both salty and sweet,” he starts, “and I didn’t expect to be so into it.”
His words make you stop in your tracks. He didn’t expect to be so into it. Does he mean he’s into you, or are you just reading too much into his words? Trying not to seem too affected by his words– trying to play it casual, nonchalant– you clear your throat and avert your gaze from him, continuing to chew. The pizza in your mouth loses all its flavor the longer you focus on it, turning into a mass of nothing to your taste buds. After the last bite, you’re left mortified with the realization that you have nothing to focus your attention to now, if you don’t want to face your friend again and take another slice in between your fingers from the pizza box resting in his lap, and so you just continue to stare ahead, beaten up by the awkward silence.
Play it cool, Y/N. Be normal. He must think you’re weird now, because you wondered even for a second if his joke was serious, and now he won’t want to hang out with you ever again–
“So, uhm, just checking,” Eric awkwardly laughs, something about his tone sounding nervous in your ears. “Are you really still that oblivious, or are you just pretending you didn’t catch that to not hurt my feelings because you don’t like me back…?” he asks.
Your heart does a somersault. Hell, you think you just went into cardiac arrest– your ears are ringing, your stomach is floating on water and your breathing quickens with his words. Having a full visceral reaction does nothing to help you speak back to him, but your body reacts on itself as you snap your head to the side and finally look at him, gazing into his big, honest eyes.
He looks at you in a similar way he did back at that party– expecting, hopeful. You didn’t catch it back then– the eager, desperate look in his orbs, wishing, praying you chose him in a room full of people, picked him in a row of anyone who would like to have you. It leaves you weak, it leaves you feeling like you were just punched in your face with the realization that you’ve been foolish to ever think that this was just how Eric acts and there was nothing more to his acts of care and affection.
“I- uh… I just didn’t expect you to like me back…?” you say, making it sound like a question, still uncertain about the whole situation. “I thought you were just…” you trail off, pupils shaking as you watch the boy’s face morph out of nervousness into a bright, amused smile.
“Look, I’m– I just–” you stutter, not really knowing what else to say, how else to express yourself.
Eric was always much quicker than you, much more clever in social situations. He takes your lack of words as a hint as he holds onto your honest, surprised state and takes it upon himself to solidify the reality for you, to show you what the two of you’ve been missing for the last couple of months. Reaching over the gearstick, he gently glazes your cheek with his palm before he sends a one last look to your eyes, watching out for any sign of discomfort.
His lips lock with yours. You’re convinced the world stopped turning.
Eric Sohn is sweet like cherry cola. He is a taste of familiarness with something more to it, something new and fresh, sugary and addictive. He is gentle, with an exciting aftertaste, leaving you breathless and wanting more. He is like a hint of home, a memory of your childhood, all safe and loving and tender.
The kiss is short. It has you leaning towards him, a handful of his hoodie filling up your fist as you desperately, foolishly drag him to you and press your lips to his again, as if to check if the last kiss was real and you didn’t just make it up in your mind by wishful thinking.
You guess you finally reached the bottom after the long, slow fall. You don’t even feel the landing as his arms hold you up and spin you around instead, showing you that falling in love doesn’t have to be all that scary– if the one you want is caring, if the one you want is nothing short of an angel in your eyes.
After you pull away from him, he rests his forehead against yours and enjoys the proximity which he doesn’t have to hide the need for anymore– now that he’s all yours to keep and you’re all his to hold.
“You really thought I didn’t like you back? Hell, Y/N, you’re all I ever think about,” he scoffs, showing you the ridiculousness of your own beliefs, his ever-so playful tone only further solidifying the sweet aftertaste of his confession. “I like, have butterflies in my stomach and all,” he confides, grinning at you.
Rolling your eyes, finally easing into the new territory, you tease him for his words. “That was extra cheesy.”
“I thought you liked that?”
Gazing into his eyes, feeling your own heartbeat hammering against your chest, you can’t help but chuckle at the subtle irony of it all.
“Maybe I do.”
#deoboyznet#bjnet#the boyz#eric sohn#the boyz x reader#tbz x reader#tbz fluff#eric sohn fluff#eric fluff#eric x reader#eric sohn x reader#tbz scenario#tbz fic#the boyz scenario#the boyz fluff#the boyz imagines#sohn youngjae#youngjae x reader
495 notes
·
View notes
Text
Japanese BL Starter Pack
It’s been awhile since I dropped a rec list, so I am here today to share one that is very near and dear to my heart—a Japanese bl primer for those who are new to the jbl game. I created this for @neuroticbookworm to help her on her journey when she decided she wanted to start getting into Japanese works. The fandom (on Tumblr and generally) tends to focus primarily on Thai shows because they are the easiest to access for international fans, since Thailand is working its way toward world domination via ql media and wants us all to be able to watch. But there is a lot of great stuff to watch beyond the easy access Thai channels, and Japan is the country where this genre originated, so its shows are important for anyone who considers themselves a bl fan. Japan doesn’t cater nearly as much to the international audience so tracking down the shows sometimes takes some ingenuity and can-do spirit, but that’s part of the fun!
And so, the list! Bookworm is about halfway through it and having a ball, so I figured it was time to stop hoarding it and share it with anyone else who would like to dip their toes into jbl and isn’t quite sure where to start. A few notes:
I am not here to teach you about the deep roots of the jbl genre or give you a primer on yaoi manga. I am by no means an expert and there are other places to find that information. Start here with this great post by @nieves-de-sugui and then maybe wander over to @absolutebl to read up more on the evolution of the genre.
This list is by no means an exhaustive accounting of every important Japanese bl ever made; it is simply a nice sampler platter of the cream of the crop among various styles you will find in jbl. Watching through this whole list will not only expose you to some fantastic shows, but also give you a sense of what makes jbl unique and how the country’s style differs from others, and point you toward the types of jbl you’ll like most (they tend to put shows in pretty specific style and tone lanes and once you find the ones you like there are lots more where that came from).
If you’re coming to this post as a jbl lover and you don’t see your favorite here, I promise it’s not because I don’t love it very much; I simply had to make some choices to get this down to a reasonable shortlist. Feel free to leave extra recs for others to find!
I’m putting these in a loose suggested watch order that will take you through the various jbl lanes in a kind of popcorn style, because I always think it’s good to change it up so you don’t get too stuck in one mode, and it works its way up to most of the extremely Japanese stuff (you will know what that means by the time you finish). But do what’s in your heart and change up the order if you want, friends, I am not the boss of you!
Cherry Magic (Crunchyroll or grey)
gif by @liyazaki
I believe everyone on Tumblr is pretty familiar with this one, which is not a coincidence—this is one of the most accessible jbls. Not in terms of actual access to watch it, mind you (we’ve all jumped through shady internet hoops to watch it) but in terms of its content and style. Cherry Magic is a classic workplace romcom with a magical twist, and it is charming af. It’s a great exemplar of Japan’s light and zippy comedy lane for bl—a lane in which, importantly, the romances stay chaste even when the actual plot is about sex, or lack thereof. My friend @waitmyturtles would kill me if I didn’t make sure you know that Cherry Magic also has a lovely follow up film. And bonus: there is now a Thai remake airing so if you watch the original you can get in on the discussion about the different adaptations between countries. This is pretty easy to find these days in all the usual places, but I strongly recommend watching it here.
Old Fashion Cupcake (Viki)
gif by @liyazaki
Moving on to a slightly more mature workplace romcom. Old Fashion Cupcake, another Tumblr favorite, is an age gap boss-subordinate romance, and it’s both very adult and somehow wholesome af at the same time. Sure, there is a lot of carnal desire going on here, but there is also a lot of wooing via fluffy pancakes. It’s a tight five episodes and a fantastic example of what Japan, with its extreme technical precision in writing, directing, editing, pacing, and acting firing on all cylinders, can do in two hours. There’s not an ounce of flab on this thing and you’ll want to watch it over and over again.
Utsukushii Kare (Viki)
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
Time to get a little weird! Weird is a key feature of Japanese media, and lots of jbls explore unusual relationship dynamics rooted in complex psychology. This is the first show on the list that will likely feel very Japanese if you’re new around here—my advice is to lean into it and finish the show, even if you get uncomfortable along the way. In Japanese media, discomfort always serves a purpose. This is a high school story with a twisted relationship at its center, and I’m not saying any more than that. Don’t spoil yourself and go watch it! This one also comes with two sequels—one short second season and one movie—that continue from the original story. They are less essential but still excellent.
I Cannot Reach You (Netflix)
gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses
Next up, another high school tale, but with a totally different vibe. This show is kind of a revelation in its willingness to tell a story about overwhelming desire—including sexual desire—with young protagonists. It’s rooted in a classic but often misunderstood trope, friends to lovers, and takes the angst of it seriously, giving us a low stakes story that feels extremely high stakes to our leads. It’s also gorgeous and uses a classic Japanese visual style (bokeh) that you’ll be dying to learn more about.
His (Viki)
gif by @gabrielokun
Time for a break from high school, and we’ll sprinkle in a movie for some added flavor. His is a jbl film featuring a second chance romance between a stoic, introverted man who moves to a remote town to start over, and his ex-boyfriend who follows him there unexpectedly, adorable child in tow. Importantly, this movie does not take place in what we often refer to as the “bl bubble” where homophobia doesn’t exist; the leads’ experiences of being gay men in a homophobic society are hugely important to the plot and themes of the story. It’s a beautiful film and I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve watched it. @bengiyo would surely also like me to tell you that this film follows a brief prequel show called His: I Didn’t Mean to Fall in Love about the characters originally meeting in high school; I do not think it’s really necessary to watch it but completists can start there.
The Pornographer series (Gaga)
By now you should be ready to get into some classic Japanese fucked up psychosexual material, right? Right! The Pornographer series is told in five installments in this order:
The Novelist, a six episode miniseries
Mood Indigo, a six episode prequel series
Spring Life, a 15 minute short
Pornographer: Playback, a two hour film
Spring Life Continued, a 15 minute short
Confused by that distribution model? So say we all; sometimes Japan likes to make us work for it to make sure we really appreciate its many gifts to us. The story across these installments is about a very difficult to love protagonist, what makes him the way he is, and the also-unhinged-but-in-a-different-way man who finally gets through to him. It’s an extremely satisfying love story and one of the best character arcs I have ever seen, full stop. For this one, you’ll want to just pull the word problematic out of your pocket and store it in a drawer; nearly everything that happens in this story is problematic and that’s the point. Lean in! All of these installments except for the film are on Gaga, if you get that far hmu and I will supply you with the final puzzle piece.
Our Dining Table (Gaga)
You could probably use a break after those last two, so it’s time to shift over to a heart-tugging twofer: family trauma mixed with the cutest shit you’ve ever seen. ODT is an example of another classic type of Japanese show: the food drama (you will see the GOAT in this category at the end of this list). In Japanese culture, food is love, and the act of preparing food for your loved ones is a common path to romance. You’ll love this story about an isolated office worker who meets a pair of brothers, learns to cook as a way of connecting with them, and begins to heal from his own trauma as a result. The image above is a scan from the manga, which @troubled-mind curates to make extremely cool comparison sets like this one. Many jbls are faithful adaptations of yaoi manga source material, so it’s good to have a bit of familiarity with them.
Minato’s Laundromat (Gaga)
gif by @liyazaki
Japanese media loves to explore taboo, and often manages to do it in a way that is surprisingly light and chaste. This is an age gap romance between a teenager and his adult neighbor that explores internalized homophobia, emotional repression, and falling in love across seemingly impossible social chasms. It’s also a great example of old school yaoi seme-uke dynamics that still show up across the bl genre. Also, take my advice: end your journey with this one with the first season and just pretend season 2 doesn’t exist.
Eternal Yesterday (Viki)
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
Remember what I said about weird? Time to do that again, but with a heaping dose of grief and pain on top. It’s not a spoiler to tell you this show involves a major character death; a major character death is, in fact, the root of the entire story. This is a magic realist tale of first love turned tragic, and it will hurt and heal you. It is one of my favorite dramas of all time.
Restart After Come Back Home (Gaga)
And now for a break for your poor exhausted brain. This film is basically the jbl version of a Hallmark original movie, about a city boy who goes back home to the country and falls in love with a total sweetheart while working together on a farm. Enjoy it, bestie, you’ve earned it!
Tokyo in April Is… (Gaga)
gif by @wanderlust-in-my-soul
You’ve probably noticed by now that emotional repression and failed communication are big themes in Japanese works. This second chance romance has plenty of both, and it’s a great example of a kind of muted emotional style that Japan does so well, where the surface of the story seems almost placid and calm even as deep emotion roils underneath. This one (and Eternal Yesterday above) are part of a special line up of jbls on Japanese channel MBS called Tonku (Drama) Shower. The shows air one after another in the same time slot on Fridays (in Japan, perhaps Thursdays for you depending on where you live) and you truly never know what you’re gonna get, but they’re all interesting. Warnings on this one for sexual assault and trauma.
The End of the World With You (Viki)
Time for sexy and weird again, but even more so! This has to be one of the most unique bls ever made; it goes to some truly divine and strange places, and it feels incredibly queer while doing it. Made by the same screenwriter/director of the Pornographer series with a lot of the same sensibilities, but in a more heightened apocalyptic setting. This one has existential angst, a road trip, a redemption tale, and a variety of interesting side characters in the mix.
What Did You Eat Yesterday? (Gaga)
gif by @my-rose-tinted-glasses
Congratulations, you’ve reached the end of the list and your reward is watching one of the best bls of all time, and a perfect slice of life food drama to boot. WDYEY now has two seasons (along with a couple specials and a movie that fall in between) because the universe clearly loves us. You can now get it on Gaga for easy access but I’m partial to the versions over at @kinounaniresource for better subs. Wherever you watch, settle in to get cozy with Shiro and Kenji and make sure to always eat before you hit play.
#shan recommends#cherry magic#old fashion cupcake#utsukushii kare#eternal yesterday#our dining table#minato’s laundromat#what did you eat yesterday?#tokyo in april is...#his the movie#the pornographer#japanese bl#jbl starter pack
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐣𝐤 𝐦𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | part ii ‧₊˚ 𓐐⋅
• — ft. shiu kong. kinji hakari. choso kamo. atsuya kusakabe. hiromi higuruma.
bon appétit !! @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat
𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐮 𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐠
so i think this man loves to try new dishes and makes you try new things with him with a giant grin on his face.
normally he’d take you to fancy restaurants, but this time he wanted to do something just the two of you in a calmer place.
hates for you to do anything so he’ll insist on doing everything himself so that you could relax while he cooks.
he already had an idea as soon as you guys agreed on doing this. and you can be sure as hell it involves cheese. man adores cheese, so if you do too, you’ll be served.
this time, just for you, he went out himself on his day off and bought the runniest cheese you’ve ever seen in your life. we all know these are just the best kinds.
this afternoon, you were served a burrata. it’s a soft, white, cow’s milk cheese made from mozzarella and cream. hard on the outside but filled with stracciatella on the inside which is more creamy. served with candied cherry tomato with a piece of buttered and grilled bread.
as you take a bite of the cheese he admires every expression of yours and a warm laugh echoes through the room when you show how tasteful it is.
𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐢
honestly, i’m thinking fast food or something.
or maybe just take-outs but in an expensive asf place.
i feel like he loves food but prefers ordering instead of cooking. he finds cooking boring and we know how much this man hates boring stuff.
will buy you whatever the hell you want, doesn't slightly care how much you want to eat, he'd buy the whole restaurant if he could.
you can get whatever you want, there is no way you can be disappointed with the meal. in a way, he ensures you’ll eat something you like by letting you choose what you want, which certainly satisfies him.
also prefers to stay cozily at home with you to eat than actually go out. so expensive take-outs it is. you don’t even have to lift your butt off the seat. it’ll all come to you.
you’ll get your favorite meal and he won’t hesitate a second to buy it for you. might seem boring but he really would buy you anything you want and silently watch you hum with pleasure every time you take a bite of that dish. your happiness is what matters.
𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐨
i have a feeling he has no idea what humans prefer to eat in this day and age so he’d do a thorough internet research to know what you’ll undoubtedly like.
“what is the most liked dish in the world?” “what do humans prefer to eat the most?” “how do i cook chicken?” “what’s the easiest, but best dish to make?”
all of this research would make him think it’s either spaghetti or pizza. and he’ll choose spaghetti, because of you know which flashback with his little bros.
sticks his tongue out while he’s preparing your meal, trying to get every portion down to the tiniest milligram right. he wants it to be perfect. and he probably thinks it’ll ruin the whole dinner if the portions aren’t right.
i’m thinking of carbonara pasta. you know the real version using eggs and pecorino with a touch of lardons.
once you take the first bite, he stares at you, patiently waiting for any sign of distaste or displeasure. there’s no way he botched it. everything is right down to the tiniest detail. and he can tell he’s done it when you quickly finish your plate and ask for more. there’s nothing making him happier.
𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐲𝐚 𝐤𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐛𝐞
he’s big on fishing so i’m thinking one of the fish he caught. his favourite.
something simple but still good and he’d find the freshest and best ingredients for you.
he’s been fishing for a long time and has acquired enough knowledge and skills to know which ingredients are best served which certain types of fish. you definitely won’t be disappointed.
will prepare everything in advance, removing the pin bones in advance and every part that isn’t edible. he does it just to be sure it’ll be ready for when you’re here. also, he knows it’s way safer that way, knowing he won’t be rushing to cook it later.
man does not want to mess this up and has never worked so hard to make a perfect meal, brows connecting as he works his tired ass off. he cannot mess this up considering you’ll be the one eating it.
how about braised alfonsino/kinmedai with some rice and avocado on the side? all gently simmered in a flavorful sauce made of soy sauce, sake, mirin and ginger.
he exhales abnormally loud as soon as you finally show a smile after having a taste. all the pressure now off of his shoulders. you don’t know how glad this man is that you enjoy the fish he personally caught for you. i know he’ll now think of you every time he goes out fishing, wondering which fish you’d like most.
𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐚
i just know in my heart, or at least believe, that he’s distinguished and the meal will cost him a fortune.
only the best and most expensive ingredients for you, dear.
don’t be surprised if you come back to a candlelight dinner prepared by your one and only, while he sips the most delicate wine, waiting for you.
by the way, he knows so much about wine and beverages. he knows exactly what you like and what would be a perfect mixture with the meal he prepared.
also when he cooks he likes to take his time, preparing the meal with love and attention knowing it’ll be for his one and only.
so for him, i’m thinking of seafood. he’ll serve you flamed cornish lobster with a yakitori marinade and a ponzu mayonnaise. there’ll be a garnish made of sliced radishes and nori strips. the presentation leaves you baffled. it looks like it came straight out of a five-star restaurant. it smells absolutely divine and you can’t expect less from this man.
when you start digging in, he can’t help but smile while he looks at you with tenderness and love. if he could, he’d look at you through the whole dinner and watch you enjoy that delicious meal he prepared.
© shegetsburned 2024. Please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.
#—﹙🎐﹚𑣲 by yours truly﹒#divider by plutism#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#choso kamo#choso x reader#jjk choso#shiu kong#jjk shiu#shiu x reader#hakari kinji#jjk hakari#higuruma hiromi#higuruma x reader#jjk higuruma#jjk#can you tell i like cheese#hakari x reader#atsuya kusakabe#kusakabe x reader#jjk kusakabe#jjk hcs#jujutsu kaisen hcs#jujutsu kaisen headcanons#jjk headcanons#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#food
676 notes
·
View notes
Text
❝right place, right time❞
VIII. whatever keeps you around.
parts: previously / next plot: bruce has a proposal for you. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: surgeon!reader, secret identities, slow burn, brief discussion of slight suicidal ideation/martyrdom, drug (and the injection of drugs) mentions, you will not guess what trope I managed to include in here. words: 6.9k. a/n: plotting this series makes me feel like charlie day pointing at a wall of red string
“…You won’t like it.”
It's clear what you have to do. You'd realized it when Gordon came to you, so of course Bruce did too. If you were going to make this right, you would have to face this head on. "I know what I have to do," you start, "I need to lure him out."
Bruce's expression shifts. Whatever you've said seems to be the wrong answer, "That... won't be necessary."
"What? What else can I do?"
"What did Gordon tell you about Dimitri?"
Your head throbs as you recall the memory, "Uh... he said he believes I'm next on Dimitri's hit list. He also said Dimitri hadn't anticipated me being at the house."
"Right, because Russo didn't want anyone knowing where he was." Bruce turns to his computer and brings up Russo's file, "After his divorce and the death of his son, he holed up and started erasing himself from the internet. As far as his neighbors know, he was constantly alone. You already know how hard it was to find him on your own, and unless Dimitri knew someone keeping tabs, it doesn't stand to reason that he found him any easier. But you, on the other hand," Bruce opens a search engine and types in your name. You're unsettled when the screen fills with results, most of them news articles from the night you'd been held hostage, "your name and face was everywhere after the gang war."
When the reporters had shoved cameras in your face and begged for you to tell them about Batman's heroic rescue, you hadn't thought twice about it, still fresh from the throes of gore and violence in the ER. Friends, family, coworkers: almost everyone you knew had seen it.
It clicks for you then, "If Dimitri planned on killing us both and I was easiest to find, why didn't he come for me first? I mean... it was me and Alex who ruined his life. If he wanted anyone dead more, wouldn't it be me?"
"I wondered the same thing. With the know-how and the right connections, anyone could find where you live just by name alone. Russo, on the other hand, is almost anonymous. It doesn't make sense why Dimitri would target Russo first."
"Do you think maybe it was a warning? Maybe he wanted to scare me."
"If he wanted to warn you, he wouldn't kill the guy in his house where no one checks up on him. Days would've passed before anyone noticed the flies in the windows."
"I don't get it."
"Do you remember how long it's been since you were taken hostage?"
Your mind lands on a weak estimate, "I don't know, a week and a half?"
"It's been over two weeks. According to the wardens, Dimitri stopped being a problem for them after the first few years. Friends with a rough crowd but he rarely got caught up in anything. Didn't have the heart to. So why, after 17 years, does he break out?"
Your stomach drops, "He saw me."
"And realized that while he was rotting away with nothing to live for, you were a hero," the word sickens you to hear, "on the front lines, saving lives, being saved. Your life went back to normal."
You grip the side of Bruce's desk with the sudden urge to vomit up everything you'd eaten today, which, frankly, wouldn't add up to much more than water and crackers.
You'd said it yourself: you'd gotten to live a life that Natalie, Dimitri, and Alex never would. Of course he wanted you dead. "So then I have to lure him out."
"And put yourself in danger? No."
"I’m already in danger, Bruce. What if he goes after the others? My parents? My coworkers? The other cops at the shootout? We have to end it now."
"This isn't the only way."
"It's the best way."
"Last time he had a knife, you could defend yourself. Barely. What if next time, he has a gun?"
"So what, you just want to do nothing?"
Bruce turns away from you. He gnaws on his lower lip, "No, I want to bide our time. Look into him more. I need to know if he's working with the Vipers again."
You watch him as he begins typing away at his computer, but you can't process what he's looking for through the haze of anger that washes over you. You lean on the desk, craning your neck up at his face to make him look at you, to understand how ridiculous he sounds, "We don't have time for that. His grudge is with me. I should meet him now and end this... either he gets what he wants or- or..."
Or what? Your stubbornness peters out. You don't know what. You see yourself standing face-to-face with Dimitri, his knife raised, ready to bury itself into the cushion of your chest. And nothing.
The you in this vision has no weapon.
"You don't think you're going to survive this." Coming out of your mind, Bruce is now looking at you, brows furrowed. He looks... mortified.
You scramble to cover your tracks, "That's not true. I'd have you there."
"But you don't want me there. You want to go alone. You think you deserve it."
"God, what are you? My therapist?" Your words flit out of your mouth in a rush, tongue nearly slipping up to defend yourself. You push away from the desk when you start feeling overexposed.
Bruce follows you, "You're not 16 anymore, this isn't some gang fight where you throw all your chips in because you can't see a year ahead of you. You've made a life. You've got people to lose, you said so yourself. I know what it's like... the survivor's guilt. You relive that day over and over-"
His words are making you feel sick to your stomach again and you lurch forward, finger in his face, "Don't you fucking preach to me-"
Almost as immediately as you'd raised your finger, Bruce snatches your wrist in his hand, yanking you close enough to be imposing, staring down at you with the same power that the Batman had used. It was so sudden that you quickly fall slack, wrist going limp in his grip.
It had completely sobered you of your tantrum, and for better or for worse, you were forced to listen to him, "Stop feeling sorry for yourself and think. You see this ending with you dead because you want to make up for the shit you did. You think that's what Alex wants? For you to bleed out in an alley like she did?" And just like that, the fire roars in you once more, but your other hand can't slap him across the face before he's caught that one too, "No future? What about all the people you've saved? Could still save? Face it now because you may not get another chance: you're alive. Do you want to be or not?"
You want to hurt him, turn his skin red and give it a place among the other bruises that glitter and glare down his torso, and as your hand shakes in his hold, you are forced to understand that you are angry because he is right.
You'd felt this same anger before. When your parents told you Alex was a bad influence on you. When Russo looked you in the eye and told you that you didn't have it in you to pull the trigger. It was maddening. He had clocked your suicide mission before even you had, had seen you in his mind's eye the way you saw yourself: disarmed, a lamb to the slaughter, a sacrifice for the greater good, a speedbump.
You could see Batman tackling him to the ground over your dying body. You couldn't see yourself getting up the next day.
After the frustration leaves Bruce's eyes, he's looking at you with something softer. You feel known, uncomfortably so, as he waits for you to meet him there.
And when you do, you hate how you collapse into him. Even more, you hate that he takes you up into his arms, holding you steadfast, as understanding as you needed him to be with all your fear of admitting it. The solidness of his body reminds you of the night he'd first held you, and that just makes you cry harder.
It feels different from last time. Where there was armor is now warm skin, the likes of which you hadn't felt in a while. If you had told your past self you'd one day be standing in Batman's cave, hugging Bruce Wayne and crying over the permanence of your mistakes, you might have diagnosed yourself with head trauma.
You screw your eyes shut in a vain attempt to put the tears to rest, your freed hands practically clawing at Bruce's warm back for some purchase, some stability. He doesn't seem to mind. He just holds you closer.
After a few minutes, you force yourself to speak, sniffling away the last remaining tears you'd allow yourself to shed, "You said I wouldn't like it. Your plan. What is it?"
"To disappear."
You wrench yourself back. Bruce is dead serious. "What?"
"I've considered it from all angles-"
"What do you mean, 'disappear'?"
"All but one of the prisoners Dimitri broke out with are still missing. How do we know they're not all working together? How do we know that you luring him out won't draw them out too? You were the easiest target before, not anymore."
"Say what you mean, Bruce. What do you want me to do?"
"I want to hide you here," he winces as he says this, as if aware of his words only now that they're out in the open, "with me."
"You're shitting me."
After a while, Bruce's face hardens, "I told you you wouldn't like it."
Liking it or not liking it was nothing. You'd advanced past "like". You were firmly out of your depth here.
You slip out of Bruce's hold and he lets you, standing rather awkwardly as you rub a hand across your mouth. Despite earlier, it now feels uncomfortably dry. You glance at Bruce and then at his screen, the tab with your name and face plastered all over it hovering in the background. "You want me to disappear off the face of the earth while you track him down. Leave my home, leave the people I care about, abandon my job. You want me to hide."
"I don't know how else to protect you. Not until we figure out what we're up against." Bruce watches you spin away, scoffing into the air, "You noticed it when you fought him off, didn't you? Something was really wrong with him."
You see flashes of Dimitri's feral stare, the way he staggered and swung. He was like a rabid animal in a cage. "Of course there was, he was trying to kill me."
"Beyond that," Bruce insists, "he wasn't right. I've seen it before. He was on something."
"Most people are these days. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd... I don't know, gotten his hands on drops or something-"
"It wasn't drops. Gordon told me."
"The detective?"
"He said they found a syringe with traces of venom in it. Dimitri's shooting up. That's why he was so strong."
Your mouth drops open in disbelief, "Venom? Great. Somehow worse than Drops."
"If he's on that drug, he's definitely addicted. It also means you won't stand a chance against him. This is why I'm telling you to stay here," Bruce steps forward, eyes imploring yours. You're dumbstruck by the heavy earnestness there, "stay in the tower. Hide here for a few days. Let me handle this."
"If he's on venom, it means he doesn't think he can handle you on his own," you wring your hands, flitting through images of the Dimitri you remember, "he was always really small. Even at fourteen, he hadn't really sprung up. He was scrawny and small and couldn't defend himself. Suddenly Gordon's saying he's almost twice the size of what I remember. Have you ever fought someone on venom?"
"Once or twice, somewhere between fixes. Why?"
"General has this kind of... sedative that we use when we get patients dealing with the effects. It's not perfect, but it does help calm them down enough to help them. Maybe we can use it to help him."
"The strain is constantly changing," Bruce watches you deflate and clears his throat, "but if I can get that sedative, I can use it as a base to make a new one."
"You need clearance to get your hands on that stuff. I'm going with you."
"What part of disappear do you not understand?"
"One, I never agreed to do that, and two, if Batman gets caught stealing from a hospital, that'll make you public enemy number one. You need my help, so let me help you."
Bruce is looking away, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth even as you zero in on him. You're getting flashbacks of that same Bruce from when you'd first met him here in this tower. All tender-eyed, even as he tries to put on a face for you, "And I need a drink," you rub your temple next, catching a glimpse of Bruce watching you from his peripheral, "You've got those, don't you?"
It turns out Bruce has plenty. There's a whole cellar full of them, the kinds you see in MTV Cribs with the low recessed lighting and mahogany shelves gleaming with polish. It makes sense for him to have it, but less so when he tells you he doesn't actually drink any of it.
"You weren't drinking at the party, either. Even though everyone else thought you were." You brush your hand along the shelves, careful not to knock any bottles loose. "Is that a trick to keep people spilling secrets? Or to keep from spilling your own?"
Bruce hovers near the entrance with his arms folded and back pressed to the wall, carefully watching you peruse his selection, "Maybe I don't like the taste."
"That's good. Men in Gotham die from alcoholism at a higher rate than any other city in the state."
"Really?"
"Really. You don't smoke either." Bruce blinks at you, "Just get shot at. And stabbed."
He says nothing.
Your hand lands on a red aged older than your mother and you stand to the side, looking expectantly at him. You're afraid that if you try to pick it up, you might knock down the whole row.
Slowly, Bruce pushes himself off the wall and glides over to you, grabbing the neck of the bottle in one hand and looking to you for approval. You try not to shrink yourself when you nod.
You follow him out of the cellar, flinching when the lights dim behind you and the door rolls shut all on its own. He guides you to the kitchen where night still hangs over Gotham outside the window, but the time on the stove clock warns of early morning soon.
Bruce pulls out two glasses and fills yours with wine and his with cranberry juice from the fridge. You could almost laugh at the pairing.
Once he slides your glass to you, you take a seat at the island and take a sip, "I need to ask you something. I get now why you refused me at the station, but then you came back. Why did you change your mind? I mean, neither of us knew Russo would be dead when we got there. Were you just going to let me hate you?"
"Yes." His simple response draws a quick, stifled laugh out of you.
"Are you always this... chaotic?"
Bruce leans his elbows on the countertop, hunching in on himself, "I always meant to tell you who I was. I just didn't know when. And I didn't mind if you hated Bruce Wayne, but... you trusted Batman. I didn't want to break that trust. Even if it meant telling you earlier than I planned, I wanted to give you some closure."
You think about the fear that had paralyzed you back then, thinking that Bruce Wayne was some big, bad criminal hiding behind polite society. Then you think about the real man, hiding behind a mask. You fidget uncomfortably, struggling with feeling somewhere between grateful and nauseous. Your eyes catch the stitches on his shoulder and you itch to wipe away the dried blood that had dribbled from the cut, "You said you were looking for Dimitri when you got that. Did you..."
Bruce catches your eye when you fail to finish your question. "No," he answers solemnly, "which is only part of our problem." He stands to his full height, flexing bruised knuckles against the counter, "I ran into one of the guys that broke out with Dimitri tonight. That's who gave me this. Dimitri isn't working alone."
You frown, "Is he trying to shake you? Why leave clues at all?"
"Because these people want me dead. The guy from tonight? I booked him a year ago for trafficking women. Earlier led me to a fringe group of Falcone's."
"You've been looking for Dimitri all day?"
"I haven't stopped since we found Russo. I couldn't."
You rub your arms, feeling the room grow chiller by the second, "So... so he's leaving clues to people who hate you. To keep you occupied." Bruce nods. "So he can get to me?"
"After last night, he knows the Batman is on your side."
"Dimitri wasn't out when you got on the scene. Do you think maybe he's taking venom because these guys warned him about you?"
Bruce smirks, rolling his eyes as he takes a sip from his glass, "As a precaution, sure. And now he has reason to believe I know you. If he's going to go after you, he's going to shoot up each time."
"That stuff is nasty. You're big and scary when you're on it but as soon as the effects wear off-"
"You deflate like a balloon. It's also stupid expensive, so he's either got real generous prison pals or he's being used. It's why I need to know if he's working with the Vipers. They might be supplying him."
How you'd gone from an ordinary surgeon to a detective in the span of mere weeks was beyond you. You're beyond just treading water. You're diving into the abyss.
Your brain struggles to make real what is before you. Bruce, still shirtless, drinking delicately from a glass as he watches the night sky shimmer from the kitchen window. And you, sitting across from him, cracking open one of his family's expensive bottles that, frankly, puts your pantry vinos to shame. Playing vigilantes like schoolchildren. Except the blood on you both is very real.
Your arm throbs at being remembered for once tonight. Bruce notices you touch it, "You need to get some rest."
You know he's right, and you're not arguing for the sake of arguing when you say, "I can't sleep yet." But he can tell there's more on your mind as he waits silently, almost egging you on to lay yourself bare. You swear you're not arguing just for the sake of arguing, "And I don't want to disappear. I want to be alive."
Bruce says nothing. The silence isn't humiliating like you'd think it be, even if the first few seconds leave you feeling just as laid bare as you thought you would. No. It feels acknowledging. Understanding, even.
For the first time, you look at Bruce and feel like you understand him. If he was really Batman, then he would know better than anyone why you would want to put yourself in danger. But beneath that, with the meager knowledge of who Bruce Wayne is, you also think you understand him too.
He'd mentioned the survivor's guilt. While he'd played a much more innocent role in the whole ordeal, you couldn't imagine the weight on one's chest knowing that two people you love didn't get to go on but you did. It's a lot to ask of a child barely coming to understand the mortality of one's own keepers.
The choice to be alive for someone like that is a deliberate choice. Constantly made every morning.
"There is another way," Bruce muses, "but you'll like it even less."
"Don't leave me hanging."
"We could go public."
"What?"
"You said disappearing would mean abandoning your life. And it would. No one could know where you went, who you were with, but there's always the chance someone might slip up. It's the safest option but it's not what you want. So don't hide." Bruce's eye contact is deep and unwavering. Compared to earlier, he seems to trust you're willing to listen this time, "Be mine."
For the nth time tonight, you are rendered nearly speechless. Nearly. "Are you fucking with me?"
Bruce's eyes narrow, "No."
"Did you just... proposition me?"
"I made a proposal."
"You're asking me to date you."
"Publicly. Batman has more enemies than allies, but Bruce Wayne has the people. If you and I are publicly linked, it tells everyone looking for you that the world is watching. It makes you more visible, as well as anyone who comes after you."
"You haven't slept," you reason, "clearly. And you're delirious."
"I haven't slept, no." But he looks fairly sober for someone who hasn't slept in a day. He is a different breed, this Bruce Wayne.
You peer out the kitchen window and see the black sky dipping into a blue horizon, "Then sleep on it and come up with something better."
Bruce rounds the island until he's standing beside you, looking down at your barely touched wine, "There's some spare rooms upstairs. You can take your pick." It dawns on you that you may not be going back home any time soon. "You know your way around."
You suppose you deserve that dig.
Then he's leaving you, glasses abandoned, home for you to explore. You don't realize how thick the air had gotten with him right next to you until he's gone.
You half-expect Alfred to pop up somewhere nearby, but there's nothing. This far up, there is no city to listen for, no neighbors slamming doors. You are in a cold house all alone. You suddenly wish he'd stayed to keep you company, even if the weight of it was beginning to take its toll on you. Left alone, you only had the sunrise.
You watch until the sky has all but chased the night away, and then you head upstairs.
You didn't think you'd get much sleep in a stranger's bed, but you're being roused by a sharp, successive rapping at your door several hours later. It jolts you awake, kick-starting your heart, and you clumsily tumble out of the million thread count sheets to open the door.
Alfred stands there fully dressed for the day, one hand tucked in his pocket and the other still raised to knock. Upon seeing you, he lowers his fist, "Morning," he starts, looking away as soon as he meets your eyes, "breakfast is ready. Come get it before it's cold."
He does not give you a choice in the matter. He's already limping toward the staircase without another word.
After you get your heart to settle down, you follow after him, preening yourself as you pass hallway mirrors and portraits of the Wayne family through the generations. You hadn't come down this hallway when you'd found the terminus elevator, so you stumble to a stop in front of a portrait of a young Bruce grinning ear to ear.
It startles you. His eyes are soft, a gentle humming blue untouched by wrinkle or darkness. He must've been especially young here. Glancing at a nearby portrait of his parents, you find him the spitting image of his father. You look around and realize there are no portraits of Bruce at this age.
Bruce. He might be at breakfast, and the mere thought of having to discuss what occurred last night almost turns you right back around to the guest room, but your stomach rumbling begs you not to. You still walk quietly, peering around corners in case your stomach changed its mind.
You find you're cautious for naught when the only person standing in the kitchen is Alfred, chopping up fresh fruit.
"I hope you don't mind that I moved your things," he gestures with his paring knife to your surgical tools neatly congregated on the counter, "I cleaned them too."
"Oh. You didn't need to do that."
"There was blood, so I'm afraid I did." Alfred places a bit of pressure on "blood", and you quickly take note of his short tone.
Still, all the same, he then gestures to the island and implores you take a seat in front of an empty plate. Without asking, he begins pushing steaming hot food onto your plate, "Tea or coffee?" He asks, barely looking up at you.
"Uh, coffee is fine. Thanks." You watch Alfred pour you a mug and wonder if the awkwardness with him is any more preferable to the awkwardness with Bruce. Alfred is passive-aggressive, Bruce is... aggressive. You remember how the latter had left off your night together and find yourself feeling warmer toward Alfred. "How long have you been up?"
"Since 6, although I woke a few times through the night."
You wince, "Sorry."
"No need to apologize. I did think Bruce had invited you over under different circumstances, so... not as alarming, all things considered." Your grip on your fork slips and it clatters to the marble. Alfred barely reacts.
"He needed stitches." Is all you can get out.
"Yes, I'm well aware."
You glance up at him, "You saw?"
"When he first arrived home, yes. I was the one who helped stop the bleeding."
You stare at the coffee sweating in your cup, recalling something Bruce had mentioned last night, "Bruce said you were the one who used to stitch him up."
"Yes."
"If you were there, why-"
"It's what he pays you for, isn't it?" Alfred almost snaps back at you, slicing a strawberry into quarters with more edge than needed.
You recall something else next. The softness in Alfred's face the day you first came here, arguing with Bruce in the very room next door. You'd wondered what it had all been about.
"I've done alright, haven't I?"
"He said something else too," you start, careful as you choose your next words, "about how much you worry about him." You fiddle with your mug, pretending not to feel the heat of Alfred's eyes on you, "I think the reason he hired me is because he was worried about you."
You just catch the tail-end of Alfred's frown, "Worried about me? Why?"
You probably aren't close enough to either of these two to laugh about this, but you do anyway, "Isn't it kind of obvious?"
"Nonsense. We always discussed... if it would come to it, that if he were to pursue this life further, that he would recruit professionals who might aid him in his work. It was the natural thing to do."
"Maybe, yeah. But would he have really needed me if you weren't already doing everything else for him? You've taken good care of him this long. I mean, the aftercare you gave his bullet wound was exceptional. I accused him of talking to other doctors."
Alfred busies himself with scraping his strawberry halves into a bowl, "It's basic knowledge. You learn that kind of thing in the service."
"Or when you invited me to watch you two spar. You know his body probably better than he does. You're fantastic, Alfred." You couldn't say you weren't also trying to butter him up to better his feelings toward you, but you were speaking truth all the same.
In a very British way, he rebuts your compliments and spoons some fruit into a glass, beginning to layer some yogurt over top them, "Regardless of reason, you are here now, and I'll have you know that every part of your contract covers this. Wayne Enterprises will exhaust every possible legal tool at our leisure if you speak of any—any—of this to anyone. Master Bruce's identity is safely guarded, and regardless of his trust in you, I will not hesitate-"
"Whoa, whoa, hey. I would never tell anyone. Not after all Batman has done for me." You press a hand over your heart for emphasis, "He is just as much my patient as Bruce Wayne is, and he didn't have to pay me to take care of him."
Alfred still stares you down like a guard dog, paring knife still clutched in his fingers. After a moment, he looks away from you and points at your plate, "Eat. It's getting cold."
So you do. It's good so you say as much, counting any point toward his affection as a good thing. If you could get Alfred to trust you, you'd call that a win.
The tension in the air dissipates over time, and after you've licked your plate clean, you and Alfred are sharing coffee together. "Bruce isn't joining us?"
"I've stopped expecting him to be awake this early." You glance at the clock that reads 10:12. "He has adopted a near-fully nocturnal lifestyle."
"The night that he crawled through my window, he was there at the hospital the next morning like nothing happened. He doesn't do that often?"
"Before last year, it was a rare occurrence. While he's dedicated himself to his role more recently, if he can avoid it, he will."
You think back to what knowledge you do have on Bruce's charity work and his friendship with the Mayor. You'd worked shifts just as long, but you couldn't imagine showing up to work mere hours after getting shot in the stomach and having to put on a brave face about it. You almost feel bad for calling him out on it in front of everyone.
But then again, if you hadn't, would you even be sitting here?
You swirl the last vestiges of coffee in your cup, trying to picture a world in which you'd gone and found that empty office to nap in instead of toddling behind Rudy and Em and Alfred and Batman. The Batman.
The novelty of it brings a fresh wave of dizziness over you. You had been exposed to so much information over the course of the last 12 hours that it hadn't fully settled in on you what Bruce was. You didn't think that your brain would process it even if he was standing in cowl and cape right in front of you.
"I suppose you'll be staying with us for the near future, if Bruce has anything to say about it," Alfred stands from his chair beside you and puts your dishes in the sink, "shall I inform your security detail or would you like to?"
You don't know what to say to that. "I'm... I think I should talk this over with Bruce first. It may not need to come to that."
The butler shrugs. "I'll be attending to some house duties for the rest of the morning. Should you stay for lunch, let Dory know, hm?" You give him a weak nod and watch as he makes his way from the sink and heads down another hallway out of sight.
Not too long after Alfred leaves you, you hear the doorbell ring. Bruce hadn't mentioned to you that any guests would be here today, but then again, the two of you had had more important things to discuss last night. You check your reflection in the glass of the kitchen window, wondering if there were any hidden doors in the bookcases that could hide you from whatever Wayne Enterprises exec that was coming to talk business, but you wouldn't trust yourself not to break something in the process.
You hear two pairs of footsteps approaching from the elevator and turn to see who it might be. You first recognize Dory, fluttering between frantic small talk and making sure not to trip in her kitten heels as she guides her guest into the living room. You stiffen as soon as you see him.
Detective Gordon catches your eyes instantly, his own widening. Dory says something about going to fetch Bruce before she quickly ascends the stairs, leaving you and James staring at each other across the distance. In one hand is a notepad and pencil, and the other fixes his tie, almost as if at a loss for words. He greets you, hesitantly leaving where Dory had left him to approach you, "I saw the boys out front but... I didn't expect to see you here."
"Me neither." You reply. "Is everything okay?"
James glances up at the stairs as he passes underneath, "That depends. I followed up on your request."
Shit. Of course a cop would do their job when you least expect it. You slip out of your chair and rush to meet him halfway into the kitchen, "Did... did you find something?"
"I can't say much right now. I'd like to talk to Mr. Wayne, but-" The sound of Dory's heels clacking against the wooden stairs makes James lower his voice, "-you being here complicates things."
Bruce is wearing a shirt this time, thankfully, though you're not expecting him to look as put together this early after what Alfred had said. He towers behind Dory's much smaller frame in a pair of loose black pants and a matching turtleneck, looking in a fashionable state of undress as he pads barefoot into the room. With hair slicked back and stubble freshly shaved, he doesn't look like someone caught unaware. He's fixing the sleeve of his sweater when he extends a hand to Detective Gordon, bright smile and all, "Detective James Gordon, to what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Mr. Wayne, I'm sorry for dropping in unannounced. If this is a bad time, I can come back." James gestures to you.
Bruce's look at you is empty, devoid of any detectable emotion or thought. It strikes you as unsettling, the same way a cashier at the end of their shift isn't really looking at you, "Oh, no. I was just on my way to work when I felt unwell. I called my doctor over but it was nothing to worry about. A little stomach bug, is all."
You do look like you'd just come over in a rush. You're still in your lounge clothes from the night before, and your medical supplies are still in the kitchen where Alfred had left them. James seems to notice, but he doesn't look any more relaxed. "That's good to hear. I don't want to keep you too long, but truth is, I have some questions I'd like to ask you if you have the time."
"Is something wrong?" James glances between you and Bruce, something the latter doesn't miss, "is it sensitive?"
"It's about the party you threw here the other night, Mr. Wayne. For Mayor Reál. I hear you invited quite a few Gotham politicians to celebrate the passing of the mayor's new bill, correct?"
"That's correct."
"And I understand you're quite invested in Gotham politics in general, much like your father."
"I am. My mother and father were very interested in the city, and Mayor Reál breathed new life into that for me after the election. I do what I can to support the cause."
"And that cause is...?"
Bruce takes the skeptical tone on the chin, smiling wider, "A safer, fairer Gotham. For everyone."
This Bruce was nothing like the Bruce you had all to yourself. He taps into that persona from the party with ease. Watching him is like watching a performance. "That's good, good. I notice you try to make an effort with charities in the city, donations and the like. You recently donated a new wing to Gotham General."
"I did. Increasing access to medical care for the citizens is important to me. My doctor, a talented surgeon at General, knows this well." You flash a timid smile when both Bruce and James look to you.
"And you also financially support politicians in Gotham."
"Occasionally. Anyone I feel has Gotham's best interests in mind."
"And have you found members of Gotham's political parties to be unusually forward in requesting your support, Mr. Wayne? Perhaps a little too pushy, maybe."
Bruce wears confusion well, "Not necessarily. I'm not easily pressured into doing things I have no interest in."
"Of course. How about any attempts to win over your support? Publicly or otherwise."
"I'm not sure what you're asking, detective. I'd love to help, but I don't think I have the information you're looking for."
James nods, holding his chin high, "My apologies. I should've been clear from the beginning. My question is: have any politicians or members of law enforcement offered you anything in exchange for your financial or public support? I have reason to believe there may be someone with high clearance exchanging confidential information with civilians. Especially ones who can pay. I'm just looking for a lead."
James frames his question well, even though any fat cat familiar with the cops could see the hidden question. Bruce frowns, tilts his head, shaking it slowly, "That's awful. I don't currently know of anyone doing such a thing, to me or anyone else. But I can keep an eye out. I can only imagine how dangerous that might be."
"Exactly. We'd like to nip it in the bud as soon as possible."
"Of course. Do you have a card? Perhaps I can contact you if I hear anything."
James fishes out his card and hands it over, "I don't want to put you in a bad position, only pass along what you know if you feel safe enough to do so."
You notice Bruce is flicking the business card between his fingers as a fidget, though he keeps his attention respectfully on the detective. "Absolutely. Thank you, detective. Dory can show you to the door."
The detective nods and follows Dory out of the room. As soon as the two are out of earshot, Bruce's expression softens as he presses his back into the counter. You wish you could sink into the floor. "To be fair," you begin, "I didn't think he'd find anything."
Bruce side-eyes you, "That was you?"
"I thought my criminal boss was going to blackmail me to keep his secrets."
"Criminal boss." You think he's trying to mock you, but his eyes are surprisingly guilty when he looks at you, "Alfred wasn't kidding. I really didn't handle this well."
"No, not really." You don't mean to kick him while he's down, but you can't lie either. Even now, you were still making meaning out of this whole thing.
By all means, you've gone from knowing nothing about him, to understanding even less, to fearing him, to this. With Batman on the other hand, you'd felt nothing but loyalty and trust in him up until the very last second. Now they were both the same person, and the meager hours of sleep you'd gotten hadn't cleared all that up just yet.
You wonder who you're supposed to see now. Batman or Bruce Wayne? Why was the line separating them blurring the more you thought of them?
"So, did you ever come up with a better idea?"
Bruce does not offer one. You'd dreaded that.
"You already know what I think. No matter how we go about this, there's going to be something. So what do you want to do?" Bruce's eyes follow your ever minute expression, laser-focused on you. "Whatever you choose, I will keep you safe. I promise you."
He feels so staunchly Batman in this moment, even with the soft voice of Bruce, watching over you. Through all your uncertainty, this you believe him on.
And you're exhausted, you find. Your arm is beginning to throb again. You crave the reprieve of a bed but not your own, to your surprise.
"I'm going to trust you, Bruce," your voice wobbles as you say it out loud, "I'm going to trust you like I trust Batman."
Bruce holds eye contact with you for a few moments, "Okay."
"Can I ask... why are you dressed so nice?"
"We're going to get the sedative."
"You're going as Bruce?"
"It's the middle of the day. Yes, I'm going as Bruce. I'm not letting you out of my sight."
You fluster, suddenly reconsidering this entire plan. You'd pictured Batman skulking on the rooftop while you Mission Impossible'd your way into the medicine cabinets for what you needed. Walking in with him—the real him—would draw attention you didn't need, "You're only going to make me look suspicious."
"I'm your patient, and more importantly, I'm a donor."
"You will stick out like a sore thumb."
"That means when people are looking at me, they're not looking at you." You open your mouth to argue but he's already cutting you off, "Do you want me to drop you off at your place or do you want me to send someone to get your things?"
You're aware of what he's really asking.
You heave a sigh, "Drop me off. I can't promise Judith won't hurt someone if she finds a stranger in my house."
a/n: mj stop having the reader move in with bruce when their life is put in imminent danger challenge impossible
#bruce wayne x reader#bruce wayne scenarios#bruce wayne fic#bruce wayne#batman x reader#batman scenarios#batman fic#batman angst#batman fluff#the batman#battinson x reader#battinson#dc#mjwrites#bw; rprt
203 notes
·
View notes
Text
They Find Your Toys [PART A] - HEADCANON
A/N: I have nothing to say about this... WARNINGS: May be considered NSFW. Nothing explicit. F!Reader SUMMARY: Self-explanatory. Their reaction when they find your toys. [Established relationship]. INCLUDES: ★ Yuji, Megumi, Nobara, Yuta, Toge, Maki, Takuma ★ → PART B
YUJI ITADORI... This boy, as sweet and naive he can be, he’s not an idiot. He’s seen magazines, he’s got access to the internet, of course he knows what those toys are and how you use them. But considering you’re his girlfriend, he values and respects your privacy. Therefore, no matter how he found it (possibly by changing your bed sheets because he wanted to do something nice for you) this sweet green flag would simply put the toy back to where it was. He wouldn’t even mention it because he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or embarrassed (there’s no reason for it anyways).
MEGUMI FUSHIGURO... Among the students Megumi is pretty much the one that blushes the easiest. Finding your toys, for whatever reason, would render him frozen in place for a good five minutes. His mind would go blank. Does he think you’re attractive? Absolutely. Has he had inappropriate thoughts of you? Yes, even if he would never admit it. But does he feel even remotely okay finding your toys? Hell no. He’d put it back so fast, and leave your room immediately. Maybe even the building. Hell, he’d probably leave the entire city in a heartbeat before his face gets any redder. And don’t you dare mention to him that your toy was suddenly placed somewhere else. Poor Megumi would suffer a heart attack from embarrassment.
NOBARA KUGISAKI... She’d most probably be torn about what to think and what to do. As a girl herself she’s extremely curious. With all this sorcerer nonsense she barely even has time for a beauty face mask, much less to take care of her stress in that way. She might even try it out after properly cleaning it. (Always clean your toys before and after use!!!) Afterwards she’d clean it and put it back. She’s not too shy to bring it up, although she does blush when she mentions it. Once the initial awkwardness fades away for the most part you two would potentially make your own experiences with the toy together.
YUTA OKKOTSU… Listen, pre Shibuya/Culling Games this boy would be an entire blushing mess, stammering to himself after stumbling over your toy while helping you clean your room. When you’re not in the room he would quickly put it back where he found it.
Now… Post Shibuya/Culling Games, he lost a lot of his initial shyness, having learned a lot through his short time surrounded by mature adults. Also, this boy has access to the internet, let’s not kid ourselves. After Culling Games he matured a lot and his confidence is stronger, he knows there are some spots he might not reach well, or probably neglected, which is why he’d use his next chance with you to try out a bunch of things he googled. Most of them have you forget that you even had a toy to begin with. And with him constantly learning new tricks, you might not ever need your toy at all anymore.
TOGE INUMAKI… Oh this boy is pouty and upset as can be. He can’t seem to understand why you would need a toy if he tries so hard to satisfy you. He might not look like it, but he’s sensitive, and he’d take it to heart, as much as he’d try not to. He’d start wondering if he is doing something wrong or if he’s not enough. You notice that when he’s even less vocal than usual, not even using his rice ball ingredients to troll people. When you ask him he can’t help but “blurt out” (with unintelligible speech) about the toy he found. It takes you a while to understand but eventually you’re blushing like crazy while reassuring him that you never used it (lie) because it was a stupid gag present from Nobara (another lie). He immediately calms down and seems happy again. You are far too embarrassed to tell him that you used the toy regularly before getting physical with him, but not having touched it since, because he's treating you so well. You’ll just put the toy in a box to forget about.
MAKI ZENIN… Depending on how far your relationship has progressed, this would be a turning point. If you’re not even close to being physical, she’d be decent to put it away and not mention it. If you’re touched base and gotten handsy, she’d use it as an ice breaker to advance further, albeit with a certain level of understanding and a bit of romance. If you’ve gotten very physical before, she’d hide it somewhere close and take out your toy during your passionate love making, adding it to the session and intensifying both your pleasure.
Either way, Maki wouldn't be too shy when finding it in the first place, she'd most probably already have one or two toys of her own. At most she'd be disappointed in your choice of toy.
TAKUMA INO... For being the oldest of the youngest he’s definitely not the most mature one. He reverts back into a stupid horny teenager the instant he finds your toy. Just imagining his gorgeous girlfriend using that on herself is enough to rile him up extremely. Whatever you’re doing right now, it has to wait. He’s bombarding you with messages about how he misses you, how he wants you home, how his little friend misses you. When you ask him why he suddenly seems so overly horny, all he replies with is a picture of your toy, with the words “I don’t have any toy I can use when I miss you”. Oddly enough, that’s strangely romantic. He almost expects you to reply “use your hand”, but come on, who could resist our favourite skater boy? Of course you’d excuse yourself from whatever you’re doing and rush home to him. After he shows you just how much he missed you, you tell him that the toy doesn’t even come close to him, because you know that secretly his pride is a little wounded at his girlfriend having to use a toy. At which she smiles brightly like a golden retriever.
#stef writes#jjk#stef’s hcs#jjk headcanon#jjk x reader headcanon#jujutsu kaisen headcanon#itadori yuji#itadori yuji headcanon#itadori yuji x reader#fushiguro megumi#fushiguro megumi headcanon#fushiguro megumi x reader#kugisaki nobara#kugisaki nobara headcanon#kugisaki nobara x reader#okkotsu yuta#okkotsu yuta headcanon#okkotsu yuta x reader#inumaki toge#inumaki toge headcanon#inumaki toge x reader#zenin maki#zenin maki headcanon#zenin maki x reader#ino takuma#ino takuma headcanon#ino takuma x reader
226 notes
·
View notes
Text
Madarame's Route and the Few of Its Many Mistranslations
I haven't done this in quite some time, but I'll be giving some more TL comparisons between the original JP release and the localization, because an anon from Retrospring shared some tidbits from Madarame's route.
Because they have also explained what nuance got lost, briefly or otherwise, I won't do what I did in my previous posts (compare with MTL) just basically compile each translation discrepancy in a subsequent order, and add their notes in each one.
Toono: "...Thought he'd never die." 「……しぶとい野郎だ」-> ["......Stubborn bastard."] NOTE: I sense someone is probably holding on to some unresolved resentment, LOL
Towa: "You were always like this. Are you satisfied now that you've ruined my life?" 「あんたは昔からそうだ。引っ掻き回して満足か?」 -> ["You have always been like this. Are you satisfied with the violent chaos you caused?"] NOTE: 引っ掻き回して appears to be an idiom meaning to "disrupt order through violence."
Madarame: "To hang out with friends." 「うろついてる連中と遊ぶんだよ」 -> ["I'm going to play around with the people hanging around."] NOTE: Madarame has nobody he'd call a friend so the English line seems so out of place that it was easy to notice.
Madarame: "We had a lot more fights after that. Sometimes we came close to killing each other for real. But he still didn't back down." 「それからも喧嘩して、半殺しにしてやった時もあった。だが、アイツはそれでも向かってきた」 -> ["We'd fight from then on, and there was a time I beaten him half to death. However he'd still come at me."] NOTE: Well, someone was envious of Madarame's absolute power. LMAO
Madarame: "Stoop to an idiot's level and he'll beat you with experience, you know. Then after that..." 「馬鹿の相手をしても時間の無駄だからな。そうしたら……」 -> ["Because it's a waste of time to deal with idiots. Afterwards......"] NOTE: The English line is some dumb phrase I've seen on the internet. I get the feeling that the phrase was used against the person who put it there. XD
Towa: "...If I was a chick, I'd have ditched you by now." 「……俺が女なら腰が砕けてるところだ」 -> ["If I was a woman then my knees would have given way.] NOTE 1: 腰が砕けてる seems to be an idiom, it could mean like what it literally says, or to collapse/give up/lose one's nerve/to have one's knee's give way. NOTE 2: Wouldn't be surprised if the people who changed it hated Madarame (that's the impression I get), I just find that hilarious that they'd probably be seething and crying over a fictional character. Madarame ain't real, but he is already giving real people slow damage. LMAO.
I have to say though, it's rather obvious that while the one behind the localization seemed to dislike almost everyone with how their dialogues got butchered, Madarame's route really takes the cake, or whatever is the most unpleasant dish you can think of, in this case.
A JP-fluent of mine also mentioned how Madarame's route got the worst of the questionable translation choices, saying that Madarame's speech doesn't really have him cuss or talk that crassly. And it didn't surprise me that the H-scenes were done poorly, almost deliberately, even.
Now, this was what I replied to that very last statement OP had made, which I felt I should also share here... Even with a proper translation, I can easily see Madarame being divisive among fans either way.
He's meant to be something of an antagonist (not a villain) and while there's an intended goal in his route, said route still isn't exactly the easiest to swallow. Even so, a translator letting their bias affect their translation is already one giant misstep.
79 notes
·
View notes
Note
With the release of a thrilling and VERY shocking Chapter 1 for Project: Eden's Garden, I'd like to resubmit my "What would make them laugh?" inquiry, but for the P:EG cast instead.
Yeah, I feel like we kinda need that one after everything that happened over there :'D. I've been wanting to write for this fangan anyways, so this is as good a place to start as any! Let's go!
Spoilers for Eden's Garden CH1
(Also, is the "shocking" description a pun on the murder method? Very funny if so xD)
Cassidy: We know she enjoys extremely horrible puns and referential humor, and the strength of her laughter correlates to how much the people around her either groan or enjoy the jokes alongside her.
Damon: He'd never admit it, but he enjoys silly jokes about niche topics he's researched for debates, provided he remembers enough about them. He particularly enjoys deadpan and sarcasm, and teasing other people.
Desmond: With how chill he is, he enjoys sweet and wholesome jokes the most. He can chuckle at anything if he's in a large enough group where everyone is comfortable, though.
Diana: She enjoys watching her friends engage in goofy antics and have silly discussions. Anything that makes them laugh, will make her smile, at least, and she'll usually laugh along too.
Eloise: Very odd and awkward sense of humor that not everyone gets. However, if someone matches her energy, she can very easily become a giggling mess. Very into inside jokes.
Eva: She'd rather not admit it, but really nerdy jokes and overly convoluted wordplay amuse her more than anything else. She also enjoys teasing the very few people she can call friends, and laughs when they get flustered.
Grace: Making fun of people and sexual innuendo are the easiest way to get her to laugh. She really enjoys slapstick and silly misfortunes, and flustering people like Wolfgang with her innuendo.
Ingrid: Laughs whenever she finds something cute, and generally, she finds other people's laughter cute. In other words, she laughs when others laugh, so she tries to make that happen.
Jean: Will readily and heartily laugh whenever he's having fun with friends, no matter what that fun looks like. Particularly enjoys anything that reminds him of the sea, like puns about the ocean and the like.
Jett: Similarly to Jean, if he likes the people he's around, a quick laugh will always precede all his sentences. Other than that, high intensity bits where there's one joke after another in quick succession are the best ways to hear his laughter.
Kai: Internet memes, "brainrot" humor, references to popular media... Just the most "chronically online" sense of humor you can possibly imagine. Also likes teasing people occasionally.
Mark: He's the hardest to get to laugh in the entire cast, but the best way to do it would be catching him off guard with a really ironic or unexpected joke. Self-deprecating and generally depressing humor go over particularly well.
Toshiko: She really likes weirding people out with her odd stories and grandiloquence, because it makes her feel smarter than them. But when she's not teasing others, she can also be seen giggling at absurdist jokes she's embarrassed to admit she likes (finds them childish).
Ulysses: He enjoys smart history references, so his sense of humor can certainly be described as "nerdy as hell." Very big fan of deadpan humor, too.
Wenona: Also a big fan of deadpan, she and Ulysses have fun together. She also likes making fun of people, and finds it particularly funny when they fight back on whatever point she makes.
Wolfgang: Likes playing along with other people's antics, like Grace's. In other words, he laughs when someone is being super silly around him and he can "yes and" his way into a funny bit.
Tozu: Human suffering and overly dramatic puns.
Mara: Clinically unable to laugh, or so she says. Secretly loves cute animal videos.
Cara: I guess it depends on what theories you believe about her. However, I don't know the full range of theories around her, so I'll leave it at that :p
Hope that was good enough! Thanks for the ask, it's always fun to think about this! :D
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
hey, hey i would like to submit a kind of success story!
so my dog literally disappeared after 4pm and i noticed that after 7pm cause a i haven't seen her since
i desperately started to look for her EVERYWHERE i literally looked even in the cameras because i was afraid that someone kidnapped her, we posted pictures of "Missing Dog" on the internet, all of our neighbors were trying to find her too cause everybody loves her (she'd seriously very cute and sweet!) and i was almost getting in their house to search for her, but my mom said it would be rude to act like this. i didn't care at all, but i still didn't actually do it
even with all my efforts i still couldn't find her: so i remembered that one success stories from a sophie's anon where she said her cat was missing and she was desperate to "apply" and make her cat appears, but then she remembered WHO was trying and desperate and let go. After that the cat appeared safe and sound
i tried to do the same, let go of the idea that i was worried or missing her and just accept that, yes she was lost and there was nothing i (ego) could do. i let my mind think the worst things, even that someone would use her as a commerce to make lots of puppies to sell (😣😣😣) or that she was dead (she was actually a little cause of something she ate the day before) and went fat to die (some animals do this when they know there're going to die)
unfortunately it didn't work and she was still missing
i decided to go to bed and sleep cause it was late and there were no news about her
i went to sleep with that bad feeling of lost, but i knew that it wasn't me cause the real me don't have anything, only the ego has this "property" sense and then at 1:28 am i woke up from a dream where my dog was actually here and her "missing" was the dream haha
i woke up SUPER relieved, but i noticed it was a dream Where i was dreaming that it was a dream (does it make sense?) so i was consumed by some bitter feeling
the moment it happened i literally said NO! This is a dream, that was reality, it's all one anyways ill choose what i want and i swear to god the moment i said that my 2 year old nephew came here (he lives in the apt next door) screaming all over the place in the middle of the night saying that he found her with that baby accent
i got up bed desperately and realized that she was
NEVER lost, but actually hidden between the sofa (poor girl, it must've been painful)
i am trying to find something that was the key point for it to happen, but i don't really know i guess i just thought that if life is a dream and even though it may seem very real, it's still a dream and i can control it so i decided to fix that situation, but i also let go of control cause i knew ego couldn't do anything
i got mixed feelings cause i was letting go of the situation, but then thoughts would appear and i would react accordingly. maybe there is more, but i don’t know i am still processing this im so happy she’s here!!!!
I'm glad, thanks for sharing! Linking the post you mentioned here. This excerpt might be helpful for you:
The easiest creations or shifts for me happen when I just decide on something as a fact then just let it go and forget about it. There was no analysis, no rumination, no second guessing or questioning on it. It's easiest to do this for things that you have no attachments. It's not until I am reminded of that decision by the actual manifestation that I realize how effortless it all was, yet it can be so hard for things where there is pre-existing conditioning in the mind related to the choice one wants to make (when one entirely drops identification with the mind, this will no longer matter).
Another thing you can try to practice is having trust in Self/Universe/God more when you let go, rather than letting your mind run wild with all these negative scenarios, you can let go with the trust and faith that everything is being taken care of and there's nothing to worry about. That way you can actually truly let go, rather than flip flop back to worrying, reacting to negative thoughts and being attached to the situation (this is what the excerpt would call as 'changing your mind' like you did where you at first let go and then went back to worrying about it, meaning you hadn't truly let go). Try practicing this for your next creations! :)
27 notes
·
View notes
Note
omg could i also get meet me in the hallway with zach and prompt 14?? (i think that was the icing on the ceiling one LOL)
(if you can’t tell i want to feed your zach maclaren fever)
I absolutely love every single prompt you've requested like they've all turned out so good so thank you sm bestie 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
baking fail
PAIRING: zach maclaren x gn!reader
SUMMARY: all you wanted to do was bake a cake for your boyfriend.
WARNINGS: reader absolutely sucks at baking and cooking, a lot of usage of nicknames like babe & love, reader is sensitive and kinda a crybaby, fluff towards the end :)
EDITH SPEAKS: I wrote this in one sitting and absolutely loved the outcome so I hope you all enjoy reading it too!! 💖💖
PROMPT REQUESTED: "how did you manage to get the frosting on the ceiling?"
300 followers celebration (now closed) || navigation
You’ve never really thought of yourself as a baker, always allowing your boyfriend to take up on all the cooking tasks in your home. But when he played regionals with his soccer team and came out a winner, you knew you wanted to do something extremely special for him.
You decide to bake a little cake for him, and generously coat it with frosting. You go on the internet to find a quick and easy recipe for a beginner like you, because there is no room for you to make a mistake.
Zach is on his way back to your home after the long tournament, and you have around 2 hours to finish making the cake. It’s a tight margin, but you’re absolutely determined to finish it in time.
As you read the instructions on your phone, you smile to yourself. “This seems easy enough, just follow the steps exactly as it says and I’ll have a beautiful cake by the end!” you wonder.
But boy, oh boy, no one warned you that it’s not easy as it seems.
You’ve seen Zach bake around the house often, and it always looks effortless, as if it’s the easiest thing on this planet.
But when you get your hands on his baking equipment, trying to whip one up as if you’re Willy Wonka, you realize you just aren’t made to bake.
With one and a half hours passed, you don’t have your cake baking in the oven, which is way behind your schedule. You wanted to have it in the oven at the one hour mark, so you can take your time to make the frosting perfectly, and even maybe clean a bit around the house in the time you’ll have left.
There is a mess of cake batter all over your kitchen counters, along with random boxes of ingredients opened, their contents spilling due to the unethical way they’re placed in. Your apron, which was once white, is now covered with flour and cocoa powder, some wet mixture you aren’t very sure what it actually is, and you are feeling absolutely gross in this condition.
Before you can even think what to do next (which could’ve just been surprising him with a store bought cake), you hear the door of your apartment opening.
“Babe I’m home!” You hear Zach, and your heart almost melts on hearing his voice, which was only a mere static noise through your phone all these past days. But your condition right now is the worst surprise to give him after he’s coming home with a big achievement.
“Babe, where are you?” He calls out, walking around the house to try and find you. You don’t have the strength to call out his name or run up to him, feeling tired from your failed attempt at baking.
Zach wasn’t expecting you to be in the kitchen (when are you even in there?), but when he can’t find you anywhere else, he walks to the kitchen. Just as he enters, he looks at the counters, opened cabinets, a drawer which is almost on the peak of falling out, a completely full sink, and in the corner, you, covered in all sorts of junk.
“Hey bub,” you mumble from your place, wanting to hug him but you don’t want to get his clothes dirty.
“What happened?” He asks, walking to you.
“I just… I just wanted to bake something for you,” you whisper, starting to feel your eyes blur with tears, your mind screaming at you and calling you a hopeless partner.
“Aww love, that is so sweet of you,” he smiles, kissing your forehead.
“I couldn’t even make you a simple cake Zach,” you cry. You just wanted to show a little gesture of love, just the way he does with you. He always makes something special for you when you come home after a long day at work, or when you’ve had a bad day, or if you’re coming home with a promotion. You only wanted to do the same.
“That’s nothing to cry about love, I love that you tried. And it’s the thought that counts,” he gives you another kiss on your forehead.
“I’m so sorry,” you try to start cleaning up the kitchen, feeling confused on where to start but you decide to just pick up the utensils first.
Zach stands there watching you, not sure on how to make you feel better. He sighs, tilting his head back to think. But something on the ceiling distracts his thoughts.
“Babe,” he calls you out, and you hum in response, “how did you manage to get the frosting on the ceiling?”
Confused, you look up to see a pink blotch of your “frosting” on the ceiling.
“How did that get there?” You wonder, your tears vanishing immediately as you look up at the ceiling. Instead of feeling even more stressed, you let out a giggle, realizing it’s all just hilarious.
“You’re the one who should know that love,” Zach chuckles. He walks closer to you and takes the dirty whisk in your hand, placing it somewhere on the counter.
He moves his hands to hold your face gently, caressing your cheeks as he kisses you on your lips.
“Come on, let’s get you all cleaned up yeah? We can deal with this mess later.”
↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-
TAGLIST: @runningfrom2am @saccharinesammie @maybankslover @totalswag @madelynie @chenslucy @ietss @elle-mp3 @viawritesstuff @wallsdreams @tahliac11 @sadfury @newsies-pape-girl @jamesbuckybarneswify @xxxlaura @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @assmaaaaa
#zach maclaren#zach maclaren fic#zach maclaren imagine#zach maclaren x reader#zach maclaren x gender neutral reader#zach maclaren fluff#zach maclaren oneshot#zach maclaren fanfic#zach maclaren fanfiction#zach maclaren x y/n#zach maclaren x you#drew starkey#the other zoey#edith's 300 followers celebration! 🪄#written by edith! 🪄
101 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi greatest author ever! I have a world building question if thats okay.
So if its really hard for an omega to find work, are there omega actors/musicians/streamers/influencers and such? Only curious because those routes are more self made.
I'd imagine it would be kinda hostile as a work environment with an omega holding fame and being in the public eye.
Hi love!!
Yeah, there are some famous omegas out there, but they're very rare. Usually they're in those positions because of their alpha also being famous, not because they got there on their own. Omegas could attempt to get more self made jobs, the problem is you have to have someone that will hire them or pay them. There are omega authors (the book the reader used at the beginning of the fic was written by an omega), but the hardest part is finding a publisher that will publish works by an omega. The only "acting" jobs omegas could maybe get would be in porn, but even then, production companies would be more likely to hire alphas and betas and throw omega in the title even though none of them are omegas. Omegas would be the most successful in avenues like OnlyFans or other types of sex work, which is pretty common in the universe the fic exists in.
I've talked about this before when someone asked about omegas having like Etsy shops or selling handmade goods online, and I'm lumping streaming and influencers, into this as well but it is more likely that an omega could be successful in one of these avenues. Again, though, influencers make most of their money off of brand deals and you'd have to have brands willing to have an omega promoting their products. There certainly are places for them, like omega-specific products will want an omega doing the promoting versus a beta or alpha telling them they want it. Streaming is probably the easiest avenue to go through, as mentioned above with OF, but they really could do anything, so long as they find a way to stream that will allow them to get paid for it. Same with selling goods online.
There definitely are kind of loopholes omegas can use to make money utilizing the internet, but it's kind of like searching for a needle in a haystack for a legit avenue that will actually pay an omega. Most omegas that get involved in the areas mentioned above, it's because they know someone, or their alpha is also involved and has their name on things.
There definitely would be risks for an omega in any line of work, which is partly why they're kept out of most workspaces. Regardless of how capable an omega is, things can get dangerous really fast and that's just not a risk most employers are willing to take.
#there's a lot of legal issues for hiring omegas as well#but i'll stop here before this turns into 10k words on the subject lmao#answered#crcb lore#queue 06
21 notes
·
View notes
Note
“”””””sniff sniff sopping sopping””” where… can I…. learn everything about Greek mythology….. where can I learn about the characters, the god, the Titans,,,,,(as you can tell, I’m very desperate)
Ahhh I am definitely not the best person to ask when it comes to where u should learn 😭 Generally it’s just a lot of internet deep dives of reading and watching.. here’s some of what I’ve done:
Reading the Iliad and the Odyssey is the easiest thing to do first imo. They’re good stories which you can probably find at ur local library. You learn a lot about the generation of characters who fight in Troy through these two books (even though the odyssey really only focuses on one of the Greek heroes). There is also the Cypria but it’s a fragmented text which we have very few lines for to my knowledge. But the contents detail a lot of context for the Trojan War and the Iliad, so I suggest reading up on the contents we have for it anyways.
You can read the tragedy plays by people like Sophocles, Euripides, etc. I would recommend the Oresteia and Iphigenia in Aulis but that’s personal preference! Ajax by Sophocles is good too and if you like morally grey characters Medea by Euripides is also cool.
And then if you want there’s Heracles’ labours and the multitude of other Heracles’ adjacent myths. One of which is a pretty big one called the Argonautica which is about the generation before the Iliad (and contextualizes the play Medea which I mentioned earlier.
Uhh I don’t know a whole lot about the titans, but reading/watching content about the Titanomachy (the war against the Titans) could contextualize some stuff. There is ofc also the story of Prometheus the Titan of foresight which I’m sure there is a lot of stuff you can read/watch about if you search for his story.
There is also Hesoid’s theogony? it’s a lot of uhh world building for lack of a better word. It has some interesting stuff if you wanna watch/read some stuff about that.
The gods have a LOT of stories about them and I could not list them all here or the best places to learn about them. But honestly just watching videos in the background explaining the gods you’re interested in is always nice. I cannot confirm the entire accuracy of them because the channel is old and still active so the quality changes, but the channel Overly Sarcastic Productions has a lot of videos talking about Greek mythology 🤷🏻♀️
Like I said, I am ABSOLUTELY NOT an expert at this lmaoooo 😭😭😭 This is just something I’ve done in my free time where I read some primary sources, and then further deep dive into the characters I find interesting shdgsghags..
11 notes
·
View notes
Note
the x-men brainrot is on fire ever since i've been rewatching the movies after watching deadpool and wolverine 💫 i'm looking for 18+ partners to do either an ocxcc roleplay (more than happy to double as long as we can try to find a way for both sides to take place around the same time because that's easiest for me and i love possible oc interactions), and would like to pair my oc with logan/wolverine or charles (professor) xavier! i am also looking to do ccxcc with cherik (erik x charles) where i play charles. overall rules of mine. please write at least 4+ paragraphs because i consider my lit to novella depending on the story and both our motivations. be patient with me because i am starting my fall semester in college, on top of that working and living a life outside of the internet. in a double up please keep things fair. i'm open to many topics, possibly even dead dove 🕊️ ones but ultimately that'll be something we discuss in private. i'd love a partner that is open to ooc chat bc i always love sending headcanons, tiktoks, etc! alrighty so- i would mostly like the roleplay(s) to follow somewhat of a canon storyline, but of course we can go off and add or take things out! but i love the mutants and their stories. i'd prefer we still to the live action movies just because i haven't seen many of the cartoons yet, just briefly, nor a lot a of the comics. some ideas and tropes i'd be interested in exploring in both the ocxcc and ccxcc stories are: any form of soulmates, omegaverse, second chances, opposites attract, maybe we can do something where our characters are the students/role reversals, a different time period perhaps (medieval, 40s-50s), and i'm sure there's more that we can come up with together! i roleplay preferably on discord just because notifications are easier but i won't be opposed to here on tumblr!🥀
give a like and anon will get back to you
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
Heyy, so I saw your introduction page and since I’m currently researching greek deities and want to maybe become a devotee in the future, I had some questions:
I’m a minor still (16 years old), and I saw that being a devotee at my age isn’t to be advised, which I understand, but that left me wondering, are there other ways I can kind of connect with deities or should I wait until I’m 18+ for that?
And I wondered if you know any specific things I should research on the (maybe specific) deities?
And my last question: in what ways can I worship the deities? Because I really don’t know much at the moment yet. I know about offerings, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do them and stuff.
I know it might be a lot to ask, so I’m really sorry for that, but I’d really like some answers and I can’t really find a lot on the internet + I thought it might be wiser to ask someone who could answer my specific questions instead of wandering on the internet and hoping I interpreted it right.
Hey there!
Thanks for taking the time to read my intro post and be very mature about consciously designing your spiritual practice.
- Ways to connect with deities & ways to worship them:
It really depends on what kind of spiritual practice you're creating or following but the simplest, easiest yet underrated method is simply giving them your time.
Time spent reading about them, time spent thinking about them, time spent talking about them, and time spent simply talking to them.
I'd also suggest spending time learning about their history, the cultures that worshipped them, the historical context of these things, and spending time working on your practice.
Though that can be overwhelming, so maybe start with some of their myths via whichever platform suits your learning style.
Then look into self-care in their honour as acts of worship.
E.g. skincare for Aphrodite, vitamins for Apollo etc.
Now, this last one I wish I started in 2007 when I was your age: do your shadow work and work on improving your connection with your higher-self.
Giving yourself a strong mental, physical and spiritual foundation through self-care, shadow work and working on your higher-self will set you up to be in an incredible place to begin your path as a devotee once you're an adult.
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
I wanted to make a comic for International Asexual Day but I thought it was the 16 and not the 6th. orz
There's some stories that I keep meaning to make into comics for Ace Week or Pride Month but I keep putting it off or chickening out. They're stories that involve a lot of cringe and a lot of misunderstanding so they're hard to talk about. I practice retelling them to myself to better understand them and find the easiest way to tell them but the scars still run deep.
So for now, I just wanna share some of the morals of my stories without the stories.
-If you're struggling to find a "missing part of you" then maybe that part wasn't meant to be there in the first place.
-Some people are just preconditioned to interpret things as sexual or romantic even when you explain why they aren't.
-Don't take advice on your sexuality from people who don't think your sexuality exists.
-Just because you've finally convinced someone that you're not straight, doesn't mean they've totally grasped the concept of asexuality. Some things take time to sink in.
-There are people who might react badly to your sexuality. Often it's uncomfortable, in some cases it might be violent. But just because something MIGHT happen doesn't mean it WILL happen. You can't base the way you live your life on a maybe. You don't need to be scared.
-If someone doesn't believe asexuality exists or thinks they can "fix" you, then that's THEIR character flaw, not YOUR problem. You have a right to exist and be yourself.
-We're lucky enough to be living in a time when asexuality is becoming more accepted and better known. Things could be better but they're still getting better. Hell! Do you have any idea how lucky you are just to be reading posts like this? I'm talking to YOU tweenager who's just figuring themself out!!
Bonus: This is purely my personal experience so I can't guarantee you'll have the same luck as me. Almost all the times I've come out to someone I've known IRL it's been awful but with one exception all the times I've talked about my asexuality online have been positive. Not only that but apparently half the people I've known online have been asexual. Maybe it's because everyone I've met IRL I've only met through happenstance i.e. I only knew them because we were in the same class. The asexual internet friends are a little harder to explain but it might just because younger people are more open to more options. It's not just "gay or straight" any more. Kids can go online and say "oh, asexuality is a thing? I think I might be asexual" (Again, you kids have NO idea how lucky you are! I only had an alternative lifestyles story on 20/20 that I saw one time as a kid that I mostly forgot about!)
Now treat yourself to some cake.
10 notes
·
View notes
Text
Eurovision 2024: #10
10. UNITED KINGDOM Olly Alexander - "Dizzy" 18th place
youtube
Decade Ranking: 35/153 [Above Last Dance, below Monika Linkyte]
Gotta love the commitment to the art here, it's really giving:
I'm getting ahead of myself, but yeah I fucking loved "Dizzy". It was a really good entry that of course, was never going to get a single televote. They exist, and this is one of them.
But first, let's get the unfun bit out of the way: Olly Alexander was bullied. I'm not going to address that any further. Those responsible need to dc from the internet, because it clearly brings out the absolute WORST in them.
In these times of overwhelming negativity, I find it important to be POSITIVE whenever possible, so here we are - 'Dizzy" was far from perfect, but I love it nevertheless. SOMETHING GOOD to come out of Olly's miserable ESC journey.
At the core lies a really, really good song. I'm biased, obv - basic Synthpop IS my safe zone, and "Dizzy" is basic synthpop that perfectly articulates what I want / am missing from my intimate life.
"Why don't you make me DIZZY FROM YOUR KISSES
Take my hand AND SPIN ME
Round and round 'till this MOMENT NEVER ENDS
:sadsynth:"
It's unabashed in its hopeless romanticism, in it's naive optimism and in it's tragic, inevitable conclusion.
Okay, now we address the performance. The vocals, let's get that out of the way, we're not good, but they weren't detrimental enough for me to care. They were a step up from Mae, and the overall packages was still enjoyable, so whatevs.
The staging though, ho boy I have all the opinions. The bottom line is that i LOVE it but I'm also shocked they went with something so... QueerTube coded?
I don't CARE that it was on-stage seppuku.
I don't CARE that it was the raunchiest thing in the goonerverse.
I don't care that it served "Inclusivity, but only for queen men".
I get it, I understand, I accept it. Single Gay Men such as myself and Olly often deeply crave unrequited emotional affection, tenderness, a lover's gentle caress, but as Gay Men have learned to repress those cravings and not speak of them. Including to others.
So instead, we often default to the easiest alternative: Grindr, and all the depravity that comes with it. Kinkster-tinged debauchery as a form of escaping the lonelyness we feel in our hearts.
AND THAT, I think it was what Ted Uni Dom King were intending to convey with their staging. It's a tragic, but poignant combination of inner brittleness and outwards brutality and vulgarity that is so painfully real for so many (too many) strong codependent homosexuals.
THERE ISN'T AN END
THERE ISN'T A START
I DON'T WANNA STOP
I CAN'T GO TOO FAR
Ironically, he took the Sexual Thing way too far, bless. 😍 Literal cowgirling in a family show <3 If the objective was to score televotes they definitely shouldn't have went there. Inclusivity is achieved through including everyone, not by specifically showcasing your marginalized group (hopeless homosexuals => so, me). Considering that the majority of the viewing audience this year were wine mom karens and their tory husbands, it didn't go down quite as well, but like who cares? "Dizzy" pissed off all those that spend their afterlives within the nine circles of hell: bigots, karens, tories, pearl-clutchers, zionists, bleeding hearts, keyboard warriors, eurosnobs and LBG-without-the-T Cigarettes. Press their (nonexistent) hearts, King.
Also, I refuse to call the staging bad, because "Dizzy" frankly, was a bit basic as a song. It NEEDED to go big and take a huge risk, and it took it, fuck the consequences. It showcased a boldness that I can respect.
Furthermore, I just love the concept and how it flows? Like yeah it was erotic, but it was still doing with a sense of aesthetics. The showerroom shenanigans, the shaky cam, the topsy-turvy angles. Olly DESPERATE search for some level of intimacy from his collective of xwitter oomfbots. This was a much better representation of eroticism and desire compared to say, Sekret. (then again, I think "Sekret" borders on harrassment ♥) It suited the song and made it better.
So in this end, yeah. This entry is for me and people like me and NOBODY ELSE lmfao. 😂 Its low placement in the televote is also a massive defeat for the contest, but that's a whole nother discourse and I refuse address that. I'm still looking for a kind, cute beefy himbot who wishes to make me dizzy with his kisses, so DMs are open for applications. The only requirement is that you like Sebi...x
THE RANKING.
#Eurovision#Eurovision Song Contest#ESC#ESC 2024#Eurovision 2024#BorisBubbles#Malmö2024#UK#United Kingdom#England#Olly Alexander#Dizzy
18 notes
·
View notes