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notnctu · 4 years ago

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under the mistletoe | l.ty

lee taeyong x fem!reader genre - fluff, barely humor idk, very little bit of angst details - enemies to lovers!au, childhood friends that have been apart, high school!au warnings - explicit language, one mention of death, there’s a kiss scene lol word count - 2.7k synopsis - the holiday season brings a change of heart this year. you see your old friend, now enemy, Lee Taeyong at Mark’s Christmas gathering and through snowman shaped cookies, you two re-kindle your old friendship.

a/n - this is for @neoculturechristmas ‘s secret santa collab! this piece is dedicated to @soliverse :) hello lovie!! i’m your secret santa!! i hope you like it and im sorry that it’s not funny LOL thank you for letting me participate in such a fun holiday collab! im so happy to be able to write a fic for another writer:)

Through the heavily crowded Christmas party, through the people that dare walk in your way, you still see him in the midst of the chaos. Lee Taeyong stands only a few feet from you, in a ridiculous Christmas sweater and messy frosty hair. The universe is absolutely obsessed with placing you two in uncomfortable situations, as if the fuming feud between you two is not enough.

His absentminded actions cause him to foolishly knock over someone’s drink, what a fucking clutz. Rolling your eyes, you wander off in search of your good friend to announce your departure for the night.

“Already? Y/N, you got here like, five minutes ago.” Mark mixes the glass bowl that is filled to the brim with red sugary punch. Any forceful spin will have it spilling from the rim, and that won’t be the only mishap of the night that you witness. “What’s the rush? It’s Christmas Eve!”

And before you can utter the blacklisted name to explain your sudden change of heart, the culprit walks in with his stunned puppy eyes that grow sharp and a frown at your appearance. There is a small spark in the shared eye contact until it completely drops and he returns to ignoring your presence.

“Mark, where are your napkins? I spilled something in your living room.” It had to be a whole year since you’ve last heard his voice and you still remember his low cadence whenever he was trying to be cool. Cool and mysterious Taeyong, and how he lives up so perfectly to his title. However, there was a moment in time that you knew him for more than that. He was warm and comforting Taeyong.

While he tried so hard to be winter on the outside, spring bloomed blossoms on the inside and a bright sunshine radiated enough for you to witness its glow. You wished to stay with his spring for as long as you possibly could, but like the changing seasons, Taeyong eventually changed with it.

“It’s in the upper cabinet.” Mark does not realize the initial situation in the room, merrily going back to his large bowl of delicious liquid. It takes one big sigh from you for your friend to finally realize the elephant in the room and the unknowingly stiff tension in the kitchen. Mark’s eyes grow a bit bigger and as subtle as he tried to be, he clears his throat, “I think Christmas is all about joining together and being in each other’s company. Stay, Y/N.”

Mark did not choose his words wisely as Taeyong peeks over his shoulder, catching the last words of his sentence. “You’re leaving already, Y/N?” That is the first time he’s acknowledged you in the past few years.

There is an internal battle of whether or not you should acknowledge him back. Crossing your arms, you grumble something underneath your breath. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Taeyong says sternly, making sure he asserts his nonchalant attitude. “Just sucks that Mark threw such a happy Christmas party for his good friend to leave.” He slings an arm around Mark’s shoulders, snuggling his face into the side of Mark’s chocolate colored hair.

And Mark dares to show a small smile of affection back. “Sorry that Y/N is always walking out on things. She does that quite often.” Before you can give him a piece of your mind, Mark shoves a snowman shaped biscuit in your mouth.

Taeyong gets away laughing, feeling an overwhelming sense of pride as he walks to clean up his other mess. You groan, biting the head of the snowman off and glaring at Mark. “Why did you let him get away with saying that to me? And when did you become friends with him again? And why are your cookies so hard?”

“Taeyong lost a friend, like a month ago. Just be a bit empathetic, please.” Mark wipes his hands on his apron and continues kneading at a random ball of dough. If it’s one thing that Mark always does too well is overachieving at his holiday gatherings. There is a reason why he’s head of the Prom Committee and student officer for event planning at your high school.

Washing your hands, the cold water bites at your skin. It’s been a really cold winter this year. When you dry your hands off, you scoot Mark over to make room for yourself to help with his endless amount of holiday treats.

“We’ve all lost friends, Mark. Sometimes people don’t work out with others and that’s just how it goes.” There is an underlying bitterness that does not seem to fade when you speak.

“Speaking from experience, maybe?” Mark chuckles, but dismisses the brief second of giggles to a more serious and low tone. “Not that kind of lost, Y/N. He lost a friend forever, like this person is in a forever sleep.”

The moment the words hit the air, a chilly draft sweeps at your ankles and you freeze in your place. And as you stand with dry flour on your hands and a person you thought you’d never become warm to again stands in the next room over, your heart softens at the information and immediate guilt preoccupies your system.

“Oh… well you should have started with that, then.” You slightly graze a finger across your nose at the faint tickle. Your mind is running at high speed, merely wondering about all the pain that Taeyong possibly felt this past month and remembering how it’s difficult for him to process his feelings.

“He actually wasn’t going to come tonight, until I mentioned you were coming.” Mark unloads a batch of fresh cookies from the oven and replaces it with another tray. The aromatics take you back to Christmas many years ago and the memory of Taeyong getting frosting everywhere you could remember. It took weeks to get the red and green stains out of the carpet, but the laughter made up for every clumsy mistake.

Not completely sure where the melancholic spirit erupted from, you rinse your hands and grab two cookies off the still hot tray without another response. Hurrying off, Mark yells out, “Wait-- those aren’t decorated yet!” but you choose to ignore his pleas.

Why is it harder to find him in a crowd when you are actually looking for him? Perhaps the saying, the best things in life come when you’re not looking for them, holds some truth to it. But your feet take you directly to him; he sits at the leather couch with the burning embers from the fireplace reflecting in his eyes.

Your abrupt appearance startles him a bit, but his face falls sullen when he sees that it’s you. Shoulders touching, you’ve missed the intimacy you two use to share. The blank snowman shaped cookie feels warm in your hand as you thrust it into Taeyong’s face. “For you.”

Taeyong scoffs, pushing your hand away lightly and looking away from the pitiful undecorated treat. “This feels like a trap.”

“No trap. Just a truce. Remember the time when I got upset at you for forgetting me in the parking lot and I told you the only way to fix it was to buy me food?” Your hand begins to drop, but Taeyong catches your wrist and takes the cookie from your possession. He gently places your hand back onto your lap.

“I know no other love language.” You explain the reasoning behind the old memory.

“Pretty sure food isn’t a love language.” Taeyong chuckles, like Christmas carols to your ears, he sounds like home.

“It’s not, but they all require me to be too emotionally vulnerable and you know how that makes me feel…” Your voice unintentionally trails off the end of your sentence. Does he still know how you feel?

Taeyong’s eyebrow raises subtly, catching your implication. “You’re still the same person you were three years ago?”

Three years, has it really been that long? You nod without needing to ponder the thought. There is a stark difference between change and growth. You are who you’ve always been, that is never going to change, but you’ve grown to be stronger and a little more independent.

“That’s not surprising.” Taeyong bites at his cookie, turning the figure in his hands as he stares off to reminisce about the past. He thinks about his pain. He thinks about his own self growth. “I’ve been thinking about you recently.”

The bold comment causes your chest to burn and your throat to grow a bit dry. Taeyong finally looks up at you, eyes dropping between your own and your lips. He doesn’t shy away from staring, taking in how much you’ve changed appearance wise since you two used to be friends. His eyelashes dance against his skin every time he blinked and the white strands of his hair fall around his crown like snowflakes.

“Why?”

“I learned how important it is to have friends around you. You never know when you’ll never see them again. The falling out we had should not have ruined the friendship we built for so long.” It’s difficult for Taeyong to continue with his feelings. It’s not a secret that he’s liked you since you two were close, probably half of the room is well aware of it. But there has never been a moment where he was out right too vulnerable to you, he was and is afraid of showing his feelings.

It’s an immediate body reaction when Taeyong leans in to you and you defensively back away. The confusion shows on your face very blatantly and his dreamy laugh rattles your bones. Taeyong’s hand softly caresses your cheek as his thumb brushes the tip of your nose. “You have some flour on your face.” This skin to skin leaves you speechless as his hot hand holds your cheek so delicately, making your heart race rapidly.

“Your Christmas sweater is ugly.” That’s all you can utter, out of pure panic too. Your eyes dip away and he retracts away from you, elbows on his knees as he leans forward and ducking momentarily to examine his choice of festive clothing.

He laughs, “it’s called an ugly Christmas sweater for a reason. It’s better than wearing a lame red sweater and calling it festive.” It’s surreal how quick things settle back into being the way that it used to be. As if the last three years of silence and constantly pretending the other didn’t exist disappeared. Taeyong is back, he’s yours again. And you hope that he’ll be by your side for longer than you had let him go.

“Red is not my color, I agree, but green is definitely not yours.” You joke back and Taeyong ruffles your hair, just like old times. The holiday spirit practically wraps its arms around you two. The holidays are really about being in each other’s warmth. In this very cold winter, you’re happy to have found an old flame that kept you from frostbite for many years.

“Y/N, we’re putting up the mistletoe.” An acquaintance interrupts you and Taeyong, quickly grabbing your arm to follow her. Your eyes dart between her and Taeyong. One thing you know no doubt about is that you aren’t leaving Taeyong alone again, so you take his hand without another second thought and drag him along with you.

You’re all ushered into the foyer and Mark is on a step ladder under the frame of his door. He notes Taeyong by your side and discreetly smiles to himself. He securely pins it to the wall and claps his hands together to gather everyone’s attention. “We’re going to blindfold two people and they’re going to have to kiss underneath the mistletoe.”

Your hands grow sweaty at the thought of such a risky game and immediately, you two let go of each other’s hands without realizing the clutching feeling of each other’s anxiousness. “I don’t think I’ll be chosen.” Taeyong mumbles to you as Mark and a few other people unravel the blindfolds. Nevertheless, he doesn’t sound very confident and you notice Taeyong’s shifty eyes.

“Right. Me either.” You shrug off, trying to hide slightly behind Taeyong’s stature. However, Taeyong instantly catches the uncertainty in your voice as well.

“Aren’t there four couples in the room?” Taeyong whispers over his shoulder at you.

Crossing your arms, you roll your eyes at his obvious thinking. “Yeah, but Mark isn’t going to choose a couple to kiss. How boring.”

Taeyong chuckles out of disbelief at your comment. “I’ll volunteer you if you want to really spice things up.”

And your eyes grow wide at his mischievous suggestion, pinching at his arm lightly. Underneath the fleece, Taeyong feels sturdy and strong. It’s only another reminder that you two aren’t kids anymore. “Lee Taeyong, do not. I don’t want to kiss anyone in this room.” That might’ve been a lie, even if you didn’t want to admit it to yourself that you are just a little curious how Taeyong might have matured.

“Everyone close your eyes.” Mark excitedly smiles and everyone obliges. You gulp the pooled saliva in your mouth, trying to manifest every possible hope that you aren’t chosen in this room of twenty people. Mark wouldn’t screw you over like that, would he? The more you pondered that thought, the more you believe that he totally would.

Then, you feel a hand on your arm and you’re being guided somewhere. A cloth covers your eyes and you’re quick to snarl, “Mark Lee, this is your only Christmas present. You get no more favors from me.” your cadence is only loud enough for him to hear and though you’re robbed of your sight, Mark’s boyish laughter says enough about his enlightened facial expression.

“This is what you get for trying to leave five minutes into my extravagant party I tried so hard to put on.” Mark sarcastically comments and pats your shoulders for a last indication of reassurance.

You hear footsteps in front of you and an uncanny presence of another in your close proximity. “Okay, everyone can open their eyes.” Mark cheers and it’s not like you can see much through the dark cloth that covers your eyes, but yours open anyways.

Gasps fill the room, slight hollering and cheering. The reactions cause an unsettling stir in your lower stomach. “Kiss!” and before you know it, the unknown person searches for your face and cups it gingerly. The feeling being very familiar to a scene before.

The both of you lean in and it’s difficult with the lack of sight, but people kiss with their eyes closed right? It’s not your first kiss, but also the sense deprivation is something different. When you tilt your head and go in for it, your noses bump together clumsily. You’re slightly embarrassed, your heart is leaping out of your chest from the sudden display of affection and you’re strangling Mark in your imagination.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, but there isn’t a response back. Instead, your partner dives in without any trace of struggle. Their lips glide perfectly with yours and it’s almost like you’re kissing snow. Any form of awkwardness melts away; their hand on your cheek feels natural and comforting. Your heart yearns for this sense of security as the same warmth from the fireplace embodies your chest.

When you two pull away, the room bursts into a loud chaos of cheers. Before you can take off your blindfold, you can feel everyone running toward the both of you to give you excited pats on your head and arm.

“I can’t believe that just happened!” Your friend’s voice can be heard in your ear. As you lift off the cloth, you see him in the midst of the chaos. Through the heavy dog pile of overly joyous people, Lee Taeyong stands a few feet from you in his ugly Christmas sweater, messy frosty hair and a pink hue across his pale cheeks.

He looks over at you and shyly smiles. “Hopefully that spiced things enough for you. Happy Holidays, Y/N.” He can barely process everyone else's excitement, but he feels joyous for once. After a long cold bitter winter, he feels warm.

“Happy Holidays, you big goof. Good to have you back.” You push at his arm, laughing happily at the ridiculously wide smile he has on his face. You’re glad to see Taeyong smile again.

#neoculturechristmas #nct-writers #kpopscape #neowritingsnet #neothestars #nct scenarios #taeyong scenarios #nct scenario #taeyong #lee taeyong #nct imagines #nct fluff #lee taeyong scenarios

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dinosaurtsukki · 4 years ago

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the language of flowers | an akaashi x gn!reader fic

hey dino!! could i request a short fluffy fic about someone having a crush on akaashi and works part time in a flower shop? they start leaving him flowers with meanings behind them and a letter anonymously on his desk in school. eventually, they get caught and confesses to him?? im a sucker for flower shop aus and i'd love to see what kind of flowers you would use!! ٩(●˙▿˙●)۶…⋆ฺ -🍙

-- ahhh this request was so fun to write !! i planned it a while ago and just wrote it all down in one sitting hehe. i hope you like this !!

pairing: akaashi keiji x gn!reader

word count: 2k words

contains: fluff !!, lots of flowers and their meanings, hints at a mystery novel night, high school au

summary: akaashi keiji has been receiving flowers from a ‘mystery florist’ (aka, you) for quite a whole. except, he might be crushing on someone else.

a/n: requested by the amazing onigiri-anon !! i really wanted this to be more of a full-length fic because of how cute it is so i hope you guys enjoy it !!

the first flowers akaashi had received from you were twin alstroemerias: one in orange and one in white. he actually had no idea what the flowers’ names were because he had never seen any quite like it. both of the flowers had three main petals and three smaller petals closer to the center that had dark little stripes on them. the white one had a slight touches of pink and yellow in the very center.

akaashi saw the two flowers, wrapped in a pink satin ribbon, on his desk one day after class had ended. it was a few days after finals had ended and he was still feeling bitter loss that hit the volleyball team. but, the sight of the flowers: bright and fresh and sunny, put a little smile on his face.

when he was at home, he decided to look up what the flowers were. it took a great deal of searching through ‘flower pictures’ on google images for him to actually find the name: alstroemeria, also known as peruvian lily. and, because he was curious as to why there would be flowers on his desk, he looked up whether there was a meaning behind the flower.

white alstroemerias meant ‘concern for a loved one who isn’t feeling well’ and orange ones were ‘working towards ones goals.’ akaashi smiled and placed the flowers in a jar full of water on his desk. he didn’t know who it was, but there was someone out there looking out for him.

...

“afternoon, akaashi.”

“afternoon, y/n,” akaashi greeted, sitting down on the table next to you. as usual, you were the first two people in the clubroom. that was mostly because your other members of the literature club were freshmen who volunteered for a ton of other clubs but akaashi didn’t exactly mind. he liked your company.

“another gerbera?” you asked, pointing at the flower in his hand.

“yeah,” akaashi smiled. “it was on my desk this morning.” he had already looked up what the meaning behind that flower after he got it for the first time and saw that it meant ‘cheer up.’ “it came at pretty nice timing too,” he added. it was a pretty stressful week for akaashi with cram school every day and having to study for entrance exams. the flowers were always tied with a pink, satin ribbon.

“are you still on the lookout for who your mystery florist is?” you teased, looking up over the book you were reading.

“i still haven’t stopped my search,” akaashi said, lightly running his hands through the silky flower petals. “well, i do kind of like that they’re this mystery person. i never thought that receiving flowers would be this, well, nice.”

“good for you,” you smiled and returned to your book, sneaking glances once in a while at akaashi as he admired the flower. unbeknownst to him, you were the mystery florist who had been crushing on akaashi ever since freshman year. it had started out as a way to cheer him up a bit after fukurodani wasn’t able to enter nationals. the day after you left the alstroemerias on his desk, akaashi had entered the clubroom with a smile on his face, talking about how someone was nice and enough to give him flowers.

and from then on, you decided to leave him flowers whenever you knew he was feeling down. most of them were gerberas, since there were always one or two left over at the flowershop you worked part-time at. but sometimes, you carefully sneaked out one of the fresh white poppies from the new flower deliveries. akaashi wasn’t really the type to celebrate things like perfect test scores or successful practice matches so you liked sending him a white poppy once in a while to remind him to be happy for himself.

the sight of akaashi walking into the clubroom with a slight sparkle in his eye, a spring in his step, and a fresh flower in his hand became one of your favorite things. and even though you could never convince yourself to actually confess to him, just seeing that was more than enough.

...

‘oh, another flower,’ akaashi smiled as he saw one on his desk as soon as he entered the classroom. it had been a good few weeks since he last received another flower and even though he knew his mystery florist shouldn’t really be obligated to give him flowers in the first place, akaashi still missed seeing fresh blooms on the makeshift jar on his desk.

as he neared his desk though, he found that the flower wasn’t the usual gerbera or white poppy, or even the alstroemerias that he first received. its petals were white and it looked a bit like a rose, except that its petals were a bit bigger and the scent was a bit sweeter.

‘i wonder what this is,’ akaashi thought, pulling up his phone and once again looking through flower pictures. this one was a bit easier to find. the flower was a gardenia: secret love.

...

you were practically holding your breath ever since you left the flower on akaashi’s desk. for the past few months, you’ve been playing it safe with the flowers you were giving akaashi. but earlier that day, while you were opening up the shop, a fresh batch of gardenias was delivered which gave you a crazy idea. akaashi would surely find out what it meant and your heart was hammering in your chest.

“a-akaashi!” you practically squeaked in surprise as soon as he entered the clubroom. the gardenia was in his hand and you felt your face heat up. “another flower, huh? this one looks different from the rest.”

“yeah, it’s a gardenia,” akaashi said, sitting down next to you. unlike before, you couldn’t quite read the expression on his face and that made you even more nervous.

“did you look up what it means?” you asked.

“’secret love’, apparently,” akaashi glanced up at you. “i guess, these have been coming from a secret admirer all this time.”

“aww, that’s so sweet! i wish i had one who’d send me flowers,” you laughed nervously.

“yeah, well the thing is, i wouldn’t know how to tell them,” akaashi sighed.

“tell them what?”

“that i like someone else.”

and with that, you felt your hopes deflate. akaashi already liked someone else. ‘probably one of the pretty ones in class,’ you thought sadly.

“well, i’m sure they’ll understand,” you said in a small voice before returning to the book you were reading. unbeknownst to you, akaashi there was a hint of longing in the way akaashi glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

...

akaashi had a crush on you ever since freshman year, when the two of you met in the literature club. he had already signed up for the volleyball club but since he knew he’d be able to balance things well, he decided to sign up for another club of interest. on your first day as club members, akaashi recalled you intensively defending fanfiction as subversive literature and making very impressive points for that matter. he knew you weren’t very outspoken and you tended to be quite shy around your seniors, but you always spoke up when you felt you needed to.

being in the literature club was even more fun with you around. you were the one who gave the idea of a ‘mystery novel dinner’ event for the cultural festival where you invited other students and pretended to be guests in a house solving a murder. akaashi had pretended to be the well-meaning, intelligent detective while you were lady of the house who mourned the death of her husband while actually being the real killer. the event was a success and akaashi fondly remembered how you were consistently in-character, even when akaashi was apprehending you after he solved the mystery.

when he entered the clubroom the next day, wondering just how he was going to tell his mystery florist that he couldn’t reciprocate their feelings, he walked in to find that you weren’t there.

“oh, akaashi-san,” one of your juniors who was there instead, greeted him.

“y/n isn’t here yet?” he asked.

“oh, well they came here and just left their bag. i think they were trying to buy snacks before the cafeteria closed,” they answered, pointing at your bag that was in your usual seating place.

“thanks,” akaashi nodded his thanks at them and sat down at his usual spot. your bag was zipped completely open, one of your usual habits, and its contents were fully visible. akaashi spotted more than a few books, one of them in particular catching his eye.

“’the language of flowers,’“ he read aloud.

“oh, i think that’s the one from our collection,” his junior said. “y/n has been reading it for a while. i think it’s because of the new job they got.”

“new job?” akaashi asked.

“yeah, at the flower shop,” his junior nodded.

akaashi blinked at the book for a few seconds before standing up. “i’ll be back in a bit,” he said, leaving the clubroom. as quickly as he could, he walked back to his classroom and peeked into the small glass window.

and just as he suspected. there you were, standing by his desk, placing a pink rose on top of it.

...

“thank you for coming,” you bowed as the customers left the shop. as soon as they were gone, you let out a sigh as you surveyed the mess of leaves, stems, and leftover wrapping paper on your workstation. a man had just come by asking for one of the more extravagant bouquets to give to his wife and your fingers hurt a bit from the thorns on the rose stems. you had been dealing with roses all day, especially now that you they were your most recent deliveries since they were in season.

you had also given akaashi a rose. you knew they had very different meanings depending on the color, but the pink one that you gave him meant ‘trust, happiness, or confidence.’ you figured it was about time for you to stop sending him flowers, especially now knowing that he liked someone else, so you decided to go all out and leave him a pink rose.

you tried to focus on cleaning your workstation and leave all thoughts of akaashi out of your head when the shop bell suddenly rang as a customer came in.

“welcome to-- akaashi?” the sight of him made you stop in your tracks. in his hand, he was holding the pink rose you gave him earlier. you watched as his eyes glanced from the bin of fresh roses on your worktable, to the pink satin ribbon your ribbons case, and you knew he had just put two and two together.

“you’re the mystery florist,” akaashi said, stepping closer to where you were.

“i am,” you sighed, knowing there was nowhere for you to run. “but if you want, i’ll stop sending the flowers. that’s the last one.”

“why would i want that?” akaashi asked.

“because... because you like someone else,” you said softly.

“ah, but when i said i liked someone else back then, that could have meant anyone,” akaashi said, a smile playing on the corner of his lip. “it could even be... you.”

your eyes widened as you understood the meaning of what he had just said. “m-me...?”

“yeah.” now it was akaashi’s turn to feel shy. “i’ve... i’ve liked you for quite a while, y/n.”

“you have?” you could scarcely believe your ears. akaashi, the boy who you had crushed on for so long, liked you back.

“now, i guess it’s about time i be the one to give you flowers,” akaashi smiled, surveying the shop. “what do you suggest?”

you let out a giggle, feeling that rush of giddy joy at the knowledge that akaashi liked you back. you looked around all the flowers in the shop, so many meanings, so many ways to say ‘i love you.’

your eyes fell on the bin of roses at your workstation and remembered how the thorns hurt your hand. “well, at this point, anything except roses.”

taglist (still open to anyone who wants in!): @montys-chaos @miyumtwins @strawberriimilkshake @pocubo @sugawara-sweetheart @akaashisbabydoll @laure-chan @therainroguefanfiction @atetiffdoesart @stephdaninja @oikaw-ugh @charliefredb @dramaqueenweeb1469 @tremblinghearts @applepienation @doodleniella @haikyuu-my-love

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itsclydebitches · 3 years ago

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Hello again! Im the tinfoil hat anon with the long ass asks and I finally had the time to read your response. Thank you, it makes my day reading your answers. I honestly just enjoyed them over a cup of coffee like a good book.

Now, the gun pointing scene I mentioned was in fact the one from the droid fight facility like the other anon suggested. But I really liked that you covered the boat scene too, I haven’t thought of it much myself and now I definitely have!

I also would like to mention I love your “candy bar” choice analogy and I 100% agree Hunter’s “invitation” to join back wasn’t welcoming in the slightest. It is very likely just an obligation as you said. Sort of “you gave us a chance, we owe you a chance too”.

And the problem with it is now I am struggling to figure out how the batch members might change their attitude toward Crosshair going forward, especially Hunter. As of right now Crosshair’s best relationship is not with his brothers but with Omega(as surprising as this is). And I think he does realize now she cared about him the most out of all of them during the short time they interacted(both 1st and last episodes). Even between themselves(not counting Omega) I find most of the bad batch members to be cold and distant to each other. They feel less like a family than Rebels for example. And they aren’t even a “found family”(a trope everyone loves) but an actual one! And I get that they’re soldiers and supposed to be tough, I don’t expect them to share all “the feels”. I just can’t put my finger on it but something feels off. I agree with your previous post, the show doesn’t do a very good job showing or even telling they love each other.

Will Hunter and co only start caring about their brother again only after he leaves the empire?(assuming he does at some point). What about Disney’s prevailing theme and message that “family always love and care for each other no matter what”? I guess it’s “family always love and care for each other but only if you’re good guys making right choices”. There is no room for mistakes or wrong decisions. In the last episode everyone form the batch seemed to have given up on Crosshair(besides Omega). For now their attitude seems to be just “you’re not our enemy” and that’s that.

I realize Crosshair is a “bad guy” and consciously made his choice(and we know it’s the wrong one) but to me it felt like he thought he didn’t even had a choice or rather became so lost and confused he actually thought he chose the empire as “the lesser evil”(as in the less shitty choice out of all the other bad ones). We as audience have the benefit to know exactly how atrocious the empire really is but maybe Crosshair still doesn’t realize that.

So what exactly must Crosshair do to get back “in their good graces” as you say? Start saving “the good guys”? Save the bad batch multiple times? There is a popular opinion on how Crosshair can redeem himself. That he eventually heroically sacrifices himself to save them. I personally REALLY hope it’s NOT what’s going to happen but I heard so many people speculating his story is set up to be redemption=death. I know you mentioned you don’t want “Vader style redemption” either. Personally I think it would be a waste of a character who has a lot of potential. And I just think that the batch kind of don’t really deserve his sacrifice(maybe save for Omega) after how they never tried to save him themselves and how they treated him overall. Maybe he will risk his life to save Omega at some point and that will “prove” to Hunter he cares? Although he has already shown he cares by saving her(even if in Crosshair’s own words it’s just so they’re “even”). And the thing is, he doesn’t need to prove that he loves them, he already did that in episode 15 and made it clear he does care. He actually went to extreme by shooting his squad to prove his loyalty. What were the moments the batch demonstrated they care about him? Hunter saying “you never were our enemy” and taking his unconscious body to safety? To me Hunter “not leaving him behind” during bombardment felt more like guilt about the last time it happened and an obligation to Crosshair for helping them with droids, rather than them showing care. And I kinda of think if that was any random civilian(or anyone other than an enemy or a threat) they would carry them out too just because that’s what good guys do and not because it’s their brother. You also mentioned that minutes later Hunter snaps at him with “if you want to stay here and die, that’s your choice” which I agree can be interpreted in different ways. And I think it’s one more point to it being an obligation that in Hunter’s eyes is fulfilled now. He corrected his mistake of leaving a brother behind and saved him this time, now his guilt won’t burden him any longer.

Anyway, I can’t wait for season 2 and I appreciate you and all the anons sharing the tinfoil hat, interacting and speculating together. Those discussions have been a lot of fun!

TLDR: How do your think the relationship between the brothers will mend or evolve in the next season? Do you think S2 will improve in portraying the batch more as a family rather than a group of mercs doing missions together? What are your thoughts on the popular idea of Crosshair’s redemption by ultimate sacrifice? As in, how likely do you think this scenario is?

Anon, that is just wonderfully hilarious to me. Ah yes, the sunrise, a good cup o' joe, and the overly long character analysis of a snarky, fictional sniper. Exactly what everyone needs in the morning! 😆

You know, TBB is far from the first show I've watched where there's an obvious, emotional conclusion the creator wants the audience to come to—the squad all love each other Very Much—yet that conclusion isn't always well supported by the text. It creates this horribly awkward situation where you're going, "Yes, I'm fully aware of what the show wanted to do, but this reading, arguably, did not end up in the story itself. So what are we talking about here? The intention, or the execution?" It's like Schrödinger's Bad Batch where the group is simultaneously Very Loving and Very Distant depending on how much meta-aspects are influencing your reading: those authorial intentions, understanding of how found family tropes should work, fluff focused fics/fan art that color our understanding of the characters, etc. And, of course, whether someone saw TCW before they watched TBB. I personally wouldn't go quite so far as to say they're "cold" towards one another—with Crosshair as an exception now—but there wasn't the level of bonding among the squad that I expected of a show called The Bad Batch. Especially compared to their arc in TCW. The other night I re-watched the season seven premiere and was struck not just by how much more the squad interacted with each other back then, but how those interactions added depth to their characters too. For example, Crosshair is the mean one, right? He's the one picking fights with the Regs? Well yeah... but it's also Wrecker. While they're trying to decide what to do with Cody injured, Jesse calls out Crosshair on his attitude—"You can't talk to Captain Rex like that!"—and Wrecker's immediate response is, "Says who?" and he hefts Jesse into the air. And then he just holds him there, clearly using his superior strength to do as he pleases, until Hunter (sounding pretty angry) tells him to put Jesse down. If Wrecker had put him into a more classically understood bullying position, like pinning him to the ground, it would probably read as less funny—less "Haha strong clone lifts Jesse up in the air!" and more "Oh shit, strong clone can do whatever the hell he wants to the Regs and few are able to stop him." It's such a quick moment, but it tells us a ton about Wrecker. That he's going to stick up for his brothers, no matter the context (Crosshair deserves to be called out). That he will gleefully assist Crosshair in bothering the Regs (something that is reinforced when he later throws the trays in the mess hall, after Hunter has already deescalated the situation). That he's likely been hurt by awful treatment from the Regs too. That he'll only listen to Hunter when it comes to backing off. Little of this work—that interplay among the squad that shows us new sides to them other than basic things like "Wrecker is the nice, happy brother"—exists in TBB.

Or, at least, little exists after Omega becomes an official member of the squad.

Because, as said previously, she becomes the focus. I don't mean that as a total criticism. As established, I love Omega. But if we're talking about why the squad can feel so distant from each other, I think she's the root cause, simply because the story became all about her relationships with the Batch, rather than the Batch's relationships with each other. Having dived headfirst into reading and writing fic, it occurred to me just how many of the bonding moments we love, the sort of stuff we'll see repeated in fics because we understand that this is where the story's emotional center is, are given to Omega in canon:

Someone is hurt and in need of comfort. Omega's emotional state is the focus + moments like her being worried over Hunter getting shot.

Someone needs to learn a new skill. Echo teaches Omega how to use her bow.

Someone reveals a skill they never knew they had before. Omega is a strategic genius and plays her last game with Hunter.

Someone is in serious danger and in need of rescue. Omega rescues the group from the slavers + is the most vocal about rescuing Hunter. (Which, again, is a pretty sharp contrast to the whole Crosshair situation.) Omega, in turn, needs rescuing from things like the decommission conveyor belt.

Similarly, someone is kidnapped and in need of rescue. Omega is kidnapped twice by bounty hunters and the Batch goes after her.

Someone saves another's life. Omega saves Crosshair from drowning.

Someone does something super sweet for another. Wrecker gives Omega her room. Omega gives Wrecker Lula.

A cute tradition is established between characters. Wrecker has his popcorn-esque candy sharing with Omega.

Someone hurts someone else and has to ask forgiveness. Wrecker is upset about nearly shooting Omega and they have that sweet moment together.

Note that most of these examples could have occurred between other Batch members, but didn't. Someone could have created a space for Echo on the ship too. Wrecker also could have apologized to Tech for choking him, etc. It's not that those moments shouldn't happen with Omega, just that there should be more of a balance across the whole season, especially for a show supposedly focused on the original squad. Additionally, it's not that cute bonding moments between the rest of the Batch don't exist. I love Hunter selling Echo off as a droid. I love Wrecker and Tech bickering while fixing the ship. I love the tug-of-war to save Wrecker from the sea monster. Yes, we do have moments... it's just that comparatively it feels pretty skewed in Omega's direction.

So, as a VERY long-winded way of answering your question, I think we need to fix the above in order to tackle Crosshair's redemption in season two. Now that we've had a full season focused on Omega, we need to strike a better balance among the rest of the squad moving forward. We need to re-established the "obvious" conclusion that the rest of the Batch loves Crosshair and that's done (in part) by establishing their love for one another too. To my mind, both goals go hand-in-hand, especially since you can develop their relationship with Crosshair and their relationships with each other simultaneously. Imagine if instead of just having Wrecker somewhat comically admit that he misses Crosshair (like he's dead and they can't go get him??), he and Tech had a serious conversation about why they can't get him back yet, despite very much wanting to. Imagine if Echo, the one who was rescued against all odds, got to scream at Hunter to go get Crosshair like Omega screamed at them to go back for Hunter. Imagine if we'd gotten more than a tiny arc in TCW to establish the Batch's dynamic with each other, providing a foundation for how they would each react to Crosshair's absence. Instead, what little we've got in TBB about Crosshair's relationship with his brothers is filtered through Omega: Omega's embarrassment that she knocked over Crosshair's case, Omega treating Crosshair's comm link like a toy, Omega's quest to save Hunter that just happened to involve Crosshair along the way.

Obviously, at this point we can't fix how the first season did things, but I think we can start patching over these issues in season two. It would be jarring—we'd still be 100% correct to ask where this "Brothers love you, support you, and will endlessly fight for you" theme was for Crosshair's entire time under the Empire's thumb... but I'd take an about-face into something better than not getting any improvement at all. It is frustrating though, especially for a show that I otherwise really, really enjoyed. For me, the issue isn't so much that the show made a mistake (since no show is perfect), but that the mistake is attached to such a foundational part of the franchise. Not just in terms of "SW is about hope and forgiveness" but the specific relationship most clones have with each other: a willingness to go above and beyond for their brothers. The focus on Omega aside, it's hard to believe in the family dynamic when one member of the family was so quickly and easily dismissed. I couldn't get invested in Hunter's rescue as much as I should have because rather than going, "Yes!! Save your brother!!!" my brain just kept going, "Lol where was this energy for Crosshair?" It messes with your reading of the whole story, so in order to fix that mistake going forward, we need to start seeing the bonds that only sometimes exist in season one. Show the guys expressing love for one another more consistently (in whatever way that might be—as you say, soldiers don't have to be all touchy-feely. Give us more moments like Wrecker supporting his brothers' bad habits) and then extend that to Crosshair. Which brother is going to demand that they fight for him? Which brother is going to acknowledge that they never tried to save him? Which brother is going to question this iffy statement about the chip? In order to buy into the family theme, Omega can't be the only one doing that emotional work.

Ideally, I wouldn't want Crosshair to go out of his way to prove that he's a good guy now. I mean, I obviously want him to stop helping the Empire and such, duh lol, but I'm personally not looking for a bunch of Extra Good Things directed at the Batch as a requirement for forgiveness. Simply because that would reinforce the idea that they're 100% Crosshair's victims, Crosshair is 100% the bad guy, and he's the only one who needs to do any work to fix this situation. Crosshair needs to stop doing bad things (working for Empire). But the Batch needs to start doing good things too (reaching out to him). Especially since Crosshair made a good play already, only to be met with glares and distrust. He saved Omega! And AZI! And none of them cared. So am I (is Crosshair) supposed to believe that saving one of their lives again will result in a different reaction? That doesn't make much sense. And no, his own life wasn't at risk when he did that, but does every antagonist need to die/nearly die to prove they're worth fighting for? As you say, he's already shown that he loves them, far more than they've shown the reverse. Every time Crosshair hurt them (attacking) it was while he was under the chip's influence. In contrast, the group has no "I was being controlled" excuse for when they hurt him (abandonment). Season two needs to acknowledge the Batch's responsibility in all this—and acknowledge that they're all victims of the Empire—in order to figure out an appropriate arc for Crosshair's redemption.

Right now, the issue is not Crosshair loving his brothers, the issue is how Crosshair chooses to express that love: trying to keep them safe and giving them a purpose in life by joining the organization that's clearly going to dominate the galaxy. The only way to fix that, now that his offer has been rejected, is for him to realize that a life on the run from the Empire, together, is a better option for everyone. And the only way for that to happen is for the Batch to seriously offer him a place with them again. They need to make the first move here. They need to fight for him. And yeah, I totally get that a lot of people don't like that because it's not "fair." He's the bad guy. He's with the fascist allegory. He's killed people and has therefore lost any right to compassion and effort from the good guys... but if that's the case, then we just have to accept that (within the story-world, not from a writing perspective) Crosshair is unlikely to ever come back from this. When people reach that kind of low, they rarely pull themselves out on their own. They need other people to help them do that. Help them a lot. But with the exception of Omega's reminder—which Crosshair can't believe due to how everyone else has treated him—they leave him alone and seem to expect him to fix himself first, then he gets their support. It needs to be the other way around. Support is what would allow him to become a good guy again, not "Well, you'll get our love when you're good again, not before." That's unlikely to occur and, as discussed, it doesn't take into account things like this bad guy life being forced on Crosshair at the start. If the story really wanted this to be a matter of ideological differences... then make it about ideological differences. Let Crosshair leave of his own free will, right at the start. Don't enslave him for half the season, have him realize he was abandoned, imply all that brainwashing, give him no realistic way out, and then punish him for not doing the right thing. This isn't a situation where someone went bad for the hell of it—the story isn't asking us to feel compassion for, say, the Admiral—it's a situation where Crosshair was controlled and now can't see a way out. That context allows for the Batch, the good guys, to fight for him without the audience thinking the show is just excusing that behavior. They should have been fighting from the start, but since they didn't, I hope we at least start seeing that in season two.

Ultimately though... I don't really expect all of the above. The more balanced dynamics and having the Batch fight for Crosshair rather than Crosshair going it alone... I wouldn't want to bet any money on us getting it, just because these are things that should have been established in season one and would have been more easy to pull off in season one. (If the Batch wouldn't fight for Crosshair while he was literally under the Empire's control, why would they fight now when he's supposedly acting of his own free will? It's backwards in terms of the emotional effort involved.) But again, it could happen! I'd be very pleased if it did happen, despite the jarring change. I don't want to make it sound like I think they're going to write off Crosshair entirely. Far from it, I think there are too many details like his sad looks for that, to say nothing of Omega's compassion. But the execution of getting him on Team Good Guys again might be preeeetty bumpy. I expect it to revolve around Crosshair's sins and Crosshair's redemption, even if what I would like is balancing that with Crosshair's loss of agency, the Batch's mistakes, and their own redemption towards him.

Honestly though, I just hope that whatever happens happens soon. It's a personal preference, absolutely, but after a season of Crosshair as the antagonist, I'm ready for him to be back with the group, making the Empire (and bounty hunters) the primary enemy. Whether his return happens through a mutual acknowledgement of mistakes, or through Crosshair being depicted as the only one in the wrong who has to do something big to be forgiven... just get him back with the squad lol. Because if the writing isn't going to delve into that nuance, then the longer he remains unforgiven, the longer some of us have to watch a series while going, "Wait, wait, wait, I really don't agree with how you're painting this picture."

#TBB #The Bad Batch #SW #Star Wars #mymetas #long post

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fosermi · 4 years ago

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Sides AU

Surely I'm not the only one who thought that redson is actually a good guy trying to please his parents while also trying to accomplish a task given to him by Guanyin to change his parents to good?

This AU is just that! If you wish to ask any questions feel free to do so!

In any case, have a fic im writing! Yes it has spicynoodles, how couldn't it have spicynoodles?? Now enjoy! Hopefully it lives up to your standards!

===

The rays of the morning sun penetrated the curtains that blocked its path into the dimly lit room, gently grazing the scarred face of a certain redhead. Opening his eyes, Red Son sat up and looked over at his bedside clock only to find “6:32 am” written in red, quite early for his taste. With a sigh, Red Son got up and slipped on his slippers before walking to the bathroom directly connected to his room in order to freshen up.

Going through the motions, the fire demon had no trouble washing up quite quickly and preparing for the day. But today felt a bit off.

As he slipped on his signature red jacket, Red Son looked at himself in the mirror and noted that his usually bright fire-red hair seemed a bit darker at the tips and somewhat noticeable bags under his eyes.

Red Son was nearing a burn out. He knew that. And he knew that he had to take care of himself soon or he could end up defenseless. With another sigh, Red Son went over to his table and wrote a note, knowing his parents would be worried if he had suddenly disappeared without a word while they slumber in the early morning.

Pinning the note to his door, the red demon proceeded to leave their hidden home. To take a well-deserved stroll through the city, he really needed the fresh air and a change of pace. Deciding that, Red Son turned on his phone and searched around for a relatively quiet place to go to before sending a text to someone.

===

Jumping out of bed, MK stretched and let out a satisfied hum. Finally, a day he could relax on! Pigsy was so kind as to give MK the day off today after that fight they all had on the new year.

After a quick shower and change, MK headed down to the shop only to see it closed for the day with Pigsy talking with Mr. Tang about something.

“Good morning!” MK called over to the duo before joining them over by the counter and being offered some toast from Pigsy, which MK hungrily ate after placing down his phone.

“Good morning to you too MK” Mr. Tang said with a warm, light hearted chuckle, only to be cut off when MK’s phone started to buzz. The trio eyed the phone wondering who could be texting at this early hour.

Ignoring it the first time, the three of them went back to eating breakfast and talking until MK’s phone buzzed again but this time the screen lit up. Quickly seeing the name of the sender, MK picked up his phone and read the message that was sent earning him curious stares from the shop owner and their regular.

Quickly sending back a text of his own, MK got up and ran into the kitchen with a quick “Do we have any left-over noodles?” and proceeding to get some more spices to spice up the soup.

His sudden actions confused the shop owner, but nevertheless the pig replied to his employee “there are some left over noodles in the fridge…” before going in to help fix up the noodles

Tang watched as the coworkers fixed up a batch of noodles. “Um… MK? Why are you making noodles? Isn’t the shop closed today?” the scholar asked, pushing his glasses up to see better.

The sudden question stopped the yellow clad hero and caused him to look at the scholar who had taught him a lot over the four years he has worked at Pigsy’s noodles. “Um… well you see…” MK started as he held out a plastic bag readying the noodles to be delivered. “A friend of mine is feeling sick and… well… I wanted to give him something warm to eat…”

With a low hum of acceptance as Tang continued to sip on the tea he was previously given by Pigsy. “well, I do hope he gets better…”

“And be back by 8 alright, kid?” said Pigsy with an overprotective huff.

MK smiled at his two father-figures and headed off to the door as soon as he grabs the bag of noodles “Will do!” and soon the yellow clad 20-year-old drove off to deliver the noodles and keep his friend company, knowing full well he needs it.

Back at the shop, Tang pushed up his glasses again as he held the cup of tea in his hands. “I wonder who this friend of his is…” he said in a quiet whisper.

“Beats me… the kid has been doing this since he first got therapy four years ago…” Pigsy said his arms crossed “Anyway, I know for a fact that he hasn’t done this since he first got the monkey king’s staff… I’m glad whoever it is MK is going to hasn’t turned tails and turned into a raging fan…” the pig scoffed before turning his gaze back to the Scholar who gave a soft hum.

===

Red Son sat down on the stone steps of an old temple. There were some people here and there but it was relatively quiet and peaceful, allowing him to sit there for hours on end on days like these.

Taking in a deep breath, Red Son attempted to calm himself more by meditating, only for his concentration to disappear as soon as a familiar noodle delivery cart stopped close by.

Soon, MK stepped out of the cart and scanned the surroundings, only to smile seeing the signature red of the fire demon.

With a skip to his pace, MK strolled over to Red Son with his order of noodles before handing it to him.

"Thank you, noodle boy…" Red Son said with a hint of a tease in his voice which caused MK to huff and cross his arms.

"You know you don't have to call me that when we're alone…"

"I know… but it has grown on me" with a chuckle at how MK pouts when being called noodle boy.

MK was unable to keep pouting however and hugged the red demon with a faint smile, already noting how dark the tips of his hair is. "Overworked yourself again Red?"

His only response was a quiet hum and a nod from the hungry demon who proceeded to eat his breakfast.

This wasn't the first time they had hung out like this. In fact, the duo had been friends for roughly four years and seemed to have been very close to one another. However, due to the nature of their respected sides, they were pinned against each other, to fight each other as the successors of their families.

Minutes turned into hours as the duo talk and laughed and cared for each other, more about Red Son though, knowing how easy it is for him to burn out without his full power that was being sealed away by the five golden rings that were placed on him by the deity of the temple they were currently sitting next to. There was no darkness, no evil, only friendship at that moment, and they both wished it would last…

However, unbeknownst to the both of them, a pair of bright red eyes watched the two interact and have fun as a smile spread across the face of the one watching.

#monkie kid au #monkie kid #monkie kid fanfiction #red son #mk #Sides au

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bthump · 4 years ago

Note

A positive aspect of this chapter is that Miura's digital art seems to be getting better.

Idk enough about art to notice any subtle nuances but if you’ve noticed some improvement then awesome, I’ll take it and hope that trend continues!

another batch of asks and replies

@pandawarriors said: I keep seeing people saying how they hate the kids, I guess I’m the only one who likes them. Sure, Isidro is kind of imature, but it’s not to the point of being annoying, well at least for me that is. I do agree that the whole fanatasia thing isn’t really for me. I kinda wish the story would have continued with the same vibe that the Golden Age had. I wonder if it’s the kids characters that people hate or if it’s the fact that they kinda symbolize how Berserk changed.

pandawarriors said: I really think that they wouldn’t be hated as much if they had been introduced to the story back during the Golden Age arc.

Speaking for myself I already hate most fictional children and the style of humour these specific ones bring out in the current story lol so I can tell you for sure that I wouldn’t have liked them in the Golden Age either. I’m glad you enjoy them though, it must make the story a lot more entertaining at times.

And tbf you are right that they’re pretty emblematic of other things I personally dislike about current Berserk, such as the lighter tone and aspects of Guts’ character development, so that’s also a factor for me.

But I do think it’s pretty reasonable to dislike the kid characters. The greatest sin a fictional character can commit imo is making the story less fun to read, and the kids certainly do that for me and many others.

Anon 2: I straight up scrolled past the Isidro filler bc I wanted to have mercy on my eyes and brain. Also, I really want to see at least one character in Berserk die right now. And hopefully it's Isidro and he gets cut in half.

Why couldn't it be u writing Berserk 😢

lmao if Miura killed off Isidro I’d be the first to celebrate, but I don’t have high hopes. But it’d be nice. Also ty lol 💖

Anon 3: i think this entire isidro/schierke filler cringe is there to prepare us for the worst cringe: werebaby shifting into naked griffith in the middle of a family reunion, which is somehow going to be made worse by the terrible art style berserk has got going on.

also im sorry for all the negativity in your asks queen, it's just everyone's losing it. but i guess we got each other and the golden age trio, which i hope we can rescue from whatever basement miura's torturing them in.

Frankly the best evidence for literal werebaby is that it would make it easy for Miura to shoehorn in more Guts staring at naked Griffith lmao so that’s definitely gonna happen if werebaby real. It’s an awkward silver lining but I’m not gonna say no to it.

and lol yeah I’m feeling pretty negative too so like, I don’t mind getting disappointed asks bc misery loves company. but in those tags I wanted to warn ppl in case they want to avoid negativity.

#this'll be my last post tonight i think #but i'll check my inbox tomorrow too and also keep posting queued asks from earlier #berserk spoilers #chapter 363 #ask #convo #pandawarriors #Anonymous

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land-of-classpects-and-analysis · 4 years ago

Note

hey man!! I really love your classpect analyses. the way you write is phenomenal and it really helps me understand so much more abt classpects overall!! your knight of heart one was particularly enlightening ^^ I was wondering if you perhaps had the time to do witch of heart? im struggling with deciding on a class rn and I think comparing it to your knight of heart analysis might help >u< thanks so much, have a good day/night!! <3

Hehehe oh it was ENLIGHTENING huh Anon? Wink wonk /light-hearted /joking around

But eeeeee thank you!! I’m absolutely happy to hear that you enjoy my writing style, and that my analysis has helped quite a bit!

Unfortunately I can’t exactly do a full banger of a Witch of Heart analysis right now because of the way I have my whole schedule and what not, but lucky enough for you I already have written up a sneak peek type of analysis from a month or so ago! I do hope it will suffice enough until Fate and Randomness eventually fish Witch of Heart fully from this ocean of Classpects!

The Witch of Heart is someone who could be quite a nasty person if they so desire. They are certain in who they are as a person, having already found their sense of self by being in an environment that allowed for it to form and be shaped. One could even argue that this could lead to the Witch believing themself to be a better, more superior person because of it - perhaps rivaling that of a Maid or Heir of Heart. However, if they were to be moved into a different environment, the Witch of Heart would most likely be rather quick in changing their tune. At first, the Witch of Heart may show themself to be a cutesy, innocent, kind-hearted soul who simply wants to help others find out their own identities and who they are. While they may have good intentions, if the Witch of Heart were to feel as though their efforts were not being appreciated or that their skills were being misused, taken advantage of, or downplayed, then they would not hesitate to continue playing the personality of a kind individual while also plotting to manipulate and twist the arm and soul, literal or otherwise, of the person who they believe has wronged them.

Manipulating the Heart, the soul, the self could be a tool both helpful and horrifying to those who witness the true power of the Witch of Heart. By words alone, they could take someone and make them question who they are, doubt everything they have known and believed, and perhaps even betray or change their own morals. To be on the good side of the Witch of Heart is to have a strong ally, one who may be more than willing to prevent any freak accidents by talking down a person from doing something bad. If words won’t suffice such restless spirits, though, then they will use their own minds and seemingly supernatural abilities, capable of honing in on their target’s own Heart and molding it to their liking. To be on the bad side of the Witch of Heart is to fear for yourself, as well as your Self, often leading to a large sense of paranoia as to who you are or even what you are. Who knows? Maybe the Witch of Heart never placed a hand on your Heart in the first place, and it was all in your silly little head.

Meanwhile, manipulating through the Heart is to manipulate through the self, the soul, which leads to someone who could become quite the persuasive person. They are quite similar to the first batch of Witches of Heart, but these are the ones who are far more prone to using more than just their soul to manipulate others. They also will often use their powers far more sparingly, because while they may still have fun manipulating the occasional person in whatever means necessary, to do so through one’s own self can become quite exhausting. However, it is during these moments of rest that the Witch of Heart will often do the most self-reflection, but most importantly will try to learn how they can weaponize their Heart more acutely and flawlessly, crafting themself to be someone of mystery yet also of allure. A flame for all the foolish moths who believe them to be a source of kindness and gentle warmth.

One of the biggest threats to the Witch of Heart is that, while although they do have a strong sense as to who they are, even they are not immune to their own powers of manipulating. They are like the chameleons of Witches, as well as Heart-bound; capable of blending in to their surroundings and the people around them - a metaphorical shapeshifter, if you will. It is because of this gift - this supposed blessing - that a curse will inevitably befall the Witch if they are not careful in how many colors they proudly hoard and collect for them. Living a double life is one thing, but to live 30+ lives is another mess that would overwhelm anyone. If the Witch of Heart is not careful in how they use this power, then their sense of self will begin to slip through their fingers until, inevitably, they fall over the edge and into the ocean that is the Soul - the Heart. This is to say that they will have become so overpowered by their Aspect that they will be doomed to drown in all of the false identities they made for themself, never knowing exactly how they are. After well, when one is caught in the ravenous waves of the ocean, it can be difficult to tell up from down or even left from right. It can be difficult to remember who you really are when even the people around you do not know and cannot help save you.

It is a fear shared amongst many Witches of Heart, but it is one that not all of them share. Not that one’s opinion matters on such a thing, as it is a fate - a beast - always on the prowl, waiting to come and snatch away any Witch of Heart who became far too greedy.

Hope this helps to add at least a little bit of insight into how Witches of Heart work!! Thanks a bunch again for the kind words, Anon!

#Mage Musings #not a full analysis #Witch of Heart Preview

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lavenderlattaes · 5 years ago

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smitten. | min yoongi

⇒ summary: Min Yoongi had been your best friend for as long as you can remember, and he loves spoiling you rotten. Yoongi loves you more than he probably loves his Audi but you’re not so sure about that, yet. Until your friends start pointing it out to the two of you.

⇒ [college! au, rich kid! au, friends to lovers! au]

⇒ pairing: min yoongi x reader

⇒ word count: 12.9k words

⇒ genre: tooth-aching fluff, I suppose and,,, would u consider this slowburn

⇒ warnings: curse words, 12k words of word vomit lmao, and it’s too sweet for diabetic peeps sksk

⇒ note: hello, tumblr. It’s been a while, lmao. This fic wasn’t supposed to be this long, it was supposed to be a drabble idk what happened. ignore mistakes bc im a bit of a blind bat and enjoy! ＼ʕ •ᴥ•ʔ／

You push the car door open, and your beaten-up white Converse hits the gravel as you get out of the car. You close the car door shut behind you, slinging your backpack on your shoulders as you squint up at the massive school buildings standing gloriously underneath the early summer sun. You hear the trunk open and the sound of suitcases hitting the ground snaps you from your daze. You turn around and see your best friend Yoongi unloading your suitcases.

“Oh, sorry!” You apologize, running over to him as you help him unload your suitcases. Yoongi takes his largest suitcase out last, slamming the trunk of his Audi shut, wiping the sweat trickling down his forehead with his forearm. You sigh and pull out your hanky from your pocket as you cup his cheek and wipe the sweat.

“You know that there’s things called towels and handkerchiefs, right? You should know that, you can probably buy an entire department store of it,” you tell him as you finish wiping his face and proceed to fixing his hair.

Yoongi just chuckles as he stuffs his hands in his pockets. You just smile as you finish fixing his hair. If it were some other person, Yoongi wouldn’t have let them touch his hair, but you were Y/L/N Y/N, his best friend, and he loves you a whole fucking lot.

Yoongi takes two of his suitcases in his right hand and holds your hand in his left. You take your suitcases in your left too, and he leads you to the main building where you’ll be getting your dorm keys.

“Are you nervous?” Yoongi leans toward you slightly, noticing your clammy hand as you approach the building and pass by a lot of students. Your shyness tends to resurface in the presence of a lot of people and you were thankful that your best friend was calm, collected, and cool to help you get through it all, ever since you were in high school.

Just as you reach the steps, you hear the familiar loud voices of your other three friends behind you.

“I’m telling you, Hobi, she was looking at ME! I mean, who wouldn’t? I’m obviously the ten out of the three of us here, you and Joon are eights,” the windshield wiper laugh of Kim Seokjin soon follows after his statement, and you and Yoongi turn around to see your friends, Jung Hoseok, Kim Seokjin, and his cousin Kim Namjoon, carrying their own things. Hoseok and Seokjin were both in a very intense conversation about a girl who, according to Seokjin, had the hots for him, despite Hoseok insisting that she was only looking at him because of the amount of pink in his arms. Namjoon, who was shaking his head at his cousin and his other slightly naïve friend, spots you and Yoongi first.

“Hey, Y/N and Yoongi are already here!” He slaps the broad-shouldered guy besides him, who stops talking Hoseok’s ear off before he quickens his pace to greet the two of you. Seokjin and Hoseok follow right behind him. Yoongi lets go of your hand so he can do their handshake, and the boys give you hugs.

“I didn’t think we’d all arrive at around the same time, Seokjin was taking forever,” Hoseok brings up and the boy beside him whips his head to cry out a complaint.

“YAH! I forgot to bring RJ, he was relaxing on my bed and didn’t call out to me, I was starting to think he really didn’t want to come with,” Seokjin hoists the huge, alpaca stuffed toy up higher.

Yoongi rolls his eyes at them. “Whatever. Let’s just go inside and get our keys and room assignments.” The boys nod and Yoongi takes your hand again, leading the way inside.

You twist the doorknob, and take a peek inside the plain, white room that will ultimately be your new home for the next four years. You step inside fully, pulling your suitcase along behind you. You bring it over to the side and Yoongi follows right behind you, carrying a few of your other things.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t get a roommate, won’t you be scared of sleeping in a room alone?” Yoongi speaks up, his eyes roaming around the room. You sit down on the bed opposite the one you’ve chosen to sleep on as Yoongi closes the door behind him. Your friends were all busy unpacking and while you told Yoongi to do the same too, he insisted on accompanying you to your room, saying he “wanted to make sure my best friend felt comfy in her new room”.

You laugh. “Yoongi, I sleep alone at home, remember?” You pull your legs up, folding them underneath you. Yoongi gives you a look. “You know what I mean. College life is stressful and scary, Y/N. Are you ready to face all of that alone?” Yoongi stresses out, making you snort.

“I’m having my classes in lecture halls, Yoongi. Not my dorm room. Besides, Joon and I share most of the same classes together, so I’m not completely alone. Plus, you talk as if I won’t see you and the others everyday.” You point out, and Yoongi nods and shrugs, getting your point.

He stands up and walks over to sit beside you. You twist your body to look at him and he looks at you, sighing, as he pulls your head in close, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You smile softly at his gentle action, reaching forward to wrap your arms around his waist.

“Promise me you won’t die before the end of the first semester,” Yoongi whispers and you laugh, punching his stomach lightly. “Tell that to yourself, Min.”

Yoongi starts playing some of his songs while he helps you unpack. You talk occasionally but focus on getting the work done first so you can hang out with the other boys.

Min Yoongi had been your best friend from pretty much the moment you were conceived. Your parents – both moms and dads – were college buddies. They were the literal definition of friendship goals. Yoongi was a year older than you, but ever since you were both born, your parents always made the two of you bond together. Yoongi’s older brother hung out with your older brother, but they weren’t as close as you and Yoongi. When you were born, of course Yoongi’s family came to visit you and your mom at the hospital. Yoongi was barely two years old, but the moment his eyes fell on you, he fell in love. You were adorable and Yoongi already wanted someone to protect at such a young age. Yoongi was smitten for you the moment you were born. So, when you were a few months older, your parents organized play dates for the two of you already. Most of the time, you hung out at Yoongi’s place. His house was larger than yours by about two floors, so you had more playing space.

Yoongi was absolutely smitten for you – whatever it was that you wanted, for as long as you both could remember, Yoongi would hand it to you on a silver platter. You remember when you were both around six years old - you wanted to have his stuffed toy poodle, and even though it was Yoongi’s favorite stuffed toy, he didn’t hesitate to give it to you. No matter though, because years later, Yoongi bought an actual toy poodle that he named Holly.

Growing up, you were the loud, outgoing one, while Yoongi was on the quieter side. It wasn’t until high school when you became good friends with Hoseok, Seokjin, and his cousin Namjoon that Yoongi started breaking out of his shell. Hoseok and Seokjin were especially loud and they always made Yoongi laugh. Namjoon was loud too, but because the boy had a thing for destroying things in his path, he chose to be quieter so he wouldn’t attract too much attention from being so loud and breaking everything along the way. It was also in high school when you started to get shy – you were faced with the reality that you were a teenager already and that soon enough, you’d have to face the world without Yoongi by your side. Everything was starting to overwhelm you, so you turned to writing pieces of literary work. You thought back then that you’d end up alone, but you found yourself hitting it off really well with Namjoon, comparing famous literary works, writing your own pieces, and asking for constructive criticism from one another.

Your fun, lovable group of five stayed together all of high school, and now up until college. You were all so excited and happy to get accepted into the same art university, a three hour drive away from home. You’re taking up creative writing with Namjoon, Hoseok will take up dance, Seokjin with theatre, and Yoongi with music, majoring in piano.

In the middle of a Halsey song, Yoongi breaks your line of thought (which was just you singing along to Roman Holiday, anyway).

“Hey, do you wanna go get some food with the guys? They’re downstairs.” You fix your ponytail and nod, smiling.

“Sure, I’m starving anyway.” Yoongi ruffles your head and grabs his stuff while you do the same.

“Come on, it’s my treat.” Yoongi opens your door and lets you go out first.

“It’s always your treat, Yoongi. When was it not?” Yoongi laughs at that. “True.”

“Make sure to turn them in before the end of next week, okay? I’ll be expecting a lot from you all; you seem like such a promising batch of writers,” Professor Bang says, making you and the rest of the class respond with “yes” and “okay”, just before you stand up to leave.

“Have you thought about what to write for your essay, Y/N?” Namjoon asks you as you both make your way outside the lecture hall along with the other students.

You purse your lips in thought. Professor Bang wanted to start off the semester by making you write about anything that you were comfortable with. He wanted you to show him the things that you were concerned about, the things that were close to you, and you wanted to make sure you left a lasting impression in his class. Professor Bang was someone you could see yourself remembering for a long time, even if the seasons have changed and the days have gone by. He knew how to teach, not because he was smart, but because he was inspired, because he loves what he’s doing, and he wants to share that with students like you and Namjoon. He was a jolly person, but he also wanted to push you to your limits, something you’ve noticed during the hour and a half class with him that morning.

“Hm, I don’t really know yet. Maybe something about transitioning from being a teenager to an adult, the ups and downs that come along with it, the rush of it all. How about you?” You look up at the tall guy beside you, and he pushes his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

“I want to write something about self-love, about what it means to love yourself, despite your flaws and imperfections.” You smile; Namjoon has always been the smartest in your group, always contemplating about things. He had a habit of thinking things through properly, instead of making rash or impulsive decisions.

“Professor Bang makes me want to wear my heart on my sleeve and I don’t know why. He’s that kind of teacher that you want to impress and show all your best sides to, but at the same time, you want to show him all your worst points too, because you know he won’t hold it against you or judge you for it,” Namjoon says your thoughts out loud, making you nod in agreement.

“I really want to do well in his class, I’ve already taken a liking to him,” You reply and suddenly, an arm slings around your shoulder. The familiar smell of his cologne wafts through your nose and you smile, turning to the boy standing beside you.

“Taken a liking to who?” Yoongi asks, raising his free hand up to Namjoon as a greeting. The taller boy raises his eyebrows smiling.

“Professor Bang. He’s like, our favorite teacher now.” You explain and Yoongi lets out an ‘aah’.

“Are you up for some lunch right now? Seokjin and Hobi are at this cool diner ten minutes away from here,” Yoongi asks the two of you and Namjoon shrugs.

“Sure, why not?”

When you get to the diner, Seokjin and Hoseok are in another intense conversation again. “I’m telling you, Hobi! She was looking at my broad shoulders!” Seokjin explains dramatically, Hoseok’s eyes were wide as saucers as he sipped on his Sprite, listening to Seokjin. Seokjin leans back in his seat and says casually, “She might even be looking for ways to get my number right now.”

Walking up to them, Yoongi places a hand on Seokjin’s shoulder and says, “She was probably staring at the alpacas resting on both shoulders as if they were your devil and angel.” Yoongi pats the alpaca heads sewn on Seokjin’s shoulders. Seokjin had a weird obsession for alpacas, it was insane.

“Why is it that all of you refuse to believe someone’s actually into me? Why do you all keep on insisting that it’s because of my fashion taste? Tsh,” Seokjin complains, scooting over so you can sit next to him. He pats your head and you bump his shoulder in response. Yoongi sits beside Hobi in front of you, and Joon takes the seat at the end of the table.

You give the exasperated man beside you a side hug as he picks up a chicken wing, groaning under his breath. “That’s okay, Seokjinnie. It’s just because they’ve never seen you actually charm the pants off someone,” You try to console him as he pouts while deboning his chicken.

“Oh, don’t boost his ego any further, Y/N,” Yoongi teases, making Hobi and Joon laugh. You pout and give him a look. “I’m not! You guys just don’t appreciate his visuals, right?” You coo and turn to look at Seokjin who finishes his chicken and puts it down, nodding furiously.

“Ah, come here, Y/N!” Seokjin pulls you in, his greasy fingers reaching out for you as you lean back, laughing. He glares at you but still pulls you in, careful to not stain your baby pink blouse. “I only care about Y/N in this friendship now, she’s the only one that can understand me. Look, she’s even wearing my favorite color!” Seokjin’s windshield wiper laugh starts up.

Namjoon throws his head back, Hobi slams his hands on the table, and Yoongi’s shoulders shake as they laugh at their eldest friend’s antics. “Yes, now give me some love and feed me,” You reply, opening your mouth for Seokjin to feed you. The boy stops laughing, a serious look on his face replacing his huge grin earlier.

“Look, Y/N. I know I said I care about you, but this is MY chicken,” Seokjin explains seriously. You pout at that and Yoongi, your ever-loving best friend swoops in.

“Stop asking for food from him! He only cares about RJ, come on, I’ll get you food,” Yoongi stands up and you follow suit.

“Oh come on, why do you always treat Y/N out for food? What about us?” Your friends protest and Yoongi squints his eyes at them. “This is my best friend we’re talking about here,” he says matter-of-factly. “Then what are WE? Are we just trees to you now?” Hoseok whines and Namjoon snorts at that.

“You’re my friends, duh?” Yoongi shrugs and you laugh. “Come on, Y/N. You want some milkshake too?” Yoongi turns around.

Namjoon lets out an obvious cough. “Whipped,” he mutters and Hoseok and Seokjin laugh. Yoongi turns back around. “What was that?” he asks, and the boys shake their heads at him.

“Nothing,” Namjoon says casually. Yoongi shrugs, turns back around and pulls you with him to the counter.

Yoongi: something’s up with you. Meet me in the parking lot, we’re going somewhere

You sigh when you read Yoongi’s text. You text back a simple ‘okay, be there in a bit’, before making your way to the other side of the school. Even though you knew Yoongi your whole life, it still amazes you how much he can sense when something is wrong. You haven’t texted him yet about how terrible your day went, and here he is, sending the first text. You look up and think back to the events that happened an hour prior.

It’s the week after the deadline of your essay for Professor Bang’s class and during class that day, he returned your essays, red writings scribbled onto your notebooks. On top of yours, in a slightly messy handwriting were the words, “good job, y/n, see me after class please”. You smiled gently at that but then saw the long note he wrote on Namjoon’s. You were starting to doubt your work, so when class ended, you hastily made your way to the front of the room.

Professor Bang was fixing his things and you waited for the last student to walk out, giving Namjoon a close-lipped smile to let him know he should go ahead. He nods and you turn back around to face Professor Bang.

“Y/N, please sit down, kid,” Professor Bang tells you when he looks up, and you nod, grabbing a chair in the front row and bringing it closer to Professor Bang’s table. You gulp. Professor Bang was a short man, slightly on the chubbier side and had small eyes that disappeared whenever he smiled. He was absolutely adorable, but right now, you were starting to doubt that.

“Why did you call me over, Professor?” You ask timidly. Professor Bang scrunches his face up, removing his glasses as he sits comfortably. “It’s about your essay, Y/N.” He answers and you sit up straighter. “Um, what about it, Sir?”

“Do you remember what I told you when I gave you this assignment?” Professor Bang asks and you pause for a bit.

“You, uh, told us to write about anything we were comfortable with; things that we were concerned about, things that were close to us,” You answer.

He nods. “But you know what else I said? I told you to write without restrictions, to write without thinking much about it,” he tells you and you frown lightly.

“I don’t think I quite understand what you mean, sir.” Professor Bang gives you a gentle smile.

“You wrote about something you were concerned about, correct? The transition of being a teenager to an adult,” he begins, and you nod. “You gave a wonderful essay, actually. But it had no soul, Y/N.” He says, leaving you confused. “When I read your essay you know what I thought? ‘This kid is smart, she’s talented, but she’s also trying too hard,” he explains and your heart drops.

Well. That hurt.

“In my class, Y/N, I want you to write for yourself, not for your grades. I want you to write because you want to, not because you want good grades, or because you want me to notice you. Believe me, I notice all of you. I know who you are when I read your essay. I know the kind of person you are, or you want to become. There are things you were keeping from me in your essay. There were also things you shouldn’t have included in your essay. You were keeping your true self from me. I want you to work on that, okay? Stop thinking about things that could happen in the future and start thinking about the things that could happen now. Focus on the now, rather than the later.”

“Penny for your thoughts?” Yoongi’s voice snaps you out of your trance, and you look up, realizing you’ve mindlessly made it to the parking lot, and in front of his car, no less. You sigh and just look at him. Yoongi steps closer to you, extending his arm out to you. He’s wearing all black today, but the rainbow bracelet you made for him during an arts and craft class in the summer when you were only ten rests comfortably on his wrist.

“Come on, just you and me, yeah?” Yoongi asks you gently, and you nod, reaching forward to take his hand in yours. When you look up at him, you see other students from your peripheral vision stopping to look. Yoongi notices and squeezes your hand to get your attention. You look back at him and nod again. “Okay.”

Yoongi leads you over to your side of the car and he opens the door for you. You get in and he closes it behind you, casually walking around to his side. You see him wave to a few girls who soon giggle after the interaction and snort. Yoongi opens the door and gets in. He puts his key in the ignition and starts up the car.

“Who were those girls?” You ask, and Yoongi hums. “Some girls in my class, according to Seokjin they have the hots for me, but I don’t really know what that means.” You laugh as Yoongi pulls out of his parking space and you twist in your seat, folding your legs underneath you.

“Hey, watch it. I don’t want my seat getting dirt on it,” he calls you out, his eyes never leaving the road. You pout at him and drop your legs, a grin spreading across Yoongi’s face.

“Just kidding. You can pull your feet up. I’ll just have it cleaned if ever, anyway.” You roll your eyes at your best friend.

“Wow, Min Yoongi sure loves flexing his limitless credit card in front of me, his very much broke and short on cash best friend, Y/L/N Y/N.” You proclaim sarcastically, and Yoongi laughs at you, casting you a side glance.

“Hmm, I think it’s more like, Min Yoongi loves flexing his limitless credit card in front of you, his very much broke and short on cash best friend Y/L/N Y/N because he loves you and would spend all of it on you anyway.” Yoongi tips his head at you and you shrug, nodding.

“True.”

Thirty minutes later, Yoongi stops at a cliff overlooking the entire town. The sun was just beginning to set, so you can just about imagine the beautiful scene painted in front of you.

You slowly make your way to the edge of the cliff and lean against the metal railings. You stare into the horizon, the wind blowing in your face. You soon close your eyes, your worries melting away as you just take it all in. You feel Yoongi’s presence beside you when his cologne wafts through your nose like usual. You hum softly.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask him quietly, your eyes still closed.

Yoongi lets out a puff of air and shrugs. “I found this place last week when I didn’t have inspiration for a composition. It helps me clear my mind, you know. Being here. You were going through something, and I just kind of wanted to help ease your worries, I guess.” He explains softly.

You open your eyes and turn to look at him.

To someone who hasn’t known Yoongi their whole life, he was the dark and always angry sort of guy, because he always gave off a dark vibe, wearing fine, expensive clothing that was most of the time black. He stood out among his friends because Hoseok was loud, bright, and giggly; Namjoon was silent, smart, and reserved; and Seokjin…well, he was loud, funny, and attractive. Yoongi was far too different to be part of their circle if you gave them a once over and left it at that alone. But you knew him your whole life. Yes, he did give off that vibe no matter what he did, yes, he stood out among his friends like a sore thumb, but nobody knew how soft and tender he was when it came to you. His friends feared him at times too; when he was in a particularly bad mood (although it was a rare), but never in life were you ever scared of him.

Yoongi always made you feel safe.

And when you look at him now, it didn’t matter that he was wearing all black and probably looked like the typical rich kid bad boy in all those cliché teen novellas. It didn’t matter that he would probably punch someone in the face if they dared touch his Audi. Because when you look at Min Yoongi now, you only saw your best friend since diapers, you only saw the guy who promised to care for and protect you no matter what.

“Thank you, Yoongi. I really needed it,” you whisper, and he smiles at you, something other people don’t see often, but something you saw on the daily. He pulls you in for a hug and you rest your head comfortably on his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist as he wraps his around your shoulders.

“Whatever it was that bothered you, you’ll get through it. I know you can. You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t want to. Whenever you’re ready, I’m all ears.” Yoongi tells you and nod. He squeezes you gently and kisses the crown of your head.

“Thank you, Yoongi.”

“Anything for my Y/N.”

“Hey, guys, where’s Yoongi?” You greet Hoseok and Seokjin, as you and Namjoon sit down beside them at a table in the café your group has been frequenting at lately.

Seokjin stops eating his second serving of the banana muffin to look at you, a disappointed look on his face.

“Yah, Y/N. Are you going to ask about Yoongi first before the people that actually invited you over?” Seokjin dramatically complains and you roll your eyes at your overly dramatic friend. You move to sit beside Hoseok instead and Namjoon sits beside the drama queen.

Just to spite him, you use Hoseok’s fork and stab a piece of his banana muffin, shoving it quickly in your mouth. You smirk when Seokjin gasps dramatically and faints, resting on Namjoon dramatically. No wonder he’s a theatre major. The younger boy rolls his eyes at his cousin but lets him stay there.

“He’s in one of the studios, he’s busy composing,” Hoseok answers your question. You give him a hug and he giggles at your action. “Thanks Hobi, you’re definitely not like that dramatic hoe across from me.”

Upon hearing you call him a dramatic hoe, Seokjin sits up straight. Just as he’s about to cry out another complaint, three girls walk up to your table, stopping Seokjin.

“Hi, Seokjin,” the girl in the middle greets, a sweet smile on her face. You bite your lip to prevent yourself from laughing. Seokjin flashes her a charming smile, which you must admit, does look great on him.

“Hey, Sana,” he greets coolly. Namjoon and Hoseok just watch, and Seokjin revels in the fact that his friends can finally see him charm a girl.

“So there’s this new movie coming out after finals next week, um, do you maybe wanna watch it together sometime?” She asks as her friends giggle.

Seokjin casts his friends side glance, smirking. Hoseok scratches the back of his head, that look on his face, and Namjoon just looks back and forth between Seokjin and the girl.

You can only purse your lips, resisting the urge to laugh.

Seokjin shrugs. “Sure,” Sana bites her lip and smiles.

“And Namjoon and Hoseok can come along too!” Her other two friends nod eagerly, and yours, Namjoon’s and Hoseok’s jaws drop.

“Yeah, they’re coming along too,” Seokjin answers for them and all three of you snap your heads to look at him. What the fuck is he doing? Hoseok slaps a hand to his forehead and Namjoon can only hide his face in his hands.

The girls don’t seem to notice their discomfort about the arrangement because they even ask about Yoongi. “Is he coming along too? My other friend really likes him,” Sana says and just as you’re about to say something, Hoseok jumps in.

“Um, I don’t think Yoongi hyung would appreciate that, he’s already dating someone.”

You, Seokjin, and Namjoon all whip your heads to look at Hoseok.

“Really? But I’ve never seen him out with someone,” Sana’s friend, asks and Hoseok gulps, nodding.

“He’s very private about their relationship, you see,” he chuckles nervously.

The girls pout. “Well, that’s too bad. Anyway, I’ll text you?” Sana turns back to Seokjin who nods. She smiles at him and they say goodbye before walking away.

Once they’re out of earshot, you turn to each other and both Hoseok and Namjoon turn to Seokjin.

“What the hell man?!”

Seokjin raises his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I scored you guys dates. They’ve been head over heels for you since like, midterms, have you never seen them look at you before?” Seokjin asks and the two groan.

“Of course we have! But we don’t know them!” Namjoon stresses. “Then this is the perfect time to get to know them!” Seokjin rebuts.

“They’re not our type, hyung. Do you even know who likes who?” Hoseok cries out. Seokjin pauses, then looks up in thought. “Well, no… but—” Hoseok cuts him off.

“See! Why would you go out on a date if you’re not sure whether they like you or your friend?” Hoseok asks him. Seokjin snorts.

“Yah! At least I didn’t tell them Yoongi was seeing someone when he clearly wasn’t!” At that, you look up from your phone, having given up on joining their conversation earlier.

What a great way to change the topic.

Hoseok sits back and sighs, closing his eyes, knowing he fucked up too. He rubs his temples, clearly exhausted.

“Yeah, what was that about, Hobi?” Namjoon joins in. You can only sit properly in your seat and turn to look at the boy beside you. Hoseok opens his eyes and decides, ‘ah, fuck it’, as he crosses his hands in front of him.

“Yoongi’s not seeing anyone, sure, but he soon will.”

The three of you furrow your eyebrows, not quite sure what Jung Hoseok meant.

Noticing the confused looks on your faces, he sips his peppermint latte and looks at you. You raise an eyebrow at him and he shakes his head.

“I think it’s obvious enough that he’s smitten for you.” You snort at his statement and turn to look at Namjoon and Seokjin, who both catch on and soon have the same expressions on their faces, one that makes it look like they know something you don’t.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, confused. Namjoon sighs and you turn to look at him. “Yoongi likes you, Y/N. He may not know it right now, but he will.” You laugh nervously and shake your head. “No, he doesn’t. He’s always been like that with me, guys.”

Seokjin shakes his head. “It’s always been you. It’s always been different whenever you were involved. Yoongi’s different when you’re around.”

“But, how?” You ask, still clearly confused. You honestly didn’t know what they were talking about. Nothing made sense to you; what did they mean by Yoongi being different when you were around? Yoongi’s still Yoongi.

“What’s so wrong with Yoongi liking you, Y/N?” Hoseok asks, placing a hand on your shoulder. You shake your head and shrug. “Nothing, I just don’t quite understand. How can Yoongi be different around me?” Seokjin sighs and fixes his hair.

“You’re both so dense, I don’t know why I’m friends with you,” he complains. “You’ll realize it eventually. I won’t spoon feed you both on this. It’s time for you to figure that part out for yourselves.” Seokjin finishes his muffin.

“Okay, I better get going, I have to meet up with some of my classmates, we’re revising for the finals next week,” Seokjin stands up and pats your head as he grabs his stuff. You all say goodbye to him and he heads out.

The three of you stay for a little bit longer before you decide to head out. The sun was already beginning to set. You say goodbye to Hoseok and Namjoon; Hoseok had to stop by the dance studio and Namjoon was heading for the library.

Finals week is next week but you were in no mood to study and review for it just yet. The events from earlier kept clouding your thoughts and you didn’t know what to think of it all. So, instead of heading for the library, you make your way to the field where you see other students sitting together in groups, talking, studying, and hanging out amongst themselves.

You make your way under a huge tree and sit down, placing your books and backpack beside you as you lean on the tree trunk. Folding your legs, you wrap your arms around your shins, resting your head on the space between your knees.

You allow your mind to drift off and think of Seokjin, Namjoon, and Hoseok’s words from earlier. Of course Yoongi likes you, you’re his best friend. But Yoongi liking you in a different sense? You weren’t so sure about that. Sure, he’s affectionate and overprotective with you, but that’s probably because he sees you like a little sister.

But then again, you do notice that Yoongi really is different with how he treats you, ever since you were little.

“Y/N! Come sit beside me, I wanna show you something,” an adorable, 5-year old Min Yoongi with a few missing teeth beckons you to come sit beside him on the piano chair, his small legs dangling underneath him. You make your way over to him, your fingers still slightly sticky from the lollipop you just ate. You clamber up the piano chair, courtesy of the small stool placed next to it.

Yoongi grins at you and you merely look at him, before your eyes drift over to the white music sheets laid out in front of him. Your best friend was a prodigy and you knew that. The slightly shaky handwriting of his musical notes on the sheets were enough evidence for you to know that he composed it himself.

“What’s that, Yoongi?” you finally say, pressing a sticky pointer finger to the white sheet music. Yoongi gently takes your hand off the paper and places it back onto your lap as he looks at you with a bright smile on your face.

“I made this song for you, Y/N! I want you to listen to it carefully, okay?” Yoongi tells you and you grin excitedly.

Yoongi turns to face his piano properly and ever so delicately, he places his fingers on the black and white keys, his fingers dancing over them so effortlessly. It didn’t matter that his hands were still a bit too short for the huge piano, he still hit each and every note with precision. A beautiful melody fills the room and your eyes brighten up at the sound of it.

When Yoongi finishes, you tackle him in a hug, not caring about your sticky face or fingers at all.

“That was pretty, Yoongi!” he giggles at your reaction and hugs you back with the same enthusiasm.

You smile fondly at the memory, that was the very first song Yoongi ever composed, and he was only five. He made it for you and even named it after you. Up to this day, that was your favorite composition of Yoongi’s.

The wind picks up and your hair blows not so gracefully in your face. You sputter after your hair gets stuck in your mouth and a melodious laughter comes from behind you. You turn around and sure enough, your best friend is standing there, a bright gummy smile on his face. His shoulders are shaking slightly as he laughs at your expression and walks closer to you.

You scoot over and make some space for him. Yoongi flops down beside you, letting out a relaxed sigh after doing so. He gives you a side hug, patting the top of your head and you line your head on his shoulder.

“How did composing go?” you bring up and he clicks his tongue. “It went great, I think I’m ready for finals next week. How about you?” Yoongi gives you his full attention.

You shrug and he nudges you to continue.

“I’m having a hard time in Professor Bang’s class. I’m finding it hard to write anything without it coming off as trying too hard or with no effort at all. He wants me to write about me but I don’t quite get it. It’s been on my mind ever since you brought me to that cliff a few weeks ago. I’m never proud with the things I write and although Professor Bang doesn’t say much anymore, I can still feel that he’s still not contented with my work. He’s still looking for something,” you sigh and Yoongi squeezes your shoulder gently.

“You wanna know my secret?” Yoongi begins and you snort.

“What are we, five?” Yoongi laughs. “You need to wear your heart on your sleeve. You need to let your guard down, Y/N. That’s how I compose such great songs. Being an artist kind of means like presenting yourself naked to your audience.”

You give him a look.

“What I’m trying to say is, you shouldn’t hide who you are from your audience. You also shouldn’t try too hard to please or satisfy them. Go for what makes you happy. Go for what makes you sad, or angry, or frustrated, or confused. Don’t go for what makes them happy, sad, angry, frustrated, or confused. Your audience’s feelings will just follow through, you have to make them feel what you feel.”

You look at him in amazement, your lips parting slightly. Yoongi gives you a confused look. “What? Is there something on my face?”

“Now I know why you’re my best friend.” You proclaim and he grins at you.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You better, Min.”

Later that night, you pull out the worn journal that Yoongi gave you for your thirteenth birthday, something he bought on a trip with his family in Greece. You treasured it so much, because most of your favorite writings were in there and it’s been a witness to your best and worst moments. Your fingers trace the worn out pages, a smile growing on your face as you skim through your writings.

You didn’t stick to one kind of literary work; you wrote whatever came to your mind. There were scribbles and doodles, and you even found some pages stained with tears, ink, and… chocolate?

Damn, you were quite the messy kid, weren’t you?

You reach a blank page and pull out a random pen - which turned out to have pink ink, from your pouch.

You pull the cap out and stick it in the other end, your hand hovering over the page, hesitating. You remember Professor Bang’s words and Yoongi’s advice from earlier.

Slowly, you put your pen down and your fingers start writing the first few lines to a new piece.

Maybe it was the way he constantly made me smile,

Maybe it was how he’d always go the extra mile,

“It’s different when you’re involved,” they said,

You started filling up every corner and every crevice of my head.

Was this how it was supposed to be,

Should it have been you and me?

Well, you always left me lost in a trance,

So maybe we should give this love a chance.

You stop writing and your eyes scan what you wrote. Your lips part open slightly at the realization of what you just wrote. Were you writing about Yoongi? Was this what the boys were talking about?

You’re not quite sure about it, but you might just already be in love with Min Yoongi.

Yoongi was nowhere to be seen, and young little Y/N was already bored to death. You and Yoongi were supposed to be in the middle of a game of snakes and ladders, but the young boy had left the playroom to get something from his room. He hasn’t returned for only five minutes, yet you thought it felt like an entire lifetime.

Getting up from your spot on the floor, you make your way over to Yoongi’s grand piano sat in the corner of the large room. You eye pieces of paper lying on the floor, musical notes scribbled on it.

Young, 3-year old you knew nothing about music, but the way the notes were scribbled on the paper left you intrigued. You crouched down, picked one up from the pile and brought it back with you to your previous spot, where your crayons were sprawled all over the floor messily.

You flop down with a huff and lies flat on your stomach, the sheet music in front of you . You pick up your chubby red crayon and bring it over the paper, pressing lightly as you start doodling all over Yoongi’s composition.

In the middle of your artwork, Yoongi walks in the room with a pink box and he gasps when he sees his best friend scribble over the composition he just finished yesterday.

“Y/N, no!” He drops the box and runs over to you as fast as his little feet can carry him.

At the sound of Yoongi’s voice, you stop doodling and turn around, sitting up when you see Yoongi running over to you. Yoongi quickly grabs the sheet, his eyes frantically looking over the sheet music that was now covered with red doodles.

Yoongi’s eyes begin to water and although you didn’t quite understand it all, you knew that your best friend was upset. His bottom lip begins to tremble, and soon, tears flow from his eyes and he lets out a cry as he looks at his destroyed composition.

The sound of footsteps soon come closer and you turn around, seeing your mom and Yoongi’s mom walk in the room with confused looks on their faces. They spot the children sat on the floor and their eyes take in the scene in front of them - Yoongi was clutching a piece of paper in his hands, crying, and you were looking up at them, a confused look on your face mirroring theirs.

“What happened here?” Your mom asks as they both bend down to you and Yoongi.

Yoongi turns to look at his mom as he cries. “Y/N scribbled all over my sheet music.” He crawls over to his mom and hugs her, hiding his face in her chest as he continues to cry.

Both his mom and your mom turn to look at you, and it’s then that you realize it’s your fault. Tears fill your eyes as well and you stand up to hug your mom too.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you cry, hiding from Yoongi and his mom, ashamed of what you’d done.

At the sound of your crying, Yoongi stops crying and turns to look at you. He steps away from his mom and waddles over to you, his small hands reaching out to grab your arm.

“No, no, don’t cry, too.” He sniffles and he pulls you to face him.

Reluctantly, you turn to face him and you try to stop crying as Yoongi squishes your face in his hands.

“It’s okay, I can do it again,” he tells you and you shake your head no.

“I’m sorry, Yoongi! It won’t happen again,” You cry and Yoongi can only nod. He pulls you with him, and he leads the both of you over to the grand piano. Yoongi gives you a side hug and he places his fingers on the black and white keys. Yoongi begins to play your favorite song, the very first one he wrote for you, snot and tears and all that.

You sniffle and calm down when you hear the familiar comforting melody. You wipe your snot away and rest your head on Yoongi’s shoulder.

Your moms watch the scene in front of them, knowing smiles on their faces.

“If our kids don’t end up together, I don’t know what I’ll do,” Your mom whispers to Yoongi’s mom as they leave the room.

Yoongi’s mom snorts. “Don’t worry, because by the looks of it, my son’s smitten as hell and he’s only five.”

Your mom laughs at that. “True.”

“Woah, are you okay, bubs?” Yoongi asks worriedly when he steps inside your dorm room and takes in the sight before him.

Books and notebooks are open sprawled around your bed and on the floor, your pens and highlighters open and probably all dried up, your hair was tied up in a messy bun that probably hadn’t been brushed properly since this morning, and your laptop open in front of you while you sit on your computer chair, your left leg folded underneath you and your right leg stretched out all the way to your bed. Your laptop was playing Day6’s Congratulations, and you were furiously typing away, cramming through your essays that were also due during finals week.

Your glasses fall down the bridge of your nose and you sigh, taking them off before you turn around to greet your best friend.

“Hey, Yoons, what’s up?” You smile tiredly at him, reaching over your bed to push away your books and notebooks to make room for your best friend to sit down on.

You chuckle as he sits down, scratching your hair. “Sorry about the mess, I didn’t have the time to fix it earlier.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. But you should really take a break, don’t overwork yourself,” Yoongi smiles and ruffles your hair, making you laugh. You spot the gray flask in his left hand and your eyes widen.

“Is that soju?” You gasp and Yoongi nods. You lean forward and snatch the flask from him, twisting the cap open. You pour some of the alcoholic drink onto the cap and down it all in one go, the strong taste burning down your throat. You think that maybe Yoongi meant to bring this for you and not for him, because it’s your favorite flavor, classic. Yoongi could never tolerate the classic flavor of soju and he always opted for the fresh one.

Yoongi simply watches you take shot after shot of the alcoholic drink and smiles, knowing you’ll get a hangover the next day. Nevermind though, because he’ll take care of you anyway, and your first exam isn’t until 2:00 pm tomorrow.

Once you’ve finished the entire bottle, you wipe your lips with the back of your hand, grinning drunkenly at your best friend. He smirks at the sight of you and stands up to save your work. He closes your laptop and crouches down to look at you.

“You’re such an alcoholic, Y/L/N Y/N.” Yoongi comments and you can only giggle.

“Thanks, Yoongi.” You pat his cheek, and knock out dead on your desk, snoring away as your head rests on your laptop. Y/L/N Y/N is out like a light at 5:22 pm.

Yoongi’s gummy smile makes its appearance as you sleep soundly, without a care in the world. He turns around and stares at the mess cluttering around your room. Yoongi bends down and starts cleaning; he picks up your pens and highlighters and puts the caps back on, although he doubts that they’d still work (maybe you bought those kind that would last for up to 48 hours uncapped but he wasn’t so sure, knowing you), and he closes your books, making sure to stick in bookmarks in case those pages were important. He stacks your stuff on the extra table beside your desk and fixes your bed for you to sleep in.

Yoongi turns around and he laughs softly at the sight of your drool running down the side of your arm. Yoongi crouches down and he brushes the hair away from your face. Upon taking a closer look at you, he can see how much you’ve stressed yourself out this week.

The dark circles under your eyes, the messy hair, and the way you snored were enough to tell Yoongi that you were dead tired. Even your drool told Yoongi that you were exhausted, because you only ever drooled in your sleep when you were worn out.

Yoongi carefully helps you out of your chair and onto your bed, where he tucks you in snugly. He turns the lights off and leaves only your night light on. Yoongi sits down beside you and simply admires the way you sleep (it’s not as creepy as you think it is!).

Yoongi watches the way your chest heaves up and down as your breathe slowly, soft snores leaving your lips. He watches the way a small smile is etched onto your lips, making you look so sweet and so innocent, like you didn’t just down an entire flask of soju in one go. He watches the way you shift to a more comfortable position, pushing your face further into your pillow.

And as Yoongi watches you sleep so peacefully, he realizes that he can get used to this - get used to watching you fall asleep, and maybe, just maybe, fall asleep with you. Yoongi thinks that if seeing you fall asleep makes him want to fall asleep with you, then maybe the idea of waking up with you isn’t so bad, either.

A soft mumble leaves your lips and you start to babble nonsense, things like “after the falling action is the denouement, and yay, the end”, and Yoongi smiles.

Without realizing it, Yoongi leans forward, and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good night, Y/N.”

His heart flutters at his own action, and Yoongi smiles when he realizes it.

“I love my best friend. I love Y/N. I love you,” Yoongi whispers to himself, his eyes never leaving your sleeping form.

You are never drinking before an exam ever again.

Your head is throbbing and you can’t move because every small action makes your head feel like it’s about to break. You can totally place the blame on your best friend because he didn’t stop you from downing the entire flask, but at the same time, it’s all your fault for even drinking in the first place when you knew you had an exam the following day.

You close your eyes and shield it with your arm as the 7:00 am sunlight streams in through the bedroom windows. Your stomach is grumbling and you realize that you didn’t even eat dinner last night because you fell asleep at 5:00 pm after drinking.

You badly want to get up and go find something to eat in your stash but like we’ve already established earlier, you can’t. So you endure your hunger until the hangover goes away. If it goes away.

The door opens and your savior walks through the door.

Thank God for Min Yoongi.

“Oh, you’re awake already. I brought you some aspirin and hangover food,” he greets you, closing the door shut behind him gently. Yoongi places his stuff on your chair as he makes his way over to you, helping you sit up. You’re groaning and clutching onto your best friend’s shoulders because you can’t bring yourself to sit up properly.

Yoongi’s arms wound around your waist and - oh, come on, why now - butterflies erupt in your stomach, along with the acid and the hunger (okay that’s kinda gross). You scoot over to the wall and Yoongi places a pillow behind you to separate your back from the cold, hard wall.

Boyfriend material, anybody?

Yoongi opens the bottled water he bought and places a tablet of aspirin on your weakly opened palm. You take the medicine and finish the entire bottle of water, refreshing yourself completely.

Your head feels a bit better now and the pain is now tolerable. “Ugh, don’t make me drink before an exam again,” you groan and lean forward, clutching onto your stomach as you rest your head on Yoongi’s shoulder. Yoongi chuckles and although your head’s aching at his action, you like hearing his laugh. He strokes your hair gently and you scoot closer to him, practically clinging onto him.

“You wanna eat?” Yoongi asks you and you nod from your place in the crook of his neck. Yoongi reaches over to get your food. He starts feeding you saltine crackers and fruits and coconut milk and you think it’s weird but according to him it’s good for a hangover.

While you take small bites from the banana, Yoongi focuses all his attention on you. The sun shines on you in just the right spot; it hits your eyes perfectly that the natural color pops out prettily. Your cheeks are puffed out slightly and you chew on your banana in complete concentration.

You soon feel his gaze on you and your heart speeds up upon realizing it. Your senses are unbelievably heightened while you’re hungover, apparently. You swallow your last piece of the banana carefully before looking up at Yoongi.

When you do, a smile is on his lips and he looks at you with this strange look on his face; you’re not sure what it is, exactly. You raise an eyebrow questioningly.

“What?”

Yoongi shakes his head and he cups your face in his hand, rubbing his thumb gently along your cheek. His action causes more butterflies to erupt in your stomach, and at this point, you’re not sure if you want to vomit or eat some more.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi whispers, his eyes never leaving yours.

You really can’t understand your best friend right now and you also don’t want to get your hopes up, so you laugh it off.

“I know I am, especially when I’m hungover,” you joke and you think Yoongi’s smile falters a bit, but he quickly covers it up with a grin.

He clears his throat, and stands up. You follow his actions, and he pats your shoulder gently.

“Get a few more hours of rest, you’ll feel better just before your exam, okay?” Yoongi tells you and you pout, making him want to just ditch his 8:30 exam to stay with you a little longer.

“Won’t you stay with me?” You tug on the hem of his yellow hoodie (wow, a change if wardrobe for finals week?), and he shakes his head ‘no’.

“Unfortunately, not everyone has exams that start at 2:00 pm. I’ve got my first one at 8:30 and it’s already 7:45. The building’s three blocks away from here, too.” Yoongi explains and you nod in understanding.

“That’s fine, good luck on your exam,” you reply, and Yoongi leans down to give you a kiss on the top of your head.

“Get some rest, love.” Yoongi whispers, making your heart speed up at the endearment.

“I will.” You assure him and he cups your face in his hands, rubbing your cheeks gently with the pads of his thumbs.

“I’ll call you, okay?” Yoongi asks and you smile, nodding.

He stands back up to his full height and makes his way to the door. He gives you one last smile before twisting the doorknob and stepping out.

The door closes and you wait for a few more beats before you sigh.

Yes, you were definitely in love with your best friend and it wasn’t the heightened senses that came with the hangover.

“I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!” Hoseok claps his hands together excitedly, earning an eye roll from Seokjin and a smile from Namjoon. Yoongi can only stare at his friends in confusion.

“What do you mean, ‘I knew it’?” Yoongi asks and the three boys look at each other, sighing simultaneously.

“Hyung, everyone can see how much you’re in love with her, except the both of you. Have you never read those cliché best friends to lovers trope on Tumblr?” Hoseok asks and Yoongi merely shrugs.

“I don’t have time for that shit,” Yoongi deadpans.

“But you have time for Y/N,” Seokjin points out.

“Because he’s whipped, you guys,” Namjoon adds in.

“Whatever,” Yoongi dismisses his friends comments. “All I know is that I love her. I really, really, do.” Yoongi confesses.

“Then tell her!” His friends say in unison.

“I will! I’m just,” Yoongi pauses and they look at him expectantly.

He looks at them before continuing, “I’m just trying to find the right time to confess, I think she feels the same way.”

Seokjin flips his bangs and sighs. “Not think, but know. It’s obvious how much you both love each other, Yoongi. Literally anyone with two eyes and common sense can see that.”

“Except maybe for those girls the other week,” Namjoon coughs into his shoulder and Hoseok bursts out in laughter, holding his hand up for a high five which Namjoon gladly reciprocates.

“Yah, don’t be mean, I think they’re really nice,” Seokjin defends them and Yoongi shakes his head at them.

Namjoon and Hoseok turn their attention to Yoongi and forget about the handsome elder.

“So, do you need our help with confessing?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi looks up in thought. “I haven’t really thought that far yet, all I know is that I want it to be something she’ll never forget.”

“You can maybe write her a song?” Hoseok suggests.

“I write her songs all the time,” Yoongi points out.

“Maybe you can take her out somewhere and prepare this really extravagant surprise,” Namjoon tries.

Yoongi shakes his head. “Y/N’s not into that, remember? I need this to be perfect,” he stresses.

Yes, Min Yoongi was hands down whipped for you because instead of worrying about his next exam set to happen in thirty minutes, he’s busy worrying about how he’s going to confess to you.

His friends sigh.

“Hyung, I think you should take a break. Go prepare for your exams, yeah?” Namjoon suggests and Yoongi gives in.

“You’re right, I have one in thirty minutes.”

Hoseok smiles and stands up. “I’ve gotta go, mine’s in fifteen minutes.”

“And you’re that chill?” Namjoon looks amazed. Hoseok grins.

“The perks of being a dance major, baby,” Hoseok shrugs casually before slinging his backpack over his shoulder and making his way out of the café.

Seokjin lets out a relaxed sigh. “I’m all done for the day, so I’m going to go eat something somewhere and think of how you can confess to Y/N.” Yoongi gives his hyung an appreciative smile.

“Thanks, hyung, but don’t you have exams to prepare for?” Seokjin snorts.

“I studied all of last week, I think I’m all done. One more and I might actually go crazy.” Yoongi and Namjoon laugh at that.

Yoongi makes his move to stand up. “I’ll see you guys later, good luck.” He pats the guys on the back before he leaves.

On the short walk to his building, Yoongi pulls his phone out and presses on speed dial 1, of course, the one and only Y/L/N Y/N.

Y/N picks up after three rings.

“Hey, why’d you call?” Y/N’s sweet voice rings through the phone and a smile automatically makes its way to Yoongi’s face.

“Hey, how are you feeling, bubs?” Yoongi inquires.

“All better, thanks to you! Although I’m kind of starving, I have an hour and a half before my first test,” Y/N chirps.

“Joon and Jin hyung are at the café, maybe you can go grab something to eat with them, I have an exam in twenty minutes,” Yoongi informs her.

“Okay! Good luck on that, you’ll do great,” Y/N tells him sweetly.

“Aaah, I know I will. You’re my lucky charm,” Yoongi smirks and he can just see Y/N’s blushing cheeks from the way she started to stutter.

“Uh...ha ha, okay, uh, gotta go, Yoons! Bye!” She immediately hangs up and Yoongi chuckles when he hears the line drop dead.

Yoongi shakes his head and slides his phone back into his pocket as he walks inside the music building.

The smile never leaves his face, even as he starts to answer his test all the way until he finishes it. The people he shared that class with started to worry for his mental health, because Yoongi never smiled this much, never smile this genuine. Well, he did smile occasionally, but there was something different with the way Yoongi carried himself that day that left his classmates slightly concerned for him.

“Hey, Yoongi. You alright, man?” Kyungsoo, a friend he talks to occasionally in his class asks.

Yoongi nods, a smile on his lips. “Yeah, why?”

Kyungsoo looks at him weirdly. He laughs it off. “Nothing. Just, if you need someone to talk to, I’m all ears,” Kyungsoo pats him on the back.

It’s Yoongi’s turn to look at him weirdly. “Huh, okay, Soo. Thanks.” Kyungsoo nods and leaves the room, just as a beep comes from his phone.

It wasn’t just any beep, it was your ringtone. Yoongi had set specific ringtones for your texts and calls, so he’d know if he has to answer the call right away or not.

Yes, Min Yoongi was both smitten and biased when it came to you.

lovely best bub [3:07 pm] : hello there

lovely best bub [3:07 pm] : are your exams done? im kinda hungry

Just seeing your contact name — which you set, not him, already sent a smile crawling up his lips.

Yoongi [3:07 pm] : yea, see u

Yoongi [3:07 pm] : hoseok still has one exam left, I’ll meet u and joon there

He begins making his way back to the café, navigating his way through the students and the hallways with his phone in his hands.

lovely best bub [3:08 pm] : it’s just me, joon says he still has something to do

Yoongi wishes he can go give Kim Namjoon a hug (but he would never admit that in front of him) right now.

Yoongi [3:08 pm] : okay lol

lovely best bub [3:08 pm] : see u there :DD

When Yoongi reaches the café,you’re already sitting in your usual spot, going over some of your notes while you sip on your iced latte. Yoongi walks over, a soft smile on his lips. He knocks on the table gentle. You look up, and a smile immediately graces your features.

“Hey, how was your exam?” You greet as Yoongi sits down in front of you.

“It went really well, how about yours?” Yoongi inquires as he reaches forward to hold your right hand, playing with your fingers while he waits for your response.

You blush at the action and Yoongi marvels at your flustered reaction. You soon brush it off like it was nothing and take a sip from your drink to, hopefully, help cool down your flaming cheeks.

“Great, too! I hope I really poured all of my heart into it that Professor Bang will be proud of it,” you reply and Yoongi squeezes your hand gently.

“I’m sure you did, you worked hard last night,” Yoongi reassures you and you laugh.

“I’m pretty sure I got wasted last night, Yoongi.” He laughs at your retort, agreeing with you.

“Yeah, I know, but I think you did study before I arrived with the soju.” Yoongi’s reply makes the two of you laugh.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Yoongi.” You give him a gentle smile.

He returns it with one of his own. “Anything for you, Y/N.”

Were you dense? Or was Yoongi not obvious enough? No, that can’t be it. He’s very transparent with his feelings for you, right? Min Yoongi can’t seem to understand why you don’t seem to notice his advances on you. At all.

Finals week was done and over with, and for an entire week Yoongi has been trying to get you to see how much he likes you. Even during the break, Yoong did everything; he took you out on dates, gave you more gifts than usual, paid more attention to you (if he was attentive before, he got even more attentive now), and flirted with you every chance he got.

But it’s the start of the second semester now and he still hasn’t confessed to you yet.

“I’m telling you, hyung! It’s like she pays no attention to anything I do at all. Are you guys sure she feels the same way?” Yoongi stresses, ranting to the broad shouldered male sat in front of him. The other two younger boys look at each other, giving each other that I’m tired, he’s spewing nonsense again look before grabbing Yoongi’s attention.

“Yes, she does! She probably thinks you’re just being your normal self around her,” Namjoon responds.

“But I’m not being my normal self around her…?” Yoongi trails off.

The boys sigh. “You are, you’re normally affectionate with her, Yoongi. So Y/N thinks you’re just being you,” Seokjin adds.

“Yeah, hyung. Y/N doesn’t think anything’s changed at all. Well, maybe she thinks you’re a bit more affectionate but she’s just probably just brushing it off as you being you.” Hoseok pipes in.

“Then what do I do?” Yoongi asks, clearly pressed about everything.

Just then, the bell to the café’s door rings noisily and the four turn around to see Y/N rushing over to them.

“Speak of the devil,” Namjoon mutters and Yoongi stares a him. “She’s not a devil, Joon.” Namjoon slaps his forehead.

“It’s an expression, hyung --” Namjoon’s cut off when you blurt out, “I need food.”

Seokjin raises an eyebrow at you. “There’s food? Over there?” He points toward the cashier. You look over to where his index finger is pointing before turning back to them, shaking your head.

“I have class in like, 15 minutes, but I was hungry so I ran over here - because my building’s all the way on the other side - to buy something but when I was a few steps away from the door I realized I forgot my wallet at the dorms and the dorms are even farther away and I don’t have much of a choice anymore because if I still tried going back that would take me another 10 minutes or so and like I said, I only have 15 minutes and I’m really hungry so I can’t go back anymore and I just really need money for food.” You finish all in one breath, heaving lightly because you’re out of breath from running and explaining yourself.

The four look at you before Yoongi shifts in his seat, pulling his card out for you.

“Here, go buy something,” he holds it out to you. Your eyes lighten, and just as your about to take it, a light bulb goes off in Yoongi’s head and he withdraws his outstretched hand, halting your actions.

“What?” You ask, slightly agitated.

Yoongi smirks. “Kiss me first.”

Your eyes widen, Kim Seokjin’s eyes widen, Kim Namjoon’s eyes widen, and Jung Hoseok’s eyes widen.

Wait, what?

A blush creeps up your cheeks, your palms start to clam up, and your heart starts beating faster. Oh, and your stomach grumbles for the umpteenth time too.

Yoongi only looks at you, the smirk still on his face, and his credit card resting in between his index and middle finger, just close enough for you to reach if you moved just a tad bit closer.

If you kiss Yoongi, he’ll definitely know your feelings for him. If you don’t it would make things awkward between the two of you. If you kiss him, at least you’d get food, right?

Yoongi’s starting to slightly regret his impulsive decision, but he freezes when you just go for it, and lean down to kiss his cheek, snatching the card in his fingers before you run out.

“What the fuck just happened?” Hoseok manages to speak up and Yoongi snaps out of his trance.

“Dude, what the fuck, go after her!” Hoseok shakes Yoongi who soon realizes what’s really going on. He stands up abruptly and goes after you.

“Wow, they’re a mess,” Seokjin comments as they watch Yoongi through the glass of the cafe.

“Come on, let’s go after them,” Namjoon stands up and Seokjin and Hoseok follow suit.

“Y/N, wait!” Yoongi calls out to you and when you hear his voice, you skid to a halt in the middle of the field, where some dance majors are running a routine. You attract the attention of the dance majors and they stop dancing to look at you. Clutching Yoongi’s credit card in your hand, you slowly turn around to face him.

He’s running over to you and he’s panting. When he’s close enough, he leans forward and rests his hands on his knees.

“You’re going to be late to class anyway, just, listen to me,” Yoongi wheezes out.

You bite your lip, your heart racing as you stare at the boy in front of you. When he finally catches his breath, he stands back up to his full height and looks at you.

“Yoongi, listen,I--” You begin, but he cuts you off.

“Y/N, I know you’re going to be late, I’m sorry but wait, just...let me get this off my chest because I might explode if I don’t let this out anymore, okay?” He holds you by the shoulders and you can only nod, flustered and confused at the same time.

From his peripheral, Yoongi can see a small crowd starting to form, he can see the boys somewhere too and the dance majors all stopped dancing to look at you both.

Oh, well.

Yoongi breathes deeply before he fixes his eyes on you and on you alone.

Here it goes.

“Y/L/N YN, I love everything about you. I love the way you eat your ramen with a spoon instead of chopsticks because you’re always complaining about how your fingers hurt because you’re not the best at using chopsticks even though you’re supposed to be good at it, I mean gosh, you’re Korean you’re supposed to know that shit. I love how you can’t fall asleep without your blue and white flannel blanket because it’s the only blanket your body seems to like. I love how even though it’s beginning to smell so bad because of your drool and the food crumbs and the drinks that fall on it you still choose to use it. I love how you also sleep with that one pillow of yours that’s been there the moment I walked into the hospital room to see you bundled up in Auntie’s arms, eyes closed and without a care in the world because you were just born moments ago, and it’s so old that it’s not so fat and fluffy anymore, and oh, it also smells so bad too, seriously what is it with you and your things in bed smelling bad? Can they seriously not get washed? I love how you never use a brush to fix your hair because you’re that kind of person that just runs a hand through their hair a couple of times and you’re already good to go. I love how you scrunch your face up every time you insult one of the boys, every time you want to tease me, and every time you have your way because yet again, I’ve fallen victim to your ridiculous wishes and ideas. I love how every time you put food into your mouth, you’re pouting and chewing at the same, fuck, do you know what that fucking does to me, Y/N? It makes me go crazier and even more head over heels for you. I love how you always come to me for everything because you know that I’d never ever say no to you, it makes me feel like I matter so much to you. I love that you depend so much on me because yes, I want that so much, I want to spoil you so damn much. I love giving you all that you want, I love spoiling with anything that you want and need, no matter how stupid or out of this world or irrational it may be. I love it so much because I love the way your eyes light up like a thousand stars whenever I say yes, and fuck that’s so, so fucking cheesy but I don’t fucking care anymore because I’m pretty sure I’ve said too much that it’s enough to complete one whole damn song and I know I can’t sing but I can play the piano and compose songs so maybe I can rap too? And dammit, Y/N, I’ve loved you so much since the moment I probably first laid my eyes on you, or maybe when I wrote my first song for you and you asked me to play it for you every day. Hell, I may have even started loving you when you scribbled all over my sheet music with your big fat, red crayon. I love how you’re so selfless, how you get along with my boys, how you’re damn smart and ambitious but you’d much rather watch How I Met Your Mother and listen to angsty Day6 songs for hours on end while you wrote equally angsty prose and poetry. I love you every time you get wasted the night before an exam, drinking your stress and worries away with soju, complain about the hangover the next day and do it all over again despite promising to never do it again. I love that even though it gets you wasted because that just gives me an excuse to take care of you and have I told you that I love taking care of you? I love you for everything that you are and I’d fucking say more but dammit, we’re in public and people…people are beginning to record my confession, they were just looking at us…wait what the fuck? And I’m a blushing, stuttering mess and I’ve just poured my entire heart out to you, all these feelings I’ve kept bottled up since I was, I don’t know, five and you were three, and I’m not even fucking sure if you feel the same way but you just kissed my cheek back in the café so maybe that counts for something? Maybe it really was for the food, I don’t know. But god, I love you so much, Y/N and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way but I just want you to know that I don’t want things to ever change between us even if my feelings are out in the open already and I’m wearing my heart on my sleeve because I’m just so damn smitten for you. I love you, Y/N.”

Yoongi finishes his rant, and he’s breathing heavily and his heart’s beating out of his chest and he doesn’t know what to do next because you’re just standing in front of him, eyes wide, cheeks a dark shade of red, and your heart ready to burst out of your ribcage at his confession.

For someone who’s a creative writing major, for someone who’s so good with words, you’re speechless. For the first time in your entire life, you’re speechless.

“So,” Seokjin shouts from the crowd, effectively catching both yours and Yoongi’s attention, “are you just going to stand there and keep him waiting or will you tell him you love him too?”

The crowd coos, and your eyes dart back to Yoongi’s.

“Yoongi, I love you too.” You say simply and the crowd interrupts into cheers as Yoongi lets out a relieved sigh, stepping forward and pulling you into his embrace. Yoongi bends down to bury his face in your neck and you wrap your arms around his shoulders as he wraps his around your waist.

“Thank God you love me too, that would’ve been so embarrassing if you didn’t,” Yoongi whispers and you giggle.

You both pull away, and then turn to see that the crowd has dispersed, while your friends shot you thumbs ups before walking away to give you some alone time.

You look up at Yoongi, your smile bright as you see all the love and adoration Yoongi held for you.

“Well, you feed me well, Min Yoongi.” you reply, rising up on your tiptoes to kiss his nose.

“Oh yeah, let’s go get your food, I know you’re hungry.” Yoongi intertwines your fingers with his, leading you both back to the café.

“See, this is why I love you so much,” You grin, swinging your hands together.

Yoongi stops walking and turns to you. He cups your face in his hands, caressing your cheeks softly. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

You hold onto his wrists and give him a mischievous grin. “More than your Audi?” You challenge, and Yoongi laughs heartily, kissing your forehead.

“A billion times more than my Audi.”

⇒ let me know what you think or hmu with anything under the sun here!

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deltaengineering · 6 years ago

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Winter Anime 2019 Part 4: That’s all, folks.

Over already? This is a pretty thin season with not a lot of shows, so it’s not that surprising that there’s not many good ones either. Still, a weak showing. Oh well, let’s get it over with. There were a few decent ones in the last batch.

Circlet Princess

What: Dimwitted schoolgirl is good at some vaguely defined virtual fighting sport, changes school based on it, finds out relevant club has been abolished. Forecast says: 5 member plot incoming.

❌ I think it’s already clear this show isn’t very ambitious, and not very well written either. A game adaptation at its laziest.

❌❌ Man, this girl is STUPID. What the hell.

❌ The rest of the cast are less stupid (which isn’t hard), but that just means they’re so forgettable they might as well not exist.

❌❌ It looks cheap, and by that I mean really really cheap. The character design is ISO standard anime and it’s mostly on model, but that’s as good as it gets. The animation just sucks. That’s a death sentence for an action/sports show with terrible characters.

Bermuda Triangle - Colorful Pastrale

What: Japanese Spongebob, as in cute mermaids. Doing things optional.

❌ To make this quick, this is almost exactly Pastel Memories, only every problem is just a little less extreme. It has fewer characters, it’s looking slightly better, there’s a tiny bit more going on, the setting is mildly more interesting. That still means it is:

❌❌ 1. A boring mess in which a handful of samey girls do nothing of much interest in a location that should be unique, but isn’t.

❌❌ 2. Conspicuously cheap. It even has the same sightline problems.

❌❌ 3. Featuring a character model sheet that is “off” even under the best circumstances. This time due to the very offputting decision to give everyone blobby triangular irises.

❌❌ Unlike Pastel Memories (which was an ad for a mobile game) this is an anime original, so it really has no excuse being this lame.

♎ I find it amusing that Pastel Palettes are providing the OP for an anime, and it’s not the one currently airing that they’re actually characters in.

Endro~!

What: Kiraralike comedy thing in a generic JRPG setting.

♎ Namori character designs, so it’s like Spyce in that it just seems like the Yuru Yuri cast cosplaying a genre. But hey, Namori character designs do look good.

❌ I’m not as done with generic JRPG settings as with generic isekai settings, but it’s still a real problem since the former is now a subset of the latter. Mildly making fun of it does not improve things much either.

✅ The tone is cutesy and pleasant. I find this much preferable to something like Mahoujin Guru Guru, which is pretty much the same thing but with abrasive, high-intensity slapstick instead.

✅ It’s backing that up with generally high-quality, agreeable pastel looks.

❌ Not being annoying is a start, but beyond that this seems very middle of the road and predictable. I don’t get much out of the genre “parody” and simply being cute is still not an unique selling point in anime.

Grimms Notes The Animation

What: Did someone say JRPG? This is a mobile one, vaguely based on fairy tales as the title implies.

✅ This universe runs on the idea that every NPC’s fate is controlled by a preset story they’re aware of. You could make a good story about that if you took it seriously. It even does that somewhat, but only to the degree that you’d expect from a throwaway sidequest in a moderately well-written JRPG.

❌ And the reason for that is that it has to make room for being a JRPG, of course. Read: It’s irritatingly mechanics- and combat-focused. Stuff like the characters changing form when in fights just seems overly complicated and adds nothing.

❌ Said combat looks competent, but not good enough to make up for detracting from what could have been an interesting setting. Merc Storia did this aspect far better (by usually not doing it at all).

❌ So it ends up being better than expected, but then that only amounts to a disappointment.

Kaguya-sama wa Kokurasetai / Kaguya-sama: Love Is War

What: Kaguya and Miyuki are in the student council of a prestigious school and HATE HATE HATE each other. Specifically, they hate the part where the other one won’t just finally admit their love.

✅ The joke here is that it’s operating on full intensity at all times, over the most simple matters. It’s pretty much Kaiji, only about dating - complete with hammy narrator. This is another one of those shows where I can’t say with certainty that it’s solid, but I had a blast during the first episode.

✅ Regarding Quintuplets, I made it clear that I love me some sparks in my romantic comedies. It doesn’t get much more explosive than this.

✅ The characters are comparable to Quints too: Smart scheming upstart vs. rich scheming ojou, with a simpleminded girl in the middle that ends up winning more often than not simply by not overdoing it.

✅ The visuals are just as over the top as the proceedings depicted. Occasionally a filter massacre, but mostly cool.

♎ The long-term viability of this show depend entirely on whether they can consistently come up with scenarios that work, which isn’t a given. Also, this is so intense it might become tiresome - I already felt some fatigue towards the end of the first episode. We’ll see, I guess.

Kakegurui ××

What: Some weirdos think they can crash the party at Hyakkaou with an intent to scare the daylights out of Yumeko and Midari, of all people. Let’s just say they were not as prepared as they thought.

✅ As you might have guessed by me watching the sequel, I liked Kakegurui. It has its problems, but if you’re down for some crazypants madness, this show delivers.

✅ This is one of the better episodes of it too, because it gets right into it and the game they play is dead simple. Kakegurui was never about smart moves or strong characters, so not having anything detract from our girls deriving the entirely wrong sort of pleasure from danger is a plus.

♎ Sadly, the OP is a step down (though still great) and the ED is simply an inferior, overcomplicated version of the magnificent original one. They seem to know this too, because they play the OP cut of Deal with the Devil in its entirety for a montage. The rest of the production is on par with the original though, so it’s fiiiine. Oh well.

❌ It got Netflix’d again and the subs situation is dire. Since this is one I actually like, I might have to wait for the official release.

Kouya no Kotobuki Hikoutai / The Magnificent Kotobuki

What: Piston-engined fighter plane pornography.

✅ This delivers where Girly Air Force failed: Close to zero exposition, the majority of the episode is just planes dogfighting with barely any talking either. And that part is executed really well. I think the plane startup sequence alone is as long as the total of Girly’s airtime.

✅ Guess what, it’s Tsutomu Mizushima, previously known for unbridled panzer (und girls) pornography, and boy can you tell. However, this cuts out a lot of GuP’s bullshit: A plane doesn’t have the cast of K-ON in it, it’s not over-the-top zany, and whatever this universe is, it can’t be as insipid as GuP’s. The classy milwank exists you guys, we found it.

✅✅ The music really helps here, sky pirates vs zeppelins just wouldn’t work without some classic swashbuckling orchestra background. Fat sound mixing on the dakka too. It’s great.

♎ Can’t really say much about the narrative because we kinda skipped that in this episode aside from the obvious, but Mizushima’s Shirobako collaborator Michiko Yokote is writing it, and that’s a good sign.

❌ Now we’re getting to the elephant in the room though: There’s no way the planes wouldn’t be CG in 2019, but the characters are CG too, and their animation is mediocre. Also, they did the KADO thing where they 2D-animated the side characters that aren’t important enough to model. This has the funny side effect that you can tell who’s going to die real soon by them looking better. It’s far from great, but probably a worthy tradeoff if the mechanical side is this extensive and also delivers.

✅ This is definitely not for everyone, since you have to have more than a casual appreciation for those magnificent girls in their flying machines. I do, though.

revisions

What: A chunk of Shibuya gets teleported to the dystopian future, local doomsday prepper gets handed a large robot because he’s special.

❌ A Goro Taniguchi joint being a poorly conceived scifi mess? Say it ain’t so! I especially dig the tryhard English jargon (mecha: “String Puppet”, monsters faction: “Revisions”, particular monster, I think?: “Civilian”, tacticool operetah: “Balancer”).

❌ Works very hard to characterize the main character, to the detriment of everyone else. A for effort, but you made an unlikeable asshole though.

❌ This is another full CG show, with the quality of the animation being curiously variable. Sometimes it’s well above average and sometimes it’s painful. There doesn’t seem to be much method to it.

✅ Tries to establish stakes by being mondo edgy and graphically murderizing some poor bystanders. It’s adorable.

❌ If you’re really jonesing for some mecha, you can watch all of this on Netflix right now. It’s not like you have any alte- wait, Egao no Daika has mecha too. Well there you go then. That’s a better show.

#anime #impressions #winter2019 #Bermuda Triangle #endro #grimms notes #kaguya-sama #circlet princess #kakegurui #koya no kotobuku hikoutai #revisions #The Magnificent Kotobuki

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wannawrite · 6 years ago

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better better 💛 🐻 🍯

너의 그 사랑만이 멈춰있던 날 다시 뛰게 해.

[ Only your love could make the me who was stuck run again. ]

blog navigator!

day6 masterlist

TW: if you squint, there's very mild mentions of child abuse, physical and verbal

↪ group: DAY6

↪ member: Yoon Dowoon

↪ genre: idk its not really fluff either, (IM SORRY ANON IT GETS VERY FLUFFY AT THE END) but its 90 percent angst free LOL ??? this story is too out of the ordinary to categorise lol ☀️

↪ request: hey admin n! can i have a fluffy day6 dowoon scenario where he cheers you up from a bad day in school? thank you!

↪ A/N: I really wanted to write something for Dowoon, thank you so much, anon who requested this!! I somehow thought of the spiritual love I receive everyday from God (I'm christian to all of y'all who dk, haha) so I think this story will hold a special place in my heart!!! also, the story plot is largely inspired by the story by 九把刀 - 等一个人咖啡，so if u understand Chinese please give it a read, its a nice story uwuwuwuuwwu

edit i am SO SORRY THIS WAS WAY LONGER THAN IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN LIKE the word count will probably be like idk 8000 by the time i finished this when u requested for a scenario lolz i got way too invested I apologise...I wrote almost everyday for a whole week I regret getting carried away oh my gosh, but I hope you enjoy this, I really worked very hard on this!!!

ps im sorry if jihyo is ooc, never written nor know twice well but id say I'm a fan of their music hehe

______________________________________

It was about 7AM in the morning when all of your batch gathered around at the assembly place in your school, and between occasional yawns that slipped off your mouth (thanks, end of year exams), you and your friends were talking about the happenings of yesterday as you walked there, laughter often breaking out in your little group when there were bits of humour in the story.

You all made your way down the stairs and into the assembly grounds, resembling a large, aquamarine blue quilt that took up an obnoxious part of the school-where the netball competitions and other important events were held.

Seemingly following suit with the shade of blue on the ground, the lack of sun in the morning painted everything with a small hint of lighter, sky blue itself, such that it all looked like one entity but distinctive in its own individual colours.

Realising this with your own dark ringed, half opened eyes, you couldn't help but feel the ends of your lips angle up slowly-the world was so beautiful, you couldn't help but think as you knelt down to sit onto the rugged surface of the big, enveloping area-whoever had created it for all its small but still amazing features was exceptionally genius.

As your eyes scattered around the place, still immersed in a world of your own-a shrill screech of a whistle pulled you back to the boredom of school life, and with a slight, but petty annoyance you shifted your back to face the PE teacher who had just walked over, and subsequently, so did the other students around you.

He stood in front of your whole batch, clad in a black, torso hugging sports shirt and fluorescent pink shorts-which immediately, triggered a few giggles for your batch, but the spoilsport of a whistle just had to ruin the fun again, motioning for everyone else to shut up.

You sighed when you saw the creases in his forehead, and the unmistakeable hint of a frown on his tan, oval face-this was not going to be too good of a day.

You just hoped that he wasn't going to make all of you do 4 rounds around the school today. Running, needlessly to say really was not something a person like you liked to do-sweat all over your face, springing pimples on your face, grasping for breath and literally collapsing in front of the whole class like a dead fish because of how energy deprived you were? You were going to pass, thanks.

"Now, class!" his low baritone rasped out to the class, carrying a strong sense of dominance in it like he was speaking to a platoon in the army, "We have a group of alumni today, coming back to visit and help all of you train for your Physical Education Examinations next year." At that, his outstretched wrists flicked backwards loosely, gesturing for the alumni to come, and he continued again, "They are alumni that were our top students from last year, and did exceptionally well. They have all took time out of their 4 month break after examinations to train all of you, so please be nice, and don't be so unruly."

As soon as he had said that, the class started breaking out into applause as the five students stepped into everyone's field of vision.

Your eyes widened when you saw the bones, standing out like rocks in the their toned, fit arm and leg muscles-even the girls' thighs that was supposedly, the most unattractive part of everyone's body had 'walls' lining their lean, hourglass figure. Confident smiles were plastered to most of their faces, with a few tired exceptions-heck, one even had a smirk playing on their face as he scanned the class below him.

Inwardly, as you heard the laughs of the alumni that had aroused from the awing of their juniors below them, you couldn't help but shudder inside-there was no, freaking way that you were going to look like that after training with them.

You didn't want to, anyway-that meant rigorous hours of training and stitches 'basking' under the unhelpful, boiling cover of the sun.

Just then, as you were contemplating the choices of schools you were going to transfer to to abstain from the torture that was soon to come, the guy with the playful smirk on his face had already grabbed a microphone, and was preparing to speak. Translucent frames for glasses hid his small, almost demure but yet somehow condescending eyes-you weren't getting that great of a vibe from him.

"Hello, Class 3D9, I am your senior, Park Jaehyung, and I'm here to train all of you for the exams, since all of you don't seem that excited for it, judging by your expressions." His features softened considerably from a look of mirth to one of gaiety as he started to speak in a 'half air half voice' kind of way-rasping yet not quite, and you rolled your eyes.

It wasn't really that you disliked him much, but you could already picture him being the heartthrob of the girls in class-the gleam in their previously irritant, but now smitten eyes was so undeniably revolting.

They all nodded furiously at the last sentence, and he began to laugh a bit (attracting more squeals from the girls, much to your dismay) before speaking again, this time with the narrow of an eyebrow and a more serious, raised voice. "I know all of you might be thinking that this is very pointless, and stupid. I know. None of you really want to be an athlete in the future, and I understand. But I really hope all of you can treat this seriously, because health in the long run is really very important, and I want all of you to take not only the PE finals but the entrance exam to college confidently, and healthily. Are all of you with me?"

Like how any motivational speaker would have done, there was an applied pressure at the last line, and soon, a long, unenthusiastic 'yes' drawled out of everyone's barely parted mouth.

You snickered a bit at the frown on Jaehyung's face when he heard it-he really should have known beforehand, that encouraging a class didn't consist of just one pathetic speech, and you started to doubt if he had really been from this school.

Let's face it, motivation really wasn't this generation's thing.

"Are all of you with me!" he rasped again, this time yelling into the microphone obnoxiously and poking a hole in your eardrums.

"YES!" the class shouted with increased volume to appease him.

Just please, don't shout into the microphone again, you whimpered inwardly.

At this, Jaehyung looked more or less satisfied (thank God), and with the small hint of a smile, he passed over the microphone to another guy, whose eyes first caught your own. They were delicately angled into the eyes of a fox, emanating a half elegant aura that still seemed to hint 'Let's have fun, everyone!' They fell into small crescents when he started to laugh at Jaehyung's incapabilities to lead the class, and the circles in his lean, rosy cheek bones spelt attractiveness at its finest.

With a sweet smile on his face, he held up the microphone to his mouth and started to talk. "Morning, class! Sorry if Jaehyung sounds like a bit of a drag. I know he has that student leader aura, but you can't blame him, he's always been burying his face in a book during recess-HEY!" The class, including him, started to erupt into waves of giggles when Jaehyung flicked his forehead, a faux anger playing on his arched eyebrows and widened, now not so small eyes. "FINE, fine, I'll stop! Anyway, hello Class 3D9, this is your cooler senior, Kang Younghyun, and I hope to train all of you to success in the exams. Thank you!" Younghyun proceeded to bow with the shy lift of his eyebrows, and everyone clapped.

"His real name is actually Brian, please ignore him." Jaehyung added in with a wink, earning a loud slap on the shoulder from Younghyun (with a subsequent yelp from himself) and more laughter from the juniors, yourself included. Your seniors seemed pretty chill and friendly, not like how you thought they would be.

But sadly, as they were supposedly goofing around too much, the PE teacher blew that stupid, ear-wrenching whistle of his, causing you to jump up in shock again. "Okay boys, lets finish this up quickly." he said curtly, strict gaze fleeting past the two boys and causing their playful charm to melt like ice in front of him.

As Jaehyung and Younghyun simultaneously did a long, 90 degree bow, mouthing 'sorry' repeatedly, you and quite a good majority of your other classmates sighed, inwardly feeling a tad deflated-looks like the rest of the introduction wasn't going to be that fun after all.

The introduction seemed to move past like rusted cogs, at least for just one part of it-the first girl who had greeted all of you sported two round, neat buns at the sides of her hair, complimenting her big, double lidded eyes and her elegantly curved, brightly smiling lips. The corners of her eyes bore a small fragment of the brighter sky above her, gleaming with confidence as she bowed politely, introducing herself to everyone in a more reserved way than the other two. Her name was Park Jihyo, and she had been in dance-which was quite a great feat, since dance was a niche co-curricular activity in your school, but not surprising at the same time, looking at her beautiful figure and slender, well toned arms.

As she talked, she slipped a few jokes there and then mid-conversation, not too much that the PE teacher had to cut in, but attempting to keep the class' attention on her afloat. Jihyo had an unmistakeable pleasant aura that seemed to infect everyone with her laugh, and from the bottom of your heart, you really wanted to befriend her-someone approachable and easy to talk to.

There was another girl next to her who was called Chaewon, with demure, yet youthful brown eyes and a serene smile. Similarly, she too was very friendly and talked with a very laid-back tone-but the problem was, that she talked a lot.

You didn't really mind it much when people talked a lot, but when they overdid it, it got kind of...boring.

Seemingly one hour later, your eyes struggled to remain parted mid-sentence as she went into a trite monologue about how grateful she was to stand here. By the time she was done you felt fatigue wrap around your head like a snake, till a deeper voice was suddenly amplified into the mic.

"H-Hello, I'm Yoon Dowoon, and-"

"I ate ants as a kindergartener." Jaehyung's unmistakeable airy voice cut in annoyingly, causing Dowoon's face to flush a big, rosy red whilst all of you chortled with a louder, more extreme laughter than before-and instantly, you became alive again as the mental image of a small boy swallowing the poor insect with the brightest smile sent you rolling onto the floor.

"He even gave a whole box to his teacher." came a rather unhelpful snicker from Younghyun, further fuelling the laughter and the blush on Dowoon's face.

You couldn't help but admit, that he was sort of cute when he was embarrassed, though-Dowoon had the small, but believing eyes of a child, with two pretty, but not 'big enough that it protruded' kind of bags attached below them delicately. The gentle up curve of the sides of his big button nose was really attractive, and he had semi-big lips that pouted out like the small petals of a daisy.

Seeing Jaehyung's joking, almost condescending smirk resurface onto his face and look down onto Dowoon's expressionless eyes, which now refused to concentrate on anywhere but the floor was maybe, just maybe-sort of sad.

Unlike Jihyo, you couldn't see even a small fragment of the sky in his eyes-it was as if someone had just painted his eyes brown and decided it would stay that way for the rest of the day.

Dowoon was too embarrassed to do anything else, and without even looking up, he passed the microphone to the PE teacher, whose nonchalant expressions didn't seem to care much either.

Inside, a pang of guilt rose up to your chest, and you unconsciously started to frown along with him as you noticed how uncomfortable his hardened features had looked, amongst all the giggles thrusting through his gentle heart.

Being known by 'the guy who ate ants as a kindergartener' to everyone, instead of who he really was mustn't have been a very nice feeling, especially to his juniors-who was supposed to look at him as a superior and a leader figure.

Just as you were debating on whether or not to ask them to stop, a scream broke out through the assembly grounds, shutting everyone up with a magic swipe of its hand.

Of course, it had to be the stupid whistle.

"Are we here to joke, or train? Get up, all of you! We're going to run today." the PE teacher's obnoxiously booming, demanding voice rang into everyone's ears unpleasantly, the catalyst to the small groans of dismay breaking out amidst the class that was already preparing to stand and walk to the field.

"Can you believe he actually did that?" your friends approached you in a fit of giggles as all of you approached the running track, with a new topic to revolve your conversation around.

Just that, this time, you didn't really want to join in.

It wasn't the best of days after all, you thought with a small hang up in the side of your chest. Out of all things, after seeing a poor boy getting bullied by his own friends, you had to do the stupid 4 rounds that all of you did practically every week.

As you braced yourself painfully for the sweating and fatigue that was to come, taking your rightful place behind the white tape attached to the floor marking the starting point- an unusually low cough brushed by your ears briefly, and instinctively, you whirled around.

You saw the big, believing eyes of a child again as you did so-it was Dowoon, and to your surprise, those eyes noticed your gaze and looked back.

Crap, he's really, very cute. you could feel your head lose some of its gravity and your heartbeat accelerating as he proceeded to smile after, the lift of his plump, daisy lips showing off his round, marshmallow-like cheeks.

"You okay?" his deep voice asked you gently, and you nodded with a small laugh, realising how much of a mess you must have looked in front of him for him to ask such a question.

"I should be the one asking you that. I'm sorry for laughing at you earlier."

With that, his smile angled further into a laugh of his own, and Dowoon replied, "It's okay. I'm used to it already."

You could already feel your forehead crease in slight disbelief, as you stared at the sheepish falter in his smile and recalled how unhappy he was earlier on.

"That's not true-"

BEEP!

The PE teacher's whistle had already gone off, and Dowoon, much to a top runner's expectations, was already speeding far ahead of you with a steady, confident pace as his brown curls bounced gently under the force of his movements.

Looking at nowhere but the front, he looked determined to finish what he had started-something you could probably only dream of having.

"What's taking you so long? Hurry up!" the PE teacher yelled at you, averting your attention away from your senior and back to your miserable plight.

You sighed with a slightly defeated energy, giving him a perfunctory nod as you too, began to move towards the finish line.

That is, if you could even make it.

As you ran, you made a mental note to never use that stupid whistle ever again.

________________________________________________

31st December, 2018.

"Se-second place in class? No way, you must have heard wrongly. Second place girls-wise, maybe..." you insisted disbelievingly, feeling the air brush against your throat as you inhaled sharply, hardly able to fathom the news that had just been broken to you.

Contrary to what your stubborn mentality refused to accept, your deskmate Sungjin just nodded again, the smile on his face laced with a small hint of amusement-he too, probably foresaw that you wouldn't believe such a thing.

"I'm serious, man. It came as a shock to everyone yesterday as well." he said, hiding a gentle, but knowing giggle in 'serious'. "You really have Dowoon to thank, look at you go."

You stared at the suggestive crease in Sungjin's big, pretty eyes, not bothering to hide the sarcasm dripping from your smile (very well knowing that someone like Sungjin was capable of playing such pranks on you).

"And where can I get more reliable information?" you demanded, refusing to tear away your gaze from his, and noticing the added pressure in 'reliable', Sungjin couldn't help but break into a more relaxed smile as he lifted his hands up in surrender.

"Fine, go see for yourself, just don't hit me, please."

He pointed a finger at the notice board, littered with numerous sheets of construction paper from all the projects your class had been assigned this year, almost like a peacock's feathers unfolding.

However, there was one paper that stood out from the rest, dull, white and boring-but maybe not so, once the truth was revealed.

In big, bold letters, it spelt:

PHYSICAL EDUCATION EXAMINATION RESULTS: CLASS 3D9.

The thought of knowing your results had thrown all thoughts of replying to Sungjin out of the window as you could hear the squeak of your shoe soles speed across the classroom towards the notice board.

Frantically, as the long table of students revealed a clearer picture of itself to you, you decided on looking at all the names from the bottom to the top-no better way to set yourself up for disappointment than to face it sooner.

It had been a while of panning up, and your squatting legs were getting tired; though knowing full well that you looked the part of an idiot while doing all this. You couldn't find your name anywhere on the board, and as your legs slowly broke its position to ascend further, the anxiety in your chest seemed to rise along with it-what if you had done so bad a job, you couldn't even get a position?

What if Dowoon had seen it and would never talk to you ever again? What would your parents say when they knew...

Just as your imagination was trailing all the way off from your real goal, the truth imprinted in cold, black ink debunked all of the scenarios in your head.

Your name was right next to the position, second place.

"So you weren't lying!" was the first thing you did as you shouted out of instinct from the opposite position of the classroom. As many other students turned their heads to you in slight frustration, you could hear Sungjin's sniggers direct back at you in response, which was yeah, albeit sort of annoying-but nothing could really smother the joy you were feeling at this moment.

Your eyes lingered for a long time onto the placing that you had gotten, and you recalled all of Dowoon's practice sessions with you-how he had drawn out almost 90% of his 4 month break just to train with you after school, how you had nearly tripped over a hurdle on the running track and causing both of you to laugh, how he had made you draw out a meal plan for him to monitor your food intake everyday-you'd never thought you'd say this, but you really, really missed it.

As you thought back to the believing eyes of a small child, looking up at the boundless sea of a sky-the clouds floating past resembling well his sweat glazed cheeks, you realised-how much you'd miss his presence that pushed forward, reaching out to the you who couldn't be bothered with most things, his care that reached out to the you who didn't care for yourself-not necessarily in a romantic way.

The thought of getting Dowoon's number had very stupidly, slipped off your mind amidst all the joy he had brought you, and your good mood was surprisingly diminished by a small tinge of guilt as you returned to your desk.

You regretted it. A lot.

"All those training sessions with her partner must have helped a lot, huh? The one who ate ants in kindergarten, I have to laugh." Suddenly, the silent, but tangible hiss of a group of girls fluttered past your ears, and without thinking, a small sense of anger blazed up in your heart as you stood up with a jolt.

How dare they say such a thing about such an amazing person.

Your chair did a loud, ugly screech against the floor as it happened, and the girls looked to you, slightly perplexed-that was, until you grabbed onto their wrists, and locked eyes with them-with a fire in your eyes that you yourself hadn't recognised.

"Don't talk about your senior like that." you deadpanned, with the motivation of anger that had backed you up well.

Just then, you noticed the arch of your eyebrows, and the anger in your movements reflected in their cowardly gazes, and for a second, you wondered-if the you that was acting like this, was really you.

"Sorry." was all they could manage awkwardly, a sheepish, yet somehow insincere smile dripping from their lips as they slipped away to their own desks-people nowadays just loved to talk about others behind their backs, and you sighed.

Only your love could make the me who was stuck in a rut run again.

_____________________________________________________________

"You got second place in the finals? Okay. Well, good for you, but I don't think you'd come to me just for that." the PE teacher slurred his words sharply, suddenly looking up at you from the bend of his glasses with a dull expression in his eyes. He seemed way more fascinated in the papers lulled over by his wrists than your dumb questions, and in all honesty, it was getting sort of annoying.

The lazy whirr of the fan spun over your head, fitting perfectly into the awkward silence between you and the teacher as you twiddled your thumbs awkwardly, trying to figure out a way to paraphrase such a stupid request-not daring to meet his steely gaze that somehow, stubbornly refused to tear away from yours.

He was right, however; the last thing you'd ever do was to go into the lion's den without an ulterior motive.

No one really dared to talk to the PE teacher about anything else besides school.

Plus, you could already imagine all the worst case scenarios if he was in a particularly bad mood today, and...let's just say that detention would potentially be the second best option.

He really wasn't the best person to talk to.

But in this case...

You looked up at the spinning blades of the fan again, and felt the swirl of cool air blow through your hair gently.

Maybe he was.

At such a comforting touch, you tried your best to ignore the pounding headache dragging you down; and with painstakingly mustered courage, you spoke.

"T-Teacher, do you have Dowoon's number? Like, the one who was our senior?"

Regret kicked in the second you had spoke of Dowoon's name, and you could literally feel your temples and limbs lose all sense of gravity as your reputation crashed to the floor. You could feel your heartbeat go into allegro, pounding onto every organ in your body as the PE teacher looked up with the most unreadable expression on his face.

Sweat emitted disgustingly from your scalp as your chest rose and fell back in waves, failing terribly to compose yourself. This is it, you dreaded your indelible fate that was to come as the PE teacher raised his eyebrows-you were barely standing up already, and you could feel your kneecaps wobble unhelpfully under the tendrils of anxiety.

I'm doomed for life, Dowoon's gonna think I'm a stalker, and-

"Hahahaha."

Laughter rolled out in the depth of that intimidating voice, like coffee spilt over a cleanly lacquered table.

You felt your eyes widen as you looked up at the teacher again, still grasping for breath as your heart refused to stop beating-after all, collapsing on the spot seemed like the best path in such an awkward situation.

Especially when he looked at you with amusement twinkling in the corners of his slit-shaped eyes.

"So, what next? You're asking, me? To help you with your half baked attempt of asking a senior out on a date?" he snarled sarcastically, getting out of his seat and approaching you. The corners of his mouth tugged at a smirk, baring his set of sharp teeth; the jaws of a wolf, that spelt warning at its finest, and in all your shock, you recoiled back.

You didn't think this was how it would end up; no, not like this.

Just then, you felt a hand arrest your wrists tightly, digging holes in your skin.

The pain from the wolf's claws amplified your vocal cords as you screamed, causing all the other teachers out there to look at you from their desks, and inside, you wanted to cry; you had never been humiliated so bad in your entire life.

"In your dreams."

Just like that, with the help of a brute force you were mercilessly thrown out of the staff room, and before you could even put a foot on the floor to stabilise yourself you heard a loud bang behind you-followed by the even more painful sound of the lock seizing the entrance of it.

You got up, slightly blank, slightly hollow, slightly lost-as you walked a bit further, heart feeling heavy with all the baggage in your chest-before the feelings got hold of your throat, and tumbled out through your eyes unashamedly.

You were way too sad to hide any further.

Pathetically, to do all you could to mask the feelings that had crept up onto you, through the not so fair play of fate; you held a wrist to your face as you sprinted back to class, with a scar zipped across it, just as it had done for your broken heart.

__________________________________________

"I'm sorry for what happened today...but I'm happy that senior was able to bring you so far." he barely managed, with his smooth, soft voice that seemed to skim lightly over the atmosphere of the café; just like the soft cream that had been drizzled meticulously over the cup of coffee on the table.

You weren't taking it, the coffee that he had made for you not too long ago. Not really that you had anything against him, no-definitely not your caring, gentle coworker, but you didn't really have the mood to drink anything as of now...You sighed briefly, dusting your apron to keep yourself preoccupied, but still not managing to let off all the steam in your body.

The incident had very admittedly, left you scarred; very literally and mentally. Leftover embarrassment was still tugging at the corners of your heart, begging to be attended to while you tried your best to shrug it off, and walked to the counter to unlock the cashier; the cheery ring of the bell above the door had struck at a rather unconventional time, and a customer was already walking in.

It wasn't very fair that they'd have to put up with your emotional baggage when they were here to get a drink, maybe even to destress and wind down for the day.

"Pil-ah, it's okay, I don't really want a drink as of now." you played it off as calmly as you could, slotting the key into the box and letting it slide open with a click. "You can drink it or something, you don't look too energised yourself."

A disappointed whine echoed back in response to your lousy excuse; there was no way Wonpil was going to believe such a stupid reply, and you could already anticipate his nagging voice as he opened his mouth.

"Heyyyyy, come on...don't be like this, I've known you for so long already. You've got to take care of yourself, even when you're sad."

The last line got you hard, and as you saw the customer's eyes widen in judgement behind her mop of ashy bangs, you couldn't help but glare back at him.

"Wonpil, I said I was okay." you deadpanned with added pressure, however, subsequently feeling guilt crawling onto your nerves after realising how mean that had sounded. His features had softened considerably, with a slightly hurt look in his big, innocent eyes, and you didn't really want to hurt anyone else when you yourself had been hurt enough.

"I'm sorry, just-I'm tired from today." you sighed helplessly, having been pushed into a corner, and being his understanding self, Wonpil nodded back with concern laced in his seemingly nonchalant smile.

After making sure everything was more or less alright, you hastily attended back to the customer, who was looking slightly frustrated with how long you were taking-and after she had ordered her iced americano, she looked a little more satisfied as she took a seat by the table nearest to the window.

It wasn't surprising; the weather today was warm. Lances of golden sunlight had dropped by the café, gracing its interior in its crisp, evening glow, and very miserably, laughing at your bad mood that contrasted with it.

"Are you okay now?"

You turned around to see Wonpil, eyebrows raised, hands rested in the pockets of his apron; and a rare, but serious look in his eyes as he prepared to listen to you.

As much as you didn't want him to worry over you, you knew how stubbornly insistent he was with getting things off your chest, so nevertheless, you opened your mouth-wondering what you had done to deserve his grace at the back of your mind.

"I-It's nothing really, it's just-" you exhaled, breaking into a nervous box smile as you ran a hand through your hair, barely having the right state of mind to continue, "I really wanted to thank him for his kindness and how he cared for my growth so selflessly, but apart from being so embarrassed by the teacher, not being able to do that anymore-it makes me feel so, so bad, knowing that I was never able to do anything for him, because I really, really miss him, and-"

"Don't say anymore. I understand."

You felt Wonpil's hand descend onto your back, like the touch of a small, but pretty little butterfly as it fluttered over the expanse of your spine, caressing it gently and hushing your shaking nerves.

All the thoughts had miserably, coaxed your feelings forward, and without knowing, you had started to cry again as you held your palms to your face-trying your best not to cry too loudly as you let out small, uncontrollable sobs.

"T-Thank you so much." you choked awkwardly, not knowing any better way to express your gratitude, and even in the darkness of your closed eyes, you could already picture Wonpil's relaxed, comforting smile playing on the sides of his face as he chuckled softly.

Just then, a cough cut in, putting a halt to your sobs and causing both of you to turn to the customer.

"Um...I'm sorry to interrupt this moment, but can I have three iced lattes? Please?" he said, carrying a half air, half voice tone-and with the guidance of your instinct your head immediately shot up from your palms.

There was only one person you knew with such a voice-the one you heard when you had first met the school alumni.

"P-Park Jaehyung?" you yelled instinctively, and your own eyes revealed the truth to you quickly-lean, rosy cheeks, big lips, small, droopy eyes, that were now widened into large circles as they stared back at you, with equally as much surprise in his gaze.

"Ohhhhh my! Y-You're the junior that trained with Dowoon a lot, right?" In his hearty voice, he exclaimed almost disbelievingly, but causing you to blush furiously; it was rather weird being so closely associated with him. "And hey, don't be rude-how dare you call a senior by their full name." he added on teasingly, and both of you laughed.

"I think I'll make the drinks for today-you definitely need to catch up with him, someone might be there waiting for you." Wonpil's voice said behind you understandingly, and you said a quick thank you with a smile before walking over to Jaehyung's seat.

"Oh, sorry for my impoliteness, Your Highness, Park Jaehyung, my queen-does this make it better now?" you retorted quickly, with a cheeky smirk on your face and triggering a gasp from him.

"Excuse me? Your audacity? Oh, and by that guy's sound, you sound like you're only here to see Dowoon, how sad-he isn't here, because I'm the most significant out of everyone there." he snickered back, laughing even harder when you stuck out your tongue back at him pettily-but to your surprise, it didn't last very long.

"Jaehyungie-hyung, don't be so mean! I'm here, hi! I haven't seen you in so long, are you doing okay?" a deep voice exclaimed, causing your jaw to drop even further, if that was even possible-and your feelings seemed to arrest all the air in your chest, just for a second-when you once again, saw the big, believing eyes of a child and his kind, untainted smile.

It was the boy that had spent countless hours under the sun, pushing you towards your goals endlessly.

It wasn't just any person, a random school alumni that had came to their transit stop for a while to leave again-it was Dowoon, Yoon Dowoon, of all people that you could have seen on that miserable day of yours.

It seemed almost intangible, yet so palpable as you ran to him, calling his name, as your hands managed to even hug his taller figure again-you could have nearly cried when you felt his bigger palm crash against your back with sincerity, and while you heard Dowoon's deep voice roll out a long string of laughter, commenting jokingly, "Man, I never knew a girl would miss me so much," you sort of wanted to smack him-yet was definitely in awe of the fact that you could hear that laughter again.

You'd never think that you would have heard it ever again.

"Shut up, I'm just here because you got me a second place position in running, loser." you giggled it off coolly, but failing terribly to hide the happiness stupidly written all over your face as Dowoon's smile angled up further, wearing his pride proudly on his sleeve as he gave you a high five.

"Really? Oh my gosh, that's so amazing! I'm so proud of my student." he laughed, childlike eyes widening in happiness and amplifying his innocence. "You deserve it man, you trained so hard for the test-definitely more commitment than I think you would have had."

"Ow, thanks a lot for the last comment, jeez, alright, I know I suck." you jutted out your lips in faux sadness, clutching your heart to your chest-but quickly remembering why you were so happy to see him again, you hastily added, "But thanks anyway, for guiding me. Couldn't have done it without you, taking so much time off your break."

There. I finally said it, you thought happily, allowing yourself a small grin when Dowoon rejected your praises quickly, hurriedly saying, "No, no, I didn't really do anything," and starting to ramble on about how you had done so much more to deserve it-his eyes got even bigger when he was in slight shock, and he looked the part of a small, innocent child more than ever.

"And oh, right." Dowoon suddenly spoke up amidst the topic of running, grabbing your attention. You couldn't help but giggle when he was about to open his mouth to speak, but instead-shut it again and started tugging the edges of his hair, mouthing things to himself with eyes squeezed together tightly-probably a long string of Jaehyung's 'motivational quotes.

A part of your heart fluttered at the purity his very being exuded-he was really, very cute.

But in all your mirth, you couldn't help it-you absolutely had to smack him.

"Yoon Dowoon, hurry up!" you snapped quickly, however with a cheeky smile that showed your real intentions. Dowoon was momentarily taken aback-but his features quickly softened after, when he realised you were joking.

"Sorry for being such a big mess, it's just..." he barely smiled softly, breaking out into further nervous laughter when Jaehyung and Younghyun started to beat his back repeatedly.

"Do you want to go out with us today? We're going to my place further out from the city, and uh...we're setting off fireworks and having a picnic around there and playing our instruments and stuff-" There was probably going to be no end to his rambling if Younghyun hadn't gave him a loud slap on his back-at this point, the creases in his eyes and sheepish box smile showed it all; he was incredibly, incredibly flustered, and to your dismay-also incredibly endearing.

But still, you couldn't miss grabbing the opportunity to tease him. You lifted your lips into a smirk, rocking your shoes against the foot of the table as you cooed, "Aww, is my senior asking me out on a date? I'd love to go with you, aww, Dowoonie..." Everyone in the place, yes, including that grumpy female customer; broke into fits of giggles, raising the atmosphere of the previously still, 'cultured' public place as you chased after Dowoon, who was currently running away from you and ducked his head to hide under the table.

"Haha, why are you genuinely scared? I was only joking, you're so adorable." you grinned cheekily as you saw the blush dancing above his round, squishy cheeks and the embarrassment in his semi opened eyes, "I'll come with you. It's quite timely as well, since I've had quite a bad day at school...You know what, I'll say later. I gotta finish my shift first, Wonpil can't possibly do everything for me." you quickly added when you saw his eyebrows widen in slight concern, and with a good-natured, outstretched wrist you helped Dowoon up from the table; who was quick to stick out his tongue when he saw that Jaehyung and Younghyun were still unable to contain the mirth written across their faces.

"So, I'll see you at 7 then?" he smiled awkwardly, trying his best to ignore them, and you nodded back eagerly as you walked him out of the shop, and into the embrace of the outdoors again.

It seemed so coincidental, that even as Jaehyung and Younghyun had simultaneously tagged along behind the two of you and out into the open, the sun was only blazing through the gaps in Dowoon's curls-girdling the ridges of his shoulders, slicing through the sides of his face and oozing into the crevices of his warm, faith-filled eyes.

You smiled.

The world was so beautiful.

"See you later! Don't miss me too much!" you yelled out to Dowoon jokingly, as he and the other boys got into the small scooters they shared-and after he had yelled back with equal gusto, "Back at you!", the three scooters sped in the other direction; hopefully, anticipating the time where they came back the other way again, because you sure were.

_____________________________

unknown: It's 7 lol have you ended your shift yet?

you: Yeah I have! Are you Dowoon or...?

unknown: No I'm Brian #sike

unknown: Please ignore that, Jaehyungie-hyung took my phone, I don't know what he's doing with his weird hashtags again TTTTTTTTT

you: HAHAHAHA TELL HIM HE SUCKS

you: It's nice to have your number though...it sucked not being able to contact you :( How did you get it anyway?

Dowoon: Yeah hhhh Wonpil told me earlier :) I didn't think you would mind...so

you: Haha of course not! Anyway, are you on the way?

Dowoon: Wouldn't dare to be late, I'm already here hehe ^^

Your head shot up with excitement, nearly screaming as you saw three headlights blaze at you, from the curtain of darkness that had shrouded the city not too long ago. It was around autumn right about now, and you were rather sensitive to the cold-so seeing their warm presence was quite comforting.

Noticing that you were already hanging up your apron and practically bouncing to the kitchen to clean up, Wonpil couldn't help but throw a good-natured laugh at you. "Someone's excited for their first date." he remarked suggestively, cleaning the used table under the illumination of the light bulb hanging above him, and if it wasn't for the distance between both of you you would have probably kicked him in response.

"Shut uuuuup, there's literally 2 other boys goiiiiing." you whined, taking one of the leftover plates scattered across the sink and soaping it,"-The chances of you and I dating just about now is probably way higher than Dowoon...well, at least, I've known you for about a year plus right now, and him, 6 months at most." Wonpil couldn't help but giggle again at the uncertainty in your voice, and pettily, you stamped your feet on the floor.

"There's no way my future partner will be someone as mean as you, I take all my words back." you pouted jokingly, and subsequently, starting to laugh at yourself too-this conversation was going absolutely nowhere.

"Hey, but in all seriousness, I think you should just go. Don't make them wait too long, after all, one of them is your future boyfriend. I'll take care of wrapping up." Wonpil spoke up again, approaching you as he hung the cloth by the arch of the sink, and took the plate from your hand kindly-gesturing for you to wash your hands as he pointed to the tap.

With unmasked gratitude you smiled back at him, washing your hands briefly before taking your phone from the counter, "Thanks again, Pil-ah; and one more freaking thing, before I have to repeat it a second time, there is no way Dowoon is going to be my boyfriend." you remarked strictly, taking your school bag from the seat close to the door and slinging it over your shoulder excitedly-the events of tonight sounded incredibly fun.

"Thank me by inviting me to your future wedding!" Wonpil screamed in his high pitched voice when you opened the door, with the silvery chime of the bell above it-and this time, you really, really wanted to kick him, because outside, in the cold of the night Jaehyung was literally having the time of his life laughing at you and nodding back to Wonpil in agreement (one of the rare times where he actually sided him).

"Boys suck." you groaned pettily as Dowoon, with unmistakeable redness on his face gestured for you to get onto the back of his scooter, and Younghyun laughed.

"Doesn't seem that way with our Dowoonie, am I right?" his unmistakeable fox eyes shot you a small wink, which was sort of annoying-till he yelled smugly, "Good luck on being the first there with extra baggage! Not like anyone ever manages to triumph me anyway."

With that, Younghyun's scooter whizzed off, black coat and black locks fluttering behind him care freely, like how his very personality was-and soon, Jaehyung's scooter whizzed off too, the only thing behind him being his screams of "I'm GONNA BEAT YOU THIS TIME, BRIAN!", and you couldn't help but giggle a bit-the antics of those two were always so stupidly humouring.

"Sorry, they can be a bit of a public embarrassment." Dowoon laughed helplessly, shaking his head, and with a small smile you too shook your head; you were totally fine with them, and you'd even say that having them around was enjoyable. "-Jihyo and Chaewon are actually joining us later, but they weren't comfortable on the scooter, and we need someone to drive our instruments."

He paused for a bit to catch his breath, expelling a small puff of white before explaining, "I hope you're okay with it too-the scooter can feel very unbalanced at first, but I think you can handle it. This sounds incredibly awkward, but you gotta hold onto my waist, or you'll probably fall off within a second of me accelerating. Alright? Don't want to be responsible for your medical fees." Dowoon ended off with a joking crease in his smirk before he tossed you a neon yellow helmet from the basket of the scooter, and you nodded before putting it on.

He thrusted the key into the slot rather vigorously, and soon there was a dull roar from the engine behind you, and at his command, you awkwardly positioned your hands at his waist area. Admittedly, it felt pretty good, however-the coat that hugged his waist was made of soft, thick brown fabric, and it reminded you of your honey scented sheets back at home.

"Ready to ride?" he suddenly piped up, happiness laced in his deep, comforting voice, and you shot him a thumbs up sign.

"Always ready." you answered eagerly, and with a louder roar from the engine than before, both of you sped out towards the moon, that lay on the horizon of the shimmering sea.

________________________

You felt like you were riding on the brim of a cloud as the wind zipped through your hair and your jacket, starting to take flight and flutter violently behind you like kites in the sky. The feeling of being so close to land, yet so far up into the sky was so indescribable-gravity accelerated the thrill in your heart as Dowoon let out a long, unceremonious scream, cheering for the destination that wasn't too far from where you were.

"We're almost here!" he broke into a small gummy smile beneath the mop of his fluttering curls-they seemed to run across the border of his forehead, like running waves crashing beautifully onto the shore of a beach.

However, contrary to your imagination, the river that surrounded all of you in its big embrace was especially quiet-only letting small dribbles of light from the lighthouse float gently above the surface of the waves as both of you moved past, like bioluminescent lily pads that had descended from the glow of the moon. Mountains foreshadowed the road ahead mysteriously, painted in a darker shade of navy than the star speckled-sky above both of you, and the road to the picnic area was long and windy, snaking out into a canopy of trees relaxedly.

"You'd never get anything like this in the city." you said in slight awe, hands slowly finding themselves crawling up to Dowoon's broad shoulders as you dared to hoist yourself up, breaking up from your posture a tad bit, and as you felt one of his curls brush past your wrists, he laughed his slow, deep laugh in response.

"You're cute. I had a friend that didn't live in Busan as a kid, and he lived in the more country area-he would probably protest if he heard what you just said..." His deep voice trailed off softly, seeming to follow the snaking nature of the concrete road ahead of you. "-Nevertheless, I'm happy we're here. It's nice to ride out here with someone."

His eyes, which had now stopped displaying the light of the sun to catch the glow of the moon, was still as warm as ever in the cold weather. With undeniable faith tinting the light that ringed his eyes, half opened submissively and bringing out the semi rosy tint in his bags, the carefree smile on his lips and the uplift of his cheeks resembling floating clouds didn't fail to bring you back in awe again; it was as if all laws of astronomy tailed after his presence, and followed in the footsteps of his unbreakable belief.

"You're really very beautiful." the words left your lips through an airy whisper, and you were too busy staring at him again to even notice what you said until Dowoon spoke up again.

"U-Um...Me? R-Really? Thanks, I guess..." his eyes bore a different spark to it as they drooped shyly, like a mimosa recoiling at someone's touch-and as the truth dawned onto you slowly, mixed feelings of embarrassment and self-blame kicked in a little too fast-you really, really wanted to kick yourself for saying that.

Trying to salvage the situation, you quickly spoke up upon seeing his tilted eyebrows and the embarrassment written on his face. "I-I didn't mean that in a weird way, I'm sorry, not that I don't love your looks-or not that I don't love you any less, i-it's just-" you stuttered awkwardly, brain stupidly failing you at this crucial moment-but being a nice guy, Dowoon just shook his head briefly.

With a small smile breaking onto his face, not fully suggestive; yet not fully chaste, he responded in awe, big eyes widening with more faith than before.

"No, no, please don't apologise, because..." Dowoon spoke with the smile of reuniting with someone again, overly excited to articulate his words properly, "B-Because, I-"

"Dowoon! What's taking you so long, can you drive faster? You're almost there already, hurry up!" Jaehyung's voice suddenly broke through the world that only both of you shared, halting the climax of the story. He and Younghyun were on a higher end of a cliff, where the destination was, and you could already see their hands waving vigorously in your direction. Jihyo and Chaewon had arrived too-you could see two figures with long hair sit on a big red mat.

"What was that you were going to say?" you asked, as the scooter started to move again; both of you had been so immersed in conversation that you hadn't even realised that Dowoon stopped the vehicle to talk.

However, contrary to what you thought he was going to say, Dowoon shook his head almost nonchalantly, losing a bit of the faith in his gaze as he looked down with baggy eyes of dejection.

He squeezed his lips into a textbook version of a smile and talked at a slower pace, this time more scarily composed than before. "I-It's nothing. I don't know if I'll have the courage to tell you again."

The entire trip to the cliff went downhill in a veil of awkward silence, both of you knowing full well in your hearts why such a thing had happened. Wind rocketed past your ears silently, blowing against your ears and hitting against your hair-as if coaxing you to speak, but right now, you didn't know if you had the courage to say anything to him when you had made him sad.

In less than a minute, the scooter had surfaced up the flatter parts of the cliff, and you decided that this was the best moment to speak up.

"I'm sorry if I made you sad or anything." you mumbled awkwardly, stepping out of the scooter and nearly losing your balance-having your feet on the ground after 2 whole hours seemed like a foreign concept to your legs right about now.

Dowoon shook a hand at you almost instantly. "You've made me more happy than I could ever imagine." he said unhesitantly, and this time, smiled at you with a more genuine smile. For a second, you could see the faith of the crescent moon resurface back on the ring of his eyes as he continued, "Just have fun tonight, that's all I ask for."

You nodded back, returning his smile; and with a new, strangely fluttering feeling in your heart you followed Dowoon to the picnic mat, where Jihyo and Chaewon were sitting, dressed in casual clothing-you felt slightly out of place, decked out in your sloppy, mud-speckled school uniform as you greeted them shyly, sitting yourself onto the mat. But thankfully, the girls initiated conversations well-definitely way better than you did, and within seconds, you hadn't even realised that Dowoon had slipped away to somewhere else.

"So, how's life after finals?" Jihyo asked cheerily, or rather, the way she usually talked; it wasn't rare to see that consistent, bright smile of hers plastered on her doll like face.

You didn't exactly know how to answer. "I don't really know. After school today I have that 4 month break that most have, so what happened after your break?" You started to laugh as you realised how you had redirected the topic back to them, and both of them started doing the same.

"Hmm-hahaha-I'd say that college life is still manageable, I've been doing it for about 2 months plus." Jihyo answered, failing to contain her laughter at one point as she squeezed her eyes together endearingly. "Chaewon is entering a polytechnic, so she has about 2 months more to break, same with Dowoon, Jaehyung and Younghyun want to go to a uni, so they're going to college too, but I don't know...like. I really don't know what I want in life yet..."

Her voice trailed off awkwardly, with the fading smear of her chirpy voice, and you couldn't help but relate. Sure, you had a subject combination and you had did pretty good in finals, but you didn't have a certain passion you would shirk everything to chase; not like many of the people in your class, who were already able to aim their arrows towards their target.

"It's okay. I'm sure you'll find it soon when the time arrives, I'm looking for what I want too." you said with empathy, and in response Jihyo nodded politely.

"I suppose."

All of you talked for a while longer, on less serious topics-occasionally breaking out in laughter when Jihyo came up with one of her silly, yet timely antics, and going soft hours when Chaewon showed all of you pictures of her labrador-it was a he, with a slender, healthy body and adorable marble eyes.

After a while of staring, you had only come to realise that the mahogany, soft brown shade of his fur was the same colour you saw, inked intricately in the depths of Dowoon's eyes.

Just then, there was a very coincidental, but hesitant tap on your shoulders.

"Can you come with me?" a low voice spoke up amidst the cooing over the dog, and you looked up, despite already recognising who it was.

This time, his gaze looked a little different; you couldn't help but feel slightly excited as you noticed the enigmatic sparkle that stood out amidst his gentle, brown eyes, taking his outstretched hand and standing up.

"Yoon Dowoon, I'm warning you, if you don't bring her back safely, we will tail after you with bats and split your head open." Jihyo suddenly spoke up with a glint in her big, doll eyes, voice cracking menacingly at the last line-and again, both of you laughed at her antics.

"Don't worry, I won't." he laughed awkwardly, voice faltering at the last line. You couldn't help but notice that Dowoon's cheeks were starting to heat up, but quickly ignored it when he gestured at you to follow him.

Contrary to what you thought it would be, the walk to the destination wasn't very long, unlike earlier on. From the angle of the picnic mat, a loudspeaker in the distance was clearly visible. Next to it were two other figures, Younghyun and Jaehyung-with a bass and electric guitar slung around their chests respectively.

Needlessly to say, you were shocked. "They can play those?" you exclaimed, and with a small nod, Dowoon chuckled gleefully, "Look to your left."

Without a moment of thought, you turned your head.

Cymbals, glinting on the cusp of its dully golden surface like the rings of Saturn, with two smaller drums and a large bass drum positioned at the bottom-it seemed like you were exaggerating, but...

"Dowoon, you can play that? " you cried out, faltering a little at the last word, but unlike how you had reacted, he just smiled like it wasn't that great of a feat to play the drums.

"Not just that, I'm going to play you a song." he responded triumphantly, as he approached the spinning chair behind it and sat down. A smug smile remained on his face unwaveringly as he bent down to pick up his drumsticks, humming a gentle tune between his lips-and you couldn't help but smile, wondering if that was the very song they were about to play.

"This is all for you by the way," Younghyun cut in, a malicious smirk playing on the sides of his lips as you turned to him, "-We have a school recital tomorrow, and we've practically practiced this song till we could play it with closed eyes-but our naughty youngest absolutely insisted on playing this instead of anything else, just because of his-"

"OKAY, OKAY, I think that's about enough." Dowoon shouted obnoxiously, with a slightly annoyed, slightly red look on his face, and everyone started to laugh.

"Take it away then, drummer boy." you said enthusiastically, remaining rooted to the ground in anticipation.

You definitely weren't ready for the moment he started to position those drumsticks of his.

As the guitar kicked off the song, while layered by the low consistency of the bass, you smiled unconsciously as you let the melody hum in your voice softly. It was in A major, a nice, steady rhythm; and more so when a string of clashes echoed from the cymbals, not too far away from where you were-before there was another silvery tap, followed up by what sounded like the rustle of leaves.

Then, as the melody descended down a few keys, Jaehyung rasped gently into the mic, like the soft blow of the night breeze surrounding you.

Every day I lived like I was dead But you

Became the reason For me to get up Once more You made me wanna open my eyes

In sync with the bass, your heart thumped against your chest-and you stared at Dowoon, who gave you a small smile, before going into a rapid flurry of beats yet again.

Just your smile alone Makes me breathe Because of you, I'm Better better Better baby Only your love Makes the frozen me Start to run again Higher higher Higher baby

The reason for all this looked back at you knowingly, with the same spark of faith spinning confidently in his eyes; as if he understood what he meant to you, and then, the night sky seemed to tear down from the face of the earth, and enclasp itself in the centre of his eyes.

I used to never wait for tomorrow But you Became the reason For me to take one more step Not too far ahead You held out your hand to me

Just your smile alone Makes me breathe Because of you, I'm Better better Better baby Only your love Makes the frozen me Start to run again Higher higher Higher baby The bass suddenly made no more sound, and soon, the music stopped with your heart.

"You must be confused now." Dowoon's low voice suddenly whispered at a distance awfully near where you were standing, and startling you; yet resonating so comfortingly in your ears while he spoke.

As he locked eyes with yours, the light promisingly dancing on the sides of his pupils held the lights of the stars in them-still the ones of a child, maybe even believing more than ever; and in all your awe you began to speak hastily, not knowing what to do.

"I-I don't know, I'm happy-and these words are what I've been meaning to say to you for the longest time, you mean a lot to me, and heck, I don't even know if I could have survived running without you, there's no way you could have known-"

"These words are the words I want to say to you too."

Your eyes widened as he said those words hopefully, taking your wrists-and all the signs of red surfacing across his cheeks, with the smiles that only he could have made you smile with; to the unsure, dull gaze you had seen at your first meeting, to the beautiful, starry sky you could barely fathom in the depth of his big, believing eyes.

"I wanted to drop by your school to visit, but I heard from your friends that you were hurting a lot today, so I didn’t end up going." he said quietly, now holding up the wrist with the thin, ugly scar zipped across it and kissing it; at that moment, you could barely believe the warmth that was withheld between every fibre in the soft, pillowy surface as Dowoon looked up at you again. "And I don't want to leave you like that again. Thank you for understanding me with that kind heart of yours, when I could barely have the willpower to train the batch, and bringing me so much happiness."

He paused for a bit, and as if his voice was a conductor, your breath halted simultaneously-before he opened his mouth again, and eagerly said the words that would change your life forever.

"I want to run with you forever."

You could barely contain yourself from crying again when the feelings gushed to your head, came raining down from your eyes as tears, and through all your emotions, you nodded vigorously.

"I want to do the same, Dowoon," you sniffed, barely stabilising yourself as you felt his callused hands land on your shoulders gently, holding you close to his chest, rising and falling in waves-he too, was crying; and you never wanted to leave that place again.

Just your smile alone Makes me breathe Because of you, I'm Better better Better baby Only your love Makes the frozen me Start to run again Higher higher Higher baby

From that day on, both of you ran not only across the running track in your school, but in the race of life, hand in hand-smiles being the breath in each other's lungs, and love being the reason to keep going.

Only your love could make the me who was stuck run again.

______________________

HECK THIS WAS SO CRINGEY AND CORNY IM SORRY ILL EDIT IT WHEN I HAVE TIME LOL!!! ugh I had sm fun tho lol Dowoon is really so precious and amazing aaaa ;;; also, I feel like I was only able to write this so well because of God, who plays the character of Dowoon and way more than that in my life-being the breath in my lungs and the reason to keep going, so really, all the glory be to Him, I have never wrote with such understanding of a concept like love and He really is so omnipresent and amazing in even everything I write even if I don't mention Him directly!!!

hehe I really like this story uwu its not the best and its way too long than it should have been but it will hold a special place in my heart!! to the anon that requested this I'm sorry if u expected a short read with a much more light hearted topic to 'cheering you up after a bad day at school' JHDSJKFHS HAHAHAHA gosh anyway I hope y'all enjoyed this if you even finished it, thanks for your support!! I'm writing this on my birthday so I gotta go sleep now, happy 2019 to everyone!

#admin n #day6 scenarios #yoon dowoon #better better #uwu

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walkingthroughthepages · 6 years ago

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This is a post that I both love and hate writing every year. Love, because: I get to list all the things I could possibly ever want. Hate, because: I never know if I want something bad enough to ask for it. Either way: here’s my Christmas wish list!

1. Books

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1. Adequate Yearly Progress: the title alone does it really. The story makes it sound even better. (Goodreads)

2. Yuval Noah Harari: because, you know: science. And knowledge. All things I’m pretty darn fond of. And also, apparently these books are written very well! (Sapiens – Homo Deus – 21 Lessons)

3. All Out: The No-Longer Secret Stories of Queer Teens Throughout The Ages: do I even need to explain this? These stories sound fascinating – and also: they need to be heard. (Goodreads)

4. Ogre Enchanted: I loved Ella Enchanted, so it’s only natural that I want to read the prequel as well, right? (Goodreads)

5. The Hundred Year Old Man Who Climbed Out Of The Window And Disappeared: fun fact: I almost bought another book by the same author on three. different. occasions. Anyways, this one sounds interesting too :p (Goodreads)

6. Sex with the Queen; Sex with Kings: because history. And scandal. What else do you need? (Queen – King)

7. The Clockmaker’s Daughter: I need to read more historical fiction but it’s often quite expensive to buy myself? So, you know – I want someone to give it to me. As one does. (Goodreads)

8. Crazy Rich Asians: I don’t want to watch it until I’ve read it. So I need to read it. But it’s an entire series. So I need to be gifted it. (Goodreads)

9. The Next Person You Meet In Heaven: I loved the first part of this series. And every other book by Mitch Albom I’ve ever read. Really, everything points towards me liking this one. (Goodreads)

2. Utensils

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1. Brita Water Filter: we already have the filter jug, but, honestly… With how much water I drink? We need the big guns. (Amazon)

2. Bottles: see above, really! (Amazon)

3. Glass Storage Boxes: I love cooking. Particularly in large batches. But I don’t have enough storage to then save the food in. Or, if I’m being honest, enough closets to store the storage boxes in. But still – I want all the things! (4-part or 6-part set)

4. Pots and pans: they’re so pretty. And they’re blue. And there’s so many of them! (Blue set – Grill pan)

5. Electric Fondue: this might be because it’s Christmas and every year either around Christmas or on New Year’s Eve, we do fondue or gourmet. And I always have to borrow the parents’ set. I need to stop doing that – and get someone to give it to me instead! (Amazon)

6. Fat Separator: I just like gadgets. That’s all the reason I need for this. (Amazon)

3. Randoms

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1. Face Cleanser: because acne. And stress. And I need this.(Amazon)

2. Juicer: Because juices. And stress. And I need this. (Amazon)

3. Purse: I just have a problem – I like purses. It’s the only thing, apart from kitchen utensils and books, I don’t think I will ever have enough of. (Individual – Set of 3)

4. Watch: do you know how many times a day I have to ask someone else what time it is? Because I can’t find my phone? (I probably should get on that as well) But still, I would be so much better a friend (or at least a less complaining one) if I just had a watch. Can someone give me this already? (Amazon)

Sooooo… That’s my wish list. Fun fact, when I was asked to send through my actual wish list? I thought of three books. That’s it. Why can I only ever think of gifts when I don’t need them?

Aheum.

Anyways, what’s on your Christmas wishlist this year? I actually have one extra thing: for you to go check out the rest of this year’s blogmas-posts as well as all the rest of my Christmas content! (gotta get those views up :p )

-Saar

My Christmas Wish List This is a post that I both love and hate writing every year. Love, because: I get to list all the things I could possibly ever want.

#Blog-mas 2018 #christmas #gift ideas

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miraculousstorytelling · 7 years ago

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An Imperfect Cup of Coffee

Hello, @ifirestone, I’m your secret Santa for @mlsecretsanta this year! I had so much fun writing this, and I hope you enjoy reading it!

Also, thank you @ninoirs and @zoenightstars for helping me so much with the texting sections (and in some cases rewriting them entirely). The trouble with texting like a grandma.

Another note: the contact names are what the recipient has in their phone (so, ladyblogger is what Nino has as Alya’s contact name and so on).

After racing to reach her 7:00 class on time only to find it cancelled, Alya was ready to go home and sleep through the rest of her morning. In fact, she had rushed out the door so fast, she hadn’t even grabbed her morning coffee, which probably explained her sour mood and pounding headache.

She barrelled into the first coffee shop she could find and scanned the store for anyone who could help her. Of course, no one was there. Given how the rest of her morning had gone, she shouldn’t have been surprised.

Alya groaned and turned around, ready to stomp her way out of the shop, but she was stopped by a light and cheerful voice from the back. “Be right there!”

After a second’s hesitation, Alya returned to the counter.

When the woman in the back walked out, Alya was beyond thrilled that she’d chosen to stay.

“What can I get for you?” she asked, much too bright and happy for the hour in Alya’s opinion, but she was pretty enough for Alya to forgive that.

“I’ll take, um…” Alya made a show of looking over the menu, but really, she was looking at the light color in the woman’s cheeks and the way the light caught in her dark hair. “Whatever you have with the most caffeine.”

“Coming right up.” She chuckled as she tapped a few buttons on the register. “Will you have it here or are you taking it with you?”

“I’ll drink it here,” Alya answered instantly.

“Okay.” She smiled, and Alya was pretty sure she was in love with this woman already. “Would you like anything to eat with it?”

“Eat?” Alya floundered for a moment while her brain caught up to the present. “Oh, yeah, sure. What do you recommend umm…” She looked for a name tag, but the ladybug print apron the woman wore only had the name of the cafe. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Marinette.” She pointed to a small offering of pastries next to the counter. “And all of this is made fresh every morning by a local bakery, so you really can’t go wrong. If you like sweets, though, the pain au chocolat is pretty amazing.”

“Thanks. I’ll take one.” Alya tugged out her wallet to dig out her card.

“Great! What’s your name?” Marinette paused, then nearly stumbled over her words when she added on, “So, um, so I can call you when it’s done, I mean.”

“Alya.” She passed over her card and hoped she wasn’t imagining that Marinette might actually be blushing. “Thanks.”

“Go ahead and take a seat.” Marinette passed her card back after running the payment through. “It should only be a minute.”

“Sure, no problem.” Alya tugged out her phone while she found a seat that offered the best view behind the counter. It was easy enough to sneak glances while she texted Nino about the woman she was already planning to marry.

NiNOT MY BF: seriously?

NiNOT MY BF: how long have you known her

ladyblogger: ...

Alya paused to watch Marinette glide through the kitchen with a clean cup for her coffee before she continued.

ladyblogger: the point is i met my future wife

NiNOT MY BF: congrats

NiNOT MY BF: do u know her name tho

ladyblogger: yes???

NiNOT MY BF: good

NiNOT MY BF: is she single

ladyblogger: she has to be

ladyblogger: after my morning hte universe owes me

The tap of ceramic on wood and the smell of fresh coffee recaptured her attention. Alya set down her phone and sent Marinette a smile. “Thanks!”

Marinette grinned and set down a plate with her freshly warmed pain au chocolat. “Enjoy!”

Alya watched her go, quietly enjoying the view, rather than her food, but once Marinette was out of sight, Alya reached for the cup to try it.

She nearly spat it back out once she tasted it.

NiNOT MY BF: thats not how the universe works al

ladyblogger: NINO

ladyblogger: she works at a cafe

ladyblogger: but

ladyblogger: this is literally THE WORST coffee ive ever had

NiNOT MY BF: is the marriage over already

ladyblogger: no??? i can make coffee

ladyblogger: marriage is abt compromise and MAKING SACRIFICES

NiNOT MY BF: whatever u say

Alya grimaced and stared down the food on her plate, almost afraid to taste it. After the bitter mess still stinging her tongue, she wasn’t sure she could trust anything Marinette brought her.

“How is it?” Marinette called from behind the counter.

Alya sighed and took the plunge, biting down on one edge and hoping for a miracle or a really, really good lie. “Whoa…” she murmured before taking a second, larger bite. “This is amazing!”

“I’m glad you like it!” Marinette scooped up a rag to wipe down a nearby table. “They’re actually from my family’s bakery. I made this batch myself.”

“Really?” Alya sank back in her seat. “It tastes great!”

“Thank you!”

ladyblogger: update

ladyblogger: she can bake

ladyblogger: im in love

NiNOT MY BF: u have my blessing

NiNOT MY BF: only if you get me free food tho

ladyblogger: not a chance

Alya took her time finishing her food, watching Marinette and the occasional customer while she pretended to study. She even considered skipping a class so she could stay longer, but she really couldn’t afford to miss it. “That was the perfect recommendation.” She stood and brought her dishes to the counter. “I’ll have to come back sometime.”

“Oh, sure.” And maybe Alya was projecting, but she could have sworn Marinette almost looked disappointed. “Do you want any coffee to go?”

“That’s okay,” Alya answered too quickly. “I probably need to cut back on the caffeine anyway.”

“Okay! Ummmm…” She ran her thumb over the edge of the cup, avoiding Alya’s eyes as she spoke, “You know, if you’re interested, we have a, uh… A discount club. We text you coupons if you give me, I mean,” She blushed and glanced at Alya, “Give us your number.”

“Yeah, sure.” Mainly because Alya really, really liked the idea of Marinette asking for her number for any reason whatsoever. She scribbled it down on a napkin and handed it to Marinette.

“Thanks.” Marinette hesitated, for a moment looking like she wanted to say something else, but then she shook her head and carried the dishes to the back.

“Sure! Thanks for the great breakfast!” Alya called on her way out the door.

“You, too!” Marinette answered with a wave.

Alya almost didn’t notice that her response didn’t make sense.

The next day, Alya slipped out of class early just so she could go visit the Ladybug Cafe. On the way to class, she’d definitely seen Marinette behind the counter again, and she hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.

“Morning!” Marinette called from the back. She peeked out and brightened when she saw Alya. “Hey! You came back!”

“I told you I would.” Alya leaned against the counter and waved. “Any recommendations for me today?”

“Well…” Marinette scanned the offering of baked goods at the end of the counter. “There’s some lavender macarons that are pretty impressive.”

“Did you make them?”

“No.”

“Not interested.” Alya had no plans to be even remotely subtle today. “What did you make?”

A smile tugged at the corners of Marinette’s lips. “I overslept today, so I just helped with the croissants.”

“I’ll take two.”

“For here?” Marinette asked as she rang it up.

“Please.”

On her third visit, Marinette hovered near her, cleaning tables and rearranging whatever happened to be close to Alya’s seat.

“So, are you a student near here?” Marinette finally asked.

“Yep.” Alya closed the book she’d been pretending to read. “Studying journalism. How about you?”

“Well, I’m saving up some money while I decide what to study.” She polished the end of a table that was already gleaming. “My mom suggested business, since I’ve been so helpful with their bakery, and my partner said I should study design since it’s my childhood dream, but I’m not even sure if I still like it.”

Alya stopped listening the second she heard it. All at once, all the lovely dreams about waking up next to Marinette and bringing her excellent coffee while Marinette baked delicious breakfasts came crashing down. “Partner?”

“Oh!” Marinette waved a hand. “No, not that kind of… I mean, business partner. Adrien and I are friends.”

And just like that the wedding bells were ringing again. “Ohhh!” Alya relaxed and leaned forward. “You know, you can sit if you want.”

“Well, I should…” Marinette glanced at the door, then back to Alya. “It is time for my break.”

Apparently breaks for cafe partners lasted hours, because Alya only realized the time after she missed half her afternoon lecture.

By the fifth visit, Marinette stopped pretending to clean and simply rang Alya up and joined her.

“You have how many sisters?”

Alya shook her head. “Honestly? Too many. It must be nice being an only child.”

“I don’t know.” Marinette smiled. “I think it would have been nice to have a sister.”

“Trust me.” Alya sighed dramatically. “I don’t know what was worse, when they borrowed my stuff without asking or when they decided to embarrass me in front of my first crush.”

Marinette laughed. “Okay, maybe not those parts, but having someone to talk to and ask advice. I mean, I could usually go to my mom, but… you know.”

“Well, I guess that part’s not so bad.” Alya nodded. “Besides, Ella and Etta are such a handful right now, mom doesn’t have time to hound me about grades, so that’s a plus.”

“Now I’m really jealous!” Marinette drooped forward. “My parents are worried and keep asking about my plans. I don’t have plans. I’m just trying to figure something out.”

“Tell me about it.” Alya rolled her eyes. “Alya, when are you going to settle down? Oh, I don’t know, maybe when I meet someone interesting.”

“Is that all you’re looking for?” Marinette teased.

“Well…” Alya let her voice trail off while she looked Marinette over. “Not the only thing. I have high standards.”

Marinette blushed, but she still managed to raise a brow and shoot back, “You’re not the only one.”

“Really? So, you-”

The door opened behind them, startling them out of their conversation. “Sorry,” Marinette murmured as she rushed back to the counter. “How can I help you?”

By the time she came back, the moment had passed, and Alya left an hour later, still internally raining curses down on the unfortunate man that interrupted them.

By the tenth visit, Nino was curious.

“So, you still haven’t asked her out yet?”

Alya scowled. “I’m going to. The timing just wasn’t right.”

“Right, but you’ve gone every day for two weeks?”

“Almost.”

“And you still haven’t asked her out,” Nino repeated.

“Listen, I’m in it for the long haul. I’m willing to wait. Marriage isn’t something you rush into.”

He chuckled. “Okay, but you still don’t even have her number.”

“Shut up,” she shot back. “At least I’m talking to my crush.”

“Rude,” he grumbled.

“You earned it.” She turned the corner and saw the cafe across the street. “I’m here. I’ll call you with an update later.”

“Oh, good. I can’t wait,” he muttered before she had the chance to hang up on him.

“Morning!” Alya called when she walked through the door. She froze when she saw who was behind the counter. “You’re...not Marinette.”

The blond behind the counter paused and looked over at her. “No? She’s off today. I can…” Suddenly, he grinned. “Wait, let me guess. You’re Alya?”

She raised a brow. “You are?”

“Adrien.”

“Oh, the business partner.” Maybe it was a little petty to put unnecessary emphasis on the business part of business partner, but he’d single handedly ruined her day, so she felt a little pettiness was justified.

“Marinette hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

That caught her attention. “She hasn’t?”

“Nope.” He chuckled.

“Well, in that case, maybe you could do me a favor and tell me where to find her.”

He shook his head. “I’m not sure. She keeps her phone on her if you want to ask her yourself, though.”

“I...don’t exactly have her number.”

“You don’t? Well,” Adrien pulled out his phone. “It’s…” He paused, then a positively wicked look lit up his eyes. “You know, I just remembered I need to deal with a delivery in the back.” He tapped the screen a few times, then handed her his phone. “Here’s her number.”

Except it wasn’t Marinette’s number. It was her messaging history with Adrien. At least, Alya assumed the contact named “scroll up, Alya” was Marinette.

give the puns agreste: It’s fine. I’ll cover for you.

scroll up, alya: i cant

scroll up, alya: ill miss hre

Alya did exactly what he suggested. Not that she needed the permission, since she would have done it anyway, but the message meant Nino wouldn’t have a reason to try and make her feel about it when she called him later. In fact, she scrolled all the way up to the day she first met Marinette.

scroll up, alya: im in love

scroll up, alya: i know customers are off limits?? But

give the puns agreste: I never said that.

scroll up, alya: good because i met the future mrs dupain-cheng

Alya laughed, half out of relief that Marinette definitely liked her too and half because apparently they were even more perfect for each other than she could have imagined.

scroll up, alya: i made up a rewards program so i could get her number

scroll up, alya: hope thats okay

give the puns agreste: Did it work?

scroll up, alya: sort of

scroll up, alya: i didnt give her mine

“Yeah, no kidding,” Alya grumbled, almost regretting that she didn’t find a reason to ask.

give the puns agreste: Can’t you text her?

scroll up, alya: no!!! then shell know!!

give the puns agreste: Know what?

scroll up, alya: that i made it up!!!

scroll up, alya: plus she said thanks for the food

scroll up, alya: and i might hve said you too

scroll up, alya: so theres that

give the puns agreste: Really? That sounds...

give the puns agreste: pawkward

scroll up, alya: shut up adrien

scroll up, alya: dont mock my pain with puns

She chuckled and scrolled past conversation about things to reorder for the cafe, only pausing when she caught sight of her name.

scroll up, alya: alya came back!!!!!!!!

give the puns agreste: Did you get her number?

scroll up, alya: she just walked in

scroll up, alya: not yet

The next text was a few hours later.

scroll up, alya: id idnt get her number

scroll up, alya: *didnt

give the puns agreste: Why not?

scroll up, alya: got distracted by her face

scroll up, alya: and her hair

scroll up, alya: and her laugh

scroll up, alya: and all of her

give the puns agreste: Wow. You really like her

scroll up, alya: im marrying her

scroll up, alya: of course i do

Alya read through the rest of the conversations, and to say the entire experience was a confidence boost would be a serious understatement. Marinette was easily as enamored as Alya, which meant only one thing.

unknown number: wanna get dinner?

unknown number: this is alya btw

unknown number: adrien gave me your number

Alya only had to wait for a moment before she received an answer

future wife: yes!!!

#mlsecretsanta 2k17 #alyanette #alya cesaire #Marinette Dupain-Cheng #coffeeshop au #au #my writing #honestly Nino and Alya's dynamic was super fun to write #and both Alya and Marinette being instantly in love was also fun to write #I feel like both of the would overshare about their love lives too #overall I just really loved writing this

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faeslayer · 5 years ago

Text

------------ GET TO KNOW THE MUN!!

// HI EVERYBODY! SINCE THIS IS A BRAND NEW BLOG, for the first time in over a year, I thought I’d make an announcement. It’s nice to meet you all, new followers, and glad to see you’ve followed me here, older ones! I’m Whitley. I’m a trans guy, 20 years old, my timezone is Eastern Standard and I’m a huge fan of all things animation, animation critique, and drawing! I’m a graphic design student at my local community college and I also draw in my free time. I plan to make a batch of hand-drawn icons for Gerda soon, since there aren’t many resources of my FC available.

I’m just here to let you know that I’m open to interacting with pretty much everyone. Although I’m selective when it comes to what characters I’ll write with, I love talking to people OOC and am fine with people just following even if we don’t write! I also proudly consider myself a supporter of open and honest communication. I’ll always let you know if something’s off, and I hope you return the favor. I’m also a forgiving person. I really love making friends, and keeping the ones I’ve already made, so I don’t hold onto conflict or grudges for very long. I think communication is a really important and necessary skill in the RPC, and hope it’s practiced when you engage in a mutual follow with me.

I’ve been in the Disney fandom since 2017, when I first started writing a 2017 version of LeFou from Disney’s live-action Beauty and the Beast. I later moved to writing a 1991 version of LeFou, and I’ve also written Gaston, D’Arque, Frollo, Lady Tremaine, and several other Disney or Beauty and the Beast characters in Discord and in Fanfiction. I’ve been roleplaying in general since 2010, where I started off in the Harry Potter fandom with a Ravenclaw OC. Since then I’ve moved to the Pokemon fandom where I wrote Tabitha and Sophocles, the Cuphead fandom where I wrote an OC named Claire, the Villainous fandom where I’ve written Dr. Flug, and a few other stops along the way as well.

I often try to serve the RPC by creating RP memes over at my blog @dangerous-pastime, or by creating graphics on both my commissions blog and through regular giveaways hosted on my RP blogs for mutuals. I recently did a PSD one that went over great, and plan to do another really soon! If you ever need help with a theme, or graphics, I’m happy to lend a hand, especially if we’re already in a mutual follow.

My favorite part of RP is definitely the social aspect, and I really love talking to people, writing with people, hanging out OOC in IMs and discord, and the like! Only problem is I’m also quite shy and have trouble starting conversation, so let me know if I’ve got permission to just talk to you whenever, send you some funny gifs or plot with you! I’d really like to get to know more people here. I also love psychoanalyzing my characters and getting deep into their portrayal and characterization. That’s a fun part for me too, so fun I even take psychology classes to assist me in my writing!

Well, I think that’s enough said about me for now. Again, i’m Whit and it’s a pleasure to meet you! Go ahead and shoot me a message anytime! <3

#💣🔴 ᴀ ᴅᴀɴɢᴇʀᴏᴜs ᴘᴀsᴛɪᴍᴇ ɪ ᴋɴᴏᴡ •°*”˜.•°*”˜ 【OOC】#💣🔴 ʜᴇᴀʀ ʏᴇ ʜᴇᴀʀ ʏᴇ •°*”˜.•°*”˜ 【PSA】

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ghostradiostoryhour · 5 years ago

Text

The Fig

I walked up to the bar where Lucas had said to meet him, double-checking the location on my phone. This place looked beat to hell, run down—hardly the luxe cocktail bar my editor had mentioned in our meeting earlier that day. Maybe the team was hazing me? I was still pretty new on the bar beat, and I wouldn’t put it past them—my company’s culture could get a little frat-like at times, and I was the first woman on their team of six reporters.

Maybe some of them were jealous of my “acceleration,” the somewhat inscrutable metric for success that our CEO had put into place last quarter. Whatever the magic formula was, though, I had cracked it with my first exclusive. My coverage of a new SoHo queer bar’s take on a Corpse Reviver #2 that was in its own right revolutionary—the secret ingredient was reduced rhum cotton candy stacked high atop the tiki mug the drink was served in—had gone viral only three hours after the piece had posted to the site. Lucky for me, I was dating the owner, a semi-famous mixologist renowned for her innovative drink presentation—Sasha had been kind enough to let me write about her.

We hadn’t been dating long, only about a week or so, but her pull was strong on me. Every moment spent gone from her was a dull ache in my chest, a burning, lower. So being here, at this bar, where I was certain I was about to get punked by my male coworkers—on a Monday, no less, the only day that Sasha’s bar was closed . . . I felt like a sucker. But, as I looked at the bar’s faded sign again—it was called The Fig—something crawled through me. Danger? No, it couldn’t be. I was a bad bitch. Tall, thick. Anybody with the idea that I might be easy pickin’s was quickly dispatched with a scowl and a straightening of my shoulders.

Whatever these boys had in store for me wasn’t enough to scare me. So then, what was this feeling? Interest? The place, as dilapidated as it seemed on first glance, was alluring in its way. It was situated at the crux of a weird intersection, bounded on either side by small streets that ran alongside three bigger, much busier thoroughfares, to create a chaotic clump of five streets. Music poured down from a small, empty rooftop that was overgrown with lush plants and flowers. Along one of these streets, the bar had no windows, just a solid concrete wall that had been decorated with a huge mural of some strange bug. It looked like a bee or a beetle, but with a thin, long head and translucent wings shaped like those of a butterfly. A thin, whip-like appendage that was almost twice the length of the bug itself extruded from its abdomen, right in the place where a stinger might be. The front of the bar looked out onto the corner of the intersection, at the meeting point of the two roads. The one window in the front of the bar held a single neon sign that read PSYCHIC in cursive yellow and red. Patterned lace curtains were draped behind it, making it hard to see into the bar.

I stepped up to the door, and the same strange feeling coursed through me again. Like when I had touched the bare outlet in my aunt’s guest bathroom as a child. Involuntarily, I stopped dead. Weird.

I had to push myself forward on the bar’s threshold. Lifting my hand to the door knob felt like moving my arm through thick molasses. My phone dinged. Sasha.

6:55 PM

bb have fun at the bar. hurry back to me. im waiting ;)

I smiled at the text, then shook my head. What was I doing? I just needed to get this over with so I could get over to Sasha’s.

Ignoring the feeling of wrongness prickling my skin, I put my hand on the doorknob, turned it, and stepped into the bar.

Inside, it was a garish, dingy pink, like the inside of a mouth, some mucous membrane. Baroque decor—a limp looking beige silk sofa sagged in one corner, in another a set of mismatched embroidered armchairs gathered around a spindly iron coffee table painted white and flaking. A long unused fireplace carved from gray marble and festooned with cherubs and angel faces displayed an iron rack full of half-lit, melted pillar candles.

It was an oddly feminine place for Lucas’s crew to choose for a drink with the bros. He and the rest of his cohort had already arrived. They were sitting at the bar, hunched over drinks, their black-suited backs to me. Even the bar itself was overly frilly, draped in beads and lace and glowing a pale peach, thanks to some recessed lighting within the bar itself. The color was nearly the same shade as the glittery highlighter Sasha brushed across her high cheekbones every morning. No doubt choosing this place in particular was meant as some joke about my gender.

I rolled my eyes and strode up to the bar, clapped Lucas on the back. He was easily distinguished by the premature gray in his dark undercut.

He spun around. “You made it!” He grinned stupidly. Looked like the group had cut out a bit early to make it here with enough time to fully cash in on the happy hour specials, which ran until 8.

“Yep,” I said. “How’s things? You wanted to meet?”

One of the others, Brad or something—we hadn’t really met yet, laughed aloud at a joke the bartender had made. The rest of the guys leered at me, in various states of drunk.

“Siddown!” Lucas crooned, and I took a seat at the empty stool next to him.

The unsettling feeling from before hadn’t faded, and I had already assessed the room—exits to the back right and the way I’d come a decrepit set of iron stairs that twirled up to the rooftop deck I’d seen from the street. Club mixes of 80s pop lilted from the speakers in the other corners. There were a few other patrons in the bar that I could see, coupled off by the front window, in a small clump by the sofa. The air smelled sickly, hung thick beneath the gaudy chandelier lighting. It tasted like fermented peaches—like farmhouse cider, or a funky saison. Sasha and I were both into craft beer and small batch brewing.

Before I could say anything, Lucas had motioned to the bartender, who was presenting me with an acid green up cocktail.

“Uh, thanks,” I said, immediately wary, but trying to be cool. Everyone was acting a little strange—I had been sure they’d have jumped on me right away, roasted me for my masculine look, or my success, or my general otherness, but they were all acting pretty chill, if a bit loopy. Maybe the invitation had been genuine after all, and this was just how they partied.

Lucas smiled, his features a little droopy—how long had they been here?—and patted me on the shoulder.

“Not always that we get a noob with acceleration!” he said loudly, and at this, the other guys turned and started to pay attention.

“Oh. Yeah,” I said, not wanting to play it down—though if I were with my girl friends, I would have. I straightened up. “Well, I know what I’m doing, so.”

The oldest guy in the group besides Lucas snorted. His name was Todd, and he’d been with the company for three years now—long for this business. Everyone knew that he was struggling with acceleration.

“You don’t know shit,” he said. His words were rude, but his tone was good-natured enough. “None of us do. Even the CEO, Roderick. No idea what the public wants. It’s all this PC culture, ruining everything. Can’t even have an opinion on something anymore.”

I frowned. Of course he was one of those. Todd downed his drink, signalled for another.

Arun shook his head. “Shut up, man. Don’t you realize that makes you sound like an asshole?” He looked at me, and I blinked. His face seemed blurry, or—no. It seemed to be sagging. I smiled, trying to not to stare. He kept talking. “The girl clearly knows what she’s doing,” he said. His lip somehow curling as the rest of his face wilted. “I mean, sleeping with your sources is bound to help you get deep inside of the story.”

Brad laughed again, a guffaw that sounded almost cartoonish. “Have you seen her girl?” he slurred. “Not really the marrying type, but damn she is fun to look at.”

Lucas waggled his eyebrows at me. “Yeah, thanks for the pictures, too.”

Damn Chai’s photography skills, I thought. Our publication was known for its amazing photos. Chai, our lead photographer, was truly gifted, which meant that she’d captured Sasha behind the bar at just the right moment—her cheeks flushed with heat, her golden eyes focused, perfectly lit, as she seared an orange rind with a newly struck match. Tiny beads of sweat like dew at her brow and collarbone. I guess for these guys it helped that she liked to wear low cut dresses while she worked. In the feature image for my piece, Sasha had looked like fucking Tessa Thompson. The thought of Sasha, of that picture, sent me back to the text she had sent not ten minutes ago—

hurry back to me. im waiting ;)

The guys were cheering and high fiving each other, practically drooling. This was nonsense. I took a sip of my drink and winced—the lime green cocktail tasted bitter and reeked of ethanol.

“What’s in this?” I asked the bartender, but they had their back to me and didn’t respond. I could barely make out their features in the mercury-stained mirror that hung above the dusty bottles of liquor behind the bar.

“Hey,” Lucas practically shouted into my ear. “How’d you end up with a babe like that, anyway? You’re just a dyke.”

I whipped around, ready to slap him, but then I saw his face.

His features were totally distorted, almost as though his flesh were melting, like the wax of the candles in the fireplace, like Arun’s face, but worse, far worse. The pink sockets of his eyes grew as his bottom eyelids sagged, his eyeballs, horrifyingly spherical, jostling as the space they occupied shifted.

I gasped and jumped back, toppled over. I thought I was going to fall off of the barstool, but it came with me, adhered to me by some beige, creeping slime. I yelped and pulled myself from the chair, slapped at the gunk on my pant seat. A faint hissing noise came from the caustic goop.

The guys were jeering, making fun of my start and cackling to themselves about the fall. I couldn’t bear to look closely at them. I couldn’t bear to see Lucas’s face again, not like that—all dripping and disfigured. He was a dick, but he was still a person. At least I hoped so.

I took my phone from my pocket, checked the time.

11:55 PM.

How could it be so late? I dimmed the screen, pushed the button to illuminate it again, and the time was the same, but now there was a series of messages from Sasha as well.

8:01 PM

how’s it going?

9:10 PM

do you think you’ll come over tonight?

9:15 PM

i hope they’re being nice to you

10:45 PM

Ro, are you okay? starting to worry…

11:32 PM

Ro seriously this isn’t funny

Fuck. How had so much time passed? Did Lucas fucking roofie me? No, I thought. No, I had been drugged at a club before. This wasn’t how it felt.

A moaning sound from the bar and I snapped my head up, looked dead on as the bartender, who had no discernable face, I could see now—just a blank oval of skin tone painted on like nail polish. I watched in horror as the face color melted away to reveal a perfectly polished, nearly opaline skull. Only the skull was no longer a skull at all, not really, but instead a shined white sphere, growing ever smaller as the flesh color drained from its surface. Beneath, the body writhed and jerked as the last spasms of life left the bartender and great hunks of muscle flopped down from their arms onto the floor, which, I noticed then, was crawling with the same slime that had stuck me to the chair. I wanted to run, but I was frozen in place by the spectacle before me.

The bartender had become more of a skeleton than anything, but a strange scream erupted from the body as its shined white limbs began to shorten and curl. I looked around at the other patrons of the bar, then—Lucas and his crew were all melting in a similar fashion—had they given me acid? But no, I could hear them all screaming, set to the overly positive backbeat of Tiffany and the B-52s. The bartender had become a kind of grotesque, ultra foo foo coat rack made of bone, and Lucas, Todd, Brad, and Arun seemed to be melding together, their flesh melting onto the barstools where they sat in such a way that they began to resemble an ornate, blood-red chaise lounge. They wailed together, and Lucas reached out to me. I screamed, and remembered myself.

I looked down. My legs were throbbing with the beige slime, which stretched almost all the way over my knees. “Fuck!” I yelled.

No way in hell I was going to become part of some shitty Williamsburg dive bar. Fuck that.

I ran, or tried to run, for the door. I was moving, that was good, but the most I could manage was a determined kind of lurch. I trudged forward, my heart beating hard in my ears, as I focused on the George Michael lyrics pouring from the bar’s speakers. I willed myself to move, to keep moving, to never stop, even as I neared the door.

My phone rang in my hand. Sasha. But I couldn’t answer. I had to focus.

The couple at the table near the window was melting also, their shared skin flowing together like spilled shades of paint over the wire table and white wicker chairs. I looked away.

The floor of the bar bucked, then, as if it knew I was trying to escape, and I crumpled to the ground. The slime overtook me, moving much faster than it had before. With a yell, I pushed myself up to my feet and ripped my torso away from the hungry slime.

In the corner of my eye, the couple at the table—or the chrysalis-like shape they had morphed into—bubbled up once. I stared, transfixed, even as I worked toward the door. The chrysalis throbbed again, then shook violently. Then it cracked open with a sick noise of breaking bone.

But what emerged from the chrysalis was almost too monstrous to describe.

It was a giant wasp, or something like a wasp, black and shined and buzzing, still new and dripping with whatever amniotic fluid it had emerged from. Was it the couple’s blood? I gagged, but still I pushed toward the door.

It didn’t seem like it could fly yet, because it crawled on almost human arms up the wall of the bar, and onto the cieiling, hanging upside-down between me and the way out. I could barely make out the couple’s faces, stretched and distorted, in the wasp’s wings, mouths still working in distress even as they melded slowly into the wasp. A long, black, whip-like stinger grew out of its abdomen, a near-perfect echo of the mural I had seen earlier, outside.

I screamed again, this time more out of desperation than anything. I had more to do before I died. I had more stories to tell. I had Sasha, sure, but I wasn’t certain that we were meant to be anything real yet. I wasn’t done loving her and I wasn’t done meeting people. I had worked harder than this, dammit! I deserved better than to be yet another woman who had gone out for drinks with male colleagues and had never come back.

The wasp crawled closer to the door, and the beige slime crept over my arms and shoulders, nearing the tips of my fingers. I felt the structure of my face start to shift as I lunged for the door. My hand closed around the doorknob just as the wasp descended.

I closed my eyes and threw my whole weight forward into the door. A terrible buzzing filled my head, and I hit pavement.

The door slammed closed behind me.

For a moment, I thought I was dead, surely eaten by the bar, by the wasp, gone forever, just another queer casualty everyone would cry out for on Twitter and then promptly forget about. But I was still alive and whole, despite the state of my outfit, which was pocked with holes all over, as though I’d been living in a closet full of moths for the last five years. But the slime was gone. My phone was in my hand.

Breathing hard, I checked the time. 5:20 AM.

I laughed aloud at my luck, at my existence, and the few drunk stragglers on the street jumped, looked at me funny. I turned back to look at the bar. All of the lights were off, save for the neon PSYCHIC sign glinting yellow and red in the front window. The sky had started to lighten, and as I stared into the window, wondering if what I’d been through, if what had happened to Lucas and everyone else in the bar had been real, I saw the dark shape of a giant insect crawl across the window.

It paused there, as if regarding me, and then crawled back into the shadows of The Fig.

A shiver ran through me. I felt drunk and wobbly. I let out a huge breath, and then I took out my phone to text Sasha. She was never going to believe me.

As I typed, I noticed something strange. My thumb was changing. Little bumps appeared and then they grew into small, sharp points. It wasn’t painful, not really, but it was startling, and I pocketed my phone, looked closer at my hands. The bumps were all over my hands and forearms, bubbling up and then hardening into hair-thin points. If I didn’t look too closely, I could almost imagine that they were hair.

And then the growing stopped. I touched one of the prickles gingerly and pulled back. They were sharp, alright, and they covered my arms from the elbow to the backs of my knuckles and thumbs.

The door to the bar swung open, then, and a gust of the rank-smelling rotten air whooshed out toward me. I covered my face with my arms and closed my eyes. When I heard the door slam and the wind stopped, I looked up. The bar was closed. Nothing had changed.

But then I looked down at my arms. A fine beige dust coated the new spines on my forearms. I tried brushing it off, once, twice, and then frantically, but it didn’t budge. I looked at The Fig, at the wasp mural on the wall, and then I remembered something I’d learned back in elementary school science class. Mutualism. How some species depended on each other in particular ways. I hadn’t made it out, not really. I had, but not of my own volition.

This was how it spread. I wasn’t a survivor. I was a pollinator.

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