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kirishwima · 4 years ago

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Could you please write about RFA + V&Saeran reacting to MC playing otome games? I don't know if you ever wrote something like that before. Thank u ♥️

as a big fan of otome games i’m obligated to answer this OwO

Since you haven’t specified any pronouns, I’ll be using they/them for MC!

YOOSUNG:

* “MC, do you like playing games?” he asks one day whilst on a call with MC, the glee in his voice palpable.

* He’s so happy when MC replies with a shy yes! He’s about to ask them is they play LOLOL when MC cuts him off with a rush. “I-it’s probably not the kind of games you play though!”

* He’s a little baffled by that, but MC is quick to change the topic to Yoosung’s beloved LOLOL, and he’s sufficiently distracted to let the matter slide in the meantime.

* It’s only after he and MC meet at the party, only after they start dating and spending much more time together that he understands just what kind of a gamer MC really is.

* “MC! Stop paying attention to your fake boyfriend and come hug me! Me! Flesh and bone, right here!” he groans, patting at his chest and belly with a big sad pout-and really, MC you heartless fiend, how can you ignore those big puppy eyes in favor of an online hottie on your laptop?!

* He’s not nearly as upset over MC’s choice of games as one would think-so long as he receives sufficient amounts of kisses and cuddles, and reassurances that he’s their one and only true boyfriend, he’s good! He’ll even watch MC as they game on their phone whilst they rest their head on his chest.

* “Oh, MC, go with that guy! He looks um-” he blushes, wondering how to phrase his next words-how can he say that that dude with the choker full of spikes and smudged eyeliner looks hot?! “he looks...promising?”

* Oho? *MC will remember that.*

ZEN:

* He never really noticed what exactly it was MC was playing-he saw them giggling at their phone or laptop from time to time and found it cute, sometimes he’d see the background of a game but he’d pay no mind to it-if it was something MC wanted to share with him, they would after all!

* Well, one day he was sitting besides them as they played on their laptop, going over his lines when MC laughed and tugged at his shirt, nodding over to their screen.

* “Zenny, look at this-doesn’t this guy look a lot like Jumin?”

* Zen raised a brow and looked at the screen-and he was floored. The man at the screen was a well-drawn, hyper-realistic man that really did look oddly similar to that Trustfund prick-and what was that? There was a dialogue bubble at the side of him that wrote ‘For you, my love, I’d buy the moon and all the stars.”

* “MC-are you not satisfied with me...?” he trembled as he uttered the words, his eyes fixated to the man on the screen-and he suddenly had a deep desire to punch Jumin the next time he saw him (doesn’t he always feel that way tho orz)

* It took a lot of explaining from MC to show him that yes, this is just a game, and no, this isn’t real-yes they’re super happy with Zen and don’t need any compensation from a virtual boyfriend, these are just fun games to play, same as Yoosung with his LOLOL.

* Eventually Zen eases into the idea, though not entirely-and if he catches MC playing any game like that, he’ll always urge them to go for the character that most resembles himself lmao

JAEHEE:

* She really doesn’t see the appeal-and doesn’t really have much of a reaction when MC tells her of their hobby.

*She’s interested to learn of what MC enjoys in their free time, and she’s content to spend some time lounging around on the couch with them, her watching Zen’s musical whilst MC plays on their phone or laptop, and she’ll occasionally look to MC’s screen, offer commentary on the characters, but that’s pretty much it

* Until one day....MC discovers a Zen dating fan game.

* They figure Jaehee will be thrilled to see this, that she’ll want to play this right away! So they waste no time in showing it to them-the plot is fairly good and the art is great, so they know it’s a promising game...

* ...but Jaehee doesn’t seem all that interested. She shakes her head when MC offers her their phone, pushing it back to MC.

* “Thank you, but I’ve already seen this game before-playing as Zen’s lover feels weird, more so when he’s a dear friend. If you’d like to play it you’re free to do so though....” she lowered her head at that last bit, biting her lip.

* With a bit of coaxing and a chin tilt so she’d look MC in the eye, Jaehee admitted her fear. “W-what if after playing this game you fall in love with Zen?! Of course I had no such fear with all the other games you play, they’re fake, but this is real and it’s Zen and-”

* MC had to kiss Jaehee to shush her, the phone all but forgotten, the game still gleaming on the screen.

* “Let’s never play that game, ok? Neither of us has any use for it. I love you, and only you” MC whispered on Jaehee’s lips-and that was all the confirmation Jaehee needed.

* Zen couldn’t stop sneezing that night, poor dude lmao

JUMIN:

* “So....MC you enjoy playing as someone else’s significant other?” “I mean...kind of but not really?” “I see.”

* The conversation was as awkward as you can imagine-MC had been giggling at something a character had said while playing on their phone, and Jumin asked what they were laughing about, so they answered honestly-and that’s how they ended up here, sitting across each other, MC’s phone in the middle of the two on the dining table, the rich-dude-character still shining on the screen, his brooding expression perfectly matching Jumin’s.

* “Is there anything you feel is lacking from our relationship, that these games provide instead?” Jumin asked, nodding down to MC’s phone.

* “No! No, not at all-Jumin, these are just games, and these are simply characters. I enjoy playing the games, and I like seeing well-written characters, but that’s as far as my exchange with them goes. You-you’re here. You’re with me, and we’re together. I love you, and no game can change this or take that away.”

* This is getting too meta for me lmao

* “I see” Jumin said at last-the words sounded cold, but his lips betrayed a small smile as he stood up, coming around to kneel in front of MC, taking their hands in his. “Thank you for being honest with me, MC.”

* And that was that. Or so MC thought.

* Barely a week after this conversation, a notification popped up on MC’s phone. ‘New Otome Game, Exclusive-Corporate Heir Professes His Love?!’

* Curious MC cilcked on the suspicious link, assuming it’d be a prank from Seven or something of the sort-but hoo boy, it sure wasn’t.

* No, instead it was a full-blown, million-dollar-budget otome game; featuring Jumin Han himself, with his own voice, and a lot of cameos by Elizabeth the 3d-even the MC was built-in the game, designed to look exactly like...well, like MC.

* Jealousy, meet Jumin Han, the man that created an entire freaking game for his fiance to play, which he updates weekly so they’ll focus on him and only him lmao

SEVEN/SAEYOUNG:

* “Dude, you’re playing The Arcana?! Do Julian’s route, he’s one kinky motherf-mmf!”

* Seven’s words were cut short as MC put a hand over his mouth, stopping him mid-sentence. “Babe!” they screamed, “spoilers! I’m still on the prologue!”

* He plays any and all games, and otome are no exceptions lol, it just has to be good enough to catch Seven’s eye.

* He’ll often recommend games to MC, or lay in bed with them and play on their phone, choosing bad dialogue options on purpose to mess with them lol

* You’d think he’d make them an otome game featuring himself since they love them so much-and he might, but he’s a little too self-conscious for that lol, so he’d end up making it more of a meme than anything. He might add in a deep profound love confession unlocked through a series of tests though, just to see if MC would go through the trouble of achieving it~

* And they would-it’d take a lot of trial and error but they’d reach a point in Seven’s game where there’d be a blank screen and his own voice, simply telling MC how much he loves them, how he’d do anything to see their smile and how their every action brightens up his day. It’s short and simple, but enough to make MC’s heart melt, and make them run to Seven’s desk to jump in his arms and kiss him.

* Also he’s a total sucker for blushy innocent characters that can’t reckon danger if it were to punch them in the face, wAnna guess whY?

* also if u havent go play the arcana its p darn good

V/JIHYUN:

* He finds MC’s obsession with otome games to be pretty darn cute?! The way they giggle at some of the dialogue or point out their favorite and explain why they like that character to V is so endearing, and he’s always eagerly listening to their explanations-he’ll even play with them from time to time.

* He won’t really play otome games on his own, but he’ll sit with MC on his lap, his head resting on their shoulder as he helps them pick dialogue options (the best, cutest option, always-this man can’t be mean even to a fictional character, never)

* His favorite seem to be the overly sarcastic, blunt characters that seem to want nothing to do with the main character-MC questioned him about it once, asking him if he’s a masochist or something, but he gave them such an innocent look they just dropped the subject without much thought.

* One night MC was too busy playing otome games as V sat on the couch besides them, gently nudging their thigh with his for even a glimpse of their attention-but MC kept mumbling ‘not now babe’, focusing on their game and the moving dialogue.

* V pouted, prodding his lip as he leaned close to MC. “Baby, do you prefer these characters over me...?”

* Listen. Listen V does NOT get into these cutesy moods often so if he does you are LEGALLY OBLIGED TO DROP EVERYHTING YOU’RE GOING AND GIVE HIM ALL YOUR ATTENTION and that’s exactly what MC did, otome games be damned.

* V=Victorious

SAERAN/RAY/UNKNOWN:

* He’s so confused???!

* “Wait so the point of the game is to...date the characters?! All of them?!”

* MC nodded, a mischievous grin on their lips. “Sound familiar?” they asked, knowing full well that was how Ray once lured them to Mint Eye-a story as old as time now, now that he’s on his path to recovery, now that the two are happy together.

* Saeran grumbled under his breath, a blush spreading on his cheek. “It’s not like I really knew what these games were at the time...I just took a look at your search history, saw a lot of that ‘otome’ or whatever and made up a rouse based off of it. I didn’t know you’re that invested in them!”

* MC laughed at his obvious confusion, how he looked to MC’s screen, a desktop folder full of otome games open on their screen and glaring back at them. He pouted, furrowing his brow.

* “Wait but-you’re not like-you like me right?”

* MC rolled their eyes. He was slowly getting over his insecurities, sure, but there was still a long way to go.

* They leaned in close and kissed him, a quick peck on the lips before they leaned back, looking to their computer screen. “I could delete all these if it’d make you feel better. I love you. Only you.” they shrugged.

* Saeran’s reddened face was adorable, the way his breath hitched in his throat, his hands trembing as he came to rest his fingers over MC’s wrist.

* “N-no it’s-it’s okay, I trust you. I um-I love you too.”

* He’s not a fan of otome games, especially not with the connnotations they have for him, but well, if his beloved likes them...he doesn’t mind building a proper game for them.

-send me a mystic messenger headcanon for character reactions-

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brieflygorgeouss · 5 years ago

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for the prompts 41. i’ll keep you safe and 73. i missed you (the ask with those prompts miraculously disappeared from my inbox! i swear it was real lmao)

On Monday, Eliott comes home.

Lucas is there at the airport, waiting for him. He stands and waits and waits until people from the plane from New York start pouring in through the door. There are screaming kids and messy-haired women and guys in hoodies and sweatpants, all looking rough after such a long flight.

And then there’s Eliott.

Lucas’s field of vision narrows down to the sight of him the moment he as much as catches a glimpse. Eliott looks exactly the same Lucas remembers him, except maybe seems taller, which — that’s unfair. He’s looking around, searching, with a heavy-looking bag hanging from his shoulder and his hair mussed, and when he spots Lucas in the crowd, his face lights up with a smile brighter than any kind of constellation Lucas has ever seen.

Lucas doesn’t quite run to him, but it’s a near thing.

Hi, he wants to scream as he’s walking, as Eliott’s pushing past other people, too, hi, you asshole, welcome back to the country, hello, I can’t believe you’re here.

And then Eliott is right there, still smiling, and his eyes are so, so bright, and Lucas can’t really help the way he throws himself right into his arms, right there and then, amidst all of the noise and the commotion, amidst hundreds of other people. For him, there only matters one.

”Hi, Lu,” Eliott mutters right into Lucas’s hair, presses his face close, warm and real, and finally here, finally not hundreds of kilometres away, not only an image on Lucas’s computer screen or a notification on his phone. His embrace is strong and solid, and Lucas lets himself melt into it, imagines Eliott pressing them closer and closer until they merge together and just stay that way.

”Hi,” he says, not knowing if it’s happiness tightening his throat or something else, something bigger. ”I missed you.”

”Missed you, too,” Eliott says, presses a hand firmer to Lucas’s back. Lucas wonders, briefly, if he can feel just how quickly his heart is beating. Then, Eliott adds, in a slightly quieter voice, ”God, you have no idea.”

Lucas might, actually. If all the restless nights he spent rereading Eliott’s newest texts mean something, or FaceTime calls that are never enough, or staying up late despite the time difference, he actually might have an idea of what Eliott means. It’s the ache in his chest that never really goes away these days. The ache in his chest that slowly starts to dissipate now.

But he doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he lets himself lean a little bit heavier into Eliott for one, two, three more seconds, breathes him in and revels, just a little bit, in how reluctant Eliott seems to be to let him go when he, eventually, tries to moves away.

”Alright,” he says, only an inch away from Eliott’s chest because that’s everything Eliott allows him, and Lucas feels like that’s too much anyway. ”Let’s get you home.”

(The last time they were at the airport, Lucas kissed him.

Which wasn’t a mistake, but was not the right thing to do, either. It was stupid, is what it was. Eliott was going away for a long time, with his two giant suitcases and dreams waiting to be fulfilled somewhere else, and it was idiotic, to try and begin something, whatever this spark in Lucas’s heart was, here in the face of so many things coming to an end. But Lucas was teary-eyed and so, so sad, and his heart was breaking. So he kissed him.

It wasn’t, in hindsight, the best of choices, to show your best friend you’re in love with him mere minutes before said best friend gets on a plane and you don’t see each other for the next 6 months.)

On Tuesday, they catch up.

”So,” Lucas says as they’re sitting in the kitchen, Eliott properly at the table and Lucas at the kitchen counter with his legs dangling in the air, although it isn’t even, technically, his own house, ”how’s New York?”

Eliott rolls his eyes at him.

”You ask like you don’t know,” he says. He sounds fond. If Lucas were to describe it, that’s the word he would use. ”In case you forgot already, we call each other every other day.”

That’s true. Lucas’s messed up sleep schedule can attest to that, with how late he stays up sometimes, even when he has a test the next day or stares at the clock at 2 in the morning and already knows he won’t wake up in time to get to class but doesn’t go to sleep anyway. Eliott does things like that, too, and then texts Lucas stuff like, ”the professor yelled at me for falling asleep in class, but it was worth it for getting to talk to you yesterday,” and Lucas stares at the messages for longer than he should, every time. Sometimes it doesn’t work out, but they try — both of them. It’s nice, knowing Eliott doesn’t forget about him, all the way over there at the other end of the world, when they’re both trying as hard as they are.

But he still says, just because he can, ”So what?” and then, raising his eyebrows at Eliott, hoping it comes off as it feels — like a challenge, ”I still don’t really know. I’ve never been there. And whose fault is that, I wonder.”

Eliott smiles at that, but it’s a little crooked where it shouldn’t be, all of a sudden. Lucas wants to reach and straighten it out, smooth it out like creases on a sheet of paper. ”You know I’d take you there with me if I could.”

Lucas knows. They’d talked about it, time and time again, and Lucas even cried once, hoping Eliott couldn’t hear it in his voice as he pressed the phone harder against the side of his face, as if that could make Eliott sound like he was really here.

Couldn’t you go to film school somewhere closer, he’d told him then, knowing what he was saying was unfair but doing it anyway. Lucas is, you see, selfish like that. You’re so unfair, you asshole.

And Eliott had said, then, I know, and, always, always knowing what it really was that Lucas meant even when he didn’t say it explicitly, I wish you were here, too.

But Lucas can’t really leave, and Eliott can’t really stay. So here’s what they have — a week together, and then they’ll be off to lead their separate lifestyles again, far away, Lucas in Paris, Eliott in New York. That’s how it is.

Lucas thinks he should be used to it by now. And yet.

”I can’t afford the tickets anyway,” is what he says in response, hopes it’s good enough to mask the sudden notes of sadness creeping into his voice. ”And before you say anything, no, I’m not letting you buy them for me. You can spend your scholarship money in a better way.”

Eliott huffs, but he’s smiling. The last time they argued about this, they stayed up on FaceTime until 3 AM.

”There isn’t a better way to spend it,” Eliott says, but it’s only a weak jab, a reminder of their previous, much more heated argument, and Lucas can see it in his eyes that he brings it up again only to drop it a second later. Lucas swings his legs, kicks at the kitchen cupboards, lets a small smile slip onto his face.

”When you become a famous director,” he says, frames it like it’s a compromise of sorts, ”then you can buy me tickets. How about that?”

Eliott hums and then smiles adorably. Lucas could look at his smile for hours on end. ”I’ll hold you to that.”

(They’ve been toeing the line for so long that Lucas wonders, sometimes, if they’ll ever stop at all.

Or maybe it’ll be like this forever — Lucas trying not to read too much into all the things that Eliott is saying, and Eliott saying them anyway. Looking at each other like they’re more than they really are. Staying up all night talking, but not about what matters the most, not about what seems to always echo in the back of Lucas’s head once he hears Eliott’s voice. Kissing at the airport and then not mentioning it once.)

On Wednesday, Eliott drags Lucas out of his house and demands that he show him ”what’s new”.

”Nothing’s new,” Lucas tells him, trying to sound upset because Eliott woke him up at 7 am and then proceeded to drag him out of bed without even feeling sorry for it, but he’s not really succeeding much. They’re on the subway. It’s too crowded for Lucas’s liking, but he uses that as an excuse to press a bit closer to Eliott, to lean on him and to grip his shoulder every time they halt to a stop. ”I don’t know what I’m supposed to show you. You know this city just as well as I do.”

Eliott levels him with a look, but can’t hide the sparks of amusement in his voice. ”Lucas, something had to change since I’ve last been here.” He shrugs. Lucas grips his shoulder tighter. ”I just wanna see what.”

So they go. At 8 am, when it’s still a bit chilly here outside, they walk the streets, and Lucas tries to figure it out. They get a coffee at a cafe Eliott used to go to all the time back in high school that has now changed the owner, and Lucas shows him a bookstore they used to pass on their way to the bus station every day that now is not a bookstore anymore but a vegan chain restaurant.

Eliott tells him, when he sees it, ”I’m devastated.”

Lucas only barks out a laugh.

It’s good to see Eliott back around familiar corners again. A bit surreal, too, but Lucas doesn’t want to think about it too much. Eliott seems to take the city in like it’s his first time here, keeps looking around and smiling at people passing them by as they walk, but at the same time, he just— fits so well in here. He looks like he belongs because he really does. They see a cat at a curb at one point, and Eliott is immediately enchanted, goes over to pet it, and Lucas can’t look away from the picture that it makes.

He’s missed him so much that it hurts a little, even when Eliott’s already here.

They go to an art gallery, too. That is, Lucas guesses, also a part of the city that’s changed, although it barely really counts because it’s just how exhibitions work. But then again, Eliott’s eyes light up like the stars when Lucas suggests it, so. The answer to the question is obvious.

They pay for the tickets, and then Eliott spends at least 10 minutes in front of every single painting, looking and talking to Lucas in a hushed voice, and Lucas complains weakly about how much time Eliott’s taking but doesn’t move a step away.

There is a weird feeling in his chest that takes him a while to identify as relief.

He was worried, in a strange way, about bringing Eliott here. He was worried about many things. So much has changed, during those 6 months — the city, the weather, the weird void in Lucas’s ribcage whenever he thought of Eliott, going from sharply painful to only unpleasantly familiar — that he was afraid Eliott has changed, too. Became someone else, someone who wouldn’t fit in this scene — the art gallery, the fluorescent lights, their casual banter, standing shoulder to shoulder — and Lucas was not there to see. Was not there to catch up with the changes.

”What do you think this one is called?” Eliott asks, pointing at another art piece, one of many.

”It’s ’The Summer',” Lucas reads off of a metal nameplate under it, but Eliott’s already shaking his head.

”No, not the title, I mean,” he says, bumps his shoulder into Lucas’s like when they were kids, and he was trying to rope Lucas into doing something he considered fun, ”what would you call it? What do you think?”

And, see — Eliott hasn’t changed much at all.

They will be, Lucas thinks, just fine.

(Please, he’s thought to himself in the dark hours of the night so many times, staring up at his ceiling, please let us be fine.

He fucked up, you see. Lucas is aware of that. They both are, really, because Eliott is the smartest guy he knows, and there’s no way in hell he just forgot about it all. And even if he is kind enough to not mention the kiss — just as he was kind enough to kiss Lucas back, briefly, there by the gates, before he turned around and stepped out of sight — they still both know it happened.

Lucas goes through periodical stages of either wanting to erase the kiss from his memory entirely or thinking about it non-stop for days on end.

He knows Eliott only kissed him back because he didn’t want to make a scene, or because he didn’t want to break Lucas’s heart further since it was falling apart already anyway. Lucas knows that. That’s the only explanation that makes sense, really, and he is okay with that. It’s what he eventually gave into, after hours and hours spent on thinking about it, replaying the act of it in his mind until it felt like just another thing he’s made up, until his lips throbbed with the memory.

He’d have to be stupid to hope for Eliott to love him back. He doesn’t. Eliott has never given him any real reason to believe in it, never promised him a thing.

Eliott doesn’t love him back. If he did, a small, more naive part of Lucas’s mind reminds him from time to time, when he gets a bit too hopeful, when he focuses on the what-if scenarios too much, he would have said something. He would have said, wait for me, maybe, or do it again, or something equally earth-shattering, and wouldn’t have left Lucas at this goddamn airport with only a weak smile and a promise of a phone call.

They’ve talked so, so many times, for hours and hours on end, and he never said a thing. Not once.

Lucas can recognise a dismissal when he sees one, is the thing. It’s clear enough.)

On Thursday, Eliott is stolen away.

”Sorry,” he says when Lucas calls him, asking for the plan for the day, ”my family’s coming over today. I tried to get out of it, but…you know how my parents are. We’re having a big dinner, and all.”

For what it’s worth, he doesn’t really sound pleased with it. It still does very little to dilute the heavy feeling suddenly there in Lucas’s gut.

”Oh,” Lucas says. ”Okay. I mean—”

It’s the kind of sentence that starts somewhere but ends nowhere. Lucas cuts himself off, and the awkwardness of it hangs in the air, stretches thin over the distance between Eliott and him.

He isn’t upset. He isn’t. But he was excited about the day, maybe, about another couple of hours they’d get to spend together, the prospect of having Eliott within reach where he’s sure to stay, sure to stick around. They didn’t make any plans, but Lucas was hoping something would just fall into their hands like it always did, and that they would take it and make the best of it, anyway.

But he’s forgotten, maybe, somewhere in the whirlwind of it all, about other people. Of course Eliott’s family wants to spend some time with him, too. Of course. It’s a given when Eliott is so easy to love, and by so, so many people, too.

Lucas has been selfish, he realises, for thinking he can have Eliott only to himself.

”Have fun, then,” he says. His voice is suddenly something stuck between strung-too-tight and forcefully nonchalant, but over the phone, it doesn’t carry. ”Say hi to your parents from me.”

Eliott huffs.

”Sure,” he says, and it sounds like he’s smiling. Lucas imagines it, and it makes him feel a little better. ”I’ll keep you posted on all the most exciting stuff that’s happening.”

”Like what kind of cake your mom made, you mean.”

”And what my grandma is wearing,” Eliott adds, and Lucas can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him, then. On the other end of the line, Eliott chuckles, too, like he’s pleased. Like making Lucas laugh has been his plan all along, perhaps.

”You’re fucking impossible,” Lucas tells him, the stiffness gone from his voice just like that, and then, ”Okay.”

He spends the day in front of the TV, pretending to watch some talk show that Mika likes and in reality waiting for whatever message Eliott sends him next. It’s nice. His whole family seems to be there for him, grandparents and aunts and cousins, and god knows who else, and Eliott is grinning from ear to ear in every single photo he sends him.

That’s good, Lucas thinks. It’s what Eliott deserves — all this love, all the affection. So many people missing him when he’s away, being so happy when he’s finally home.

A lot of people love him. Lucas is, in the end, only one of many.

(He doesn’t know when it happened. It’s as if Lucas blinked, forgot to pay attention for just a second, and there it was already, this feeling.

Or maybe there was never a specific moment at all. Maybe it happened somewhere between when they were kids, then scrawny teenagers, and then more. Between taking Eliott’s hand for the first time and never wanting to let it go, later. Eliott was the one to talk Lucas into riding his bike down the hill and the one to wipe his tears away afterwards, laughing a little. He was the person who showed him the stars, lay on the grass during hot, enveloping summer nights, mapping constellations out in the sky, and didn’t make fun of how childishly fascinated Lucas was by it. He was the person who snuck into closed playgrounds in the middle of the night with him, just for the thrill of it, and who later got grounded for it alongside. Eliott was the person who told him that there was nothing wrong about girls kissing other girls and boys kissing other boys. He was the first person to openly call Lucas’s father a fucking asshole when he left them, and was there to wipe Lucas’s tears away this time around as well.

Maybe that’s what did it. All those things, all at once.

But a small part of Lucas still wishes someone had told him, impossibly, before it happened — watch out, be careful, in a second, you’re going to fall in love.)

On Friday, they end up celebrating.

It is, to say the truth, Idriss’s idea. He comes over in the afternoon, with Yann and Sofiane in tow, and instead of a hello says, ”Eliott, we need to get drunk together,” and it all goes downhill from there. Their group is chaotic democracy at its finest, and it shows — Lucas’s weak attempts of refusal go unnoticed, and instead, a bottle of cheap wine gets pushed into his hand, someone makes drinks, someone else puts on some music, and that’s how it goes.

Lucas, honestly, doesn’t drink much. It’s a Friday night, and all his friends are here, and he’s having a good time, but then, there’s also this — he wouldn’t want to miss the way Eliott’s eyes shine in the lights of the party, wouldn’t want to miss the way he pushes his hair away from his forehead or how he throws his head back when he laughs. It’s Friday. On Sunday, Eliott is leaving.

Lucas doesn’t want to miss a second of him still being here. He wants to remember it all.

It laces his thoughts with a weird sense of urgency, this sudden awareness of time. He finds a spot in the corner of the living room and just sits and looks, and his chest fills with something heavy, stinging. We have two days, he thinks as he swirls his overly sweet drink around in the plastic cup, amidst the heavy beat of music flooding the room, amidst the laughter and the clinking of glasses fitting right beside it, two days and then he leaves me again.

It’s not fair to think this way. Lucas knows. It’s not like he’s the only one who misses Eliott, or like Eliott doesn’t miss him in return just as much. But he lets himself give in to it, just for a second — missing Eliott already, even when he’s still here, right across the room talking to Arthur, his hair a mess, a bottle of beer in his hand. Lucas doesn’t know what he’ll do when he has to, inevitably, watch Eliott leave again. Stand there at another fucking airport, with their history coming full circle, with his heart breaking again, just like the first time around.

Their eyes lock, then, over the crowd. Eliott smiles at him, his grin wide and genuine and happy, and Lucas tries to smile back in the same manner, wipe away whatever stupid feelings have surfaced on his face, maybe, but he doesn’t think he’s quick enough. Eliott’s smile gets weaker. Something like worry creeps up into his features, etches itself in between his eyebrows.

Lucas gets up from his seat before Eliott can make his way over to him, pushes his way to the bathroom and locks the door, stares at himself in the mirror for a long time, presses his palms to his face when his eyes start to sting.

(He wants Eliott to stay.

He wants a miracle to happen. He wants Eliott to be here, to be close, wants to be able to see him every day, the lines of his smile when he’s happy and the downturn of his mouth then he’s sad, he wants him to be here tomorrow, and the week after that, and later, and later. Lucas wants it all.

He is a selfish person. He knows that. That’s why he kissed Eliott back then in the first place. Sometimes, when he can’t sleep, when he’s sick with sadness and the hollow feeling in his chest, he thinks about asking Eliott to come back. Asking Eliott not to go. All the things he’s never going to say out loud because they would only make matters worse, would only make Eliott hurt. Lucas knows he is happy over there in New York. But it doesn’t stop him from thinking about clutching his hand and saying, please, please just stay. For me.

At least in his own imagination, he’s enough for Eliott to stay. It doesn’t exactly make anything better, but it’s all he has.)

On Saturday, something between them shifts.

Lucas misses the exact moment it happens, to tell the truth. He is busy with other things.

Eliott comes over around noon, with tiredness from last night still written into the lines of his face but with his eyes sparkling and with a small smile on his lips. The weather is kind of shitty, he tells Lucas, running a hand through his hair as he steps into the apartment, and Lucas notices then that his hair is a little wet like it’s raining outside, or just starting to. It sticks to his forehead a bit. Lucas fights the urge to reach out and brush the stands away, bites on his lip, and only turns his eyes away when Eliott, shrugging off his jacket and kicking down his shoes, raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

Lucas doesn’t want to answer it. Instead, he says the first thing that comes to his head. ”Wanna watch something, then?”

Eliott says yes because of course he does, and then it goes like this — they sprawl out on the couch and fight over the blanket just a little, and Lucas lets Eliott pick the movie. The rain is playing an uneven rhythm on the windows, one-two-three, irregular and barely there. He leans into Eliott a little more than he has to but not as much as he really wants to, and Eliott only hums quietly, doesn’t turn his eyes away from the screen. His arm winds around Lucas’s waist, firm, bring them close together where Eliott runs warm, from shoulder to hip.

Lucas keeps thinking, this is our last day.

It’s not a bad way to spend it. Somewhere in a small, quiet corner of his heart, Lucas is grateful for it. It’s nice, almost unfairly so, to be able to lean into Eliott and share his warmth, make sure he’s still right here, listen to his voice when he says, from time to time, ”Look at this scene, Lu,” or, ”Now, now, pay attention.”

Lucas is. Not to the movie, really, but to everything else — the way Eliott smells like the rain and fresh air and cheap cologne Lucas bought him last year for his birthday. The way he sounds like he always does. The way the fabric of his shirt folds over his collar bones and how shadows settle in the hollow of his throat.

There are very few things in the world that Lucas would want more than he wants this.

And when it gets dark — after they’ve watched another movie and stuffed their faces with pizza and after Mika and Lisa came home and joined them in the living room, after they argued over Eliott’s terrible music taste and laughed over how familiar it was, too, it’s time for Eliott to go home.

Lucas is scared of it, like a child. He is scared of opening the door and letting Eliott go and letting the world happen to him, a world Lucas is barely present in, a world somewhere far away. But then Eliott is already getting up from the couch and saying his goodbyes to Lisa, letting Mika hug him, and Lucas trails behind him and watches it, then watches him put on his shoes and jacket and get ready to walk out just like that.

”So,” he says, and if his throat suddenly feels too tight, nobody has to know, ”I’ll see you tomorrow?”

It’s all they have left. They both know that because it’s not like it’s a secret, really. The whole day today, they haven’t spoken a word about Eliott leaving tomorrow, but they both know what is going to happen — Lucas will go to the airport with him, say his goodbyes, try not to cry too much and probably fail, and Eliott will smile at him with his stupid, unbelievable, gorgeous smile and hug him like he never wants to let him go even though it is not true and then leave.

In the doorway, Eliott hesitates.

Maybe it’s because too many of Lucas’s thoughts are showing on his face. Maybe it’s easier to read him than it usually is, than it was yesterday in the lights of the party. Lucas waits for an answer, but it doesn’t come, and there’s a suddenly tension-heavy moment that passes between them. Eliott just keeps looking at him. Lucas doesn’t know what to do about it.

And then, Eliott says, ”Do you want to walk me home?”

Lucas hears Mika laugh from the living room where he and Lisa are still watching something on TV. The rain is still drumming on the windows, a staccato. Outside, it’s probably cold and windy, and if he goes with Eliott, he won’t be back for another two hours, probably. They both have to get up early tomorrow. It’s very late.

”Sure,” Lucas says, grabbing his own jacket from the hanger. ”Let’s go.”

They walk in relative silence for about 2 minutes, when Eliott suddenly grabs Lucas’s hand and pulls him in a different direction and onto a road that, Lucas is pretty sure, doesn’t lead to Eliott’s apartment.

”Hey,” Lucas says, almost stumbling over the cobblestones of the dark street, ”what are you doing?”

Eliott’s hand is warm in his, and firm, and his grip is strong. He laces their fingers together. Lucas tells himself that it is not the reason his heart does something weird in his chest, that it’s because of the dark, because of the late hour.

”I wanna show you something,” Eliott says, pulls him along, rounds a street corner. ”Come on, it’s not far.”

”Weren’t you going back home?”

”I don’t want to go back home.” The words have a weird quality to them. Lucas wants to ask, but then Eliott adds, a bit quieter, ”not yet.”

So they go. How could Lucas complain, really, if he gets to hang around Eliott for just a while longer, have him all to himself, selfishly and privately, hold his hand and let himself get involved in another one of Eliott’s strange ideas like it’s the old times, still? So Lucas lets Eliott drag him along, only grips his hand tighter and doesn’t say a word.

It’s Eliott’s last evening here, and somehow, he chose to spend it with Lucas, with Lucas alone. Whatever it means, Lucas will take it.

Eliott brings him, apparently, to a closed playground.

”Wait,” Lucas says as he stands in front of it, as Eliott finally lets go of his hand in favour of wrestling with the lock on the gate instead, fighting it until it gives up and the door squeaks open, ”Eliott, seriously?”

”What?” Eliott says and just steps inside. He sounds like he’s smiling. ”You scared? It’s just a playground, Lu.”

”This is illegal,” Lucas informs him but goes in anyway, closes the door with the smallest sound. Apart from that, and their whispers, everything is very quiet. ”Just so you know.”

Eliott chuckles, ”I’m aware,” and then, walking backwards, when the light of the streetlamp catches in his eyes and sets his gaze on fire, he says, ”Don’t worry. I’ll keep you safe.”

And whatever response Lucas could make, it dies on his tongue, just like that. Maybe it’s, he thinks with his heart hammering a bit too quickly against his ribcage, actually for the better.

They find a pair of swings that aren’t, miraculously, wet from the rain somehow, and sit down there. For a second, Lucas feels like he’s in a movie of sorts, the kind that Eliott likes to watch best. It doesn’t feel real, between one beat of his heart and the next, this whole scene — the rain, the fresh air, the stars in the sky. How the streetlamp casts a faint light that doesn’t reach quite to where they are. How he’s allowed, somehow, to sit here with Eliott, the same beautiful, unbelievable person he’s known his whole life.

He asks, ”Why are we here?”

”Do you remember,” Eliott says in response, and when Lucas looks over at him, he’s watching the starts, his fingers wrapped around the chain of the swing, ”when we came here when we were kids? When you were, like, twelve?”

Lucas remembers. It is the same place, he realises suddenly, now when he properly thinks about it and pays attention. The three big oaks to his right are still here, and the fence seems to still be painted the same jarring, chipping-off red, or at least that’s what it looks like in the light of the streetlamp. They used to come here sometimes, when they were younger. Once, Lucas took his dad’s pocket knife and carved an ”L+E” into the wood the fence was made of, not really understanding what the action meant, back then.

”Is this where you took me at midnight that one time and then we both got grounded for the next five years?” Lucas asks, and doesn’t expect it when Eliott laughs, doesn’t expect the way it rings in the night and falls into it, makes the stars seem a little brighter.

”Yeah,” Eliott tells him, ”yeah, that’s the place.”

He sounds happy. He sounds genuine. He sounds like everything is alright, like it’s just another night spent hanging around with a friend, like it’s one of so many nights they spent together ad not much more, and Lucas suddenly…can’t take it. It’s like a wave that sweeps him up and drags him under, and he can’t do it. Something blooms in his chest and makes it too tight to breathe properly. He looks away from Eliott’s profile, feels like he’ll break if he doesn’t.

A moment passes. Lucas feels like his lungs are filled with lead.

And then, quietly, Eliott says, ”I don’t want tomorrow to happen.”

Lucas snaps his head back up, surprised. For a second, he thinks he imagined it. With how quiet it was, and how stray, that wouldn’t be impossible, he thinks. But then Eliott turns his face away from the sky and looks at Lucas instead, and even if he did sound happy just minutes ago, he doesn’t look like it now.

”That’s why I didn’t want to go back home yet,” he tells Lucas, like a confession. There’s something muted in his eyes. ”I don’t want tomorrow to come.”

Lucas swallows.

”What,” he tries, forces a corner of his mouth to lift in a desperate attempt at covering up the tremor in his voice, ”aren’t you excited to go back to New York?”

It’s only half a joke and half a genuine question. Eliott answers it with a shrug that looks heavy.

”Not really. I mean,” he says, and Lucas expects him to backtrack, then, just maybe, for only a second. Start talking about how New York isn’t that bad after all. About how much he’s learning, about how it’s just difficult, is all. But then he says, ”it’s great, but. There’s someone at home I’m going to miss a lot.”

Something in Lucas’s chest quivers. He tries to smother it. ”Idriss, I bet.”

Eliott smiles at that, softly. His eyes crinkle at the corners.

”You,” he says. ”You.”

And, see — Lucas knew that. He’s known.

It doesn’t make anything easier.

He turns his eyes away. He wants to say, me too, me too, I’m going to miss you, too. He wants to say, then don’t go, please don’t go, please just stay. He wants to stand up and take the two steps that separate them and wrap Eliott in his arms and don’t let him go, stay with him right here until the rain stops and the sun rises. He wants to kiss him, like back then. Lucas wants so, so much.

It burns in his chest like embers of a fire that should have died long ago. Maybe that’s why he says, ”We’re not going to talk about it, then?”

A pause. ”About what?”

”Me and you,” Lucas replies, then swallows. He takes a breath, tries to steady himself, and then finally says, ”That I kissed you, back then. At the airport.” And when Eliott doesn’t say anything to that, Lucas adds, quieter, ”I think we should talk about it.”

His throat is tight. He’s clutching the chains of the swing so forcefully that they’re digging into his palm.

Me and you, he said, but there is no such thing, really. That’s what Eliott is going to tell him. No ”L+E” even though it’s carved somewhere into the playground fence, even though the hope of it is etched into Lucas’s stupid heart. He’s sick of hoping for things that will never be true, tired of making so many mistakes, but he can’t help it. He can’t help it.

Eliott is silent. Lucas is afraid of what he’d see if he looks at him, so he just keeps his eyes where they are. He keeps staring at his own shoes, barely visible against the dark background of the grass under his feet. They weren’t supposed to bring it up, he knows. They were supposed to brush it off as inconsequential, lock it somewhere in the corner of their minds and not revisit, pretend it never happened, forget entirely. Maybe that’s what Eliott did, after all. Perhaps the memory of it got pushed to the side, with so many other things going on in his life, with so many different people, new places, better things to pay attention to than Lucas and his stupidity.

For a second, shame burns in his veins like a flame.

Then, Eliott stands up.

He’s going to go, Lucas’s mind says, and suddenly his breathing needs two tries before it goes anywhere. He’s going to say, don’t come to the airport tomorrow, and he’s going to go. You used up your time. You should have stayed quiet.

It’s true. It’s all true.

Except Eliott doesn’t leave.

He takes two steps, instead, and then crouches in front of Lucas, and before Lucas can register what’s happening, through his loud mind and aching heart, Eliott is unwrapping Lucas’s fingers from around the swing chains and taking his hands in his own. His grip is tight. His hands are warm.

”Lucas,” he’s saying, ”tell me why you did it. Tell me why you kissed me.”

It doesn’t make sense, but in response, he says, ”You remember, then,” and it comes out weak.

Eliott’s hands tremble in his, minutely, but it’s so slight it might as well only be his imagination. That’s what Lucas writes it off as.

”Of course I remember,” Eliott says. ”Of course.” And then, brushing Lucas’s knuckles with his thumbs in a gesture that is probably meant to be consoling, he repeats, ”Why?”

For a moment, Lucas doesn’t say anything.

He’s thought about it so many times. So many times, it was right there on his tongue, and he always kept it in. All his I love you’s, all the things he couldn’t let Eliott hear because it was just Lucas and his stupid, naive heart talking, because it would ruin the best thing he’s ever had. Lucas is not ready to lose it now. He’s not.

But if Eliott’s tight grip is anything to go by, or the way he intertwines their fingers, or the way he doesn’t take his eyes off Lucas at all, then maybe he knows already. Maybe he knows. Lucas isn’t sure what to believe anymore, and it hardly matters anyway, right, hardly matters when Eliott’s going to leave tomorrow anyway, fuck off for another 6 months or so, and Lucas will have to pick his broken heart back up and piece it together nevertheless, just like last time.

It’s a heartbreak either way, no matter the reason.

”You know why,” he finally says. It feels like a confession, but of a different sort. ”You know why, Eliott.”

Eliott brushes his knuckles again. ”Tell me.”

And just like that — Lucas closes his eyes and says it.

”Because I’m in love with you,” he says. It feels so raw on his tongue that he feels weak with it. And then again, ”I’m in love with you. I have been in love with you for ages. I loved you when we were kids, and I love you now, and I will love you tomorrow when you get on that fucking plane and leave, and that’s just what it is, Eliott, I’m really—” A breath. ”I love you. I’m so sorry.”

He keeps looking at his shoes, still, at the same patch of grass. His inhale, the exhale, then inhale again, are all shaky.

”I kissed you because you were leaving, and I didn’t know when I would see you again,” Lucas continues, a little despite himself, but once the words are out there, there’s nothing he can do. ”I kissed you because you were still here, and I missed you already. And because I love you.” He swallows. His throat feels tight. ”That was the main reason.”

They weren’t supposed to talk about it, but here it is. No take-backs; game over. Eliott knows, now. That’s okay. Lucas will get through it, somehow, like he got through many other things. It’s what he tells himself, biting down on his lip so that it stops quivering, listening to the rush of blood in his head and the too-quick beating of his heart. Eliott isn’t saying anything, but Lucas doesn’t expect him to. There’s not much left to say, really.

And then, a shift.

”Lucas,” Eliott is muttering in the next second, and he’s pulling Lucas’s hands closer to himself, closer to his face, and then Lucas watches, dazed, as he presses his lips to Lucas’s knuckles, once, twice, then, again and again, a kiss after a kiss. ”I thought you— I didn’t—”

It has stopped raining, Lucas notes with a tiny part of his mind. He has, suddenly, no idea what’s happening.

”I thought you didn’t say anything because—” Eliott tries and gets stuck, and in the meager light, he looks…unlike himself, a little. Wide-eyed, breathless, with a few damp strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. His gaze is suddenly so intense it is almost a physical thing. ”You never—” And then like he can’t help himself, Eliott asks, voice caving in, ”Please say it again.”

Lucas blinks at him. He feels like the world has stopped, somehow. Like the time is frozen. ”What?”

”Say it again,” Eliott repeats, and something in his voice changes, then. He’s looking straight at Lucas, with his eyes bright. They’re still holding hands. ”Why you kissed me.”

”I love you,” Lucas tells him, again, just as true as before. His heart is beating too fast.

And Eliott just closes his eyes and presses the back of Lucas’s hand to his lips again, warm and unexpected, and then, when he smiles, Lucas feels the curve of it right against his skin.

”God,” Eliott whispers, barely audible. ”Fuck.”

And then, before Lucas can say anything, Eliott is suddenly untangling their fingers and something passes in his eyes, a notion, and then he’s reaching over and he’s cupping Lucas’s face in his hands, right there at the playground, in the middle of the night and—

When Eliott kisses him, it feels like coming home.

It’s warm and sweet and the angle is a little off, and it’s nothing like the first time but it’s also exactly like the first time, and Lucas melts into it and he’s kissing Eliott. He’s kissing Eliott. Eliott is kissing him — slow and shy at first, then growing comfortable, and then Lucas is parting his lips and lets Eliott deepen the kiss, lets the thrill of it push all the air out of his lungs. He curls his fingers into the fabric of his jeans when Eliott angles his head. They’re kissing — slow and unhurried and like they have all the time they need, even when they don’t, really. But here, in the dark, with the warmth of Eliott’s lips and the burn of hope coiling in Lucas’s chest, it’s easier to believe.

And then, when they part, Eliott is smiling wider than Lucas ever remembers him to.

”I thought you didn’t say anything because— I thought it was an impulse, then,” he tells him, leans his forehead against Lucas’s, and his eyes are closed. His hands slide down to Lucas’s neck, and he traces the line of Lucas’s jaw with his thumb, gentle. ”That you did it because you didn’t want me to go. That you thought it would make me stay.”

There is a question hiding somewhere in the sentence. Lucas answers it, feeling dazed. Feeling breathless.

”I did want you to stay,” he says, and then, ”I do. But the kiss wasn’t meant to be a bargaining card.”

Eliott huffs out a laugh. His eyes are still closed. ”Why didn’t you say anything, then?”

”Why didn’t you?”

And then Eliott does open his eyes, and even after knowing him for practically his whole life and loving him for almost equally as long, Lucas is not ready for what he sees — all the blinding happiness. All the breathtaking storm of something he’s almost afraid to name.

”If I did, and you told me what you did just now,” he says, ”I would’ve come back here on the next plane.”

Eliott’s still tracing the line of his jaw. For a heartbeat, Lucas just looks at him. ”Why?”

”Because I love you,” Eliott says, smiles that blinding smile again, leans into Lucas like he can’t help it, like he can’t wait, kisses his temple, his cheekbone, the corner of his mouth. ”Because I love you, too.”

(Later, they will go. Leave the playground and close the gate behind, unnoticed and unseen, like they were never there in the first place, like nothing ever happened. They will hold hands and pull each other along the empty streets, then kiss on the doorstep of Eliott’s apartment building where Eliott will push Lucas against the cold brick wall and angle his chin up and kiss him again, again until Lucas loses track of time. Later, they will say ”goodnight” and Eliott will complain, just a little, about how he still needs to pack, and Lucas will laugh at him quietly, laugh until Eliott kisses the smile off his face.

But now, it’s this —

”I would stay,” Eliott tells him, still clutching his hands like it’s a lifeline, ”if you asked me to.”

For a second, Lucas wants to. The possibility of it is blinding — how he could just say two words, and Eliott would stay for him, right there, easy as that. He can taste the words on his tongue. No heartbreak, he thinks, but the opposite of it, for once.

But in the end, he says, ”I won’t ask you to.” That’s all.

Because, you see — it wouldn’t be fair. Lucas is selfish, but he’s not cruel. He knows how much New York means to Eliott. He can’t ask Eliott to give it up, his future and his dreams and all the bright ideas he has, just because he’s going to miss him, because this is not how love works. And Lucas is no expert, really, but he is learning something new about love every day, it seems like, and tonight, dizzy with relief and throbbing with how thoroughly kissed he’s just been, he learns his — love is not selfish. Love is not painless. Sometimes, love means letting someone go and hoping they will come back.

”I won’t ask you,” he repeats when Eliott doesn’t say anything, only looks. ”But I will wait if you want me to.”

Something passes over Eliott’s face. Like understanding. His gaze softens, warms up.

”Thank you,” he says, and it’s enough of an answer.)

On Sunday, Eliott leaves.

Lucas goes to the airport with him, stands there amongst the crowd of people, and only has eyes for Eliott anyway. Eliott, with his heavy suitcases packed in a hurry, with his hair messy and his eyes a little tired and his smile a little crooked. They are, at least in this aspect, mirror reflections of each other — it’s the same, the way they look at each other, the way they hold hands, the way Eliott wraps him in a hug, bone-crushing, and Lucas melts into it and just holds Eliott for a second, wishes for the time to slow down for just a moment. Just a while.

”I’ll miss you,” Eliott says, presses the words into Lucas’s temple, ”so fucking much, you have no idea.”

And Lucas smiles so that he doesn’t cry. ”I do,” he says. ”I do, actually.”

Eliott kisses him goodbye, and the kisses are all like punctuation marks between him saying, I’ll call you when I get there, and I’ll see you soon, I promise, and I love you. His voice quivers a bit as he says it all. Lucas thinks, unreasonably, about ”L+E” carved somewhere into a wooden fence.

And then Eliott goes. It will be a while before they see each other again, but it’s okay.

Lucas can wait for him.

#skam france #elu #elu fic #skamfr #elu fanfic #my writing #here it is my dudes i hope you enjoy #have u noticed that i love parentheses

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mieczyhale · 4 years ago

Text

a messy explanation of things and unnecessary information about life lately

soooo... right. i’m sorry i haven’t really been around aside from popping in here and there, and that i’ve been taking longer than usual to reply to things / not replying to things at all. it’s NOT that i’m upset with anyone or trying to ignore / avoid anyone, and it’s not that i don’t care / don’t love talking to you (whomstever you may be) i love chatting with y’all and wish i could get myself to reply to things quicker but i do not control the me lmfao honestly my sleep has never had a schedule but in recent weeks it’s kinda been operating like there’s a lil gremlin in my head who spins a wheel and picks my sleeping times at random - and it’s either like.. two hours or most of a day. there hasn’t been a lot of in between so that’s a thing!!

also in a fun added mix of maybe sleep?, missing meds, being stuck in the house more often than not, and the FUCKING EVERYTHING happening in the world right now my mental health is... probably run by the same goblin that runs my sleep schedule lmao consistency whomst?? since the lockdown started the depression has of course been around more but actually, worse than that, is how my anxiety - and by extension: my ocd - have really amped up and i need y’all to know that the struggle is painfully real (and another thing that affects shit like my replies and writing. reading as well. fics have been kinda stressful and that should be illegal. who authorized this?) i don’t hate talking about it but i don’t really like it either?? especially like.. in depth. but i will say there has been crying, screaming, pain!, and i’ve acquired a few physical injuries.

yeah

on a personal level - a ‘just me’ level - shit is an even bigger mess than usual lmao but all these things will get better eventually - they always do.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

NOW

ON A PERSONAL LEVEL - THE FULL LEVEL - THINGS.... are pretty great actually! i mean aside from the state of my fucking house e__e but Josh has been working from home for two (2) months now and it’s been really nice - people complaining about their partners being home?? can’t relate. yknow what?? i just might love that tall bastard even more from all this.fuck all y’all miserable fucks

we’ve been going out for drives and we’ve gone fishing and the only place i’ve gone too that’s re-opened is goodwill. because i require.. the shop. they do have a masks required rule! (at least at the one here) and, alongside that, the places we’ve gone that never closed (like grocery stores and the gas station and the hardware store) have social distancing rules and stuff in place which i love. can we keep social distancing after this is all over?? more things here in wisconsin are opening up and we might go to some. idk though. we also might not. either way its still a weird kind of exciting to see things opening back up?? even though i do think we’re not totally in the clear because most of our gov. sucks (our mayor tried to extend our stay-at-home order - keyword there is TRIED. we are the land of cheese, cows, and no fucking braincells for anyone)

having pets is obviously not a new thing for me but it’s still a thing. so it takes time and effort and energy and patience and love and a certain disregard for your own safety (claws. they really be as sharp as you think) so... it can be stressful, especially cuz we’ve had to keep them inside more as it gets hot out and something keeps breaking our porch screens (our cats are allowed onto our screened in porch or they can go out in a harness but we will never let them run free outside. fuck that noise) my bbies are all so cute and their personalities and idiosyncrasies are just... *chefs kiss* i love em and they’re definitely a part of what has made quarantine better

i’ve seen my mom a few times, like for my birthday and when she needed help moving Isaiah from one dorm to another and such, but that’s primarily been an option because she has become anti-mask and anti-stay-at-home-order. initially she wasn’t - she gave Isaiah and i fun lil masks since at that time trying to buy them would be impossible and she thought nothing of staying home - but i guess either as its dragged on or as she’s consumed her middle-right wing news that changed s o. she does take social distancing in public very seriously though, so at least there’s that. our favorite coffee shop, where we - pre-lockdown - always went one (1) or two (2) times a week to do art for hours re-opens on monday and that’s one of the few things i’ve truly missed.

josh’s camping trip for this weekend with his friends had to be cancelled because the parks weren’t going to open in time. so today they’re going somewhere to do at least some of the things they would have done if they had gone camping. bikes, bonfires, and cigars. i’m kinda jealous negl but he was really excited about it so mostly i’m happy

trying to figure out how human services was running things during lockdown was rough but thankfully it didn’t take much to get it sorted. mostly because my mom made the phone call i was supposed to lol (the phone anxiety is on its own level) so wednesday afternoon my mom sat with me while i had the appointment with my psychiatrist over speakerphone (which was.. an experience)

ummm.....

OH YEAH! Probably absolutely my favorite thing that’s happened is: WE’RE STARTING THE SEARCH FOR A NEW HOUSE!!!! it doesn’t mean we’re gonna be moving soon or anything, we don’t want to make the same mistake twice (buying the first house you tour that you love) because while it is a great house ultimately it is way too small for us. i mean there’s me and josh, all six cats, and ALL OUR SHIT. listen: i have an entire room dedicated to my various hobbies. and a walk in closet that isn’t big enough. and we both have collections we love and want to display (right now upstairs its hello kitty and downstairs its astronomy and the titanic. and then there’s pop figures, mtg, collectibles, our bottle collection and various knickknacks, etc.) plus all our books! then furniture and cat furniture (i.e towers) and all their shit because they are spoiled babies. and god forbid we ever have a human kid?? yeah. it’s just not big enough.

so we’re gonna take more time with this choice but what we do know is:: we wanna live out in the country (i’m paranoid and don’t like to be looked at and he loves the outdoors, lived on a farm for awhile. i also enjoy the outdoors but mostly since we moved into this house i’ve struggled with doing anything outside... while we only have one neighbor on our road. but there’s one across the road and one at the other side of our backyard and that’s just too much lol)

lets see.. um.... my birthday was may 2nd and that was pretty nice, for a pandemic birthday. there’s been a lot of stuff happening involving josh’s family but that’s not something i really wanna get into on here, tho i will say things have been better in recent weeks and it’s been... really nice. josh and i went to his mom’s house the other night and got drunk with her for fun and i actually had a really good time?? and didn’t complain about going?? that’s kinda unheard of.

i don’t have a job anymore - haven’t since early march-ish - and it kinda sucks but also the universe really did me a solid because my choices were either allow myself to work until i have a mental break again or quit. and i was leaning towards quitting (things had been going down hill with the owner and other employees and just the business as a whole for awhile and there’s a limit to the amount of bullshit i can take thanks) but now it doesn’t seem i have to. why do i think i’m jobless? i was barely working anyway, bc of the snow business was slow, and in march i got really sick and stayed home for a week. the day i was supposed to go back i was still sick, and covid19 was starting to become more of a serious situation everywhere, so josh called in for me and explained that between still being sick and my anxiety over covid (asthma + a not so great immune system) i wasn’t going in that day. i never heard from them again. so.

but it’s all good - there are some options but i’m not looking into them seriously until it’s safe to.

THAT’S ALL OF FUCKING THAT ON THAT

i felt it wouldn’t be a bad idea to come on here and explain A. what’s been going on and B. where i’ve been and C. that if i haven’t responded to you or acknowledged something you sent me / tagged me in it’s literally just because i either forgot to (for all reasons and none) or i don’t have the mental space / energy to. but that doesn’t mean you have to stop talking to me! even if i don’t respond or respond immediately i do read everything and i would die for any one of you fuckers (especially my clowns and the tom hardy movie)

oh! and just btw - sometimes i don’t get notifications (quelle surprise) tumblr and skype should really pair up and talk about their truly great systems that function so well /s 8| ANYWAY: the best and most reliable ways to get my attention are twitter ( @/mieczyhale) and discord (same name) because i have yet to see their notifications fail. ahem.

i feel like i’m missing things / forgetting things but honestly this post is long enough and also enough of a rambley mess that i’m just gonna try and ignore that feeling and carry on with my goddamn day so i might actually accomplish something. sorry if there’s spelling off or missing words. i’m not taking the time to re-read this and might even delete it bc it’s already giving me anxiety bUT WE’LL SEE ALRIGHT HI AND BYE I LOVE YOU GUYS <3

#might delete later?? probably?? havent decided.#maison speaks #tinysquidrachel

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skiasurveys · 4 years ago

Text

437

THE BASICS

Name skia

Gender female

Age 23

Screen Name skiasurveys

Birthday dec 5

Race white

School/Grade n/a

Job rather not say

Status taken

Hometown RD

Current Town n/a

Parents Still Together? they would be if my dad didnt die.

Siblings one younger sister

Pets 2 cats <3

Smoker no

Drinker socially

Virgin no

Orientation straight

APPEARANCE

Hair Color brown

Is It Dyed? no

Eye Color dark brown

Height 5 feet

Style i dont know what to describe my style...

Glasses/Contacts/None? none

Freckles none

Body Type average? pear shape

Shoe Size 6 us female

Piercings none

Want More? n/a

Tattoos? none

Want More? n/a

Braces? i had when i was 14

Overall Best Feature: my eyes idk

Overall Worst Feature: hair or stomach hahaha

Do you get most of your traits from mom or dad? both tbh

LIKES/DISLIKES

Favorite Color green

Worst Color orange

Favorite Number 28

Favorite Animal wolf

Least Favorite Animal monkey

Favorite Flower roses

Favorite Food meat balls n rice

Worst Food tofu

Favorite Junk Food candy or chips

Worst Junk Food idk haha

Favorite Restaraunt earls

Favorite Ice Cream Flavor mint

Favorite Candy starbursts

Favorite Alcoholic Drink blue hawaii or just straight rum

Favorite NON Alcoholic Drink pepsi

Worst Alcoholic Drink gin

Worst NON Alcoholic Drink mountain dew

Favorite Genre of Music classic rock

Worst Genre country or rap

Favorite Band/Artist queen

Worst Band/Artist justin bieber

Favorite Song somebody to love

Worst Song idk

Favorite Radio Station don’t listen to the radio much

Favorite Book the art of racing in the rain

Worst Book twilight

Favorite Type of Movie animation lol

Worst Type of Movie war or money type

Favorite Movie the lion king 1994

Worst Movie Ever twilight lol

Favorite TV Show this is us

Wost TV Show idk

Favorite Season of the Year fall

Worst Season winter

Best Friend jennifer

Worst Enemy maybe kim or alan

Favorite Day of the Week doesn’t matter to me currently

Least Favorite Day of the Week ^

Favorite Sport volleyball

Sport You Hate football

One thing you cant get enough of internet lmaoooo

One thing you hate more than anything idk

LOVE LIFE

Are You Single? no

If not, who is your bf/gf? connor

How Long Have You Been Together? 4 years and 1 month lol

Do You Have a Crush On Anyone Right Now? currently my bf i guess haha

First Kiss brandon

Ever Kiss in the Rain? no

In a Movie Theater? yeah

Underwater? no haha

First Love idk i wanna say connor

Have you ever Cheated on Anyone? no

Been Cheated on? i think so

Used Someone? not intentionally

Been used? yeah

Lied to your bf/gf? white lies

Ever Made out With Just a Friend? no

Do you Flirt a Lot? with my bf

Longest Relationship the one i am in rn 4 years

Shortest 1 month lol

Have you Ever Gotten a Poem? no

Ever Get Flowers? yeah

Do you Believe in Love at First Sight? no i don’t think you can fall in love that quick

Do you Believe in "The One"? yeah

Do you Fall in Love Fast? not rly but once i do i fall hard

Ever cried over someone of the opposite sex? of course

Ever Been Dumped? yeah

Ever dumped someone? yes twice

Ever been rejected? yeah but never where i asked someone out then they said no usually just like we didn’t work out lol

Ever dated someone more than once? yes

Do you ever make the first move? sometimes

Double dates or single? single

Do you want to get married? i guess

Hair Color brown

Short or long? short only a few dudes can pull off long

Eye color? brown

Style good lmao i don’t care but should be good and nice haha

Age my age or a bit older but not too much

Height tall lol

Weight doesn’t rly matter

Muscular or skinny? muscular

Boxers or Breifs? i don’t care

Do you care about looks? yes but it’s not super important

OTHER QUESTIONS

Can you drive? yes

Do you have a car? yup

Do you have a cell phone? yes iphone 8

Are you online a lot? yuppppp

Can you speak another language? nah

Do you do well in school? i try my best

Do you collect anything? no

Have an obsession? always hahaha it changes

Do you hate yourself? yeah oops

Ever smile for no reason? sure

Talk to yourself? yup

Do you have any regrets? yeah i do..

Believe in magick? nah

Do you support gay marriage? of course

Sex before marriage? yeah do what you want

Do you trust people easily? hmmm no

Forgive easily? no

Do you have a secret no one knows? yeah

Do you get along with your parents? yeah

What about other people? usually

How do you vent your anger? i make art

Do you like George Bush? no

Goal Before you die? travel to iceland

Biggest Fear suffocation

Biggest Weakness it depends maybe that’s i am too kind

Do you play an instrument? no

What do you want to be when you grow up? idk

PERSONALITY TRAITS

Are you...

A daydreamer? yes

Shy? yup

Talkative? sometimes... hehe

Energetic? no

Happy? no

Depressed? yeah

Funny? i’ve been told i am

Boring? yesh

Mean? no

Nice? yes

Caring? too much

Trustworthy? i guess

Confident? not rly

Friendly? yes

Smart? nahhhh

Sarcastic? yup

Dependable? yes

Quiet? i can

Weird? yeah ahha

Adaptable? no

Strong (emotionally)? i think

Strong (physically)? nah

Mature? ye

Logical? yes

Religious? kinda

Modest? yes

Indesicive? yup lol

Sympathetic? very

Polite? always

Creative? i think ya

Fun to be around? i hope lmaoo

Loveable? idk

Easily Amused? sure

Outgoing? kinda

Daring? nooo

Clumsy? YEP

Nosy? yep

Lazy? i can be

Scary? i don’t think so lol

Optimistic? nooo

Persuasive? yes

A good listener? yes

Curious? yes

Determined? yes

Artistic? yup

Honest? yup

Respectful? yup

Concieted? no

Cocky? no

Controlling? not rly

Playful? yes

Easygoing? yes

Carefree? no

Hot Headed? no

Serious? i can be

Thoughtful? yes

Considerate? yup

Stubborn? nah

Romantic? yes

Ambitious? meh

Jealous? yeah unfortunately

Insecure? yes

Obsessive? yghhh no

Attentive? yes

Helpful? i try

Punctual? Always on time

Rational? sometimes lol

Sincere? yes

Tolerant? yes

GOODBYE

Did you enjoy this survey? yes

Was it too long? nah

Do you think it contained just about everything? yes

#surveys

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thelighthousemp3 · 6 years ago

Note

hi i love your dianetti fics so much omg!!! i just read them all and i’m still crying lmao. could i request some #domestic dianetti please? thank you!!

thank u so much!! read on ao3 or down below

Rosa Diaz turns over in her sleep, burying her face under the covers to avoid the stream of sunlight coming in through the curtains. She throws an arm over where Gina is supposed to be, but is met by emptiness.

Grudgingly, Rosa cracks open one eye to see that Gina’s side of the bed is deserted. Rosa groans and curls up under the covers again.

The alarm clock on her nightstand rings loudly. Rosa irritably grabs it and throws it across the room, effectively silencing it. “It’s Saturday,” she mumbles. “Who set the alarm clock―”

The door of the bedroom opens and Gina Linetti walks in wearing her pajamas. “You did, dummy. You forgot to turn it off last night.” She walks over to the bed and sits down on her side.

Rosa curses and buries her face in a pillow. “I wanna sleep,” she mumbles.

“It’s already ten though!” Gina protests.

Rosa lifts her head. “Wait,” she says, pointing to the broken alarm clock on the floor. She looks back at Gina. “I set my alarm at 7:30 for work. Why’d it ring at ten?” she asks suspiciously. Gina looks back at her innocently and shrugs. “You set it so I’d have to wake up!” Rosa accuses.

Gina shrugs. “Well, it worked, didn’t it? Honestly, Rosie, I don’t understand how you can sleep until like two in the afternoon. Even Jake can’t sleep for sixteen hours straight.”

“It’s a talent,” Rosa argues.

“Mhmm, a very valuable one, too. You should go on the X-Factor, Rosa. Maybe you’ll win,” Gina says with a hint of sarcasm.

“Shut up,” Rosa says, sitting up. She hugs Gina and breathes in deeply with her head on Gina’s shoulder. Rosa closes her eyes, feeling the world melt away―

“No sleeping,” Gina interrupts, pushing Rosa off of her. Rosa groans. “I made breakfast, Rosa. And you’re gonna eat it because for the past three weekends, you’ve been starting the day off with lunch,” Gina says.

“No,” Rosa says. “There was that one Sunday where I had to work so I grabbed a bagel. That was breakfast.”

“Whatever,” Gina says. She stands up and pulls Rosa off the the bed. “C'mon. You can take a nap later if you want to.”

Rosa narrows her eyes. “Really?” she says.

Gina laughs. “Nah. There’s too much to do today.”

“Like what?”

“Like spending time together?”

Rosa’s shoulders sag. As much as she loves sleep, she loves Gina even more. “Okay, fine,” Rosa says in defeat. “You win.”

“Oh, darling, I always win.”

Rosa follows Gina out to the kitchen. She sits down at the table as Gina brings her a plate of pancakes. Rosa reaches for the maple syrup before squinting down at the pancakes. “Uh, Gina. My pancakes are covered in glitter,” she says with uncertainty.

“Well, don’t be such a baby about it. It’s edible,” Gina says. She sits down next to Rosa and starts to dig into her own confetti-glitter pancake wreck. “And it brings out all of the potential that the pancakes have you know?”

Rosa shrugs, shaking a can of whipped cream. “Sure,” she says. “So, is the edible glitter a new thing? Or is there gonna be glitter in my dinner tonight?”

“Of course not,” Gina says. “There’s gonna be glitter in the brownies I’m making, though. It’s gonna be fun.”

Rosa leans back in her chair and kicks her feet up on the table. She sets the plate of pancakes in her lap and watches as Gina scrolls through her cell phone.

Right on cue, Gina gasps. “Oh my god. You will not believe what’s happening in Hollywood―” She looks up to see Rosa’s plate empty on the table. “You’re done already? Damn, you eat faster than Jake on Thanksgiving.”

Rosa tosses her fork on the plate. “They were good pancakes,” she says defensively.

“Of course they were. I made them.” Gina says, all while typing furiously into her phone. Rosa carefully waits until she’s sure that Gina’s full attention is on whatever is happening in Hollywood before stealing a bite of her pancakes. Gina swats Rosa’s hand away.

“My pancakes,” she says protectively, her attention still divided towards her phone. Rosa slides her feet off of the table and scoots her chair closer to Gina. She slides an arm around Gina’s shoulders and feels Gina melting into her grip.

A few hours pass by incidentally quickly. Many things happen.

Rosa is in the shower when she hears a loud thud. She gets out as quickly as she can to see the kitchen table collapsed in the middle, with Gina in the center of the wreckage. A shattered wine glass and a confetti cannon lie on the floor next to the splintered table.

“Oh my god. Are you okay?” Rosa rushes to Gina’s side. Once Gina confirms that she’s all right, Rosa looks around. “Also, what the fuck happened here?” she asks in confusion.

“I was doing an Instagram shoot, duh,” Gina explains. “Besides, that table was an eyesore anyways.”

“The wineglass wasn’t,” Rosa frowns. “We’re already down to like three after Hitchcock and Scully broke all of the other ones last weekend.”

“Oh, yeah. Oops,” Gina says.

And that’s how they end up going to IKEA in their pajamas, with Rosa’s hair still dripping wet from the shower and Gina’s skin covered in glitter.

When they get home with the new furniture set, Gina’s ready to just leave the big box there for a few days. “We’ll call Terry. Or Amy. Amy loves following directions. I bet she’d love to assemble this shit,” Gina says.

Rosa shakes her head. “We’re doing this now, Gina. My parents are coming over for dinner tomorrow, remember?”

Nearly an hour later, Rosa’s sitting in the middle of what seems like a thousand pieces of wood. She squints at the manual and then back at what seems to be the beginning of a table. “Gina, I thought you were gonna help me,” Rosa says.

“I am helping,” Gina says, without looking up from her phone. She is lying on her stomach a few feet away from Rosa. Gina picks up a hammer and hands it over to Rosa. “Here. It’s looking great, babe.”

Rosa rolls her eyes and takes the hammer from Gina. She puts it back down on the floor before grabbing a screwdriver and continuing the assembling of the table.

Rosa’s almost done when she glances over at Gina. Gina’s watching her with a strange intensity in her eyes. “What?” Rosa asks.

“Hmm? Nothing. You look really good,” Gina mumbles, staring as Rosa knocks a nail into place with the hammer.

“Okay, then,” Rosa says, standing up. She surveys the furniture and then gives it a strong pat. “Looks good to me.”

“And it’s not the only thing that looks good in here,” Gina says.

“Mhmm,” Rosa says, eyeing Gina.

Gina stands up. “Ugh, Rosa. You are such a big flirt.” She wraps her arms around Rosa and pulls her into a kiss. “Also, you look really good while assembling IKEA furniture.” Gina surveys the room. “Maybe I should break stuff more often.”

Rosa can’t help but to laugh. “Yeah, thanks for helping,” she says.

Gina grins cockily. “You’re welcome. Wanna watch a Nancy Meyers movie? Maybe the one with Reese Witherspoon?”

A while later, they’re curled up on the couch, as Home Again (2017) plays on the TV in front of them. Rosa carefully pays attention to the movie as Gina lays her head on Rosa’s shoulder. “Stop distracting me,” Rosa complains, as Gina starts playing with Rosa’s hair.

“No,” Gina says. She kisses Rosa’s cheek. “You’re more fun to watch than any Nancy Meyers movie.”

Rosa pauses the movie and turns to look at Gina. “Oh my god. How dare you. Nancy Meyers doesn’t just direct movies, she directs art. Poetic cinema, Gina! How could you not enjoy this!” She wildly gestures to the screen, where Reese Witherspoon is shown paused with a strange expression on her face. She is clearly paused mid-sentence.

Gina laughs when she sees the screen and pulls her phone out to take a picture. Rosa rolls her eyes and unpauses the movie.

“Okay, but I love you, you nerd,” Gina says. “I’d watch any Nancy Meyers movie for you.”

“Love you too,” Rosa says, tucking an arm around Gina.

#ask #anon #lina writes #my fic #b99 fic #b99 #brooklyn nine-nine #dianetti #dianetti prompts #rosa x gina #rosa diaz #gina linetti #stephanie beatriz #chelsea peretti

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ddaengjo · 6 years ago

Text

love me like you do ┊ hwang hyunjin

genre: best friends to lovers au, fluff, angst

pairing: reader x hyunjin

warnings: cursing, drinking, infinity war spoilers

summary: you had been best friends with hwang hyunjin since grade school. you both knew each other like the back of your hand, and you shared everything with one another. in fact, all your friends joked that you’d eventually get married, settle down, and have five kids. of course, the both of you just saw that as funny, since you were both currently dating other people. but that was before everything became a complete mess.

author’s note: this is my first fic! i hope you all like it, because i definitely enjoyed writing it. (p.s. ― i use all lowercase when not writing formally, but in all my writing pieces i make sure to capitalize and use proper grammar!)

You're the light, you’re the night You’re the color of my blood You’re the cure, you’re the pain You’re the only thing I wanna touch Never knew that it could mean so much, so much

It was the sound of your phone buzzing loudly that woke you up at 2:30 a.m., groggy and angry and ready to fight the world. You groped around your bedside table, trusting your fingers rather than your sleep-blurred eyesight ― considering you were already myopic to the point that you could barely see something three feet away without your glasses on, you could trade eyesight with a bat and still be better off at this early hour. After a long while of uncomfortable straining, you finally sighed in victorious relief, your fingers closing around the smooth case of your phone. Dropping it onto your pillow beside you, you squinted at the bright screen, trying to adjust to the sudden burst of light in the dark room. You swiped your finger across the screen, unlocking it, and opened your texts to find new messages from your best friend, Hyunjin.

[2:30 a.m.] Y/N Y/N Y/N

You groaned, rolling your eyes and falling back against the pillows, debating on whether to answer his text or just leave him on read. Your innate sense of compassion (Hyunjin always swore that you were nothing but Satan, while everyone else who WASN’T your best friend since grade school and DIDN’T clown you for a living always called you a sweetheart) won the battle, and you ended up answering. But that didn’t mean you were going to play nice.

[2:33 a.m.] hwang hyunjin you better have a good reason for this because if i weren’t so fucking tired i’d punch you in your perfect teeth.

[2:38 a.m.] aw good morning to you too 💖💖💖 i’ve been up all night trying to make a head or tail of this history project and it just makes NO SENSE UGH Y/N I NEED YOUR GENIUS INTELLECT RIGHT NOW AND RIGHT HERE

[2:42 a.m.] i absolutely hate you and your procrastinating ass.

[2:43 a.m.] says the queen of procrastinating herself 💀💀

[2:45 a.m.] YOU WOKE ME UP AT 2:30 AM YOU ASSHOLE SO STOP CLOWNING ME OR I’M MUTING YOUR NOTIFS AND LEAVING YOU ON READ 💀💀

[2:47 a.m.] FINE FINE JUST COME HELP ME

[2:48 a.m.] i’m too lazy to get out of bed so i’m just gonna skype you. but dw, you’ll still feel the salt coming off me when i talk 😘😘

[2:50 a.m.] y/n you beautiful wonderful human being i love you so much i’d throw myself under a truck for you.

[2:53 a.m.] lmao don’t let minjoo hear you say that unless you want her to actually throw ME under a truck buddy 😉

You couldn’t help smiling; it was impossible for you to stay angry at someone as goofy and vibrant as Hyunjin, especially because you knew him so well and for so long. You didn’t really care that you were wearing just a strap-sleeved tank top and shorts, or that you had a bedhead; Hyunjin had seen you in far worse states, like when you were in the fourth grade and had the stomach flu for a month. That was bad. You closed your texts, opening Skype instead, and clicked the very first contact, waiting for Hyunjin to pick up your video call. He picked up right on the second ring, grinning ear to ear; he was wearing his “I ❤️ NY” shirt, his favorite gray hoodie, and khaki shorts, not to mention the goofy smile he always wore when talking to you.

“How’s Satan doing today?” he joked immediately, his face lighting up at the sight of you. His eyes twinkled with mischief as you rolled your eyes.

“Just fine, thanks,” you grumbled. “As great as one could be at almost 3 o’clock in the morning, when even the BIRDS aren’t awake.”

“For all it counts, I think your hair seems to be doing great at almost 3 o’clock in the morning,” Hyunjin said sagely, nodding his head. “I mean, it’s hiding your devil’s horns really well, and it also doesn’t look like a mama bat had a mental breakdown while making her nest!”

“I hate you.”

Hyunjin pretended to clutch his heart, wounded, despite the grin still playing on his lips. “Aww, Y/N, now you’re just being cruel. You know you don’t mean that.”

As much as you hated to admit it, you knew he was right. And he knew, too, judging by his little smirk. Had you been sitting next to him in person, you’d have thrown a pillow at him by this time.

“All right, what is it you don’t understand?” you asked, rolling your eyes yet again.

“Everything!”

You swallowed the urge to groan loudly. This was going to be one long, long night.

You're the fear, I don't care 'Cause I've never been so high Follow me to the dark Let me take you past our satellites You can see the world you brought to life, to life

You managed to get three hours of sleep that night, thanks to your dumbass of a best friend. He owed you big-time, you thought, sipping your coffee through pursed lips while glaring balefully out the window as you waited for him to show up at your house. You both had walked to school together since you were eight and he was nine; you weren’t planning on stopping that even when you were in college, since you were both hoping to major in some form of art ― he in photography, you in writing ― and attend the same university.

It was 7:30 a.m. when Hyunjin came jogging breathlessly up your driveway and let himself in using the spare key you’d given him. You had half an hour to kill before your bus arrived, so you’d not only made yourself coffee, you’d set a mug on the table for Hyunjin as well. He took it gratefully, crossing the kitchen in a few large strides ― he was a literal ten inches taller than you, with his 5’10” towering over your 5’0” ― to join you by the counter, where he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. To anyone else, it seemed as if you were both dating, but it to you both, it was merely just a gesture of affection between two old friends.

“So, Bigfoot, you took your sweet time getting here,” you commented dryly, looking him up and down with a wry little smirk. Your smile fading, you sipped your slowly cooling coffee and added, “All jokes aside, though, you look God-awful.”

“Thanks.”

“Your dark circles make it look as if you got punched in the eyes by an angry jack-in-the-box, and you’re looking pretty pale in the face,” you said bluntly, shaking your head. “Hyunjinnie, you’re driving yourself crazy. When you’re not staying up late for music lessons and photography projects, you’re staying up late doing your homework. You have to get more sleep.”

“Yeah, about that…” He ran a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck absently as his eyes met yours. He guided you over to the couch, sinking into the seat next to you as he continued. “I’m sorry about last night. I know you didn't get much sleep because of me. So, to make it up to you, I called Minjoo and Yongwoon up, and we’re doing a movie night double date at my place. My treat.”

Hyunjin was so considerate. That was one thing that made you love him so much ― he didn’t just throw some fake apology at you and forget about it; he tried to make it up to you in full. He was like that with you, with his girlfriend, with your boyfriend, everyone.

As soon as the wall clock read that it was 8:00, you grabbed Hyunjin’s hand, practically hauling him out of the house as he chuckled, trying to keep pace with you. “Relax, Y/N, the bus is never early!”

“I know, but Yongwoon is!” you panted, skidding to a halt at your bus stop, where your boyfriend was waiting as usual, one hand in his tousled black hair. “Hey, Yong!”

“Y/N! You’re early!” He exclaimed; you caught sight of the odd expression that flitted across his face and realized that you were still holding Hyunjin’s hand. You let go of your best friend’s hand, seeing his girlfriend, Minjoo, standing a little distance away; Hyunjin fist-bumped you as he passed you, greeting his girlfriend with a brief peck on the lips. You turned to your own significant other, who pressed his lips to yours for a moment before asking, a little edgily, “Why were you holding Hyunjin’s hand? Y/N… do you like him?”

There was a long breath of silence after his words. Finally, you began to laugh ― not at him, but because you found his question funny. “Sorry ― sorry, Yong, that was just really funny. Babe, Hyunjin and I are just really good friends. We’ve known each other since our sandbox days! Things like holding hands and hanging out a lot are just… things we’ve been doing for a really, really long time. But it doesn’t change anything for us. We’ve been doing this for over a year, and I love you just the same, see?” You kissed him again, and this time he had no complaints.

As soon as the bus arrived, you scrambled to reserve the back row for yourself, Yongwoon, Hyunjin, and Minjoo; you’d all sat there as a group since freshman year. As usual, you slid into your window seat, with Hyunjin dropping into the one next to yours, as Minjoo and Yongwoon dropped into the seat across the aisle. You didn’t see the look that passed between his girlfriend and your boyfriend because you were too busy looking over Hyunjin’s paper and making small revisions, which were mainly just grammatical errors, since the majority of your cramming session had been last night.

“I think this is good,” you said finally, as the school came into view. The smile Hyunjin gave you was definitely worth all the grumblings and lost sleep; you loved the way his eyes sparkled and crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the way his dimples deepened, and it had been your personal goal since day one of your friendship, when he’d fallen in the sandbox and you’d helped him up, to never let him lose that smile. You were the one who was a year younger than him, but you were also the more protective one in the friendship. It was something people often teased you about, calling you a mother hen, but you wore the title proudly. You were indeed a mother hen when it came to your best friend.

Your first class was history, which you and Hyunjin had together; Yongwoon had psychology, while Minjoo had English, so you waved goodbye, promising to save them seats at lunch. Hyunjin blew an exaggerated kiss at Minjoo, who giggled as you punched him in the shoulder, pretending to gag. “Ugh, look who decided to become Romeo all of a sudden! Come on, lover boy, or we’re gonna be late for class, and I’ll get my first detention because of you.”

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my days in purgatory, if you please, ma’am, so on we go,” Hyunjin said very seriously, earning himself another punch from you. “Ow! You’re short, but you punch like a sumo wrestler! What, did you absorb the soul of a wrestler you reaped, Satan?”

“Ha ha ha, very funny,” you grumbled, sinking into your seat at the back table, across from Hyunjin, right as the bell rang. “I’ll reap your soul if you don’t shut up.”

Even as the lesson went on, you spent the class passing notes and doodling all over each other’s papers, sometimes laughing so hard your teacher, a well-dressed brunette in her early thirties, had to frown in your direction, her finger pressed against her lips in a signal of silence.

That was how every day was, with you both ― it was just you and him. You were the planets; everyone else was just a satellite. You were a technicolor movie; they were just the audience. You and Hyunjin were the world; they were just outer space.

So love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

It was on the bus home that you succumbed to the sleep that had been haunting your eyelids since the morning’s coffee had worn off mid-math class. One minute you were arguing with Hyunjin over whether milk or cereal came first (you argued milk, having gotten that habit from your parents, while Hyunjin argued that it was cereal), the next you had nodded off, your petite head on his broad shoulder.

When you came to, it was in a familiar room with soft blue walls and GOT7 posters all over the wall. You sat up, squinting slightly at the pale, watery orange sunlight streaming through the window; the translucent chartreuse curtains were slightly open, showing a rapidly darkening sunset sky in the prettiest pastel shades of blue, pink, and purple. You yawned, stretching your arms, and glanced down; you were still wearing your school clothes, which were now a bit rumpled because you’d slept in them.

“Sleep well, Sleeping Beauty?” You turned your head to see Hyunjin smiling at you from where he sat working at his desk, which was a sea of scattered papers. His glasses reflected a bit of the screen of his laptop and a bit of the sunset, which didn’t seem like a beautiful combination, but somehow, he made it work. He only wore his glasses at home unless he was out of contacts to use, in which case you’d see him wear his glasses to school for about a week before going back to wearing contacts; you stuck with your glasses at all times, mainly because for one, you were terrified of putting something in your eye, and for two, you had awful bags under your eyes, which your glasses did a good job hiding ― or at least keeping anyone from noticing.

You stretched again, comfortable after a few hours of rest. “You bet I did. Like a baby, in fact. How long was I out?”

“It’s 6:05 ― you can do the math.” You could hear the smile in his voice as you took a moment to decipher his words. Then your eyes widened. “I SLEPT FOR THREE HOURS?”

“Don’t worry, you haven’t missed movie night,” Hyunjin promised. “We still have an hour till Minjoo and Yongwoon are supposed to arrive. Do you want to get changed? Maybe take a shower to freshen up?”

“Yeah ― yeah, sounds great,” you said, stretching one last time before swinging your legs out from under the covers, so that you were now sitting on the edge of his bed. “All my stuff is next door, though.”

“You can grab some clothes from my closet,” he offered, smiling in your direction. “Just like when we were kids and your parents were out.”

You got up, shaking out your legs to get some feeling back into them, and opened his closet, choosing a purple tie-dye t-shirt. “I’m wearing shorts under my skirt, anyway, so I’ll just wear this over those,” you explained, and Hyunjin nodded.

The warm water felt like a liquid hug; you spent twenty minutes under the shower before deciding you didn’t want to turn into a living prune. You found, upon wearing it, that Hyunjin’s shirt went to your knees, but what did it matter? It was cozy. You blow-dried your hair, which took another twenty minutes, before pulling it into a loose bun and glancing at the time in your watch ― 6:50 p.m., which meant Minjoo and Yongwoon would be here soon. You noticed that the light in Hyunjin’s room was now off; he must be downstairs, you realized, so you descended the stairs, knowing from the rising aroma of hot chocolate that you’d find him in the kitchen. He glanced up at the sound of your footsteps, his face lighting up with a smile as his eyes fell on you. “You look adorable. Purple is definitely your color.”

“And you look suspicious. Who are you and what have you done with Hwang Hyunjin?” you snorted, amused. “I was expecting you to clown me for how big this shirt looks on me.”

He chuckled, turning back to the stove for a moment before placing a snowflake-printed mug on the counter in front of you. “Hot cocoa?”

“Thanks!” You took the mug gratefully, blowing on the steaming liquid for a few minutes before taking a sip, appreciating the feeling of the chocolatey, sugary sweetness, mixed with a hint of cinnamon and the creaminess of whipped cream, sliding down your throat. You had just taken another sip when the doorbell rang, prompting you to move towards the door, the hot cocoa mug still in your hand. You opened it to find Yongwoon, holding a bouquet of red roses.

“Hey! You’re…” You glanced at your watch, which read that it was 6:55 p.m. “...Five minutes early! Oh my gosh, are those for me?”

“Yes, they are!” He handed you the bouquet, grinning ear to ear, until his eyes took in what you were wearing. His smile faded slightly as he added, “Is that one of Hyunjin’s, Y/N?”

“Wha ― oh, yeah ― yeah, it is,” you said, a little surprised by the question.

“She fell asleep on the bus,” Hyunjin explained, “and since she lost sleep because of me, I felt bad waking her up. So I just carried her here and let her rest up in my room while I did my homework. When she woke up, she wanted to shower, and we realized she didn’t have a change of clothes, so I let her borrow one of my shirts.”

“I see.” Yongwoon’s lips had tightened considerably at this, but he didn’t say anything. In fact, he didn’t say anything till Minjoo arrived, about fifteen minutes after him; it was just you and Hyunjin chattering away over your hot cocoa until that time.

By the time she’d arrived, Hyunjin had gotten a huge bucket of buttered popcorn ready. He had four cushions ready on the ground for everyone, but you didn’t need your cushion; you just sat down in front of Hyunjin, your head in his lap, as you grabbed a handful of popcorn, munching contentedly as your boyfriend and his girlfriend came to join you on either side. Yongwoon imitated you, grabbing his own handful of the buttery, salty popcorn, while Minjoo was more refined, choosing to take the occasional two pieces of popcorn from time to time.

“What do you guys want to watch?” Hyunjin asked, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he leaned back, propping himself up with one elbow.

“American Horror Story,” Yongwoon volunteered immediately, earning himself identical protests from you, Hyunjin, and Minjoo. He conceded defeat, grumbling to himself before falling silent and waiting for one of you to make a choice.

“Titanic?” Minjoo suggested, earning herself a loud yawn from Yongwoon and an identical groan of rejection from yourself and Hyunjin. Her expression became a sulky one, which made all three of you laugh.

“Avengers: Infinity War?” you suggested. Hyunjin nodded enthusiastically; you two were pretty much the biggest Marvel nerds around.

“Are you sure you’re not going to soak my sleeve in tears again?” Hyunjin asked teasingly. “Remember last time, when you were bawling so hard I was afraid I’d have to pull a Noah and ark my way outta there?”

You turned and sat up to glare at him, indignant. “You were crying, too!”

He blushed, ducking his head in embarrassment. “Okay, okay, fair point. Any objections?”

Minjoo was too sulky to say anything, while Yongwoon was just too whipped for you to say a word against your wishes.

“All right! Infinity War it is,” Hyunjin declared, pulling you more closely into his lap before positioning himself comfortably, half sitting and half lying against his cushion as he tossed some more popcorn into his mouth, searching through Amazon Prime Video till he found it. Then he hit play, wrapped one arm around you, and sat back to enjoy the movie.

Fading in, fading out On the edge of paradise Every inch of your skin is a holy gray I've got to find Only you can set my heart on fire, on fire Yeah, I'll let you set the pace 'Cause I'm not thinking straight My head spinning around I can't see clear no more What are you waiting for?

Two hours and forty minutes later, you and Hyunjin were clinging to each other and sobbing your eyes out, your shoulders a mess of each other’s tears, snot, and drool. It would have been disgusting if this weren’t your usual movie-watching ritual ― you two were the sensitive ones, and if anything remotely sad were to happen in a movie, the room would be flooded within the next five minutes as you clung to each other and wept as if your hearts would break.

“I thought you said you’d be okay this time,” Hyunjin sobbed, wiping his eyes on the hem of his sleeve as he crushed you in a hug.

“I’m never emotionally prepared enough for that movie,” you sobbed back, mimicking him and wiping your eyes on the edge of your sleeve ― or at least trying to as best you could through his bone-crushingly tight embrace.

On your left, Minjoo was just staring blankly at the screen as if not sure of what to do in terms of a reaction, while Yongwoon, on your right, had his lips pursed and his fists clenched. “Damned Marvel,” he growled, shaking his fist. “Killing off Black Panther like that… that’s not fair.”

“Groot had such a bright future ahead of him,” Hyunjin hiccuped miserably, reaching for the popcorn, which was running dangerously low.

“I agree,” you sniffled. “Man, Bucky never deserves the shit he gets. He was captured by the Nazis, fell off a mountain, lost an arm, got frozen and experimented on by HYDRA, became their brainwashed puppet, killed a bunch of people, accidentally tore apart the Avengers, got frozen over again, and then right when he was spending a peaceful time in Wakanda he got drawn into the fighting and then h-he just goes ‘Steve…’ and fades away and just...” You broke down again, prompting a wince from Yongwoon and an eye roll from Minjoo.

“I know,” Hyunjin lamented, patting your back reassuringly. “Well… that was fun, right?”

“Right,” Yongwoon said unconvincingly, his eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of Hyunjin’s strong arms drawing you more tightly into an embrace. You two had been nothing but skinship since the beginning of the evening ― or, if you counted the hand-holding in the morning, since the beginning of the day ― and he was beginning to feel a bit threatened by the boy you called your closest friend. He felt threatened, jealous, every time your fingers tangled together, every time your eyes met, every time you laughed at something he said, every time you gazed at him as if he was the only boy in the world. It was getting harder and harder for him to believe you every time you declared yourself and Hyunjin “just friends”.

He didn’t like it at all.

Minjoo smiled thinly, her smile not quite meeting her movie-star eyes with their perfectly done makeup. “It was lovely.”

She, too, felt a surge of wicked jealousy every time you and Hyunjin were together. It hadn’t bothered her as much at first, but now, it was almost all she thought about. The way he smiled at you, as if there was nothing and no one more important. The way he always jumped to choose you anytime anything ― a game, a project, anything at all ― involved a partner. The way he didn’t seem to care when you saw him in his glasses, but almost always avoided wearing them around her. The way he always chose yours whenever he needed a shoulder to cry into.

The way he felt so distant from her, even if he was next to her, and yet so close to you, even when you were apart.

And she hated it.

As Yongwoon left, he turned to press his lips against yours for a long moment, the intensity almost double that of any normal kiss of yours. He stole a glance at Hyunjin, who simply smiled a bright smile at him before brushing Minjoo’s lips with his and waving goodbye as she left. “I love you, Y/N,” he whispered, stepping out into the night.

“Hey, Y/N, want to stay over for the night?” Hyunjin asked. You smiled apologetically. “Nah, I wish I could, but Mom and Dad are going to video call to check in with me in about half an hour. I have to make dinner before getting started on my homework.”

“I could join you,” Hyunjin offered, his eyes lighting up. “And, to make up for last night, I can help you with homework today!”

“Hwang Hyunjin, you legend, you’re so amazing that I could 10/10 kiss you,” you declared.

He laughed, rumpling your hair gently. “You already did once, remember? Spin the bottle, seventh grade. You were my first kiss, Y/N!”

“Oh, yeah! That girl from the classroom next door, the one who kept ogling at you, looked like she was ready to pee herself!” you snickered, choking on your own laughter and erupting in a fit of coughing that left tears in your eyes; Hyunjin rubbed circles on your back soothingly, hoping to ease the coughs. Once he deemed it safe to leave your side, he hurried back into the kitchen to grab you a glass of water, which you took and gulped down gratefully. “Thanks, Hyunjinnie.”

“Don’t worry about it. And be more careful,” he scolded, earning an amused eye roll from you.

“See you tomorrow? Noon at that bubble tea place down the block?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Good night, Hyunjinnie.”

As you left, he watched you, his fingers tingling where yours had been resting against them just a moment earlier, realizing how much you’d grown up… and wondering how he’d grown lucky enough to have you by his side during all these years.

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah) Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

He didn’t fail to meet you the next day ― in fact, he was early, waiting for you at an outdoor table as you arrived, wearing a mint-green hoodie and black yoga pants, your hair tied back in a neat ponytail.

“Hey, Sasquatch,” you called jokingly, and his glance snapped up from his phone to you, his eyes brightening and the corners of his full, rich coral-pink lips tugging themselves upwards into a bright grin.

“Y/N! Nice hoodie, the color suits you,” he exclaimed, tilting his head slightly to the side as he added, “is it new? I’ve never seen you wear it before.”

“Yeah, I bought it last week,” you said, feeling a rush of warmth rise in your chest at the fact that he’d noticed that small detail. He really did pay attention to everything.

“I love the color. Does it come in men’s?”

“Not sure. I’ll check, though ― we can go together, sometime tonight or tomorrow.”

“Sounds like a plan!” he declared, then glanced at the menu card in front of him. “I’m guessing you want your usual coconut milk tea, Y/N?”

“Yep, that’s me. Boring and predictable, like the old granny I am at heart,” you quipped, earning yourself another laugh from your companion.

“Predictable, maybe, since I’ve known you for so long,” Hyunjin agreed. “But boring? No way. You could never be boring, Y/N, no matter how long I’ve known you.”

You felt the color rising in your cheeks as you flushed pleasurably at your best friend’s compliment, which meant a lot more to you than he could imagine. “You’re sweet.”

His grin melted your heart as you grabbed the menu. “Let me guess ― you want the watermelon bubble tea. Again.”

“Why, Y/N,” Hyunjin gasped mockingly, his eyes widening, “however did you know?”

“Gee, I don’t know,” you said sarcastically, shrugging. “Maybe because you decided to even dress like a freaking watermelon for Halloween? And because you completely weeded that bag of Dum-Dums ― the one you were supposed to be handing out to the trick-or-treaters ― of watermelon lollipops? I could hear the kids complaining all the way down the street!”

“Okay, okay, Y/N,” he admitted, going red in the face. “You… kind of have a point there.”

You sat back with a triumphant smirk, which earned a grin from Hyunjin; within the minute, you both had begun to laugh hopelessly, till tears of mirth gathered themselves in both of your eyes and your sides ached with laughter.

After you’d both gotten your bubble teas, you sat for a while in silence. But it wasn’t the awkward silence that needed an ice-breaker; it was a comfortable silence, where neither of you needed to say anything to enjoy the moment spent in the other’s company.

You were the one who finally broke the silence. “Hey, Hyunjinnie, do you want to try a sip of my bubble tea? I realize, in all the times we’ve come here, you’ve never tried the coconut milk tea, while I’ve never tried the watermelon tea.”

“Sounds fun!” Hyunjin unhesitatingly leaned over, his cheek brushing against yours, as he took a sip from your straw, letting the new flavor soak onto his tongue for a moment before nodding his approval, his eyes lighting up. “Holy moly ― this is good! You have good taste, Y/N!”

You smirked at him before leaning across the table to take a sip of his drink, the watermelon flavor coating your tongue and cooling your throat as you swallowed. “Heck, I could say the same for you, Hyunjin! You might just have passed your obsession with all things watermelon on to me!”

It was a perfect moment, just you and him, peacefully enjoying each other’s company… till the sound of soft sobbing drew your attention away from Hyunjin. Your eyes scanned the bubble tea café till they found the source of the sound.

Minjoo.

And judging by the tears pouring down her face, she’d seen everything.

The color drained from Hyunjin’s face as he jumped up, practically knocking the umbrella off the table as he tried to make his way towards Minjoo, who heaved a sob and took a step back.

“Minjoo!” he yelled. “Minjoo, wait!”

“Minjoo!” You joined him, calling your friend’s name. “Minjoo, it’s not what it looks like!”

“Shit,” Hyunjin muttered. “I’ll… I’ll be back. I’m sorry to cut our outing short, Y/N, but...”

“Go,” you said grimly, your heart hammering with dread as you watched your best friend take off after his girlfriend, only hoping that things would turn out okay.

I'll let you set the pace 'Cause I'm not thinking straight My head spinning around I can't see clear no more What are you waiting for?

This time, when you woke up at 3:00 a.m., it wasn’t because of your phone, which had remained painfully silent all evening, save for a single text from your boyfriend, asking if you were free for a date that night. You’d declined his offer, sick with worry for your best friend’s predicament. He and Minjoo didn’t ever quarrel, and yet, the last you’d seen them, Minjoo was shouting at him, tears rolling down her cheeks, while he pleaded for her understanding.

Icy fear bubbled in your stomach as you lay awake against the pillows; the room felt uncharacteristically cold. You sighed, finally deciding there was no way you could get to sleep with so much worry gnawing at your mind ― maybe a midnight snack would help. You slid out from under the bedcovers, shivering as the cold air touched your bare legs ― you were just wearing shorts and a t-shirt ― and went downstairs into the kitchen, where you rummaged through the refrigerator and pantry, finding absolutely nothing that fit your cravings. You stretched, going to change clothes into a pink hoodie and black leggings, pulling your hair into a messy ponytail before grabbing your purse, pulling your car keys from them as you went outside into the driveway, opening the door and getting into your car. You started up the engine, waiting for a few moments as the heater warmed the inside, before reversing out of the driveway and beginning the fifteen-minute drive to the local Lotte.

The classical music playing over the stereo did nothing to ease your nagging worry, and all the way there, nausea roiled in your stomach like a vat of acid. You arrived in the parking lot of the supermarket, locking your car before entering the store and going straight to the dairy aisle, grabbing yourself five small bottles of your favorite brand of strawberry milk and paying for them quickly before hurrying outside again, the cover on your arm. You got back into your car, slamming the door shut, and left the parking lot, embarking on your return journey. About five minutes had passed when you suddenly screeched to a halt, pulling over abruptly, the color draining from your face.

A tall figure was staggering around on the curb, a bottle in hand. A very familiar tall figure. Your blood turned to ice as you recognized Hyunjin.

You’d never seen him drunk like this. Come to mention it, you’d never even seen him touch any remotely alcoholic beverage. You got out of your car, your heart pounding more wildly than it had ever pounded in your life, running to meet the boy with a tight hug.

“Hyunjin!” you cried, mingled pain and relief in your tone as you crushed him in a hug, aware that you were shaking from head to toe ― whether it was with anger or fear, you weren’t sure. Probably a mix of both, to be honest.

“Hey… hey, Y/N,” Hyunjin slurred unsteadily, staggering and practically half collapsing on you, leaving you struggling for a minute with the task of supporting his larger weight. He smiled an unfocused smile down at you, wiping the wetness from his eyes. “Whatcha doin’ awake at this late hour, Y/N?”

“I could ask you the same,” you said anxiously, your pulse thrumming with worry. “What happened to you? I’ve never seen you drink before, and suddenly you’re holding a beer bottle and rambling around, punch-drunk, on the streets at…” You glanced at your watch. “...3:15 a.m. Hyunjin, what the fuck is going on here? Where were you? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“Minjoo broke up with me.” The boy’s voice was slurred with drinking, his balance completely off-kilter; he sank against you, his tears wetting the collar of your hoodie. “She left me, Y/N. She said she was done, that we were over.”

You were aware that you, too, were crying: crying for the horrible state you’d found your best friend in, for the blame you were allotting to yourself ― crying, mostly, because Hyunjin was crying, and his tears hurt worse than anything.

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, sinking to your knees and letting the male sag against you, his head nestling into your shoulder as he hiccuped and cried as if his heart would break ― which it already had, that night. You wrapped your arms around him, rubbing his back soothingly as he cried it all out, till he had no tears left in him to cry, numb at last.

“Come on,” you murmured, guiding an unprotesting Hyunjin into your car, helping him buckle himself into the passenger seat as you drove home, the quiet classical music and the feeling of your sleeping best friend’s head on your shoulder giving you an odd tingling feeling.

Once you got home, you gently shook Hyunjin awake, letting him use you as a support for his terrible balance. He didn’t shake you off, letting you guide him upstairs and into your room, where you let him grab a change of clothes (you left the room while he changed, coming back in as soon as he gave you the thumbs-up) before collapsing onto your bed. You would have let him use the guest room, but, truth be told, you wanted to keep your eye on him, too scared that he’d do something stupid again. So you went into the bathroom, changing into your typical t-shirt and shorts, before collapsing on the bed beside him, exhausted from the day’s events.

“Y/N?” You couldn’t stop the tear that slipped down your cheek at the sound of Hyunjin’s tired voice, which sounded less slurred and more… him. He scooted towards you, gently tugging your shoulder so you were now facing him, and brushed the tear from your lashes, wiping away the glittering trail the tear had left on your skin.

“Y/N, I’m sorry,” he whispered, wrapping his arms tightly around you, an embrace you returned with just as much fervor. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” you choked out, the guilt overpowering you. “It’s my fault Minjoo broke up with you. She didn’t like how much time we spent together.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “No, Y/N, this is not your fault. I should have been clearer with her, and anyway...” He hesitated, continuing, “...Maybe it’s not all bad.”

Your eyes widened with surprise. “What?”

Hyunjin flushed slightly. “This might just be the alcohol talking, Y/N… I don’t know anymore. But when you were holding me on the curb, I could feel you shaking. I could hear you crying. And I was getting my snot and drool and tears all over you, and by that time, you probably reeked of alcohol as much as I did. But you still held me. Minjoo… probably wouldn’t have.”

“Come on, I’m sure she―”

“No, Y/N,” Hyunjin interrupted, shaking his head vehemently. “The one time when you were on that family trip in France and I caught the flu, Minjoo came over. She took care of me, but… but I could see the disgust in her eyes every time she saw me throw up or cough up mucus. The one time I cried into her shoulder, she immediately went to change clothes. She’s only there in my highs, Y/N, but you’ve been there all the time. She only knows the happy Hyunjin, but you know the real Hwang Hyunjin.”

“Hyunjin...” Your voice trailed off for a long moment before you managed, “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” Hyunjin took your hands in his larger ones, hesitating for a while before answering, “I mean… or, at least, I think I mean… that in a way, it’s always been you. This was just the universe’s way of showing me. I know I make zero sense, but...”

“No,” you said slowly, his words taking a moment to register. “No, I… I kind of get what you mean.”

Suddenly, it all made sense.

Why Hyunjin and your kiss, all those years ago, had seemed better and more full of life than any that you’d shared with your boyfriend.

Why the first person you called up whenever you found yourself free ― or needed to spill some news ― was Hyunjin, not your own boyfriend.

Why, even if you were spending the entire day out with your boyfriend, you had to steal into the bathrooms at least once to hear Hyunjin’s voice on the phone for at least five minutes.

Why skinship with Hyunjin felt so much natural and easier than skinship with Yongwoon.

Why everyone naturally assumed you two were a couple.

Maybe it was because deep down, that was what you were ― the only difference was that you’d both labeled the feeling as the wrong one, assuming that you were just best friends and remaining oblivious not only to the other’s feelings, but to your own.

“Hyunjin… I’ve spent so many days wondering why none of the kisses I’ve shared with Yongwoon have even come close to matching the one we shared in the seventh grade,” you admitted. “I guess it’s because they were missing the one key ingredient: spark. I won’t deny that I really like Yongwoon ― or, at least, I did, at the beginning ― but he’s just… not right for me, and I’m shocked it took this long for me to realize. He was always trying to steal me away from you, keep you away when we were both together, while you were always ready to share me with him… all to keep me happy.”

“Y/N...” Before you knew it, Hyunjin was leaning closer, and so were you, and you didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly, your lips were pressed against his, and there it was, that spark, the one you hadn’t felt against your lips for five years.

As you both pulled away, you realized the words didn’t need to be said ― the kiss had spoken volumes more than those three simple words. That was the lovely thing about gestures ― they could explain things in ways much more nuanced than even a dictionary.

That night, you fell asleep in Hyunjin’s arms, your legs tangled with his, your heartbeats synchronizing.

Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (like you do) Love me like you do, lo-lo-love me like you do (yeah) Touch me like you do, to-to-touch me like you do What are you waiting for?

You woke up to the warm sunlight filtering through your window; that was, by far, the most peaceful sleep you’d gotten in the last few days. You stretched, yawning appreciatively, before your eyes fell on the still-sleeping form of Hwang Hyunjin beside you. You smiled fondly, pressing a kiss to his forehead ― he stirred slightly, the corners of his lips quirking upwards ever so slightly ― before slipping out from under the bedcovers, going downstairs to make yourself and Hyunjin some coffee. Right as you’d finished pouring the two mugs, your doorbell rang; you went to open the door, your mug of coffee in hand, and saw Yongwoon standing there, smiling a little sheepishly. “Oh. Hey.”

“I was worried about you,” Yongwoon said, launching right into it with no prior greeting. “You haven’t been yourself lately ― you keep refusing dates, you don’t answer my texts quickly ― I’m worried about you, Y/N.”

Footsteps made you both turn around; Hyunjin was coming downstairs, looking tired but much refreshed after having showered and changed clothes. His smile made your breath hitch; it was funny how liking someone made them even more attractive in your eyes, because before, you’d been able to notice how pretty his smile was, but now, it was as if you’d forgotten, or never fully appreciated, how breathtakingly stunning it was.

Yongwoon’s smile had faded, and he was studying Hyunjin with a frown, furrowing his brow. “Why is he here, Y/N?”

“He stayed the night. He wasn’t… feeling the best, so I thought it best if I took care of him.” Your tone made it clear you weren’t taking any arguments, which simply made your boyfriend even more uneasy.

“I don’t like it,” he said abruptly. “I don’t like it at all, Y/N. I know you call him your ‘best friend’, but as your boyfriend, I don’t like the idea of you being home alone with another guy. I won’t let you―”

“Let me? Let me?” Your eyes widened with incredulity; the anger that burned in their depths caused him to take a step back, surprised. “I only meant―”

“No, I’ve heard enough,” you decided. “You sound like my grandpa. My annoying, patriarchal grandpa.”

“Y/N―”

“This isn’t working.”

He froze, staring at you for some hint that this was just a joke, maybe a very, very early April Fools’ prank. When he saw nothing except seriousness on your face, he managed, blankly, “Y/N, I―”

“Look. Don’t get me wrong, there was a point where I really, really liked you. But that was before I realized, whatever else we had, there was no spark.”

“Y/N!” he protested, taking a step towards you. You took a step back, shaking your head quite calmly ― you didn’t know where all this calmness was coming from, but you were glad for it.

“I want you to be happy,” you said finally. “I don’t think I’m the answer to that. And I don’t think you’re my answer, either. I’m doing this for the both of us. It’d be nice if we could stay friends, but… that’s up to you.”

Yongwoon looked from Hyunjin to you, the realization dawning in his eyes, which flared with anger. He shook his head, simply leaving the house; after a moment, he turned around, pausing, his eyes slightly wet with the reality that he wasn’t yours anymore ― and hadn’t been, for a while. “I don’t know about that, Y/N.”

You hesitated for a long, long while. “Bye, Yongwoon.”

“Bye, Y/N.”

As soon as he’d left, the tears spilled out; now, it was Hyunjin’s turn to hold you as you cried against him, your tears soaking through the thin fabric of his white t-shirt as he guided you to the couch, his arms tight and warm around you as he held you till you couldn’t cry anymore.

“Thanks, Hyunjinnie,” you whispered, looking up gratefully at him. He brushed away your tears, smiling that signature fond smile he reserved only for you, and placed a warm, soft kiss on your forehead, sending that tingling feeling flooding through your body.

And as the first snow of the year began to fall, outside, you wrapped your arms around his neck, your lips meeting his in a burst of warmth.

“I love you, Hyunjin.”

“I love you more, Y/N.”

“No! Stop that, I love YOU more!”

“Y/N! Gah, stop tickling me! I love you most!”

“Surrender already! You know I love you more than most.”

“Yes… yes, I do.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fic #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin fic #hwang hyunjin fic #angst #fluff #best friends to lovers #anki writes

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aj-draws · 6 years ago

Text

Our Heartstrings

July 18th was the day Sly made the sacred post. I suppose you could consider this a one month anniversary for The Heart Squad!

So this is a short story that explains how it feels like being on Tumblr, and how lucky I am to have such amazing friends. Because I like mixing fantasy and magic with my writing to make it more exciting, there’s a bit of a...twist that you’ll see :)

If you wanna scroll past this, feel free to, I don’t mind! This is personal writing of mine that I wanted to share, and if you’re curious about me (since this reflects me as a person as well), then you can go ahead and read this.

(Note! Some things I write about not might be necessarily true. The way I describe things might not be accurate, but behind the screen, that is what I see and interpret. It’s just my way of seeing things, my perspective, so uhh don’t get mad if I’m wrong lol??)

(Another side note! This is completely related to the story involving The Heart Squad that we’re working on. Just wanted to make that clear)

Either way, have a lovely day, everyone! :D

@danyulsdimple @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @bubblseri @phlying-squirrel

(I’m gonna put a cut because this actually became really long? Whoops I still don’t regret a thing lmao-)

But first, an explanation.

I...have this weird habit. I guess it stems from me being a detail oriented writer, but whenever I meet someone new and get to know them after an extended period of time, I have specific ways to describe that person. Similarly, this also happens for characters from new shows that I watch. For Sanders Sides, well, there’s that ‘Describing Sanders Sides Ships’ that I wrote. For Analogical, I think of an evening sunset, or for Logicality, the sun and the moon comes to mind-things like that.

Writing has always been very personal to me. Most of my art comes without thought, you see, there usually isn’t some secret message hidden in it. But whenever I write, it’s always to tell a story. Writing has posed a difficult and unpredictable, but rewarding challenge for me. I haven’t been able to write something so passionately for quite a long time, so thank you for that. <3

You all are awesome. Creating this little group has been so much fun, and having you guys be there means a lot to me. Sometimes it’s hard to express that, so I hope I can make that a little more clear with this little story.

This is for my dear friends.

To Lea, whose openness and humor lets me smile and laugh with ease.

To Piper, whose positive impact on others has caused me to admire her from afar.

To Sly, whose fascinating, patient personality provides comfort and stability.

To Sienna, whose bright and kind nature has warmed my heart.

This one is for you. I love you guys 💜💜💜

The red string of fate.

It is said to be an unbreakable string of scarlet that binds soulmates. Just like how fate is more than what people make it out to be, so are the strings.

I’d know.

Because love comes in so many different forms, I’ve already had several strings when I was little.

On my left hand was the comforting kind of love. The kind that gave me a small, soft smile when my mother kissed my head. Or when I couldn’t stop laughing over something my father joked about. Not just that, but even how proud I get when my sister compliments my art. Two strings tied to my parents wraps around my index finger, to lead me in the right direction. On the other hand, a string from my sister is looped around my thumb, which assured me that I could do anything.

I’m glad the strings are weightless, because my right hand would feel as heavy as a dumbbell if they weren’t. My right hand symbolizes platonic love. A string instantly becomes attached the moment I interact with someone. It first starts around the wrist, and as you get to know the person, the string moves. The middle finger is where hatred for that person resides, the thumb for those that are simply acquaintances that cheer me on from afar, and the index finger is reserved for good-natured, honest best friends that bring out the best in me.

My ring and pinkie fingers remain untouched.

Now, the ring finger, I understand. If I were to feel affection toward a friend, perhaps a string might find a home around my ring finger. But my pinkie? What does such a tiny, trivial finger represent?

Now back to the myth. As you can see, there is truth behind what is only known as a legend.

But there is one thing that they got wrong.

Tapping the power button on my laptop, I lean back in my chair. I sigh, long and quiet, all the while tugging and massaging my fingers. Faint aching at my joints causes me slight discomfort, but it’s nothing unusual. After finishing seven drawings in a hour or two, what do you expect?

I rest both hands atop my keyboard and let all of my fingers stretch in front of me, admiring the strings. I smile, I really do...I can’t help but flinch when I feel my grin dissipate.

The strings are a fading white, completely empty of color.

All the rich, vibrant shades of red that they talked of was untrue. Seeing the strings makes my heart soar, but their colorless, bleak nature is bound to bring a bit of gloom from time to time.

I constantly wonder why. Was I supposed to see color? Do I see colors when I reach a certain age? Am I broken? Why-

The screen comes alive, and the light that radiates from the letters on the keyboard bring me back to reality. Clicking on the blue logo that I know all too well, I find myself smiling right away.

Online friends are an interesting case. Since I’ve never physically met them, they don’t have strings. I can leave asks on as many people’s blogs as I want, but not a single string appears.

...There were four exceptions. Let me tell you about them.

She is the countryside.

She is the short walk to a nearby town, where the buildings huddle together and lights reflects off each other’s windows. There are quiet voices, the occasional booming cackle and the clinking of glasses. The streets and roads are mostly empty, but it is inside the stores and shops where laughter and chatter belong.

There is a homely feeling to this small town. You could always find her wandering around, going from building to building leaving smiles and bright faces. Whether it’s complimenting others or joining a protection squad, she is there with the town, reveling in the closeness of their companionship.

And then you are home. You are where the houses become scattered and the concrete roads become gravel or sand. Gazing out over the horizon, there is only the gentle swaying of tall crops and a setting sun.

You remain outside, sitting down and watching the sun fade away. Light falls and darkness rises, covering you with a blanket of constellations and glittering stars. With no factories or skyscrapers close by, the sky can breathe.

When your back drops against the ground and the grass meets your hair, she grins beside you. She laughs along when you point out the constellations, remarking that they look like things they definitely aren’t supposed to look life. She is the lift of your lips, the sparkle in your eyes.

Lying down with the smell of fresh grass and cool air lingering upon my nose, I feel calm. Her presence, though it is not entirely familiar, is peaceful.

But she is not always peaceful. In a place where there are nothing but fields and flatlands, you are bound to find something to liven things up.

When the colorful leaves drop from trees and a chilling breeze settles in, you could be chatting with friends in that bustling coffee shop in town, or be in a library, immersing yourself in an interesting book. Even indoors, you are sitting by the fireplace or watching movies. You could be smelling the blooming flowers and morning dew, visiting gardens and climbing trees. Then all of a sudden, you’re dancing, barefoot, with the stars hanging over your head, a popping firecracker in your hand as you take in the warmth of July.

Whatever it is, it is new and exciting. Taking something so simple and making it worthwhile is an admirable feat.

You do not know this place well, that is for sure. But you wish you do. You wish you could. The countryside is filled with wonders that you hope to explore and learn about in the future.

As you sit upright, you glance down. That faint swish on your wrist was indeed not the grass, but a string.

All you can do is hope she feels the same.

We are connected, the countryside and I.

She is a city.

Sometimes she feels distant, just like how New York City is to me, but I don’t mind. She isn’t constantly a part of my life, and yet every time I drive down that bridge, look into the river and see those shining buildings, I’m filled with excitement.

The city is an acquired taste, something that you maybe wouldn’t enjoy unless you’ve visited it on multiple occasions. Even for me, a person who was born and raised in such a place for most of her life, the city takes some getting used to.

In some parts, the buildings glitter like gold. With its polished glass windows, allowing sunlight to grace its surface all too perfectly, and elegant architecture, you are almost fooled by its facade.

Then you could turn your head and see tired, drooping eyes, voices yelling into phones and people crossing streets with a red traffic light hanging over their heads.

Insecurity disguises itself within beauty.

And she is always there.

The sun begins to set, bringing upon the shadows, the people and the lights. I’m stuck within a crowd of people, and I’m still alone.

After not being in the city for several months, things don’t seem all that beautiful anymore.

Suddenly the echoing footsteps of the people around me doesn’t sound so soothing. The buses roar, lions that snarl and growl intensely. Cars screech to abrupt stops, paying no attention to the rapid honking or the blinking stoplights. Above me, the trains let out bellowing cries as they bang against the rickety steel tracks.

She is there, pulling me to safety. Away from the dreadful noises, from the crowd, until there is tranquil silence. In order to ease the tension, she cracks a small joke.

Now, just for a moment, I can laugh in peace.

There is a tug at the corner of her lips as she sets off into the city. I follow alongside her. For a little while, things don’t feel overwhelming anymore. There are no due dates, no drawing requests to get done, no stories that are begging to be written. I can see the city for what it truly is.

Just like her, the city is real. Its raw, imperfect magnificence is bound to stun anyone, as long as they take the time to get to know its delighting qualities.

She is the embodiment of stupid, but brilliantly amusing conversations in the middle of the night. She speaks in the language of references, using words in a way that will make you giggle. Her words come quickly, in a rush that ends as soon as it appeared, but that refreshing feeling of a car speeding past you will never stop being exhilarating.

She tends to change a lot. One moment she’ll be bubblegum pink, a rose dripping in paint. Then the warm tones of golden sunflowers, or even a cat stalking through the night. All the colors and scents shift from one theme to another-her love for aesthetics never ceases to impress me.

She moves quickly and easily, but she will never completely abandon you. If she disappears for a couple of minutes, you can rest assured that she’ll come running back bearing a smile and a funny story. As fast as a subway train, she will jump from one topic to another, whether it’s about crazy school stories or cantaloupes.

Her relatable humor will lift a chuckle from one’s throat, lightening up someone’s mood like how the lamp posts along the sidewalks come alive at night. Light pours in through the windows of buildings, illuminating the jet black sky. In the same way, she, with her exciting personality, is able to brighten one’s day.

Only when you’re sitting on the roof of a building will you be able to appreciate her. When you sit still, taking in the view, just listen. She will be there. Not everyone enjoys the city the first time around, but I promise you, there’s always something there that’ll make you smile.

She doesn’t even live in a city, so for all I know, she could have no idea what I’m talking about.

But as a person who has lived in one and loved it with all her heart-that’s saying a lot.

She smiles softly, saying goodbye before turning her head to the city. She stares, almost in a daze, at the skyscrapers and flashing lights. She rises, jumping off the ledge, hitting a metal staircase attached to the side of the building. Rushing down the steps, she doesn’t look back once.

You aren’t worried. She will return, one way or another.

The wind picks up, a light breeze that mirrored her swift movements. I stand up and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, noticing the tingling sensation that momentarily crossed my wrist. I look down and grin.

We are connected, the city and I.

They are a forest.

Personally, I haven’t spent much time in forests, so I think of them are rare. Unique. Where I live, there’s always been random patches of trees here and there, but never forests.

I think forests have plenty of hidden beauty. There’s just something captivating about entering a forest in the midday, seeing the light filtering in through the trees. Every tree’s branches spreads out far and wide, their long arms stretching out to embrace the glorious, radiant sun, but also weaving together to create a blanket of protection over the forest floor.

Forests means freedom. You could run, run, run: fast, far and even a little careless, but the support of the forest is always apparent. As you dash through the woods, you notice everything you could ever love about being able to express yourself. There’s the scent of pine cones and dirt, the gust of air that blows your hair into a tornado, and the babbling brook that you easily soar across.

But when the night fell-everything all of a sudden became more terrifying.

It isn’t the forest itself that frightens you-it’s what surrounds it. There are howls of stalking predators, jaws snapping wildly. Voices come from the swaying trees and whistling wind, rapidly increasing whispers that made your legs tremble. Their vile words yank and snatch at the remnants of my sanity, draining all of the energy and hope out of me. The sounds are not there to hurt you necessarily, but sickening feeling persistently tugging at your stomach isn’t the most comforting thing either.

They tell you that you’re not supposed to be there. Maybe you don’t deserve to discover any of the forest’s intriguing mysteries, or experience the gorgeous lights of a city, or even the simple excitement of the countryside. What if you’re being bothersome, or overbearing? What if-

The forest does not like ‘what ifs’. The forest does not mean to scare you, or make you feel out of place.

The wind begins to ease up, the steady breeze soothing your shaking hands. As you look down, you close your eyes and listen once more. To the faint chirping of the cicadas, the rustling leaves and swishing branches.

They appear at your side in your moments of unexpected, excessive doubt and panic. When your eyelids flutter open and you see them beside you, you are grounded. Safe. You start to talk to them, their tone hushed and quiet, as if they’re afraid of scaring you. You could never be scared of them. Perhaps worried that these conversations might be too time consuming for them, yes, but never scared.

They show you the forest as it is: fascinating, patient, understanding and even showing a bit of fear from time to time. The forest is as welcoming as it is calming, and you enjoy that.

You never expected that you would ever experience happiness from a night as horrible as that one, but you did. The thoughts never destroyed you because the forest was there to protect you.

Within the pitch black, there was light. Fireflies danced throughout the forest, their luminosity making me smile that night.

When your eyelids felt heavy and your yawns grew longer, they told you to sleep. It was late, they spoke, and you need rest. You reluctantly gave in to this request.

Just before you were pulled into a deep slumber, something brushes against your wrist. The ghost of a smile graces your lips as you lose consciousness.

We are connected, the forest and I.

She is a meadow.

I wish with all my heart that I could travel more often. I’ve only seen meadows through videos and pictures, but as an introvert that appreciates nature, I’d love to see one someday.

All I can imagine is light and beauty. The ground dips into smooth, elegant valleys and rises in the form of rolling hills. The sky mirrors the sun’s movements, changing its colors as it dances across the heavens. If you only you were there to see it-the dazzling, radiant meadow at work, stunning you with its abundance of warmth.

After wandering around momentarily, you shiver, turning around and stiffening. The wispy, cotton-like clouds that were just drifting through the sky had transformed into something worse. You tremble in sync with the ground beneath your feet, feeling your breathing become choppy and unsteady. The loud, booming, angry noises sink into your mind, not giving you a chance to recover. All you can hear is the regret, all you can feel is the doubt and all you can see is the fear.

You see her. Never once had she not been there for me.

Hearing her footsteps, the noises disappear. The grey clouds linger for a second, before giving in to the blue skies and sunshine. The storm does not come for the meadow, whose genuine joy is something that cannot be easily purged.

She comes with words-happy, lovely words woven together in the dandelions that surrounded her. She sits down, a smile on her face as she invites you to pick the flowers with her. The flowers’ colors are grounding and gentle to the touch.

For every flower that you take, her kind words flood your eyes. One tells you that you are amazing, the second that you are talented, and another that you deserve all the happiness in the world. Each one carries laughter, brings excitement and makes you grin. One after another, as the dandelions fill your lap, her compassion fills your heart.

There is one more dandelion. Once your fingers brush against its petals, you can hear it right away.

It reminds you that you are loved.

Pressing that one to your chest, you can feel your smile grow, which was almost impossible considering how wide it was beforehand. You like that specific flower a lot, you admit. Sometimes you forget.

Her arm rests along your shoulders, her smile comforting you. She knows, and that is precisely why she says it.

The meadow, in all of its glory, embraces you. She whispers, telling you how sorry she is, and how much you are loved. You can smell it in the dandelions, and you can feel it in your heart. You do not deserve her.

Are you okay, she asks with worry still lacing her voice. Upon spotting a string twirling around your wrist, you giggle and let yourself breathe. Without a doubt, you are alright, you answer.

We are connected, the meadow and I.

You might be asking, what about me? If one’s the countryside, the second’s a city, another is a forest, and the other is a meadow, then what am I?

The thing is: I had no idea.

I never saw myself as anything extravagant, or special. I don’t have the brightness of a city, the homely feel of the countryside, the soothing nature of a forest, or even the warmth of a meadow. What do I have?

A tug on my wrist. Faint, but urgent. I glance up at the screen.

I am...wanted...? Hm. I wonder.

I’m walking, blind. My eyes are closed and I cannot will them open. But the four are by my side, so I know all is fine.

The darkness clears, bringing in light.

Dunes of soft sand spreads out in a blanket of golden as far as I can see. The sunlight casts its rays over the shoreline, causing glittering, hidden shells to reveal themselves. I stare in utter awe at the waves-at how, with every passing second, the colors seem to change. First, it’s turquoise, then azure, and suddenly cerulean. The shades of blue shift and churn peacefully, emitting the scent of salt.

A beach.

Maybe...Maybe I do belong. I don’t doubt it as much anymore.

I stretch my hand out to the sea. I long for it, after all. Then, instead of focusing on the ocean, my gaze travels to my wrist.

Four strings lift from their place and begin to move, following the movements of the gentle breeze. Once unfurled from my wrist, they leap-

And find a comfortable spot around my pinkie.

Each string is filled with a color.

Green for the city.

Pink with flecks of gold for the countryside.

Red for the forest.

Yellow for the meadow.

Purple for the beach.

Once upon a time, five colors met. They have never been the same since.

They made a promise. It wasn’t too real or serious, just a dream that they hope with all their might would come true. They wish to one day meet each other.

When this dream was made apparent that all five of them shared, purple smiled. Purple’s heart sung with joy, for she was once again reminded that she belonged. She sits, in front of her screen, closing her eyes and extending her pinkie. Purple wishes to meet the four vibrant, wonderful colors.

One day, purple hopes. For now, she will remain at her screen: pencil to paper, fingers to keyboard. She is content with sharing herself this way, but...perhaps, with time...she will not be afraid of posting that picture.

They all have their differences, yet they are still friends.

They are The Heart Squad. ❤️💚💖💛💜

#the <3 squad #personal writing #the <3 squad anniversary #I'm tempted to do like?? Short stories for every month on the 18th??#Just because this was super fun #Who knows? :3 #fave

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elsaclack · 6 years ago

Note

This is really random but I saw a fic of yours about Amy being sick (I think the prompt was "Amy yells at the Vulture") but I can't find the full piece anywhere. Is it on AO3 anywhere? I love your writing and I completely understand if you just didn't want it out anymore. Just thought I'd ask! :)

i thought it was but i just went and searched my entire work history (including all 70+ chapters of those god-forsaken oneshot collections) and i couldn’t find it anywhere!! i guess i forgot to cross-post it back when i first wrote it, and it got lost when i deleted the original elsaclack. but i just scoured my docs list and found it buried in a random folder so i’ll repost it here and add it to the newest one-shot collection on ao3 :)

fun fact: this was written almost exactly 2 years ago!!! meaning that my writing skills have developed considerably since i actually wrote this. aka please don’t judge me if this seems like a sudden regression haha

also i wanna tag @phil-the-stone-art bc we actually developed the concept of The List together so she’s at least 35% responsible for this fic lmao

under the cut!

Amy Santiago does not get sick, thank you very much. She prides herself on her meticulous nightly hygienic rituals, on the cabinet full of multivitamins and minerals she takes on a daily basis in her bathroom, on the rigorous workout routine and diet she keeps herself on each week to maintain perfect health. She lives her life by a very tight plan (laid out in checklists and carefully organized in color-coded binders) that simply does not afford her any extra time to be sick.

Which is why, when she wakes up one Tuesday morning with a head stuffed full of cotton and violent shivers rolling down her spine, she gets up to start her usual routine in spite of the fact that she feels like she hasn’t actually slept in three weeks. Jake’s still snoring on the other side of the bed, another hour away from getting up to haphazardly dress in whatever flannel he can find lying on her bedroom floor that doesn’t smell too dirty, and he doesn’t even stir at the sound of her shuffling footsteps or running nose.

She drags herself into the bathroom, shuts the door, and flicks the lights on. Her reflection honestly makes her jump back an inch or two; she’s never seen her skin quite so pale, or bruises beneath her eyes quite so dark, or her lips quite so visibly dry and cracked. She reaches out to grip the edges of her sink and realizes that her arms and hands are trembling, and when she leans a bit more weight onto them she notes that her knees are quaking beneath her.

All in all, not a great start to the day.

She presses on, though, ignoring her running nose and congested head and general exhaustion. The shower helps a little, but not much.

When she shuts the water off, she hears Jake moving around in her bedroom, and her heart skips a beat. She hadn’t even realized she’d been in the shower that long. “Jake?” She calls as she wraps a towel around herself. Her voice is coarse and rough.

“Hey,” he knocks lightly at the door. “You okay?”

“Yeah - yeah, could you, um…there’s a binder out on the dining room table, should say something on the cover about that case I was working on last night -” she clears her throat and winces at the sharp pain that responds “- could you grab it and put it in my bag?”

“Sure,” he’s quiet for a moment and Amy’s left to gently rub at her temples with the heels of her hands. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound awful.”

“I’m…I’m fine.”

But she’s not. Her knees are still quaking and vertigo has suddenly set in and she’s swaying, reaching out to grab the tiled edge of her shower. Her hand slips against the wet surface and she falls forward, shoulder banging painfully into the tiles.

The door swings open and Jake bursts inside in a panic. “Ames? Oh my God!” She suddenly realizes that she’d sunk down to a crouching position upon falling. He kneels next to her, gently pulling her away from the shower and letting her lean heavily into him. Her head falls against his shoulder, forehead pressed to the crook of his neck, and she hears him tut. “You’re burning up, babe,” he says quietly.

“I’m fine,” her voice fails half-way through and she ends up finishing in an unconvincing whisper.

“You’re not going to work today,” he tells her.

“But -”

“You almost fainted just now, Amy. You’re staying home sick today.”

She tries to argue but he pulls her up off the ground, keeping his touch firm and steady should gravity leave her again, and her voice completely dies on the way out of the bathroom. He lets her whisper weak arguments as he steers her gently toward the bed, humming and nodding along as he pulls fresh sweatpants up her legs and eases one of his academy shirts over her head. He pushes back on her good shoulder with just enough force that she lays down and pulls the comforter up to her chin. Her eyelids flutter closed when he presses a kiss against her forehead.

“I’ll tell Captain Holt where you are,” he says quietly. His hand finds hers against the mattress, fingers twisting through hers. “Get some sleep, okay?”

She’s asleep before he even gets out the front door.

A few hours later she’s roused by the sound of her phone vibrating on her bedside table. Sunlight streams in through her window and she squints, disoriented, fumbling around with semi-numb fingers for her phone.

From: Jake PeraltaHow u feelin? Miss u at work. Charles says he’ll bring u goat soup later lol

It hurts to even swallow, and Amy has to work really hard to keep from whining at the splitting headache igniting behind her right eye.

To: Jake PeraltaFeel like garbage. I haev a headache. Im afraid to get out of bed for meds. Miss u too

She waits five minutes for him to respond, and when her phone remains motionless, she closes her eyes and lets it fall against her chest.

Precisely twenty minutes after that, she hears her front door open. It closes again and she hears footsteps crossing her living room and it only just hits her that someone is in her apartment when those footsteps cross the threshold of her bedroom.

“Hey, hey, don’t get out of bed,” Jake says soothingly. Amy falls back against her pillow from her struggling half-sitting up position as Jake drops a plastic grocery bag at the foot of her bed and perches on the edge of the mattress beside her. He replaces her phone back on her bedside table with one hand and smooths his other palm over her forehead (and she only just then realizes that she’s sweating) and grimaces. “You’re still burning up,” he says, running his fingers through her hair just above her forehead.

“I’m fine,” she whispers, and the words slip out between two wet coughs.

He frowns and gently scratches his short nails against her scalp. “I brought Advil,” he says, casting an absent glance over his shoulder at the bag he brought in, “and stuff to make soup. It’s the recipe for Nana’s matzoh ball soup.” She raises her eyebrows beneath his palm and he grins down at her. “Don’t tell Charles, but it’s literally the best soup you’ll ever have and it’ll cure your dumb cold in twenty minutes or less.”

“Promise?”

He leans down and pecks a kiss against her forehead. “Promise,” he says when he leans away. “I’m gonna go make some and bring it in here and you’ll be back on your feet before the end of the day. Peralta Guarantee.” He winks.

She sinks down into the mattress as much as she can when he stands up, opening her eyes only when he comes back in with two Advil tablets and a glass half-full of water. Within minutes she begins hearing pots and pans knock around in her kitchen, and through her cloudy mind she registers that her stomach is rumbling in irritation.

“Alright,” he announces from her doorway. Her eyes split open and he’s carefully balancing the soup bowl on top of her dresser. “I’ll help you sit up, don’t move.”

He pulls her up with one hand and waits until she’s sitting up steadily before hurriedly stacking her pillows up behind her. She breathes a sigh of relief when she leans back, not realizing just how much of a strain sitting up is until that moment. He hurries back to where the soup is still steaming and carefully brings it over to her, the tip of his tongue appearing at the corner of his mouth for how hard he has to concentrate on not spilling any.

He nestles it in her lap, and she smiles, because he looks so proud of himself and he’s really so adorable.

Jake stays with her until she finishes the whole bowl and then he takes her dishes from her and quickly rinses them out in her sink.

“I’ll be back after work to check on you and to finish cleaning that, okay?” He calls from her doorway.

She hums hoarsely and fades out of consciousness.

An hour later, Amy wakes up feeling half-human. Her head and throat still hurt and she still can’t breathe out of her nose, but her brain doesn’t feel quite so fried and her limbs don’t feel quite so weak anymore.

Jake was right - the soup really did help.

Not as much as Nyquil would, but…still.

She kicks the comforter off and moves to sit up, and her phone suddenly falls into her lap from her chest. She pauses, staring at it, trying to remember when it ended up back there. She has no new calls or texts, but when she unlocks the screen, there’s a new note pulled up.

Things i want t odo to jake in bed

Amy feels flames engulf her face that have absolutely nothing to do with her fever. The list has twelve items on it, each one raunchier and riddled with more spelling errors than the last, and by the time she gets to the end of the note she’s covering her face in embarrassment. She’s got just the vaguest memory of typing it (and it’s really more of a dream of a memory than anything else), but none of it will solidify into more than just faint snapshots in her head.

But the more she rereads it, the more heat begins building in her body - heat from the mental images, heat from the germs ravaging her body, heat from the thick comforter still draped over her legs.

She has got to go get some Nyquil.

Santiago Determination blazes through her as she drags herself out of bed, shoulders set and jaw clenched as she pulls one of Jake’s hoodies over her frame and slides her feet into her rarely-worn flip-flops. Part of her feels guilty, knowing that if Jake was the one home sick she’d insist on him texting her anything he needs so that he would stay in bed and recover faster, but she brushes it off as she grabs her purse.

What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, right?

She blames her scattered brain on the matzoh ball soup later. She blames her compromised detective skills and her lack of attention to detail and her general disorientation on the soup. Because under normal circumstances, no matter how sick she truly is, she would definitely have noticed the Vulture browsing the low aisles of the bodega around the corner from her house immediately upon walking through the front doors.

But as it is, she doesn’t, which means that he gets a visual on her before she’s even aware of being spotted.

She’s so busy perusing the medicine section toward the back that she doesn’t notice him stalking around the shelves, doesn’t feel him peeking around the Doctor Scholl’s cardboard display, doesn’t hear him mutter at a mother and daughter to get out of his way as he follows her ambling walk down the aisle. She isn’t aware of the danger until he’s basically on top of her.

“Yo, Santiago,” he says, his voice low and curdling. She winces and turns slowly, and he’s leaned against the shelves to her left, leering down at her. A handcart hangs between them; it’s full of at least thirty boxes of condoms, she realizes when she glances down. Her stomach shifts unpleasantly. “You look homeless.”

“Get out of the way,” she whispers hoarsely.

“Aw, what’s the matter? Peralta got you screaming so hard every night you lost your voice?”

Heat bursts through her cheeks and she glances back, meeting the scandalized look on that same mother’s face with an apologetic grimace. “Shut up.” She snaps as fiercely as she can.

He smirks, because her voice only comes in bursts. “Damn, you really let yourself go, didn’t you?” His eyes rove her body and she’s suddenly very keenly aware of the fact that she’s not wearing any underwear beneath her sweatpants. She can feel her face blossoming.

“Whatever.” She turns away quickly and digs her phone out of her purse, cursing when she hears the Vulture following her down the aisle. She dials Jake’s number quickly, and he answers after just two rings.

“Hey, is everything oka-”

“I need you go come to the bodega by my apartment,” she whispers. She can feel her hand trembling again and she curses whatever part of her thought it would be a good idea to do this on her own.

“Wait, what? Why are you -”

“I thought I could walk over here and get what I needed without you, but -” she winces at the sound of the Vulture’s laugh, loud and obnoxious behind her. “But I ran into someone and I need you to come save me.”

“Santiago, look - they do make extra-small condoms! Should I put a whole box in for you and Peralta or is that too many?”

She hears a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Is that the Vulture?” He asks quietly.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes. Do not faint.”

“I’m doing my best, but please hurry.”

Amy starts pacing up and down the aisles, doing her best to block the Vulture out. He trails along behind her, alternating between making lewd sexual innuendos about random items on the shelves they pass (“Everything’s a sex toy if you try hard enough,” while pointing out a plastic broom) and insulting her general appearance (“Y’know, you were much sexier before Peralta dragged you down to his level of ugliness. Just make sure your ass doesn’t get as fat as his”). It’s around the time they make it back to the medicine aisle that he turns to making fun of Jake himself.

“I still can’t believe you’re with that loser,” he laughs as Amy finally swipes a bottle of Nyquil off a lower shelf. She stands up slowly, gripping the shelves above her firmly, as a wave of vertigo hits her once again. “You’re hot as shit usually - not right now, obviously - I bet you could sleep with any guy you want.”

She clenches her jaw and tries to calculate how long it’s been since she hung up with Jake.

“I bet the sex is really boring, too,” the Vulture continues. “I bet it’s all missionary and full of, like, eye-contact and shit. I bet he tells you he loves you because you don’t make fun of his tiny weiner.”

“Okay, y’know what?” She snaps, and suddenly her voice is half back. “First of all, there’s nothing wrong with missionary if you do it right. Secondly, you’re full of crap if you really think eye-contact is boring. Third, you’re right, he does tell me he loves me, because he actually loves me, you sexist pig. And fourth, he’s not tiny.”

“Whatever. He’s a joke, just like you, and I bet the sex sucks and you’re both so bad at it that you can’t even tell that it sucks.”

She knows people are staring, but her brain just isn’t functioning right. She yanks her phone out of her purse and quickly scrolls over to her list. “Jake’s the best sex I’ve ever had, okay? In fact, he’s so good that I made a list!” She shoves her phone in his face and scrolls quickly, grinning in manic triumph at the dumbfounded look on his face. “I made a list of all the things I want to do with him because he’s so unbelievably good. You wish you were as good as him.”

He is, for once, speechless. Amy locks her phone and steps back, smug grin on her face. The Vulture’s eyes flicker to something over her shoulder and she sees the spark of recognition in his face; when she turns, she feels her stomach drop down to her toes.

Jake’s standing at the end of the aisle, looking just as dumbstruck as the Vulture. She gasps, and the sound comes out like a ragged squeak. His mouth is hanging open but his brows draw together at the sound.

“Ja- Jake,” she says hoarsely.

This seems to snap him out of his stupor. His mouth snaps closed and he immediately begins striding down the aisle toward her and there’s something new in his eyes - smug and barely-contained glee, maybe - when he throws his arm around her shoulders. “Hi, honey,” he says, laying a kiss against her temple and pulling the bottle of Nyquil from her grasp. “Let’s get you back in bed.”

“Yeah, well, you’re both a couple of losers!” The Vulture shouts after them. Jake twists around and flashes his middle finger at him and grins into Amy’s hair at the sound of his splutters. “I’m buying thirty-five boxes of condoms!”

“You’re amazing.” Jake murmurs once they’re outside of the store. “But next time, just call me instead of trying to go get stuff on your own. I really don’t mind doing it for you. That’s what boyfriends are for.”

She sinks into the passenger’s seat of his car and sighs in relief; her body is already aching from the exertion of just a lap around the bodega. She feels Jake slide in on the driver’s side, feels the engine roar to life beneath her and the air conditioner tickle across her face. The car lurches a little when he puts it in drive and then his free hand finds hers and interlaces their fingers.

“I’m sorry about…that.” She whispers once he’s pulled away from the curb.

“It’s fine, but I really mean it about calling me next time, okay? ‘Specially since you almost fainted this morning and everything, like, what would’ve happened if you’d fallen and hit your head and they took you to the hospital? They would’ve called Manny and it would’ve taken him three hours to get here and -”

“Wait, no, they’d call you,” she interrupts. “Manny’s not my emergency contact anymore. You are.”

He turns his head toward her and stares.

“I changed it two years ago, Peralta. Way before we started dating. I just figured, y’know, since you’re my partner and everything, you’d be able to get there the fastest. And, besides, that’s not even what I was talking about. I meant…the stuff I said to the Vulture. The list.”

“Oh,” he shrugs. “I don’t really care. The guy’s an ass. I could hear him yelling all the way from the front doors. Besides, you weren’t lying.”

He squeezes her hand a few times in quick succession and she snorts. “So you’re…not mad? About any of it?”

“I’m more curious than anything else. Do I get to look at the list, too? Or is that just between you and the Vulture?”

“I can’t stand you.”

She does let him see it once they’re back to her place. He reads each item carefully three times over without ever saying a word, and then stands and grabs his laptop and a notepad off of her dining room table. When she asks what he’s doing, he responds with a muttered “research” and then promptly tells her to finish her soup.

The night passes in a haze that has nothing to do with the cold or the soup or the medicine, and the next morning she wakes to the sounds of Jake’s congested voice explaining through chest-rumbling coughs that neither he nor Amy would be making it into work that day.

#em answers #brooklyn nine nine #amy santiago #jake peralta #jake x amy #my b99 fics #god i've been writing for b99 for a Really Long Time #sos #Anonymous

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possiblypeachy · 6 years ago

Text

i was tagged by @deviantramblings so thank you!!!

Last

Drink: a funky lil' fizzy drink called 'Rio'.

Phone Call: my friend last week bc i changed her contact photo and i wanted to laugh about it when it came up on my screen :,)

Text: to the same friend. i sent her a screenshot of angsty ship things and said exactly: "neiryn and,,.. erleas with the hhhhh 'i thought i lost you' hug....,, im cryign"

Song: 'How Could You Leave Us' by NF, i think? song makes me cry :(

Time You Cried: uhhhh at above friend's house bc we were getting real at 3am jdjdjsj

Ever

Dated someone twice: yes. unfortunately /:

Kissed someone and regretted it: no???

Been cheated on: nope.

Lost someone special: not really? my parents and i don't talk to a lot of our family anymore so i have very few special people to lose in the first place lmao

Been depressed: sad, yes. depressed, no.

Gotten drunk and thrown up: hahah nope!

Favorite colors: my absolute favourite is a pale orange/peach (thus my theme) but i also adore sky blue, lilac, and gold.

In the last year you have

Made new friends: i'm unsure?? i think so!!

Fallen out of love: not as far as i'm aware.

Laughed until you cried: of course.

Found out someone was talking about: yep.

Met someone who changed you: i didn't MEET anyone who changed me but i got closer to someone who did.

Found out who your friends are: i hope so.

Kissed someone on your Facebook friends list: hah no.

General

How many of your Facebook friends do you know irl: all of them. facebook is for family mostly.

Do you have any pets: a norwegian forest cat called Mojo :)

Do you want to change your name: not particularly. Alicia is kind of poncy but it's nice enough. the only annoying thing is when people pronounce it A-lee-sha over A-lih-cee-ya.

What did you do for your last birthday: had a sleepover with friends?? drama happened on the night of my birthday and it involves people i dislike now so it was a big meh day for me //:

What were you doing at midnight last night: yapping on to @deviantramblings about my story (thank you :,) ), getting sad about said story with the friend i made it with, and on-and-off watching youtube i think?

What is something you can’t wait for: i'm actually pretty excited for my birthday this year (sep. 23rd, kids, mark it on your calendar) bc i get a new phone and enough money to buy a kitten :))

What are you listening to right now: the gentle whirring of my fan but it's a little muffled bc i have my earphones in.

Have you ever talked to a person named Tom: indeed. there's one in my form.

Something that gets on your nerves: when people are rude to be relatable?? like "oh well that's the tea 🐸☕️" kinda groups?? don't get me wrong, i use that phrase A LOT too but yknow when people are just nasty so that others laugh idk it pisses me off like there's a certain audience for certain jokes and ripping it outta people shouldn't have an audience whatsoever.

Most visited website: youtube? tumblr? does instagram count as a website?

Hair color: naturally a mousy blonde but i've dyed it ginger.

Long or short hair: short! i want to grow it out again but i have like these little middle parted curtains rn and sometimes they look cute so???

Do you have a crush on someone: eh? the way i work with crushes is confusing for me so i legitimately have no idea lmaoo

What do you like about yourself: the fact that i'm generally just easy to talk to i think :)

Want any piercings: i have two lobe piercings already but i wanna get an industrial bar and a septum piercing.

Blood type: AB +

Nicknames: i don't have any cute nicknames but i have many variants of Ali to roll with (Ali, Allie, Ally, Aly, etc.). this is a psa to give me cute nicknames.

Relationship status: v single :)

Zodiac: virgo/libra. i was born on a cusp, as far as what im told.

Pronouns: she/her.

Favorite tv shows: god umm? Dirk Gently's Hollistic Detective Agency, The Tudors, Paradise PD, shhhsouthparkshhh

Tattoos: none but i'd like some!! o super want flowers/a snake/BOTH on my right thigh.

right or left handed: right for the most part.

Ever had surgery: nope.

Piercings or ear piercings: ear piercings.

Sport: i don't? lmao oops

Vacation: i haven't been on holiday in actual years :(((

More general

Eating: i just had a filthy takeaway burger ;)

Drinking: as i'm writing this line now, i have a new drink: a glass of vimto.

About to watch: youtube? shitty videos on ig? the winds will guide me.

Waiting for: the morning so i can get my art sketchbooks done.

Want: for someone to be all domestic and cute with

Get Married: certainly some day

Career: student /:

Which is better

Hugs or kisses

Lips or eyes

Shorter or taller (my bi ass likes shorter or my height girls and taller guys oops)

Older or younger (quite frankly, i don't really care, as long as it's not too big of an age gap. at my age now, however, i'd prefer and older/my age partner)

Nice arms or stomach

Hookup or relationship

Troublemaker or hesitant

Have you ever

Kiss a stranger: no.

Drunk hard liquor: no??

Lost glasses: never and even so i have my trusty contacts.

Turned someone down: yes jsjsjs

Sex on first date: n o

Broken someone’s heart: probably? im not sure i don't talk to them anymore

Had your heart broken: no.

Been arrested: no.

Cried when someone died: in reality, no.

Fallen for a friend: almost definitely.

Do you believe in

Yourself: on rare occasion, yes.

Miracles: no.

Love at first sight: no; love occurs over time. you can desire someone at first sight but you should fall in love with a personality.

Santa Clause: when i was a wee bab.

Kiss on the first date: if i like them, why not?

Angels: no.

Others

Best friend’s name: georgia georgia georgia. whenever i mention 'a friend', it's probably her.

Eye color: blue/green. i have central heterochromia so i have a ring of yellow/orange around my pupil too.

Favorite movie: Shaun Of The Dead?? i think?? i love that film tbh i would watch it with anyone lmaoo

Favorite actors: ummm??? basically all of the actors in the MCU?? simon pegg?? henry cavill?? alicia vikander?? armie hammer?? sandra bullock?? lots more that i can't think of??

Tagging: @wayablack , @deviantsendbyreallife , @sadmine , @plushdechart + literally anyone else who's interested :)

#tagged #thank you!!#these are fun #also super sorry i did this on my phone at 1am #//:

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werewolfwilds · 6 years ago

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i redid an ask meme that i had originally done ~3 years ago to see the comparison so for archiving purposes im putting it in a lil journal entry here ! i wanna start doing small journal entries again it was fun when i did that

new answers bolded

1) what images do you have set for your desktop/cell phone wallpapers?

my desktop bg is literally just…. a collage of kageyama manga screencaps a h a,,,, and my cellphone bg are drawings some gay drew me like 74724 years ago :v // my desktop rn is actually a background from one of the dmmd routes LMFAO..... idk which one it is but i’ve always liked those bg pics!! my cell lock screen is p5 art and my bg is leopika

2) have you ever had a crush on a teacher?

nooooope // nah

3) what was your last text message?

my phone is dead so i wouldnt be able to tell you lmfao i dont even remember // it was a gif from kelly lol

4) what do you see yourself doing in 10 years?

hopefully working a job i enjoy and making costumes and being happy!! // god i have no idea and it freaks me out... hopefully working,,

5) if you could be anywhere else right now, where would you be?

hoommee ((or at katsucon tbh)) // at the beach with friends maybe

6) what was your coolest halloween costume?

a white cat probably lmao // i dont think ive ever had a particularly exciting halloween costume but one year i was sharpay from high school musical and i think i peaked then tbh

7) what was your favorite 90s show?

uhhhh….. i didnt really… start watching tv until like… the 2000′s so i really cant tell you man lol // spongebob started in 1999 does that coUNT,

8) who was your last kiss?

(answer redacted) // :/ someone should kiss me so i can change this answer lmao

9) have you ever been stood up?

nope // nah

10) favorite ice cream flavor?

vanilla w/ vanilla oreos ok u need to underst a n d // this hasn’t changed i haven’t had this particular ice cream in a long time but i still stand by it

11) have you been to las vegas?

nahh // nope

12) your favorite pair of shoes?

idk i have these black ones i wear everywhere lol // i have a pair of white sneakers that i refuse to stop wearing now

13) honestly, have you ever cheated on your significant other?

i wouldnt even consider it. // no bc i’m not a piece of shit lmao?

14) what is your favorite fruit?

hmmm…. pineapple orrr…. strawberries but only if they’re the really good kind like they have to be perfect // pineapple!!

15) have you talked to anyone on tumblr that you could see yourself dating/having sex with? if possible?

….. ye s… yes. // in the past apparently so but thinking about it now nah lol

16) are you into hookups? short or long term relationships?

hookups arent my thing eh i prefer long term relationships altho i cant really say ive been in a “long” term relationship pffff // i don’t think hookups will ever be my thing, emotionally long term relationships are what i’m here for but i’m also a Very Impulsive Person so i cant tell you if this will stay a fact :’)

17) do you smoke? if so, what?

nope dont wanna // no thanks

18) what do you do to get over your anger?

usually talk to people or shout into word // i have to vent about it to someone probably a thousand times even months or years after it happens tbh

19) do you believe in god?

nahh // nah

20) does the person you’re in love with know it?

i aint in love with anyone rn so no? // i’m not in love with anyone.

21) favorite position?

………….. for w hat………. // oh honey lmfao... N/A

22) what’s your horoscope sign?

virgo/ox ovob // Virgo/sun, Aries/moon, Libra/rising and Cancer/midheaven

23) your fears?

literally everything i already named a few so ill name some others… ghh anything in… the ocean or lakes and stuff frightens me and i really dont know why bu tlike…. fish and crabs and jellyfish and seaweed cuz it’s evil and stu f f basically anything that’s not a mammal or turtles or penguins…. lo l im a baby // uncertainty is a big fear of mine and also people being mad at me lmao... as far as physical fears though i have debilitating fears of almost all insects/arachnids and lobsters/shrimp/crawfish :^)))))

24) how many pets do you have? what kind?

two cats and a dog!! // one cat one dog

25) what never fails to turn you on?

i dunno,,/////// // lol neck biting/kissing oof

26) your idea of a perfect first date?

im okay with mostly anything i just really like spending time with the person ; v ; // i’ve never really had an answer for this? thinking about dates has always made me so anxious for whatever reason but i’ll be happy to just spend time with them doing whatever honestly, i’m a super indecisive person aha

27) what is something most people don’t know about you?

i dont really know tbh lmfao // i’ve considered in the past looking into mental conditions (anxiety/bpd/etc) to see if i might have one or two but i never want to say anything about it because i don’t want to self-diagnose anything.

28) what makes you feel the happiest?

nice weather and nice conversations w/ best people u//v//u // nice weather and hanging out with people who are fun and easy to talk to

29) what store do you shop at most often?

does….. arda wigs count or… // does arda wigs still count bc mood lmao but truthfully now it’s probably target

30) how do you feel about oral? giving and/or receiving?

kkdkjsfkjkjfj??fsfj/// go for i t??? i have no problems with i t??? i dont think ill ever be willing to put a dick in my mouth though // these random sexual questions thrown in here are something aren’t they lmao. not going to disclose much but i will stand by the fact that i will not put a dick in my mouth lo l

31) do you believe in karma?

sometimes ye // i believe that people will eventually get what’s coming to them but i don’t believe in karma as a solid concept if that makes sense? like i don’t think it’s guaranteed

32) are you single?

yup yup // yeah it’s been wild lmao

33) do you think flowers or candy are a better way to apologize?

i think being sincere is the best way to apologize– if you truly mean it the person will know. you dont need to buy your forgiveness. // the best way to apologize is just to apologize sincerely and change your behavior if it’s applicable.

34) are you a good swimmer?

ehh??? im ok i guess– i took swimming lessons as a kid but i havent done legit swimming ever since then lmao,, ive always been best at the backstroke tho yea // i mean i have the ability to swim but i’m not olympic-worthy or anything lmao

35) coffee or tea?

ehhh im not big on either tbh // chocolate milk and you can fight me

36) online shopping or shopping in person?

depends what your shopping for i guess?? online is more relaxed i guess // online probably because shopping in person Gives Me Anxiety

37) would you rather be older or younger than your current age?

ehhh im happy where i am tbh // older

38) cats or dogs?

do not make me choose // cats and dogs* there i fixed it for you

39) are you a competitive person?

ahaa,,,,, oh god yeah,, // OOF yeah

40) do you believe in aliens?

i believe there’s life on other planets somewhere?? so i guess?? // i believe in aliens in the sense that there’s no way we are the only living life forms in the universe but not in the science-fiction way you feel me

41) do you like dancing?

i do but i suck at it lmao // i do but i: A- suck, and B- have no stamina

42) what kind of music to you listen to?

nearly everything tbh // i’m not picky when it comes to music but imma be real w u. almost all of the music on my phone is kpop. seventeen is my favorite group along with astro, and i also enjoy super junior, shinee, red velvet, etc among so many others,,, im pretty wide spread !

43) what is your favorite cartoon character?

i will never be able to pick just one // i’ll literally never be able to answer this

44) where are you from?

philadelphia uvu // philly!

45) eat at home or eat out?

hmmm at home. // at home

46) how much more social are you when you’re drunk?

i never plan on being drunk tyvm // i’ve never consumed alcohol in my life and to be Quite Fucking Honest i want nothing to do with it

47) what was the last thing you bought for yourself?

bracelets ! ; u ; // uh... excluding food and music... earrings i think

48) why do you think your followers follow you?

uhhhhhhh lmfao i have no idea i think… a good amount are for my cosplays at least?? or id like to think so lmfao but i really dont know pfft // my followers have just accumulated and hung around over the years... i know i gained a good amount from my snk days as arlert-the-troops and then through my haikyuu phase, whether it was for my cosplay or other posts that i made... whenever someone follows me now im not entirely sure what its for but i appreciate everyone who’s stuck around!

49) how many hours do you sleep at night?

it’s never regular man // 6-9 (lol) hours is pretty normal for me

50) what worries you most about the future?

everything tbh // the future as a concept worries me lol

#useless shouting #journal crap #sorry for so many personal posts lately ive been having fun with them lmfao

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