#this has me both disgusted and cackling omg

[bisexuallyattractivebitch]

Sensual roach queen

i wish i could see this picture for the first time again

[hwajin]

☆°. — silly boyfie things | skz

genre: fluff

pairing: skz x gn!reader

note: i haven't posted headcanons in ages and this was SO much fun to fabricate omg hope you like it 🫶🫶

— CHAN

he would FIGHT with you over the check after you went out for dinner. like literally FIGHT and not budge when you propose to pay yourself, because you feel bad that he always, always pays for the both of you. you think you smarted him out when you invited him for dinner calling for you to pay but he has his wallet ready the moment you finish your food, telling the waiter the bill is shared and having his money out faster than you can look — it nearly enrages you every time, but he tells you he genuinely enjoys paying, doesn't mind it and wants to do it, so you have no chance other than letting it go (even if reluctantly).

— LINO

he's so annoying he thinks it's PEAK commedy to say "no" to every single favour you ask him only to do it seconds later. OR saying no and waiting, actually not doing said favour and waiting for you to get annoyed until he'd nudge and end up doing it after all. giggles as if he's the funniest mf like he enjoys seeing you being annoyed so much. acts like this in front of friends and in public in general as well, ALSO cringes sm when you show him affection whenever on a get together though the moment the two of you are alone he literally won't be able to keep his hands off you. like he pretends to be so disgusted when you even as much as touch him in public, and the moment you're alone behind closed doors he's slouching onto you like a koala.

— CHANGBIN

omg you can't tell me that he didn't invent the "no you hang up first" 😭 like you'd be coming to the end of a conversation (often while he's on tour or smth tho he literally needs to hear your voice every single day so he calls you like whenever he has a minute even of free time) and at some point he's like "aight hang up 🥰" and you play along and hit him with the "no you do 😆😝" and the quarelling goes back and forth (jokingly on your side, in ALLLL seriousness on his) and at some point you say goodbye for real and hang up AND YOU CAN BET THIS FUCKER CALLS BACK like all pouty and actually slightly upset that you had the audacity to hang up??? and you're like someone has to at some point we can't have an endless phone convo??? and he's like why not do YOU NOT LOVE ME???? yeah you get it.

— HYUNJIN

bro this man NEEDS him to be your lockscreen on your phone. like it's an actual need of his or else he's gonna cease to exist he thinks. like you're obviously his wallpaper (both on his lock AND homescreen) so when he catches a glimpse of your phone and you dare to have just a random pinterest pic as your lockscreen, one you've chosen mindlessly altogether he RIOTSSSS. pouts as if his life is depending on it, clutches his heart as if it's gonna stop any minute, gasps and side-eyes you as if you straight up cheated on him. takes a selfie RIGHT that moment (it takes him a while because he both can't decide whether he wants it to be cute or sexy, and because he wants to look good either way) and sets it as your lockscreen instantly. checks like daily to see if you've changed it (if you did to tease him he LITERALLY is moments from breaking up with you).

— JISUNG

he sends you pics of ugly looking animals with a 'you' attached to the message. like even if it has no resemblence with you altogether. like it'll be a fish, a whale, a bird, a funny looking dog and their all attached with 'you'. and like he finds it so funny even if you never react to it, in fact finds it SO hilarious that at some point he will send you pics of literally ANYTHING he sees ever — like furniture, tools, random fucking street lamps, you name it — with a 'you' attached to it and CACKLES as if he invented comedy himself. the bright side to it, he takes this to the romantic level and shoots pretty pics of flowers and sends them with the same 'you' attached to it, or pics of the sky, or of a particularly bright star. so maybe it's not that annoying after all.

— FELIX

he causes his friends to tease you because he literally can't shut up about you. like every single thing you do he even slightly adores (which is, every single thing period, tbh) is being reported to his friends because he's just so in love with you he has to get the words out or he'll combust :((. like you'd maybe get him a little gift, smth small about stuff he's interested in lately, or these "i saw this and thought of you" gifts and he presents said gift to his friends as if it's an artifact of love itself, and the next time you're over they're going at you, teasing the shit out of you because tbh, they've teased felix so much already for talking their ears off that they need another victim. you basically never stop blushing when around them, hearing constantly just how much your bf talks about you when you're not around (and you'd lie saying you don't like it).

— SEUNGMIN

bro just straight up leaves you on read except when your text contains something of advantage to him 😭😭. like you haven't seen him in a while and want to catch up a bit? he reads the message and responds like 5 hours later ("we've seen each other yesterday, you can't possibly miss me enough to talk again"). or when you send him random tiktoks or shitposts — opens and reads them and then doesn't ever bother to even leave a like 😭. though the moment you hit him with a text like "running to the supermarket, you want anything?" he's responding the same second and you grow salty every time, wondering why you put up texting him in the first place.

— JEONGIN

pretends to be jealous like a LOT. like the first time he'd be actually jealous, going fresh into the relationship with insecurities still gnawing at you and him and when he confesses you reassure him, making sure he understands there will never be an occassion on which he needs to be remotefully jealous, even. and after that he simply pretends to be, for shits and giggles and to piss you off. like you talk to the barista for your order? how could you even look their direction omg. you send a quick text to a friend while out with him? how dare he's not the single most important thing in your life rn. you tell him about a dream that didn't involve him? breaking up with you this very instant. can't stop himself from giggling at his one if a kind humour while watching you grow annoyed every time anew.

@happycandynoelle @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @lix-ables @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut

[versadies]

Hello!! Can I request a song fic of that Scaramouche concept you thought of(if that is allowed)?? Sorry if this seems messy, You can ignore this if you want. The song can be any of your choosing, but if it required to choose a song, then the song can be "Alec Benjamin - Let Me Down Slowly". Thanks in advance!!

down slowly (songfic)

penpal: omg i honestly didn’t expect someone to request this 😳😳😳 hope you like this!!

pairing/s: scaramouche x gn!reader (reader knows how to sing)

sypnosis: an au where the reader was the original 6th harbinger and the calm, intelligent scaramouche was their right hand man. a tale of how he becomes the scaramouche we know of after a tragic incident that happened to the reader.

warning/s: death, violence, ooc!scaramouche (he's not going to act like the canon one)

song: let me down slowly by alec benjamin

note: scaramouche's role for you is basically like sara to baal but there's romance between the two of you (your age in here is the same as scaramouche's). take note that anything related to scaramouche’s past here is not canon to the actual lore.

this night is cold in the kingdom i can feel you fade away

it was in inazuma when he met you, beating all the fatui agents thinking that they were going to beat you, a "helpless" person.

your cold eyes was the first thing he laid eyes on when he looks up at you.

"and who you may be?" you asked, staring at the man in disgust as you stand up from the ground and pat your outfit. "you must be bold enough to beat down ten fatui agents in front of a harbinger."

while others would've been peeing their pants at the sight of your presence alone, he stared at you as though you're the most divine thing.

you scoffed at his silence. "can't talk buddy?" you asked, causing him to blink a few times before standing up quickly and bow down. "apologies, i-i thought they were going to-"

"fight me? please, if anything they're going to be the ones getting beaten down by me." you cut him off, glancing at the unconscious agents with a sigh, not noticing how scaramouche felt his mouth twitch upward a bit from your comment.

"though i must say, the way you fought them is impressive- even without using your vision and all." you said blankly, adjusting your hat.

"....i beg your pardon?" he asks, causing you to roll your eyes. "do i have to repeat myself? it's not everyday that you have a harbinger praising your skills."

before scaramouche could say anything, you immediately interrupted again, looking at him as though you thought of an incredible idea.

"say.. why don't you join the fatui?"

from the kitchen to the bathroom sink and your steps keep me awake

the man then found himself being a part of the fatui. if there's one thing that makes the fatui less sufferable for scaramouche: it was you, the 6th harbinger of the fatui, the balladeer.

although he had to go through extreme measures to get to his position as the right-hand man, it was worth it being able to be by your side. even if he has to listen to you yelling and cursing at your subordinates all day, it was worth it.

your reputation among the fatui is truly something scaramouche looks up to, the cunning-intelligent individual who can turn the skies to purple and struck opponents down with lightning. not only were you one of the most intelligent but also one of the most powerful harbingers that teyvat has ever seen.

and no, he doesn't care about the fact that you're the most disliked harbinger. to him, you're his savior and the only person he could spend an eternity with.

besides, you brought him something worth living for.

it was the cold atmosphere he felt when you first praised him as a fatui member.

"how are the recruits while i was away?" you asked, walking around the hallways of the zapolyarny palace with scaramouche following behind, making pace with you. "they've been to their assigned positions and i assigned a few of the subordinates to supervise them."

"good." you then stood in front of the doors of where the tsaritsa resides, fixing yourself before taking a deep breath. "you may start preparing our next mission. i'll be back in my office shortly once i'm done talking to the tsaritsa."

he bows. "understood, my lord/lady."

"i'll see you then, scarmouche. keep up with the good work."

don't cut me down, throw me out, leave me here to waste i once was a man with dignity and grace

although he was living the dream of being your right-hand man, he often seen people talking about him behind his back. it doesn't bother him, really, but sometimes it gets irritating whenever one mentions your name for such a pathetic conversation.

however, he would never expect a fatui agent to push him off the cliff in the cold embrace of snezhnaya's winter with no sign of coming back. all of this because of how envy the agent is of you "favoring" scaramouche.

it was a miracle that he survived (with major injuries of course) - though, he was astounded that the fatui agent didn't think of taking him to a higher cliff to instantly kill him.

if only he had a pyro vision to keep him warm.

given the circumstances, scaramouche would most likely die from hypothermia if not blood loss. he didn't think this is how he'd died. he thought he'll die from protecting you, or even from old age. but no, he had to die in a pathetic cold way.

it felt like hours, days even. the pain was killing him slowly as he stares at the sky.

however, when he heard familiar footsteps coming nearby followed by a familiar voice calling out his name, he felt relieved, finally allowing himself to embrace the comfort of slumber.

he heard the sounds of your humming when he woke up.

you stopped humming, watching as he slowly wakes up from his slumber. "oh good, you're awake." you spoke up, a dull expression on your face was plastered. "and here i thought i was going to waste my time waiting for my right-hand man to wake up."

"how... how did i get here?" he asked, voice hoarse. you sigh in response, leaning against the chair more. "i was the one who found you. one of my cicin mages reported me that a stupid agent recklessly boasted about how he left you in the middle of nowhere while being injured and can become the next right-hand man." you answered.

his breath hitches at your response. you decided to go through snezhnaya just to look for him?

if scaramouche wasn't in love back then, he's head-over-heels for you now.

"don't think i actually had to drop my responsibilities for you. the fatui agent killed himself before we could get any information on him, so i let my most trustworthy agents to search for you but didn't find you at all. i had to find you myself instead." you said, as if you read his mind. "besides, you didn't die and you didn't deserve what you went through."

he watched as you stood up from your seat. "i'll be taking my leave given that you look okay." you then snap your fingers, gesturing the nurse behind you to treat him. "take your time in healing. just come back to my office when you're okay enough to work."

before scaramouche could say anything, you already left the room, leaving him alone with the nurse.

although he felt flattered that you went around the nation to look for him, all he could think about was how you must've been disappointed that he's weak enough to be killed by a fatui agent.

now I'm slippin' through the cracks of your cold embrace so please, please

the moment he was released from being hospitalized, he started to focus on being stronger - stronger enough to prevent himself from being pushed off on the cliff by a jealous agent, stronger enough to take down 20 agents in less than 5 minutes, stronger enough to protect you -

stronger enough to become a harbinger.

when you found out of scaramouche's new goal, he was surprised that you started helping him. teaching him how to defend himself without a vision.

"if there's one thing i can teach you about being a harbinger, it's better to have nothing to lose." you said to him one day as the both of you stroll around inazuma. "when being a harbinger, there has to be a lot of consequences that one must face. it's better to face them alone than to see someone you care for suffer because of the consequences you caused."

he felt your cold hand as he brushed his fingers against yours when passing documents to you.

"i see..." he said in understanding.

"kill my curiosity but do you not have someone who you consider as your loved one?" you asked, raising your eyebrow in confusion.

scaramouche pauses from your question. indeed he does not have one other than you- but he knows he couldn't say it's you. why would he? he's aware that you'll never look at him the same way he does to you.

you'll never love him.

"i don't, my lord/lady."

and it hurts to know.

could you find a way to let me down slowly? a little sympathy, I hope you can show me

he wonders what would happen to you and him when he becomes a harbinger.

"oh? you're planning on becoming an official harbinger once we get back?" you asked, looking at scaramouche as though he has two heads. you cackled in amusement and comment, "hah! good luck with that, i'd like to see you try."

you took note of how he's oddly silent. "you're being weird lately, what's gotten into you?" you ask.

"forgive me but may i ask.. what will happen to us when the day comes, my lord/lady?" he asks, hesitant laced in his tone.

you furrowed your eyebrows. "the day when you're a harbinger?" he nods in response, looking away from your gaze with a sigh. "i was wondering if... if we could still be together-"

suddenly he felt your cold fingers cupping his cheeks and turns him around to your direction.

he could taste the sweetness of your lips when you kissed him.

it was a short kiss, but he felt like he's on top of the world. is this a dream? please don't wake him up from this dream.

you then wipe your mouth, chuckling at his astounded reaction. "that," you breathed out. "is what will happen to you and i when you become a harbinger."

he felt his heart beating so fast, watching as you look at one of the most dangerous areas of inazuma. "this shall be your last mission, scaramouche."

if you wanna go then i'll be so lonely if you're leavin', baby, let me down slowly

he thought he finally has what he wanted.

"why?" he breathed out, staring at you with wide eyes as though you did something bad. "why did you do it?"

you shakily look up at him, trying to ignore the overwhelming exhaustion from your body. you overestimated yourself in using your foul legacy but you didn't care, all that was in your thoughts was making sure scaramouche isn't in danger.

you will not let the only person who doesn't hate you die.

"i had to." you said weakly. "go, leave this nation. report to the tsaritsa of my passing and take my position."

he shook his head, kneeling beside you. "i refuse to leave you, my lord/lady."

you chuckle lightly. "idiot. the agents will take my body back to snezhnaya, of course you won't leave me." you then look down at your vision, watching its light flickering.

"take my vision with you too."

he felt a part of his soul disappear as the light of your eyes fades away, leaving nothing but your fatigued corpse on his arms.

from that day, he stopped shedding tears.

let me down, down, let me down, down, let me down let me down, down, let me down, down, let me down

he stares at your.. his vision.

as soon as he was announced as the new 6th harbinger of the fatui, your vision glowed under his palm, showing a familiar color of purple.

was this the electro archon's way of mocking him for what happened?

he grits his teeth. out of all the times he could've earned his vision, it had to be weeks after suffering the things he endured to have this position,

and it had to be in the vision you once used before you pass.

"i'll live on for your legacy, my lord/lady." scaramouche mumbled to himself, staring down at your hat on his desk. not only did the tsaritsa appointed him as the 6th harbinger but she also assigned everything you own as his. your title, your office, your unit, everything you once owned was now his.

it was clear to him that he's no longer the weak scaramouche that always follows the balladeer's footsteps. he's now the vengeful balladeer that yearns for the screams of his victims in inazuma, living in your name.

he’s now devoted to the tsaritsa, unknown to her majesty that it was all an act just because you taught him so.

he treats his subordinates the way you treat them, making everyone being weirded out by how he's so much like you. although he despises the gossip that runs through the organization, he really can’t deny that he does act like you,

he has nothing to lose after all.

if you wanna go then i'll be so lonely if you're leavin', baby, let me down slowly

[larentsaloud]

Pride & Prejudice x F4

OMG. Not my favourite couples mash up. Here we goooo:

Thyme X Darcy 

Rich boi complex, starved of maternal affection. Umm. So we all know that Darcy was raised by his aunt and that Thyme was raised by the house keepers, so they probably can cry on each other’s shoulders when they enter the group therapy. I would love to see them discuss trauma while Gorya and Lizzie wait for them in the nearby coffee shop and swap proposal horror stores. Liz, you know he abducted me? OMG! Tell me. *sips tea*

Tailed by stalkers in Darcy’s case she was a friends sister, so not as disgusting as Hana, but for my purposes I am saying this tallies. I mean Hana is a special case, but that sis of Darcy’s bestie was another level of mean. Why does every man need an obsessed bitch tracking him like Elon Musk is about to track us with his chip implant, I failed to comprehend. Jane, you made every romance triangle a quadrant and I love you for it. 

 Insult my heroine before / during a confession. Ha. I cackled when Darcy rapped about how terrible Lizzie’s family, background and what not was and then he was like, yeah but scratch that, because I most ardently love you. The fuck? You can't just insult my girl’s lifestyle and be like never mind it’s cool. I want in on that mess. kjshsahjk. Compare to Thyme who literally said Gorya looked like a tramp and was black and blue with bruises (all your fault Thyme) but like ummm can't believe you made me fall so hard. Bitches. That  is highly toxic. Thank fxck my ladies have sense and do not fall into those traps that those bois weave. 

Have minimal awareness of emotions beyond misery until they encounter Gorya / Lizzie. Yeah no explanation needed. They are the prototype of aloof emotionally frozen degenerate. Pretty sure all my exes studied Darcy and decided to pause never grow past the point of Darcy being a little whiney bitch about everything. Ugh. Dancing. How dreary. It’s not Darcy you are just miserable. 

Love the girl before she realises her own feelings.  

Won't take no for answer: case in point Mr Darcy was sure she would not refuse. Thyme: finds creative ways how to break every boundary known to man. 

Gorya x Lizzie 

Are outspoken, with chaotic loving families that ends up causing more harm than good. Only difference being Gorya not shy of resorting to physical violence, but then pretty sure Austin would have written her character with few more punches if the evil editors allowed her to slap Mr Darcy after his confession. Trust me I that's how she wrote it in her first draft. 

Not in the market for a hubby / boyfie until Wickham / Ren appears. Remember when Wickham was wagging his tail at Lizzie’s skirts? Yeah. Then we have Ren using her as a pass time, while he discusses his actual crush. What a selfish bastardo. They can both be condemned because they play with my girls feelings and bread crumb their affection. Fuck that shit.  

Despise Darcy / Thyme for being proud spoiled mother trucker. LOL, because at least Darcy didn't bully everyone, but I bet he was a nightmare mood spoiler and a complete drain on any society with his gloomy nature and refusing to dance. FFS. As for Thyme, he's probably quite introverted too, so not much of a party animal more of a sappy drunk who gets spiked and abducted. They share that rich boi im better than you aura. 

Have a family member that causes them heartache. Lizzie: sister who marries her first crush. Gorya: dad in debt, which causes her to become a part time play boi bunny for a night. Both of which cause much concern to Darcy and Thyme, but also end up giving them reason to fight our heroine’s case. 

[whipped-for-kpop-fics]

I truly loved every seond of this story! Your writing style is incredible! The humour you inject doesn't overpower the overall themes so still allows the reader to take it all seriously while still getting the giggles in. It's a wonderful blanace, truly

Thank you for writing this genuine masterpiece and sharing it with us!

When I was reading I decided to write down my thoughts as I go because I knew I'd forget otherwise so below this is literally just the thoughts I wrote down because I do not have the brain power to convert them into actual fully coherant comments [I'll put them below a read more cut for the sake of spoilers and such]

~

we love a sassy wine aunt hannie

" You can't recall the last time he walked into the office with a fully buttoned up shirt. " mm, nice

" Jeonghan calculate tip without a calculator " i know this probably means on his phone but now im just imagining jeonghan walking around all the time with a scientific calculator in his pocket and im giggling

the insults in the narration towards seungcheol have me wheezing omg

" He does have a nice ass, though " YES HE DOES

" You have never been more disgusted by your heterosexuality. " WHEEZING OMG your writing style is just omg i think i love you?

man, i love the schemeing between reader and seungkwan, we all need a sly bestie

their insults to each other are just foreplay at this point, and i appreciate that

" "Luckily, as you probably know, Seungcheol drives here every day and has offered to help." " oh i am sniggering away like a madwoman

" "And for the record, you're not an experiment for my column. You never were." " that "you never were" has got me

" If you wake up one morning and see a sniper laser pointed at your forehead, you have no one to blame but yourself. " she's so dramatic and i am here for it

i know it was only a second of a glimpse but the thought of channie being married is so sweet awww

" "Just one, but it's the only one that matters." " the genuine witch cackle i let out omg

that whole orange bit is so cute omg

i love that they both decided to wait until they're sober, we love responsibile adults

" "loser, not a virgin." " is it bad that all im thinking is how much of a good fic title that would be?

oh these stubborn, broken fools

" Joshua’s massive Mickey Mouse hands " literal tears omg

their make up is so sweet, im kicking my feet. im really glad they didn't immediately start making out and instead decided to be friends first, however long that lasts

" Wonwoo pops his head into your office, his Monday uniform now festive with a holiday tie. Today, it's snowmen with glasses. " okay why does this mental image make me want to scream? wonwoo in holiday wear just like uhhh

also very glad wonwoo got the gal, you deserve it you sweater vested babie

absolutely grinning like a fool at the ending

title: eat. play. love.

pairing: seungcheol x f!reader

wc: 19.4k

summary: being one of new york's top food critics comes with a lot of perks: free dinners, nice awards, and a linkedin profile your parents could be proud of. that doesn't stop you from wanting a lofty promotion to editor, and the only person standing in your way is choi seungcheol. just one problem: his romance column has half of new york under his grimy little thumb. that, and you hate him.

in which your love language is food. seungcheol doesn't have one.

notes: romcom with mild angst, coworkers!au, slow burn enemies to lovers, playboy!cheol, suggestive (one moment in particular) + mentions of sex (otherwise sfw), swearing, lots of alcohol, also you will probably get hungry reading this. extra special thanks a million times over to my fav person @wuahae for bearing with me through literally all 20k words of this. i love you:')

It's underneath a layer of paper-thin egg yolk pasta where you think you see god.

Spoon meets whipped ricotta, white truffle, sage oil. A sip of 1979 cabernet, punishing and oaky. Rinse and repeat.

None of these words are in the Bible, yet you are having nothing short of a religious experience.

"Well, this seems like good news for the place," Jeonghan says. "Wine's tasty. Three stars?"

At this point, you're fairly sure Jeonghan has tuned the explanation of your elaborate rating process out (he's there for the wine, anyway), so instead you top him up and help yourself to a generous portion of his pappardelle.

"Four, then?" He leans forward on his elbows. "Or critic's choice?"

Candied lemon, pecorino, garlic. Derivative, but it's a good bite.

"You're distracting me." You point your fork at him. "You're like 80% alcohol, anyway. Bad opinions."

"Sue me," he laughs. "I would take a client here, is all I'm saying."

You pass on the opportunity to bring up that Jeonghan once brought a client to a Bubba Gump because he was craving coconut shrimp. But Jeonghan isn't a food critic—he's a business analyst and your best friend from college, back when all you cared about was Friday's house party and writing pizza joint reviews for the university paper.

It's a good arrangement. You appreciate his company, and he's never one to turn down a free meal. The both of you keep a small circle—such is the price of discernment.

There aren't many things that can come between you and a delicious meal. But, you have notifications turned on for just three things (all work-related) and you both watch the linen tablecloth light up under your face-down phone in true horror-movie fashion.

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. "Popular on a Saturday night," he jokes. "Copy on your ass again?"

"Nothing's in production," you reply, letting the evil claws of your terrible work-life balance encircle you once again as you open your email.

URGENT: LIFESTYLE EDITOR TRANSITIONAL PLANS, it reads. It's from Wonwoo, your editor in chief, who has sent it with priority, as if the caps lock wasn't scary enough.

"So Joshua decided to quit. Just like you said," Jeonghan says, but it's like he's speaking to you through a wet paper bag because it takes every working brain cell of yours to read the email.

As you may know, Joshua has decided to step down from his position as our current Lifestyle editor.

Not a surprise, given his wife is having a kid. You had called it six months ago over the paper's Christmas dinner at Eleven Madison Park, when Joshua spent half of it outside on a phone call and the other half browsing the Baby Gap website.

I have decided to hire internally to fill his position. I and upper management believe you would be a good fit for the position. Please plan for a meeting 9 AM Monday to discuss transitional plans.

It's that part that you have to read over three times. And then you read it over a fourth, just for good measure.

"You're starting to scare me." Jeonghan puts down his glass, which is something akin to a baby separating from their bottle.

Sometimes you need a dictionary to understand Wonwoo, but the email seems clear as day to you. Good fit. Transitional plans. Suddenly you wish Jeonghan hadn't had so much of the wine because you're in desperate need of a drink.

"I-I think…I think I'm getting promoted."

How funny to think your lifelong dream would be realized over a 40 dollar plate of pasta. You want to cry and hug the maître d' and eat the entire complimentary bread basket.

"It's about time." The glass finds his relieved hand again. "You breathe journalism. I'm afraid one day you'll text me in AP style."

You read over all of it again, trying to memorialize the words that undoubtedly will launch your wonderful and long career in the upper echelons of media.

Looking forward to talking with the two of you.

Wait—two?

Then the proverbial cherry on top, the laughably convenient other thing your eyes had glazed over before.

CC: Choi Seungcheol.

"Choi Seungcheol?!"

Nothing is ever that easy and it then dawns on you that this is a competition type thing because never in the history of the printing press has there been two editors for a section.

Jeonghan stares at you blankly. It would be funny if you didn't feel like you were being double deep-fried like terrible fair food, all the thrill and elation of the moment boiled down to lead in your chest.

"I—he," you stammer.

Jeonghan mouths check to the poor waiter assigned to watch your table. God bless him.

"Words," he tells you. "You went to journalism school."

You take a syrupy breath that sits in your lungs unhappily. Your food is cold. This is a disaster.

"Well, actually, I'm not getting promoted."

Jeonghan's eyes soften, just enough without making you pity yourself more.

"There's this guy," you start. "He's the love and relationships columnist, the one I complain about all the time." Jeonghan makes a small ahh sound, your predicament finally dawning on him. "I guess we're both under consideration for the position. I didn't-I didn't even think of him. I—"

You slump into your seat, the arancini your only solace despite your complaint that the breading was too salty earlier.

"So? I bet you're a way better fit than him. It'll be a shoe-in. Easy decision."

Jeonghan's confidence in you makes you want to cry.

The problem is that Seungcheol is the human equivalent of Cosmopolitan Magazine. You can't recall the last time he walked into the office with a fully buttoned up shirt. You also can't recall the last time one of his advice columns wasn't in the end of quarter recap for popularity.

It's not in you to explain this debacle to Jeonghan. This whole situation is so cosmically awful that all you can do is ask for dessert in a takeout box and watch Jeonghan calculate tip without a calculator because that's all you learn in business school.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Jeonghan asks when you're both in the Uber.

"Yeah." You have a headache. You also can't decide whether or not to give the restaurant three or four stars, and you always know by the time you're out the door. "It's fine."

The tiramisu is cold in your lap. Jeonghan squeezes your shoulder. You refresh your email.

Choi Seungcheol's name stares back at you.

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The meeting goes exactly how you would expect.

Wonwoo, in his lanky taupe sweater vest, says that Joshua is leaving and you and Seungcheol are standing toe-to-toe in the space left behind.

"I'm sure you two are well-acquainted," he begins.

You stifle a laugh, but Seungcheol's cat-like grimace says more than enough. Neither of you have the heart to tell Wonwoo that your very first impression of Seungcheol was that he tried to hit on you at the new recruit party, or that Joshua probably deserves reparations for how often he mediated fights between the two of you during weekly meetings. (Maybe not reparations, but at least an Edible Arrangements.)

For better or for worse, Wonwoo's genius does not extend to social cues, and he follows with a blithe, "Therefore, I hope you two will treat this as a friendly competition between equals."

You almost laugh again, but this time it's because you need the promotion more than you need air, and you cannot allow some Buzzfeed reject with the face of a model take that from you. And you don't doubt Seungcheol wants it as bad as you do, considering how often you've seen him try to schmooze his way up the ranks.

He may have become a columnist by rubbing elbows with the right people, but you'll never forget the late nights you spent sifting through hours of interview transcripts, on the grueling climb up the totem pole to earn your position.

"We'll evaluate an article of your own submission at the end of the month before we decide. Best of luck."

At least Wonwoo knows to quit while he's ahead—he closes the meeting with a succinct nod before returning to his seemingly infinite unread emails.

"Exciting," Seungcheol says. He claps his hands together, Rolex gaudy under the office lights, and sends a nauseating smile your way. "May the best writer win."

He offers you a handshake. You think he has real life cooties, so instead you close your planner and shoot him a very pointed look.

"There's only one writer here. Thrilled to read your next thinkpiece on how men should spend more time on Tinder and not therapy."

That earns you a chuckle from Wonwoo, but Seungcheol is not easily fazed.

Instead he rushes to hold the door open for you on your way out, likely his favorite piece of advice to give his poor, indolent readers.

"I'll book a table for us at Avra next month," Seungcheol gloats. "Consider it a gift from your future boss."

"They don't have a kids menu, you know."

"No problem. I'll have my darling food critic order for me." He places a wicked hand over his polyester covered heart. "Ending misogyny in one fell swoop, huh?"

You wait for the door to Wonwoo's office to close before looking at him right in his wet, cow eyes with the most malice you can possibly muster. You feel it collect in your bones, enough to feel like you can physically hack it up and hurl it at him.

"You have no clue what you're talking about, huh? Do you actually attract women with that attitude? Or are you just a really good liar?"

You are so close to him, you could kiss him if you wanted—luckily for the both of you, you would rather die a thousand fiery, terrible deaths, and then die all over again. Instead, you watch his pout unravel into a grin from hell, and he leans in closer, the scent of Old Spice and break room coffee heavy on him. This morning's matcha latte churns in your stomach, and you wonder if you should have gotten oatmilk instead of dairy.

Up close, he's worse. His hair reminds you of the sad, tired swoop of the washed-up lead of a daytime soap opera. And he has no pores, which is deeply upsetting because he looks like the type to wash his face with Palmolive and a prayer.

"You know what?"

His breath hits your lips and your skin prickles like you have an allergy.

"What?"

"You just gave me the winning idea for my next column." No way, you think. Mind games. Classy. "See you at dinner, sweetheart. Looking forward to it."

The pet name makes you seethe. There are a million things you want to say, all colorful and none workplace appropriate.

"I'd rather starve."

"Better not let Wonwoo hear you with that bad attitude. I'm sure management loves a team player." His cheshire grin somehow gets bigger, all white teeth and pink lip. "Try to smile a little, huh? Have fun writing about snails and black garlic and cwa-ssants, or whatever it is that you do."

you watch all the laminated syllables of croissant go through his paper shredder smile and you think you black out.

He spins on his heel triumphantly, almost bowling over Minghao from Arts & Entertainment, who is undoubtedly wondering if you did, in fact, kiss.

Seungcheol laughs as he walks away, linebacker shoulders rippling under his one size too small shirt.

The metal-red knot of anger swells in your gut as you watch his perfect silhouette and his tiny little waist disappear into the staff room. Then you realize what you've been looking at and let yourself get mad all over again.

He does have a nice ass, though. You'll give him that.

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"You'll never guess what I have."

"Is it better than this lox bagel?" You answer, mouth unattractively full.

Seungkwan's answer is the sound of a straw hitting the bottom of an empty cup and the grating jostle of ice. Phone calls with him are like ASMR because he's always doing a million things at once, but you wouldn't have it any other way.

"Infinitely," he finally says, after procuring the last milliliter of what's likely his second coffee of the day. "Besides, we all know pesto is way better."

"Wrong, but okay," you reply. "What is it?"

"You're not gonna thank me for being the best friend in the world? Me, an editor, keeping nepotism alive for you? A mere columnist?"

"Senior columnist," you laugh between bites. "You need me. Who else would you text during content meetings?"

"Whatever." His eye roll is audible. "I guess I won't tell you."

He shakes his cup again, all ice and no patience.

"Fine! I owe you. My career and my life."

"And a seat at Momofuku."

"And that."

You take another greedy bite, letting the everything on an everything bagel get all over your chin. You love dressing up and going to restaurants that cost more than both of your kidneys, but there's something sacred about eating a $10 bagel behind the shield of your computer screen at a cafe where no one knows you.

There's someone laughing really loudly somewhere, and if you weren't otherwise preoccupied, you would look for the offender and give them a hard glare. You don't know what could possibly be that funny at 9 AM, but, then again, you never were a morning person.

"So, I have intel. About Seungcheol." You can picture the glint in Seungkwan's eyes, glittery and caramel. Unfortunately, the news that it's related to your worst enemy makes you sit up a little straighter. "At today's content meeting, Joshua said that he's working on some kind of challenge to go on as many dates as possible. He might make it a series."

"How tacky," you say, but the information clanks around in your brain like shoes in a washing machine. The indulgent, clickbaity headline just falls together perfectly—I Went On 50 First Dates So You Don't Have To. Exactly the kind of article your mom sees on Facebook and sends to you.

"You have to admit it's a decent idea. Not as good as yours, but it'll get engagement," is Seungkwan's reply, but you can barely hear it over the swell of another sitcom-esque laugh, this time, from a woman. "The other editors are very invested in this whole thing, by the way. Of course, I'm betting on you."

You're about to very openly stress about people gambling on your success when your eyes wander to the backside of the Sports Illustrated model getting napkins at the counter. Not bad at all, you think. It may be too early for the comedy club, but appreciating the male figure has no schedule.

And then he turns around, and you're able to see past the curly hair, muscle tee, beauty pageant smile—it's none other than Choi Seungcheol, fully outfitted with the audacity to trespass on your bagel place. You have never been more disgusted by your heterosexuality.

You hide behind your computer screen.

"Helloooo?" comes Seungkwan on the line. "Are you making out with your breakfast or something?"

"Seungkwan, I gotta go," you hiss. Your eyes follow Seungcheol as he makes his way back to his table. "There's a…situation."

You watch him sit across from a beautiful girl in a sundress and Prada sunglasses, and her lips tumble into a brilliant red smile.

It would be really fucking funny if he was on a date, you think, but then you see him make the kind of eyes you last saw in the deepest, stickiest recesses of a frat house on thirsty Thursday. Then you realize he is on a date, that he's been on a date, and it's his laugh that is equally annoying as it is loud.

Seungkwan works hard, but the devil always works harder.

"Ok, talk to you later. Bye!" You can hear the beginning of one of Seungkwan's protests, but you hang up before he's able to properly complain. Maybe you'll have to do a little better than Momofuku—that's a problem for later.

Over the rim of your laptop, you catch glimpses of their conversation. You notice Seungcheol talks a lot with his hands, and you wonder if that's another one of his tips or if that's just him. Him and those big clown hands, illustrating a story that you're unfortunately too far away to hear.

But you can hear her laugh again, and you try to guess what he's talking about. His childhood dog. The insurmountable burden of being prom king and captain of the football team. This little not-competition and this little not-rivalry between the two of you. How the PB&J bagel is the best thing on the menu (it's not, but you see the berry compote all over his fingers and you know that's the hill he's dying on).

No matter how you spin it, it's a hard pill to swallow. Choi Seungcheol is good at what he does, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

You hear the careening lilt of what seems to be Seungcheol whining, and there's a brief flash of something like endearment in your stomach before the repulsion sets in.

Nothing you can do to stop him, huh?

The question, sinister and burning, writhes in your brain as you chew on the ice from your coffee and stare at a blank Word document, the cursor blinking like a heartbeat.

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Beware the wrath of a woman scorned.

It's number 3 on Seungcheol's article titled Revenge and Other Stories. Unsurprisingly, he must not practice what he preaches, because you currently have all nine circles of Dante's Inferno inside you right now.

Play nice, Jeonghan had told you. Looks better to upper management.

And you did, until one of your photo requests mysteriously got deleted. Then Joshua told you to cut 500 words from this week's column because Seungcheol's just "happened" to be a little longer this time.

The knockout punch was yesterday when Seungcheol told you he was using your January critic's choice pick to take Wonwoo out for a friendly dinner, his treat. If you had known, you would've called ahead and told them to poison the hamachi. (No matter. Any foodie worth their salt knows Thursday is the worst day for sushi).

Now you sit on the C train, dressed to the nines, because you have a date with destiny at Nai. Sometimes destiny is a big pan of paella for one, but this time, it's Seungcheol and his next victim on date night.

Getting him there was so easy, it was almost criminal. An obnoxiously loud elevator phone call in which you name dropped the executive chef, a friend of yours, at least four times. Seungkwan very strategically asking you if a press pass can bypass reservations for a booked-out restaurant. Gossip in the break room with the intentional use of "intimate," "sangria drunk," and "affordable."

Affordable was a lie, but you're learning quickly that a hungry fish will take any bait. And seeing Seungcheol's face is never a joy, but you're not opposed to watching him open the menu for the first time.

"I have a killer Spanish accent," Seungcheol told you on the way out today.

Hook, line, and sinker.

The subway car rumbles under you. You're almost in East Village. You don't normally spend your Friday nights crashing dates—you actually don't really spend them outside your apartment at all, but Seungcheol is the exception to the rule and you're making a lot of them for him. A small price to pay for the glory of dethroning Casanova.

The plan is to "accidentally" run into Seungcheol and his Friday night exploit, and then to casually, non-bitterly mention a, that she is about to become a statistic, b, that his idea of chivalry was birthed in the basement of the Alpha Omega house, and c, that you're surprised he's still single because you always happen to catch him on dates. Something like that.

This is admittedly the best you could come up with. Like you said, you don't really crash dates. You don't really sabotage people either, but Seungcheol declared war the minute his Folgers breath hit your face outside Wonwoo's office.

Then you think of all the ways things can absolutely backfire. Seungcheol's warm, carefree whirl of laughter when he explains you're office rivals, or worse, lies and says you're nothing but a jilted, jealous ex. Or this whole thing could simply be immortalized in his winning article as a jaunty sentence about making the most out of a bad situation, yada yada yada.

You picture watching another girl, spellbound, as you dig into your table-for-one paella.

In your mind's eye, she laughs, floaty like his date at the bagel place, and for a moment you understand what it might feel like to want Choi Seungcheol.

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Friday night at Nai is red and glittering and heady with saffron.

You remember when you first ate here, two weekends after the soft open, early in your career at the paper. After a three hour conversation over wine and octopus with the owner, you wrote the restaurant a glowing review that, to your surprise, helped land it several ritzy awards. Now the dining room is never empty, but they always find space for you.

That was the first time you learned that all of this work meant something. Yeah, you loved an excuse to stuff your face and get paid for it, but what was even better was the chance to tell the stories of a working father's hand-pulled noodles, the drunk, midnight origins of a tasting menu, the caramel-greedy fingers of a well-loved childhood.

This is the long way of explaining how you bypass the two hour standby wait time, and how you walk in on a first name basis with the manager.

You're fully prepared to see Seungcheol mid-churro, perhaps four pick-up lines deep and wondering if he still has a condom in his wallet.

That's why you almost miss him on your way to your table. His is empty, other than a lonely, watered down martini on the rocks and two menus.

"Seungcheol?"

He looks up at you, and something like genuine surprise melts into relief, then intrigue.

"Look at who crawled out of her dungeon," he chuckles. "You clean up good."

Whatever pity you may have felt for him vaporizes instantly. Although, when he beckons for you to sit in the empty seat across from him, you do take the bait—you're not about to pass up a good opportunity to humble your least formidable foe.

"Refreshing to see that our love guru isn't above dining solo," you reply. "I have to admit, your acting is impressive. What an elaborate ruse to get another poor, single diner to pity you enough to sit with you."

"It worked, didn't it?" He takes a sip of his cocktail, which is almost a brand new drink because it's 90% water, 10% martini by now.

"I'm no expert, but pretending to get stood up is not a tip I would give the general public."

"Who said I was pretending?"

No fucking way. Your jaw drops. It's too unreal to believe. Even if the slutty cut of Seungcheol's shirt wasn't persuasive enough, surely the prospect of enjoying a free Michelin star dinner would warrant an appearance, even for you. Breaking News: New York's Hottest Bachelor Ghosted at Top Restaurant. If only that were as wonderful to the average reader as it is to you.

Because waiters are trained to enter conversations at the best possible time, you're forced to pause and order a wine for the table and some tapas. (No paella for one? Seungcheol asks, and you try to reconcile your annoyance with the fact that one, he's read your review of this place, and two, that he looks mildly turned on that you can pronounce all the menu items. You tell the waiter to add a paella.)

"You got stood up?" You cross your arms over your chest. "You may think I'm dumb, but I'm not that dumb."

"You have no idea how flattering your reaction is." He laughs, and the air shifts around him, drawing you further into his eyes, inky under the lowlight. "I understand you think I'm irresistible, but, alas, not everyone shares your opinion."

"I never said that."

You hate how easy it is for him to push your buttons. You hate how in control he is, and you hate how he's looking at you like you're on the menu.

The waiter returns with the wine, and you decide you're feeling equally as terrible.

"Truly, you can't be that irresistible. After all this time writing about relationships, you would think you'd actually be in one."

Touché, you think. Normally, it would be too low a blow, even for you, except that his column-related debauchery is one of the four thrilling conversation topics he subjects you to at the office. And who are you to bury the lede?

"Coaches don't play," Seungcheol says, leaning back and popping the martini olive in his mouth offensively, as if he's not at a restaurant that takes months to get a good table at.

"Bullshit." You lean forward and chase his gaze. He doesn't shy away; rather, he meets you with an appraising raise of an eyebrow. "Coaches should at least know how to throw the ball."

"What do you think we're doing right now?"

"Oh, please." Your wrist twitches as you fight the urge to down your entire glass of merlot in a single gulp. You picture the title of his next article: Top 10 Ways To Get A Woman Drunk. And then the oh so charming punchline: 1. Be so insufferable she cannot last a conversation without her real life partner, wine.

"See? I've already got you laughing." He notices the generous sip missing from your glass and tops you up.

"No, you do not get to make this about me."

Somehow, you are laughing, but you chalk it up to the spiteful little man in your brain writing headlines for Seungcheol's column.

How To Antagonize Your Date In 5 Easy Steps.

"Need I remind you I'm only here because your actual date stood you up? Too soon?"

"I prefer you anyway," he answers, his expression half-challenge, half-something else that you don't really want to think about.

"Crazy, because I'd rather be literally anywhere else."

Signs You Are In A Hostage Situation, Not A Date.

"You should stick to food. You're a bad liar." He cocks his head to the empty table next to him. "It's still open if you want it."

"I'm no quitter."

Maybe The Male Gaze Isn't So Bad: A Thinkpiece.

Definitely not that one.

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"So, before I try anything," Seungcheol says, leaning across the table. "Teach me how to be a food critic."

"Why, so you can steal my job?"

"You can keep it," he laughs. "I'm gonna be your boss, not your replacement."

You notice he'll linger on the tail end of his sentences, betting on the response you haven't even come up with yet. He's picking apart the furrow of your brow, the marrow of your brain. It's like one drawn out interview, but you suppose that's all dating really is. Maybe your journalism degree wasn't a waste of money after all.

You won't give him the satisfaction of a fight (plus, you don't want the food to get cold), so you change the subject.

"Well, I take pictures first," you say, waving away his overeager fork.

"Genius. They really scammed you out of your Pulitzer, huh?"

You ignore him in lieu of repositioning the chorizo. Unfortunately, Seungcheol is unrelenting. You hear the snap of his phone camera, clearly taking a photo of you and not the meal—clever, but you won't bite.

"Wanna be in my story? I can tag you."

In your periphery hovers his wry, wanting smile.

"Sure. So the world can know I'm a charity worker too."

He whistles, clutching his heart. If he weren't so annoying, you would find him a little cute. Just a little. You blame the kitchen for whatever aphrodisiac is in the food today.

"Live update: date with food critic going about as well as an episode of Hell's Kitchen."

He says this leaning forward, elbows on the table, so close to you that your knees might touch. You tense at the thought.

"Any date of mine would be on better behavior."

"So you're admitting this is a date?"

"This," you wave your hand over the table. "This is not a date. This is me regretting ever pitying you."

"Well, pity looks good on you."

And there it is again, that accursed, perfect smile. This time, it works, and you fight the losing battle of the wine flush undoubtedly all over your face. It bothers you that there's a little part of you that enjoys this, but that's a confession you plan on taking to the grave.

"Enjoy it while it lasts, because you're not getting any again."

"Fine. I'm still waiting for your grand secret," he says, now biting the tines of his fork like an untrained dog. No rest for the weary, you suppose. "Food is food. Prove me wrong."

Despite the betrayal of your basal human instincts, you're determined to make this a bad encounter. Maybe you hadn't anticipated the full force of Seungcheol's overgrown fratboy persona, but you came here for a reason and you do plan to see it through.

"There is no secret." You split apart an empanada, the guts steaming and fragrant. "You eat."

"Like this?" He crams an entire piece in his mouth, and you watch him recoil and huff the heat out. "Mmm, 's pretty good, though."

Your eyes almost roll back far enough to see the wrinkles of your brain. Of course he wouldn't get it, but you don't know what you were expecting from a guy who thinks Hot Pockets are fine dining.

You put on your most pretentious food critic face. "Eating is about respect. Storytelling. He's retelling the first time someone made him this dish. The ingredients—they're words on a page. An autobiography." Your hand finds your chest and you sigh, a final touch to your Oscar winning melodrama that would certainly annoy anyone with even half a brain.

"Huh. Poetic," he says. He's still fanning his (very full) mouth, but he chews a little more slowly. "I'm respecting. I'm taking it in."

You don't know if he's actually doing any of that, but, when he takes his next bite he asks about what's in it (tomato, raisin, egg) and if someone really made the chef an empanada when he was younger (yes, on the flour-printed counter, every Sunday morning).

You press on. It shouldn't take much to bore him, but with every question, food-related factoid, and snide comment you have, he matches you with genuine curiosity. Either he's an excellent actor or he's secretly culinary school-bound, because you can't actually imagine anyone putting up with any of that, nonetheless I like dick jokes and football Choi Seungcheol.

You spend the rest of the evening like this, spoon to heart to cherry mouth. The wine is abundant, and Seungcheol spends more time listening than talking, which he admits is a first for him.

"You really know a lot about food," he says, likely fighting the urge to use his finger to get the last of the chocolate sauce off the churro plate. "I like that."

It's a cheap compliment in a game of low blows, but it sits warm and content in your chest. You have to force yourself back to the night you met him, when he was all cognac and one-liners and he gave you his spare hotel room key. A good reminder of his true nature, you think, despite the fact that he just listened to you talk about all the different grains of rice, ad nauseum.

"It's my job," is your reply, adequately distant for your liking.

"Fair. You gonna ask me about mine?"

"What more is there to know?" You hold up the check. "You're paying, right? Chivalry and all that?"

You're waiting for him to mention the company card, the only one allocated to your section that Seungcheol couldn't possibly have because it's sitting snug in your purse. The one you'll say you conveniently forgot so you get to see a grown man squirm at paying the bill.

"Already did. Gave the host my card when I got here. You're holding the customer copy." His chuckle disappears under the lip of his wine glass. "Bet you were excited to use the company card, huh?"

If shame were a physical object, you feel like your own personal Atlas. Your only option is to stare at the wasteland of empty plates before you and wonder how deep Seungcheol's pockets really are.

"Hardly. More excited that I burned a hole in your wallet." You click your tongue, out of options on how to ruin Seungcheol's night. You would spill wine on him but there's none left. "Anyway, I'm heading out."

"Running away?"

"Bored," you lie.

He calls you a taxi, and you walk out together, night heavy with the rhinestone glare of Friday night traffic.

"I actually had a nice time tonight," Seungcheol says, emphasis on the actually.

"Unfortunate."

"How do you think I feel?"

The taxi pulls to the curb, and he sighs, weighty with exaggerated relief. You can't even take it seriously because he's looking right at you and badly failing to push down the smile at the corners of his mouth.

It's only now that you notice his eyes are really brown, like he's from a cartoon or something. Worse, you'd daresay they're nice, less menacing, when they're tempered by a good meal and semi-public humiliation.

"Text me when you get back to your villain lair."

"If I were a real villain, you would have a lot more to worry about."

Seungcheol opens the cab door for you, and you catch a whiff of the cologne he undoubtedly smeared on in the toothpaste-streaked mirror of his five by five studio bathroom. Pine, leather, and citrus, which is the most pedestrian combination of smells to exist and yet you doubt it hasn't done him any favors.

"I'm terrified. Shaking." You clamber into the backseat, and he smiles at you again, as if you've forgotten what all his other ones looked like. "By the way—"

You have half a mind to shut the door in his face, but you can't find it within you—maybe it's the wine, or perhaps pure defeat. Probably the former.

"This job. It's—" He clicks his tongue and looks at the tops of his leather shoes. He's actually thinking, and you don't like it. "Never mind. See you Monday."

And then the words are gone. He shuts the cab door, and they're left in a plume of exhaust and Seungcheol's tiny waving figure in the rearview mirror.

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"So you're telling me you went on a date with your worst enemy."

It's 8 AM, and Jeonghan isn't pulling punches. Even through the phone, you can see his lazy grin, the pen he's flipping in his hand, the green ribbon of the Dow Jones on his desktop.

The newsroom is refreshingly near empty, except for Joshua, who hovers around the water cooler like a fly on the wall, if flies wore Armani ties and cigarette jeans.

"It wasn't a date, and I wanted to ruin it so he would have nothing to write about."

"No one goes on a date to ruin it. You could have just left."

"Clearly you haven't seen How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days."

"Are you serious." Jeonghan laughs, crackly and bright. "Care to tell me how that movie ends?"

"Except he isn't Matthew Mcconaughey. He says spaghetti like pah-scetti and doesn't use Oxford commas."

Mid-laugh, you endure another beat of extended eye contact with your editor until he beckons you over. He'd likely been waiting for the perfect time to interrupt the conversation he was so subtly eavesdropping on—oh, how you love a newsroom with an "open floor plan" to "facilitate communication." Sometimes you think the reason Joshua's stuck around this long is because reporters can't stay away from drama, especially if they're not the ones reporting it.

"I gotta go," you tell Jeonghan, whose version of a goodbye is a triumphant cackle.

You find Joshua putzing around, plastic water cup incriminatingly full.

"I take it you had an enjoyable weekend?" he asks, eyes sequined with all the secrets they hold.

"Yup. Just working on that Dining Through The Years article." Not entirely a lie—you are hedging your bets on this story, one where you revisit the restaurants you wrote about when you first got your start at the paper (Nai included, although admittedly yesterday's food was the least of your concerns). "You needed me?"

"Glad to see New York's finest chefs are well-versed in Kate Hudson's filmography," he says, grinning something beastly. If he weren't your boss, you'd knock that little water cup clean out of his hand. "Anyway, if your interview is over, I need you to go on a field trip."

"Field trip?"

Surely you're better than a task for the interns. You wonder if they're off fighting their own demons, seeing as you missed the circus in the elevator this morning, the usual juggle of hazelnut lattes and lemon poppyseed muffins for the higher-ups.

"Wonwoo needs you to help pick out catering for the corporate event later next week." Joshua tips his head back at Wonwoo's glass-plated office, where you see him redoing his tie in the reflection of his computer monitor. "My guess is that Yerim is going to be there, and he wants to make a good impression. Like an 'I consulted a food expert' impression."

Classic gossip queen Hong Joshua, always with the unnecessary but incredibly cogent commentary on office politics. You think you're actually going to miss the bastard.

"Flattered," you remark dryly. "Catering from where?"

"That's the thing. It's from this Thai place like two hours out from the city."

Two hours: code for an all day endeavor. He wasn't kidding when he said field trip.

You graciously resist the urge to groan out loud. No one told you taking the high road is one big slog through the mud, but here you are. You tell yourself this will help your campaign to be editor—the stinky, dirt-smeared silver lining.

"Before you ask—yes, I know you cannot take the subway there." You blink at him, wondering why this all feels like the set-up to a terrible joke. "Luckily, as you probably know, Seungcheol drives here every day and has offered to help."

Ah. There it is. You look for the blinking applause sign hanging above your head and the chorus of riotous Seungcheols making up your own personal laugh track.

"Only back to the office, though—" Joshua adds, as if that provides you any solace. "There's a one-way bus going up there at noon."

"N-not both ways?" you croak.

"Something about funds," he replies, shrugging. "Hey, don't shoot the messenger."

"You're not the one I'm thinking of shooting."

"Who knows? Maybe he is Matthew McConaughey." And when your glare turns sharp as the edge of a santoku knife, he holds his hands up like he's getting arrested. "I'm just saying. As your friend, not your editor."

Whatever.

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You have to admit, Wonwoo does have impeccable taste in Thai food.

Three noodle dishes, two curries, and the best mango sticky rice you've ever had: that's what it took for you to finally say "not all men." Certainly not Wonwoo, who's in deep enough to send his goons cross-state for a girl he's tried to woo for almost a whole year now.

A tamarind sunset blankets the countryside in milk and honey. You're sitting on a bench, ridiculously full with leftovers to spare, waiting for your chauffeur from hell.

Two years and you still don't know what car Seungcheol drives. Your last memory of it is it being flashy, impractical, and loud, much like him.

You know this, and yet you are still surprised when a gnat of a BMW rips into the curb in front of you. The passenger window crawls down, and Seungcheol has the gall to whistle at you.

For someone so predictable, he sure does manage to find new ways to piss you off. Unfortunately, on brand— according to him, Consistency Is Key (number 2 on Keeping the Spark Alive, August 2022 issue). You've done your reading.

"You're welcome," is the first thing Seungcheol says to you after cranking down the volume of the radio and watching you fumble with the seatbelt.

"You really didn't have to." You look at the array of gas station snacks bubbling out of the cupholders—Sour Patch Kids, a Big Gulp, and Flamin’ Hot Fritos. You didn't even know they sold Sour Patch Kids to full grown adults.

Still, you do feel a little bad. You can count on one hand the amount of people you would do this for and still have one or two cheese-dusted fingers left.

"But, thank you."

"Joshua made me," he says, and what happened this morning starts to make a lot more sense. "Plus, I was a little jealous. I would kill for a day frolicking in the sun, eating delicious food, far, far away from the big city. Not trapped like me in the newsroom, exhausted, toiling away on my magnum opus."

The sigh that crawls from his chapped lips practically shakes the car.

"I'm retracting my thank you."

"I'm devastated. Really."

You choose to watch the strip of shitty New York highway unravel through the greasy passenger window. No point in picking a fight when you're in a leather quilted jail cell for the foreseeable future.

It's at the thirty minute mark where Seungcheol casts the first stone of terrible, stilted small talk.

"Why'd you get sent all the way out here anyway?"

The red taillight flush of rush hour floods the car, an unpleasant reminder of the real sunset left far behind you.

"Thought you knew it was Wonwoo."

"Yeah, but why?"

Why does it matter? Is your first thought, but you realize he's attempting to actually have a genuine conversation with you, which you suppose is better than him flinging around another rude remark. Either that, or he's falling asleep, and you'd rather not have the last moments of your life be in Seungcheol's chick magnet car.

"Joshua thinks it's because he wants to impress Yerim at the corporate meeting this week. I guess she likes Thai."

Traffic is slow enough for him to turn to look at you, really look at you.

"Come on, he can't like her that much."

"Yes, he can." you try to read his expression, neon-glossy. "This isn't even that much effort."

"Nah," he shrugs. "There's gotta be some kind of ulterior motive. Maybe he wants to move into corporate."

"Hot take for a romantic." You frown. "Not everything people do is a career move, you know."

You omit the unlike you that sits heavy in the back of your throat, although, his cavalier approach to relationships is starting to make a little more sense. You wonder if this whole thing—the dates, the watch, the Invisalign smiles—is just a long, drawn-out joke to him.

"Seems like a lot of effort to go through for an office crush." His gaze drifts back to the road. "The extravagant birthday present. Always having her favorite flowers in the office. That one cringe voicemail we all heard him re-record ten times. No one likes anyone that much. Come on. Her dad is the CEO of the company."

Suddenly his winning smile doesn't seem so triumphant. It almost feels like a betrayal, but you don't know why.

"Maybe he just likes her," you reply. "I dunno. I choose to believe that. I think it's sweet."

"Maybe you're the romantic." The words come out like an accusation; Seungcheol laughs, but all the joy's been sucked out of it.

"Who hurt you?"

"No one did. I'm just being honest."

You would laugh at the irony if it didn't feel like there was a vine wrapped round your throat. Life is funny, but never so funny as to curse New York's favorite romance writer with cynicism and a lying streak.

"Controversial, but I actually want to do nice things for the person I like."

"And when was the last time that happened?" He's deflecting, which is predictably on brand for him. His grin, now playful, is propped up by a pair of frustratingly well-formed dimples.

You can't even find it within you to protest because he's right—you haven't dated in a long time. Joshua stopped asking if you were bringing a plus one to office parties ages ago.

But it's not that you can't—in fact, the last time you did, you think it broke you a little inside. It's certainly not a story Seungcheol's privy to, though. You already feel strange, cut-open, trying to convince him that people are capable of meaningful relationships.

Childishly, there's also a part of you chasing the truth about him because it takes him further and further away from you. So you do what you do best and deflect again. Two can play at that game.

"Not taking criticism from a guy who's dated half of the city and has nothing to show for it."

"I wouldn't say nothing."

He opens his mouth then closes it again, as if he's revising the words on his tongue. Journalist behavior, which you didn't even know he could still exhibit.

Now you're really thinking. Who hurt him, and how? The development that Seungcheol is more than the playboy slime haunting page 3 intrigues you more than you'd care to admit.

Before you can pry, Seungcheol's stomach growls, almost offensively loud.

"Sorry," he says. "Who would've thunk that corn chips aren't a balanced meal?"

You stare at the takeout boxes snug in your lap. There is a cosmic message being sent right now.

Seungcheol's sad, Frito-filled belly. Fresh noodle that won't keep well in the fridge. Tax and tip for a four hour car ride back to the city. Expanding your repertoire of blackmail so that you can claim your rightful helm at the paper.

These are all the reasons you give yourself for what you ask next.

"You in a rush?"

"How could I be—do you see the blinding speed we're driving at?" He laughs at his own incredibly unfunny attempt at a joke. "No, I'm not."

"I may or may not have an actual balanced meal for you."

That’s how you end up in the parking lot of a random 7/11 off the freeway. In any other circumstances, it would be a cruel and unusual punishment, but you've already been whittled down enough to actually care about Seungcheol, even if just a little.

That's what you tell yourself, anyway, as you watch him finish the last of the takeout.

"So I'm bad at food, and you're bad at love. Why the fuck did Wonwoo even think of promoting either of us?" Seungcheol kicks his shoes off and props his feet up on the dashboard. You notice his socks have dogs on them, little linty brown ones, and you feel a little worse about openly bullying him about his fashion taste in front of the entirety of copy staff.

"I may be bad at love, but you're worse. Especially for someone who does it for a living," you retort. "Don't think I forgot our earlier conversation."

You try to read the tiny text on a receipt he's got stashed in the center console, among his graveyard of snack wrappers. (2) CHEESY GORDITA CRUNCH…8.78. (1) M MT DEW BAJA BLAST…1.00.

Definitely bad at food, you muse to yourself.

"You think I'm not kicking myself right now? That I have a beautiful girl in my car right now, and all we do is argue?"

Now that—nothing could have prepared you for that.

It gets awfully quiet. The noise of the freeway seems to screech to a fever pitch, all horns and the thrum of the asphalt. You wish anything but John Mayer was playing on the radio.

You will the headlines man in your head to make you laugh. Instead, your brain presses the word beautiful into your neurons and you feel all the heat in your body float to your face, traitorously, dizzyingly. John Mayer croons, your body is a wonderland and your stomach knots into itself over and over again.

"Stop that."

"What?" Seungcheol's head lolls to his shoulder so he can look at you from the corner of his eye. " 's not a big deal. Never been called beautiful?"

A grin plays on his lips, expression dancing on something grim, like he's spoken his final words.

"I'm serious! Stop trying to get me to like you." You huff and cross your arms over your chest, like it'll somehow make you feel more normal. "I'm not some experiment for your column."

"Is it working?"

You don't answer. How can you? There's a yes resting on the roof of your mouth, surely the product of the handful of real, actual moments you've now had with him—far too many for your liking. This whole charade has been a balancing act on the razor edge between rivals and something else, and now you're feeling the sting.

"For the record, I have been called beautiful before."

"And for the record, you're not an experiment for my column. You never were."

There's a relief that pulses through your chest, a breathless, wonderful kind of dizziness. You grab hold of it as soon as it's reared its ugly head. You're flying way too close to the sun, chasing cheap validation from the same guy who ate your lunch out of the fridge last week.

He's no better—he looks like the vulnerability cracked him open a little, and you're the one holding the hammer. It makes for a grubby, unflattering portrait of two emotionally inept people trying to play feelings.

However, much like all other things Seungcheol, any glimpse of something real is gone before you know it. He takes a loud, noisy pull of Diet Coke, and the spell is broken.

"Want any?" And when you shake your head, grateful to swallow the words pressed to your tongue, he says, "Should we wait out traffic here?"

This is an easier yes. You tell yourself you're getting sick of brake lights and reading the license plates on the back of other people's cars. Certainly that makes Seungcheol's gaze, lingering and moonlight-warmed, a little more tolerable.

For once, you don't talk about Wonwoo or your job. You don't talk about love, either.

Maybe this is the reason the next few hours slip through your fingers. Three folded takeout pagodas and a secret—somehow this is all it takes for you to hate Seungcheol just a little less.

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Usually, a good eggs benedict can solve the majority of your problems. Today seems to be the exception. The hollandaise is broken, Jeonghan is already laughing at you, and nothing will ever erase the fact that Seungcheol drove you home last night and now he knows where you live. If you wake up one morning and see a sniper laser pointed at your forehead, you have no one to blame but yourself.

"You look exhausted." An eighth of a buckwheat pancake disappears into Jeonghan's mouth. "You literally eat for a living. There is no reason for them to keep you late."

Jeonghan has a funny way of caring about you, but he's right. You did get home at 2 AM yesterday, but that was on you, not Wonwoo.

"I'm not going to let a corporate slug tell me what is and isn't a real job," you sigh, taking a swig of your half-flat mimosa and reminding yourself to figure out which staff writer gave this place 4 stars in last week's paper.

"Says the girl who needs the company card to afford bottomless brunch," Jeonghan replies.

"At least I'm not a slave to my career."

"What do you call this whole thing with your coworker then, huh? It's all you text me about." The smirk on Jeonghan's face is miserably, tragically righteous, and you can't even be mad about it.

"Seungcheol is my enemy, remember?"

"You sent me a five minute voice memo the other day ranting about how he went on a date with another girl." And just like the little shit he is, he even pulls up your mile-long text history, just to rub it in your face a little harder.

"Am I not allowed to wish for his demise? Since when were you the mature one?"

"I wouldn't call keeping track of his whereabouts wishing for his demise." Jeonghan takes a well-timed bite of your hashbrowns. "Something tells me you're wishing for something a little different."

You almost choke on a blueberry.

"Absolutely not."

You watch Jeonghan power down another mimosa, half-fascinated, half-appalled he would even dream of suggesting something so vile.

The memory of Seungcheol, leant back in the driver’s seat, lowering greasy spools of rice noodles into his mouth, crosses your mind. He had laughed until he cried when he asked you if a pineapple had really fried this rice. That was the kind of man you were dealing with. You can't believe you laughed with him.

"I think it'll be good for you to get back into dating again. Mingyu was, what, three years ago?"

And that's the chocolate chip studded, syrup-covered nail in your coffin. Of course all roads had to lead back to you and your relationship trauma Jeonghan considered unresolved.

You had dated Mingyu when you were younger, softer. It was a love of firsts, of sun-washed mornings and farmer's market Sundays, of raw, black currant midnights and whatever long-winded conversation you had spent all day on.

Mingyu was a chef. His hands, his lips, his eyes—that's how you fell in love with food. Strawberry kisses into fresh pasta into the first time someone had ever cooked for you. What a wonderful, terrible thing to see all your history on a plate, the I could never eat peas, the once I ate mangos till I was sick, the guilty spoon in the vanilla ice cream after a bad day and the dark chocolate you keep in your purse. He remembered that you like your noodles just a little bit overcooked, and you don't even think you told him that.

Food, like some shitty piece of home decor would say in that swirling, curly font, really is some window to the soul. It didn't fully hit you until, one day, you were at the grocery store alone, and somehow you knew exactly what brand of everything Mingyu liked.

You opened a restaurant together after you graduated from college. Then it closed, and you lost Mingyu to Naples or New Orleans or Seoul—somewhere, anywhere to escape the corner of 5th and 40th, the December-pleated memory of his hands in yours and a promise you could never keep.

You're sure you're over it by now, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't look for him in a bowl of his favorite ramyun, the one you could never replicate even though he insisted he just added hot water (Food tastes best when it's a gift, he'd say. You never understood until now.).

Jeonghan doesn't believe you because every time you try explaining this to him, you end up sounding like the most chronically lonely person on planet Earth.

"That is the wrong guy to suggest then," you instead reply, feeling all the food dry up in your mouth.

"I'm running out of options."

"Don't you have a hot coworker or something?"

You shut your eyes, pushing Mingyu back to recall literally any face from one of the many swanky corporate parties Jeonghan bullied you into attending. The only person coming to mind is Lee Chan, and even more than his face, you remember the fat platinum band around his ring finger (Better luck next time, Jeonghan had said, mid-cheese cube).

Worse, amidst all the fuzz, a grainy recollection of Seungcheol's wet cow eyes washes up against your eyelids, and it's not going away this time.

"I thought we were all corporate slugs," Jeonghan replies, enjoying the way you glower at him over your fork. "I was kidding, anyway. Relax."

Your entire body heaves with the sigh that escapes you.

You thank god that Jeonghan is never serious, because otherwise you'd have to consider the fact that he really thought you should date Seungcheol. Jeonghan, who knows the pizza column you, the Mingyu you, and now the you that works late because there's nothing else left to do, really might have thought you should date grifter by day, con artist by night Seungcheol.

The fluorescent glaze of the gas station lights. Seungcheol's hand on the gear stick. His voice, warm and gauzy. It's like there's a flash drive of last night plugged into your head, and you can't take it out.

The stem of the champagne glass finds your hand, and you down the whole thing.

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Monday is uneventful. So is Tuesday, and you wonder what good deed you'd done to deserve such a blessing.

Wednesday, you realize you're just three interviews away from what could possibly be the best article of your life. Unfortunately, two of those won't pick up the phone and the third keeps rescheduling on you.

That's fine—Rome wasn't built in a day, and the same hopefully applies to your future noodle empire.

You're using your lunch break to write an email to number two when you notice Seungcheol hovering around your desk, a plastic straw in his mouth and evil in his eyes.

He's taken to publicly annoying you at work more than usual—Progress, Joshua had told you in the elevator this morning. Towards what? you had asked. He shrugged, letting his crafty, knowing look do all the talking.

"Me, you, and date number two?" is today's opening line. Before you can peel yourself away from your computer and give him a good lashing for whatever the fuck he just said to you, he continues with, "How's that for a follow-up text to my speakeasy date?"

"Lame," you reply, hackles still raised but now re-reading your email for typos.

"Wrong. You were supposed to say incredibly romantic, extremely witty, and unfairly charming." He perches his baseball player ass on the corner of your desk, waiting to be humbled. This is the usual order of things, which has shockingly become more of a familiarity than anything else.

"Do you even have a romantic bone in your body?"

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow. "Just one, but it's the only one that matters."

"Ew. Gross." You wrinkle your nose and attempt to soothe your temper with a sip of the terrible protein shake you got for lunch. "No wonder your column sucks."

"If mine sucks, I'd hate to see what people are saying about yours." And when your reply is a tired, hungry swig of your sad drink, he says, "No lunch today? Even I had something better."

"Lucky you."

The bigger truth is that that the deadline for your article, looming before you, is getting to you more than you'd care to admit. Seungcheol isn't helping, not with his bottomless magic hat of date stories that seems to only grow deeper by the day. Now you're forgetting to pack a lunch, and the highlight of your day has been reduced to punching numbers into a vending machine.

Things are bad, but you'll never say that aloud, especially not to the guy who'll spend the next five years dunking on you if you keep this up.

You stare down the lip of your bottle at the faux-chocolate dregs streaking the bottom.

The month before Mingyu opened his restaurant, you were so preoccupied with making sure everything was just right that you also forgot to eat. One day, leftovers from his work started magically appearing in your fridge. Chow fun (miss you!), salt and pepper shrimp (don't forget to drink water!), a gargantuan vat of hot and sour soup (love you most!).

It was a perfect coincidence until you realized there was no way Chinese takeout was coming out of a very French restaurant, and it was then you learned that love is never really a coincidence.

Now you have no coincidences, mapo tofu, or romance. Just muscle milk and a front row view of the struggling inseam of a man who must shrink his pants in the dryer.

He's peeling a tangerine. Your worst confession to date is that it's easy on the eyes. For once, his hands, always made busy with some scheme, now still over the rind, steady, practiced. Plus, it looks like a marble in his huge hands, which is unfortunately both funny and a little hot.

"Stare any longer, and I'm gonna forget how to peel this."

"Don’t flatter yourself. Just hungry," you half-lie.

Hungry, Stressed, And Delusional—The New Holy Trinity.

It's a catchy headline, but not a great look for you. Never in your life did you think you'd be ogling a man peeling an orange. He even takes all the pith off, and you don't have the heart to tell him that's where all the nutrients are.

"Exactly," he replies. Then he plops the naked, shiny fruit right on your bare desk. "Here. Eat."

You’re so taken aback, all you can do is stare. First at the orange, then at Seungcheol, who suddenly cannot make eye contact with you. Instead, he stacks the peel in his hands, dimpled piece over piece.

"Payback for the, uh, Thai," he says, and although you wouldn't equate a tangerine to James Beard awarded pad kee mao, all you can think of is an lime green sticky note in your fridge and a smile.

A gift. A pithless, wrinkly one.

The idea that Seungcheol was capable of being genuinely nice to anyone, nonetheless, you—probably the most undeserving person of it in the world—makes you feel something close to guilt.

You push through the feeling, instead taking the fruit in your hand and splitting it between your thumbs. The flesh caves so easily, and it's then you remember that food, unlike people, doesn't have to be complicated.

You can feel a better person somewhere inside you, someone easier to care for and with less of a bad attitude. You're not there yet, but there's a dark, satisfying comfort in not being good enough for the indulgence of that kind of intimacy. An arm's length was never too far away for you, except now there's someone sitting on your desk and they gave you lunch. Worst of all, you don't think you mind.

You hold out the half—sticky, guilty fingers and all.

Seungcheol wordlessly accepts it. There's no surprise or confusion—he smiles, you say cheers, and you both take a bite.

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On weekends, the Korean place down the street from your college apartment sold corn dogs until 3 AM. That was when words came easy and love came easier.

It was with sugar all over your nose, eyes pressed to the once forgiving half-moon, where you told Mingyu you would become a writer.

The thing about youth is that it can float anything, no matter how holey, desperate it was. So you sailed through college, that gasping hope wound tight in your fist. Then you started freelancing, just in time for Mingyu’s soft open. You wanted to write, but more importantly, you wanted some way, any way to be useful to the person who had given you so much.

In retrospect, there was no way your crude attempts at actual journalism could ever generate real publicity for him. Not in the heart of New York, where a new restaurant opened every two days and someone wanted to get published every three.

So you eventually sank, and so did Mingyu, leaving you with all this creased, no good love in your chest to shrivel up with nowhere to go.

All of that landed you here. A degree, a dream job, and a laundry list of accolades, but the fruit of that love still hangs heavy and joy-rot on the vine, as you wait for it to be good enough for the taking.

Ironically, it reminded you of cooking. No one ever teaches you when to stop, and now every other joint has dry-aged steak and some version of a three-day demi glacé. But at least demi glacé tastes good—you don't even know what the fuck you're doing some days, and the feeling's never been worse than now, waiting on a call you were supposed to get two days ago.

The phone rings, just in time to distract you from the top button of Seungcheol's fitted shirt, which looks like it's holding on for dear life. He's currently deep in conversation with Mina from design, but every so often, he'll glance your way to see if you're just free enough to be bothered.

The unspoken perils of working late—less people around to pester on Wonwoo's dime.

Mina stuffs her laptop in her bag and checks her watch. Strike three for Seungcheol.

Working Hard Or Hardly Working: A Guide To Office Romances. You're surprised he hasn't written that one yet. Maybe Joshua shot it down.

"Hello?" The dial tone breaks into the warm, risen-bread voice of the woman you know to be the owner of one of your favorite hole-in-the-wall noodle spots. The Friday night after your review was published, there was a line out the door. It honestly felt like a no-brainer to you, and you had no hesitation telling the owner that you were sure her place would become a local mainstay. You watched her crow-footed eyes go moony and you couldn't help but picture the day your yellowed newspaper would be posted up on the wall, framed and prophetic.

You're ready to profusely apologize for not stopping by—truthfully, no bone broth has come close to hers. Instead, she apologizes to you, which you aren't sure is flattering or a sign something terrible has happened.

You hope it's the former, but you should have known that hoping has never been enough.

She tells you that she closed the doors to her restaurant yesterday. It all comes spilling out, one gut punch after the other, the bills and the empty tables and how things just weren't the same the year after your review was published. She thanks you for your time, your writing, and your belief, and then she hangs up.

Not a thing in your body feels capable of moving. All the phone static passes right through you until the week's canned up dread balls up in your throat and some darker-than-black feeling swallows you whole.

The fluorescent ceiling lights sear into you. You think you're going to cry, and that's the last thing you want.

To anyone else, it wouldn't be that serious. Restaurants close all the time, and you know an entry in your silly little column is a far cry from a Hail Mary. But all you can think of is Mingyu’s neon sign on 5th and 40th and the two pairs of hands that had to take it down. You think your fingerprints are still on it, right over the blue shock of the I and the N.

One more dream taking on water, and once again, you're at the sad, cruel center of it.

You try to imagine the gumpaste walls, bumpy and water-stained. Maybe a pale square where your review used to hang.

No, you're definitely going to cry.

Fuck this, fuck work, fuck the article. And fuck Seungcheol, who's packing up his annoying, jingly messenger bag and is the only thing standing between you and an empty office to lose your shit in.

You squeeze your eyes shut and try to remember if you're wearing waterproof mascara today. Unfortunately, the cowbell of Seungcheol's bag sounds like it's catching up to you, and, like it or not, you are two shaky breaths away from breaking down in front of the last person in the world you want to see.

"Final touches on another titillating piece about pineapple on pizza?"

You have no stomach for yelling at him. You can't even look at him. Instead, you bury your head in your hands and tell him to never use the word titillating again.

"A little too soon to play editor, in my humble opinion."

You don't reply. You're trying to scare him off without really scaring him off because god knows you've done that with enough people. Either way, he's calling you a crazy bitch at the next holiday party. You can just hear it.

But you should've known Seungcheol, of all people, doesn't flinch at a little silence. You still feel him hovering behind you, probably wondering if it's the half-full vanilla protein shake on your desk that's turned you sour. Or if you'll really make good on your threat to shank him with the plastic knife you keep in your top drawer.

Just walk away, you think. Go the fuck home.

Seungcheol, who gets paid to play cupid like it's fantasy football, would never understand that bite of the dial tone. Not like that. Half an orange is a hell of a toll to pay for your unfortunate work-related trauma.

You count the seconds till he walks away.

One. Two. Three.

Four is cut short because instead of doing what he should have done and left, he places a hesitant hand at the base of your neck, between your shoulder blades.

"Hey, you ok?"

Easy, noncommittal words, but something in you cracks. You don't know what it is—maybe it's because it's late and you're running on nothing, maybe it's because you can't remember the last time a hand was so warm.

And so, against your better judgment, you lift your streaky, raccoon-eyed face (definitely didn't use waterproof today) from your hands to look at the same eyes you looked at not more than a month ago and swore at.

You're glad you have no idea what you look like, because it's bad enough that all the corners of Seungcheol's face fall.

"Whoa," he breathes.

Now he'll know when to leave me alone, you think, but then that hand slides to your shoulder and his expression becomes impossibly soft and what you thought was confusion, pity even, dips into affection, stinging and raw.

"Listen, I—," he clears his throat nervously. Perhaps he's running through his repertoire of Wikihow phrases to say to a sad person, but you, inexplicably, don't believe that. "I don't know what's going on, but if you, you know, ever needed to talk…" Then he points to himself because that's probably the longest he's gone without attempting to tell a joke.

You're two and a half shaky breaths into this conversation, and the likelihood you will start crying has not changed. If anything, the odds have gotten much worse because the stubbornness of Seungcheol's expression is fooling you into thinking he actually cares. The illusion is comforting—after all the fighting and sabotage and inconveniences, he's still made space for you. That, or he's keeping his enemies close.

Then his thumb rubs over the plane of your collarbone, and all the little walls and hurdles and dams and shields in you drop.

Close friends, closer enemies, and the infinitesimal space between you and Seungcheol.

You'll blame your sorry state of mind for what you're about to do because you can't really cope with any other explanation. That's a tomorrow problem.

Today, you trust Seungcheol. Today, you tell him not everything, but enough.

"Forgive yourself," he says. And before you protest and tell him, through the waves of tears and snot and lightheadedness, that your heart has yet to catch up to the rest of you, he interrupts you before you even start. "I get it. Just try."

You’re all too familiar with his sugar-floss, candy-coated platitudes that make everything seem so simple, but he looks you in the eye, or somewhere even deeper than that, with so much belief, it's contagious.

The words are ripped out from under you. All you can do is what you wanted to do in the first place. So you cry, and when Seungcheol takes you into his arms, at first tentatively and then all at once, you cry even harder.

"Is this ok?" he asks, so quietly, you almost don't hear him.

"Yeah, I-I think so."

You let him hold you, and all the noise and the heat and the static fades into a hum. His chin finds the top of your head and you let him do that too.

Neither of you say anything more. You don't need to.

All that matters is the welcome sound of someone else's heartbeat, a kind hand in your hair, and Seungcheol, with none of the charms and boasts and failed, half-baked insults he hides behind.

Just him, and you decide you like this version best.

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The emotional hangover you wake up with rivals that of every vodka-flavored morning you had when you were in college, plus another two shots.

There is nothing worse than the aftermath of a particularly bad episode of oversharing. There's a reason you don't talk about your personal life at all, but something about Seungcheol makes every single thing claw its way back up your throat.

A need to prove yourself. A tiny, whispering hope that if you give a little, you'll get a little in return. Or your pride, the familiar knife you keep wedged into your side. A million excuses rattle around in your head, but nothing will ever take away the fact that it felt good.

Shields down, heart bleeding—never did you think that's how you would find yourself in a state where you actually liked Seungcheol. It felt good to be taken seriously, to say that all the talk about foie gras and peppercorns and microgreens was just tableside service for a great love and an even greater apology. And you'd like to think somewhere between the tears and the linen of his shirt, you were finally understood.

Just try. The words, sun-warmed stones, float in the hollow of your chest. It felt a little more possible, coming out of Seungcheol's mouth, with that dumb, resolute expression of his.

You don't even know if you would do the same for him. If he came to you, rosy-eyed and breakdown-adjacent, would you drop everything and listen to him? Clearly his problems ran deeper than a pretty girl not calling him back, but you had never really cared to listen.

And that's something you'll give Seungcheol credit for—he puts up with you, with everything, really, albeit with clumsy hands and the mask of reluctance.

You roll onto your side to reach for your phone. There's a text from Jeonghan asking if you're still up for grabbing drinks this evening. (Always). You have your final interview at 2. (Thank god).

And no text from Seungcheol. (Damn.)

Somehow this is disappointing, which makes your day that much worse. Maybe the runny mascara wasn't as flattering as you thought.

8 Totally Normal Texts To Send When You're Overthinking.

Not a good headline for a worse situation. Honestly, you shouldn't care, but now you're here, staring at your phone and undecided on if you even want Monday to come or not.

You'll order one (or three) margaritas tonight. You'll ask Jeonghan about his upcoming trip to Seoul. You'll make your favorite overnight oats and you'll go to sleep and Sunday will pass just the same.

You won't think about Seungcheol's arms around you or his head on top of yours or the way he insisted he would drive you to the subway so you didn't have to walk. You almost brushed against his hand on the gear stick and the nearness made you want to throw up.

But you're not thinking about it. You can't. Not without falling in love just a little.

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"Here. Drink."

You set two cups on the table before sitting face-to-face with Seungcheol, who decided to roll up to a coffee date in a somehow flattering polo and slacks.

But it's not a date—you're just talking. It's a meet-up. Not a hangout, which sounds too familiar, and definitely not a date.

Yesterday did not go as planned. Margarita-buzzed and under Jeonghan's terrible influence, you texted Seungcheol. Just to clear up some stuff, you told yourself. Friday night's like a scab, and you just can't help coming back to it.

"So, you're a coffee connoisseur too, huh?" Seungcheol says, tipping his head to the side.

"Not nearly," you reply. "Just wanted to pay for something for once. I'm pretty sure I owe you at least fifty of these."

"I'll hold you to it." He's doing that thing where it's like he stares past you. It's the most impressive eye contact on the planet, and it's making you nervous.

Then the silence, once welcome, becomes awkward—the air turns stiff, clinging to all the things you haven't said yet.

You play chicken with the idea of being an emotionally intelligent person and just talking about what most certainly is on everyone's mind right now. The cup between your hands is burning your palms. Seungcheol smiles.

"I'm—" The exact moment you start, the words crinkle up on your tongue and all the walls come back up again. It's a terrible, inevitable instinct. "I'm sorry. For Friday."

"For…what?" Seungcheol pauses mid-sip to say this. "Also, this coffee is really good."

Arabica, orange, and honey, you want to say. But you can't deflect this time. Somehow Seungcheol has cornered you into this tiny cafe chair with that disarming grin and an overabundance of patience.

"Everything, I guess. You were just trying to leave."

"No, I wasn't." And he laughs, which makes your stomach fold over trying to figure out what there possibly is to laugh at. "I actually liked getting to know you. You…care a lot. And I didn't expect that."

Seungcheol's sincerity staggers you. You could ask what the hell he just meant by all of that, but you decide to take him for his word. You think you've experienced the most honesty from him in the past three days than you have in the entire span of time you've known him, and it almost feels like a privilege.

"Thanks…?"

"Don’t let it go to your head, though," he adds, as if to erase what he just said. "Can't have you walking around the office with a bigger stick in your ass."

"Poetic." You sigh. Once again, the illusion is shattered. You wonder if his kindness has a time limit. "How's your article coming along?"

"Nice try," he replies. "I'm not that easy."

"You're literally the definition of easy."

"Is that a compliment?" There's that challenge in his eyes again, that same look that he gave you outside Wonwoo's office. "You did ask me out on a date, despite saying that you'd rather eat glass. So I guess either there's a half-eaten plate in your trash or you've finally come to your senses."

"This is not a date. Dream on."

"You're right. This isn't a date." He leans forward on his elbows. "Just like our dinner date wasn't a date."

"It wasn't."

"Of course. If it was, I'd be asking stuff like…Where you're from. But I already know—h, e, double hockey—"

"Chicago."

"Same difference."

Your conversation continues as such.

Not a date, but where'd you go to college? Not a date, but do you have a pet? Not a date, but can I walk you home?

You realize your talk in his car two weeks ago involved everything but your pasts, but you suppose neither of you are the type to unwrap old wounds. Sometimes the bandaid is better on, but, in your case, there's really nothing left to tell.

You divulge that you went to Northwestern for journalism. You have a family tabby, and no, you wouldn't mind being walked home.

You also realize before today, you knew less about Seungcheol than you thought, but there's some give to his secrecy. He went to USC because his parents wanted him to. Played football for half of it until he tore his ACL and got adopted by the sports section of the school paper. He even captained the advice column for three semesters—something he wants to return to, but you're happy to tell him you wouldn't trust his advice as far as you could throw him. (What was your alias? Samuel. Sounds kinda like Seungcheol, huh? You say no. He laughs.)

After circling the same park three times, you reach the doorstep of your apartment building. You cycle through some one-liners to end on a high note, but none of them seem quite right.

It's not a date, but you've noticed Seungcheol keeps glancing at your lips, and it almost seems like one.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol asks some stupid question about if coffee could be considered tea, which you start to answer before you are rudely interrupted.

First, the bump of his nose against yours, then his lips, slow, insistent, dizzying. Your heart jumps all the way to your throat and you think there's so much heat in your cheeks that he can feel it.

It's not a date, but Seungcheol just kissed you and you liked it.

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The next time you see Seungcheol is in the elevator to the newsroom on Monday.

He sticks his dumb, big arm out of the cabin to hold the door open for you, and his smile bruises your overripe heart.

"Hi," he says, sneaking a glance like a guilty child.

"Hi."

The floor indicators flicker like fireflies, one by one. He sidesteps toward you so that your shoulders touch. You watch the 4 crawl to 5. The air in the cabin is sticky, electric.

And as if taking a great big dive, you kiss him, a fleeting, tender thing that you rolled around in your head for a good thirty minutes earlier this morning—and you never thought the fruit of overthinking could be so sweet.

The elevator dings.

Before the doors open to your floor, Seungcheol slams the close button, takes your face in his hands, and kisses you again.

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You have three reasons to get drunk.

1. It's Friday.

2. You finished your article.

3. You and Seungcheol are no longer mortal enemies, but now you don't know what you are.

(The other day, you both worked late, and he ordered takeout to the office. You sat crosslegged on his desk as he tried to explain what a touchdown was and why he was obsessed with the Steelers. Normally a two hour long conversation about football would be a punishable offense, but that night he made you laugh so hard your stomach hurt the next day.)

After Wonwoo's dinner with corporate, he went to the market across the street and picked up a few handles of soju and the fattest bottle of cheap vodka you've ever seen.

You're all getting a raise—you guess the Thai must have worked out well, although Wonwoo must have struck out with Yerim since he's spending his Friday night drinking with you guys instead.

So you get drunk.

Drunk enough to tune out of Jihyo from Sports giving Wonwoo dating advice—riveting, if not for your near double vision—and follow Seungcheol to the staff bathroom.

"Anyone—," you manage. His lips are hot on your neck, and every dizzy neuron in your body seems to be reaching, grasping for him. "Anyone ever tell you that your forearms look really good when you roll up your sleeves?"

"All the time," he replies, and he swallows the laugh right off of your tongue.

"You are so annoying." Your palm finds his heartbeat, and you revel in how it leaps towards your skin every hurried beat. You don't want to think about how many girls came before you, leant back against the bathroom counter just like this, but having a body against yours never felt so good. You guess that's what a three year hiatus will do to you. "Bet you hear that one a lot too, huh?"

"You got that right."

Another kiss, just a nudge of his nose and you're leaning up to him; your lips feel swollen and warm and somehow they still crave the feeling.

"How is it that we still bump noses," you ask, half words, half air. Seungcheol's hands, skin-greedy, skim over the back of your thighs like they're water and find the swell of your ass.

"You make me impatient." Cheshire grin across heart lips and you're toast. "Anyone tell you that you have a great ass?"

"All the time," you squeak out. It's a lie and a half but who cares. His fingers drag under the seam of your underwear and you've never been so thankful you forgot to wear shorts under your dress.

"Need you," he says, lips flush to the skin behind your ear, and your lower half would give out if you weren't propped against the sink.

The idea of Seungcheol on his knees, your thigh hiked over his shoulder, crosses your mind. He'd probably be really good at head, and that makes you dizzier than any ungodly combination of alcohol would. Or would he press you against the mirror, want your skirt pushed to your waist so he could fuck you from behind?

Anticipation tumbles into anxiety into some primordial, horrible shyness because you haven't had sex in years. You feel hot and damp and sweaty and you can't remember if you shaved or not. Plus, you're already seizing in his arms and he hasn't even touched you for real yet.

"H-home," you breathe. "Let's go home."

"Hm?" His hand slows in the dip between your thighs. "You wanna stop? We can stop."

"No, I just…I just thought it would be better if we went home. To…you know."

"Yours or mine?"

"Mine’s closer," you answer after a considerable amount of mental gymnastics trying to figure out if you're both drunk enough to not mind the mess.

You know your apartment and you know your bed and you know where the bathroom is in case you have to pee. There's a box of condoms under the sink. You have an extra toothbrush for him. Less variables to worry about because nothing else has really gone to plan. You watch Seungcheol misbutton the top two buttons on his shirt and all the fondness in your heart feels like a welcome stranger in your body.

How To Ruin The Moment In One Easy Step!

You feel incredibly horny and guilty all at once, but Seungcheol kisses your cheek on the way out and it's like you're able to breathe again.

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It seems that the car ride to your place sucks all the sobriety back into the both of you.

You're lying stomach-down on your bed, Seungcheol against the headboard with his shirt undone. You're in your bra and your still sticky underwear, and somehow, despite being ready to break your three-year spell, you like this much better.

"Imagine if someone needed to piss," Seungcheol groans. "I think we would have gotten fired. Lifestyle would have no editor."

"I honestly think that's why Seungkwan was standing outside for so long."

Upon hearing this, Seungcheol's eyes shoot open. If your phone wasn't charging, you would take a picture. He fell asleep on your shoulder in the car, and now, even with all the affection you can muster, you can only describe his hair as broom-adjacent. Einstein-core. How far you've fallen from grace.

"Don't worry, he won't say anything." And as you watch the color return to his face, you add, "Also, it's not that I didn't want to have sex, I just…" you trail off, hoping he'll get it even though you're making no sense.

"No, it was the right call. I wanna do it when we're both sober."

It smooths your frayed-out nerves knowing that none of this was a performance or a test, just two shy, touch-starved people stumbling in the dark.

"Lemme guess—this is just a typical Friday night for you."

"Flattering but no," Seungcheol replies, grinning something stupid. "Do you always spend this much time wondering what I'm doing?"

"No!" His hands, once busy with scrunching up the fabric of your bedsheets, now find yours, and he runs a careful thumb over your knuckles. You notice he has the care-worn hands of a line chef, or maybe even a baker, which is funny because you don't even think the man knows how to turn on an oven. "I dunno. You just seem so experienced. What about all of those other girls?"

He flips your hand over, tracing the creases of your palm.

"Just dates. Nothing serious."

You want to ask—What about us? Are we serious? But you swallow it all down. You watch Seungcheol's eyes, midnight-weary, fall back upon you, and it feels like he's trusted you with something important.

"Don’t get it twisted, though," he adds, before yawning big and wide without covering his mouth. "I'm a loser, not a virgin. Definitely not."

You bite back a laugh. Killer journalist bio, but that's something to pitch next content meeting.

"Definitely a loser. I think you make me a loser by association."

"Good. So we're both losers. I like that." He smiles at you with so much warmth, it makes your heart physically hurt. Then he clamps down another yawn. "God, I'm exhausted. I think if we fucked in the bathroom, I'd have passed out. Or pulled my back."

"Then sleep," you chide, shucking a pillow at him. "Also take your shirt off. I don't like outside clothes on the bed."

"Say less," Seungcheol says. "I’ll blow your back out another day. Save the date." Between your almost audible gulp and his unfortunately attractive physique, you almost forget the place you're in-between.

Did everyone fit into his arms? Did he lift a hand for just anyone? Two silhouettes in the lamplight—was that how every day with him ended? Or just you, the only other person competing with him for his dream job? The convenient reality scares you.

The thought never seems to cross Seungcheol's mind. His head hits the pillow, and he's out like a light. But not without a not-so-subtle scoot to your side of the bed, near enough that the heat of his skin plays off yours.

You lean into it, liking how your skin buzzes with the closeness.

You're lulled by the sway of Seungcheol's breathing behind you—probably the most quiet he'll ever be. The moonlight oozes into the room; sleep comes over you like water, a slow, gentle wash.

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You can't remember the last time you cooked for two.

You open your fridge, and the hollow insides stare back at you. Rows of condiments and two water bottles. You have finally reached K-drama CEO status.

"Is this the part where I get kicked out?" Seungcheol says, shrugging his shirt back on as he walks out of the bedroom.

"This is the part where I cook breakfast for you."

"Really? You don't have to." He sounds genuinely surprised, which tips your heart a little off-axis.

"I want to," you reply, double checking the fridge as if opening it a second time would repopulate it. "That's what people do when they care about each other."

"Or if they're trying to poison you."

"Will you just let me do something nice for you?" You yank your head out to glare at him, and he looks stung.

"Thanks." He says it after so much pause that you wonder if this is the first time someone has done this for him. You wish you had a better offering, but surely the man with the worst palate in the world could spare his judgment for one meal. "No really, 'cause I am starving."

You let him bask in the rare glory of the unobstructed refrigerator light while you rummage through the pantry for a plan B.

"Holy shit. You live like this?"

"Not always. It's been…a week." All you have is the ramyun Mingyu likes, which feels like a weird, culinary betrayal. But you're hungry, and Seungcheol is eyeing a strange bag in the freezer that you don't even remember putting there. "You good with ramyun?"

"Honestly, I'll eat anything," he whines, gnawing on the ice straight from the freezer drawer.

At least he's self-aware. But he makes all the spaces Mingyu left behind seem a little less empty, and you can't find it in you to be mad at that.

You wait for the water to boil and Seungcheol finds a seat at your tiny dinner table, a misaligned, wobbly product of Mingyu’s inability to read an Ikea manual.

"I'm hoping your week got better?" Seungcheol asks, referring to your capital W week.

You tentatively nod before dropping the noodles in.

"Of course it did—you woke up to me in your bed. Can't get better than that."

"Actually, it's because I finished my article yesterday."

Seungcheol pauses before laughing to himself. "Congrats," he replies, now wiggling the table on its bad leg. "Can't say the same for myself."

you watch the starch-foam wash over the mouth of the pot, precariously close to the edge. You overfilled it, which mildly surprises you until you consider that you're cooking double the food.

There's a stretchy, anxious tumble in your stomach. It's not like you were expecting him to cheer or anything, but it just reminds you that you are, still in fact, competitors. When all of this is said and done, one of you is losing, and from every angle, it seems like quite the death knell for whatever you've got going on now.

It's a pity because you actually kind of like this arrangement. If Seungcheol was in your banged-up flea market chair next Saturday morning, you wouldn't be mad. Maybe you would even make him waffles. From scratch, even.

"What, too many dates to cover?"

He laughs again, somehow to no one in particular. "Something like that."

Past the bruising swell of his smile is the much sharper, more unforgiving edge of an unspoken hurt that you're neither trusted with nor owed, and yet you refuse to drop it. What about me? It feels like you're almost there, wrapped around something bigger, a scoop you can't pull your stubborn teeth out of.

"Is there a reason none of those were serious? Come on."

"What's so wrong with that?" And when you don't say anything, he says, "Trust me, it is never that serious."

His voice ticks up at the end like a teenager trying to play cool and the noodle water boils up around your chopsticks as you try to get your portion cooked through.

You won't—can't—turn to face him. You committed to the line, and now you must see it through, no matter how bad an idea it may be.

"That's not true," you finally squeeze out, finding the right footing for your voice. "It was serious for me. I'm sorry it wasn’t for you."

The table stops rocking.

"I'm glad. Really." He claps his hands together like a cruel punctuation mark, and it's then you remember that the only person as ill-tempered as you happens to be sitting two feet away.

Like an injured animal, your heart wants to cower back into your chest. You knew this was a mistake—this being everything—but an open wound can't help but bleed and your pride can't do without seeing the knife.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is." The pot hisses, astringent and pleading, beneath your fist. "I don't know what happened with your love life, but don't take it out on me."

"You asked."

"Yeah? Well, what is this?" You turn to face him, feeling the air between you tense, pulled like a rubber band. "You can't sit in my kitchen and tell me you don't care about whatever this is."

After all of the terse meetings, elevator spats, and foul-mouthed encounters in the parking lot, you can now recognize the fresh twist of Seungcheol's mouth and the livewire of a temper you've become so familiar with.

"Who said I didn't care? I'm just tired of you trying to lecture me about my life. I—"

"I'm not lecturing you, I just know you can't really believe what you're saying." Every word stumbles out, trembling and doe-legged, barely audible over his attempts to interrupt you. "There's nothing wrong with admitting you were in love with someone. And if you can't, I just feel really fucking sorry for you."

There’s an incredulous look in Seungcheol's eyes. But it's the worse part of you, ruthless and hungry for acceptance, that makes you say, "Maybe the fact that nothing lasts is your fault."

"Oh, really?" Seungcheol's voice, half-laugh with none of the warmth, rips through you. "You're really gonna act like you're better than me? As if you don't write in your pretentious little column every week, just waiting for your ex to read it and decide he wants you back again?"

There’s a red hot flash behind your eyes and everything inside you feels like it breaks at once.

"You know, at least I had someone who cared about me. Can't say the same about your miserable, sorry ass. Now get the fuck out of my apartment."

"Wh—"

he stands up, table croaking underneath his fists, and you realize you've crossed a bridge that can never be uncrossed.

"Get. Out."

It feels like a stitch in you has come undone. The water has long boiled over the pot and there's no joy to be found in watching Seungcheol stumble over his pant legs on the way to the door.

"I didn't want Mingyu. I wanted you."

it's not an apology, nor is it an indictment. You don't know why you say it, and you guess Seungcheol doesn't either. The door slams behind him, and all you're left with is a bloated pot of ramyun you never really wanted anyway.

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Celery. Red wine. Short rib.

If you had one day left on earth, you think you would go grocery shopping. It was like a prayer to you—you could close your eyes and know exactly what aisle had the beef broth, or feel the stone weight of a can of San Marzano tomato paste.

That's one thing you can thank Mingyu for—it's true that you don't love him like you used to, but you refuse to believe that any love worth having is also worth leaving behind.

Fingerling potatoes, the red ones. A Vidalia onion.

You recite your shopping list, slowly, quietly, a rosary.

Baguette is the next item, with a question mark next to it because sometimes your local bakery sells out after 3.

You pass by, expecting to see the shop window cleared out. Instead you see a familiar crown of cowlicked black hair and a horribly well-worn grin that only looks good because it's on Choi Seungcheol's face.

He's paying for a pretty girl's sourdough, and thyme, rosemary gets washed out by a dizzying riptide of heartache.

It was never personal, you tell yourself. Just another date. That's the angle.

You think it hurts a little less, knowing that it all was a business transaction. A long interview.

The thyme is next to the dill. The rosemary is next to the chives, at the end of the shelf.

You watch Seungcheol lean over the tiny cafe table to take a sip of his date's Americano. Did he always laugh like that? Were you really any different?

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Monday feels tilted.

There's the usual gust of cinnamon sugar and cold brew—today's offering from the interns, who have begun to master the art of pressing the elevator buttons with full hands. Wonwoo is wearing his Monday outfit, a wrinkled cream button up under a navy blue sweater vest. Your cubicle is empty, just the way you like it, save for the ass-shaped spot cleared off on the desk edge.

You like days like this, except today you don't and you know exactly why.

"Today's the day," Joshua says, nose buried in a bakery-style muffin, the top pillowing out of the wrapper.

He stares over your shoulder at your article, locked and loaded for submission to copy.

You are not exaggerating when you say you would die for these four thousand words. You ate and cried and argued for them in what you can only describe as the worst literary coliseum of your life, and now their (and your) fate rests in Joshua’s massive Mickey Mouse hands and Wonwoo's bespectacled whimsy.

"Well, don't let me stop you." He laughs and then totters away, sucking a crumb off a finger. Just another Monday.

Your cursor hovers over the SUBMIT button. You've always been a little scared of it—unsurprising, since you're also the type to triple read an email before sending it—but there's a new kind of fear boxed in those little pixels.

Last night, you emptied out your freezer. Stuck on the back wall was a neon green sticky note, behind all the bags. See you when you get home, it said. You laughed and then you cried and then you ripped it up because that's probably what Seungcheol was looking at the morning you chewed him out.

All of that heartache must have been good for something. To say you wasted it on a no-love situationship wouldn't do any of it justice, not when all that's left is most definitely a crude shoutout on Seungcheol's next listicle. If you weren't already getting one earlier, you sure are now.

You wonder what you'll be:

10 Signs She Is Clinically Insane.

It's Not You, It's Them!

Help! My Friend With Benefits Isn't A Friend Or A Benefit!

At least that one is funny, although if it's the winning line, you don't think you can ever show your face in the office again.

The beginning and the end and the muddy in-between. Entrenched in all of it was this article and this job, and you'll be damned if you let your misplaced faith get co-opted by a sweaty-palmed Casanova.

(8:19 AM; the smell of summer and dried-down cologne. A hand on your ribcage, just beneath your heart. Good morning, Seungcheol says, as if emerging from a long, wonderful dream.)

You picture the byline with editor tacked next to your name. To run your finger over the ink spackled serif of a paper hot off the press, as if somehow it would radiate the misery you had to endure.

(11:41 PM; jajangmyeon and a pack of rice crackers. Seungcheol had given you his chopsticks because you dropped yours. The hum of the broken light outside Wonwoo's office sings in the silence of an empty newsroom. Your eyes meet, and you don't look away.)

There's a sinking feeling in your chest. You close your eyes and hit submit.

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Ask Samuel!

It's 6 PM on a Thursday and if you weren't already on your last thread, you are now. The angry red of the Daily Trojan website glares back at you from your phone as you step into the elevator with none other than your editor-in-chief.

You've resorted to reading Seungcheol's old advice columns. Not because you miss him, but because you want to know if he was ever a competent writer capable of talking about something other than how to score on a second date.

That's the only way he's beating you.

(There's also no way you miss him. The thought would make you laugh out loud if you weren't standing next to your boss).

One column became four became ten. After thirteen you concluded Seungcheol must have sustained a head injury some time before starting his job here—you can find no other explanation for how someone so generous and intuitive could've gotten lost in the chaff of articles with more pictures than words.

"Congrats," Wonwoo says, seemingly speaking into the void.

"Pardon?" You close out a particularly riveting query about estranged childhood friends to look up at him.

"Congrats."

"F-for what?" You get that head rush again, the same one you got a month ago at the Italian restaurant with Jeonghan.

"The job. You got the position." Wonwoo clears his throat calmly, as if he's not delivering the most important news of your life. "I wanted to let you know in person before we sent out Monday’s email."

For once, you have no words. In a wonderful instant, they are all zapped out of your brain. You feel hot and clammy and anxious all at once and you half expect to close your eyes and see either god or the flare of a hospital light, waking you up from an impossible coma.

"Holy shit," the primordial ooze inside you says instead. "T-thank you."

"No need."

"What about Seungcheol? Does he know?"

"I haven't told him yet, but he should be aware." Wonwoo pauses. "He didn't submit anything."

"What?!"

There are only so many surprises your body can handle. You feel like you are being held together by a fast-unraveling string on a poorly made sweater. Your stomach is somewhere in your feet and you don't even know where your heart is. Part of you is waiting for the elevator to stop so the entire office can jump out of the walls and laugh at you.

"I too was surprised," Wonwoo says, now checking his smartwatch for messages. "He must have changed his mind. No matter—I'm confident you will be an excellent fit."

The elevator jerks to a stop at the first floor. You feel boneless, like a can of cranberry sauce.

"Forgive me, I have a dinner appointment." Wonwoo ends the conversation the best way he can—with his trademark parentheses smile and a nod of the head—and leaves you in the elevator cabin alone.

All the times you've dreamed of this moment, you're tear-dizzy, joyous, fumbling with your phone to call your parents.

Instead you stand motionless, waiting, emptied.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

To make croissants, you fold a slab of butter into a square of yeasted dough. You roll it out thin and then fold it into itself before leaving it to rest in the fridge. Then you take it out again, roll it, and fold it. You do this until you've forgotten how many times you folded it and you no longer crave croissants.

When you were five, you pressed your nose to the window of your favorite patisserie and decided this is how your mind works.

You've had ample time now to flatten out Saturday morning, to watch all the little layers of doubt and loathing form, and now you're sick of it. It's not often you're star witness to your own unhappiness, but, as if you were called to the stand, you can easily play back the moment you lit the match and then watched everything explode.

You're not sure what either of you were expecting. A playboy and you, who loves so insistently, almost as if out of spite—there is truly no reality in which it makes sense. The fact that you fought over a literal pot of ramyun only proves this.

And now he's saddled you with the final blow. The position of your dreams with none of the glory because he gave up.

He gave up.

None of this should matter to you.

You're standing outside the office, waiting for your ride to your celebratory dinner (this time, on Jeonghan). The little headline man in your brain is silent for once. Instead, you try to enjoy the breeze, honeyed with late June, and not dwell on the horrible twist in your stomach every time you think about your new position. It's been 24 hours since you found out but it is no less raw.

It's then that you catch Seungcheol, creeping out the double doors of the office like some sort of criminal. You're not sure if it's the plod of his Sasquatch feet or that bag you hate so dearly, but you could recognize that walk from anywhere.

His pace quickens when you turn to face him—he's running away. You won't grant him the satisfaction. Not when he's fucked up what little you had left, and then some.

"You're an idiot, Seungcheol."

That does the trick.

"Funny way of saying hi," he responds, bracing himself on the sidewalk as if you're about to hit him.

"Why didn't you submit anything? What the fuck were you thinking?"

"What does it matter to you? You got the position."

"Look, I—" You shut your eyes, feeling the frenetic ice-cream churn of your brain try to put together a million broken up words. "I'm sorry for Saturday. But I never wanted to scare you off from the job. You deserve it as much as I do, and, as much as I hate to say it, I care about you too fucking much to watch you throw away your shot."

Saying the words is like cutting something loose from your chest, a million strings coming undone.

Seungcheol takes a deep, unsteady breath. You watch the crest and fall of his shoulders and the inescapable tar pits he calls eyes get big and shiny.

"No, I—" He pulls himself from your gaze. "I'm sorry. I should have never said that to you. And I should have never treated you like that."

The silence between you ripples, as if after a long rain.

"I was scared. A long time ago, I threw myself into a relationship. I thought we had something really, really good, and then I found out she was also seeing someone else."

Being right never felt so bad. It's even worse that something you would look forward to—the I told you so, the jokes really write themselves—no longer holds any satisfaction, only a sense of loss and a terrible urge to make it right again.

"And it's not right, but I decided that it was a mistake to take chances like that again. And it was fine, fun even, going on all of these casual dates and getting paid for it. Then you just had to mess it up."

"H-how?"

"You were so dead-set on convincing me otherwise. You wouldn't let it go, not with your weird sayings and the way you talked about your ex and when you told me you were making me breakfast. I started believing you, and it really fucking scared me."

There's a sharp pain in your head. It feels like, at once, you were skinned like a fruit. Like the interlude between dream and waking, all the sheets of sleep yanked from your person.

"What…what about the article?" you ask, scrambling. You don't really want to contend with what he just told you. You don't think you can.

"You deserved it more. And you really love what you do. I used to think it was all bullshit, but I was wrong."

You take a hard swallow. The image of Seungcheol, head bowed, a nervous hand on the back of his neck, swims in front of your eyes.

"Whatever. I don't even know what I'm saying anymore," he laughs, mirthless.

"No, wait," you say. "I-I also…never took you seriously, not even when I should've. You know, I read your advice columns. Crazy, I know."

"I do have to say that is one of your more insane claims."

"No, I thought, they were actually, you know…really good." You watch him blink, mouth already twisting up as he fights a smile. "What I'm trying to say is that I think we messed up. In a lot of ways. But I want to be friends again. Or at least not enemies."

Seungcheol takes a long pause before he sticks his hand out.

"Choi Seungcheol. Writer. It's nice to meet you."

Some force, as if you had always been connected, pulls your skin to his. You shake his hand for the very first time, and starting over never felt so good.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

"You're booking Eleven Madison for the office dinner again, right?"

Wonwoo pops his head into your office, his Monday uniform now festive with a holiday tie. Today, it's snowmen with glasses.

"Naturally," you reply. "Unless you have plans on that Friday."

You're referring to last week, when Wonwoo took a call in the middle of a staff meeting and revealed that yes, he would most definitely be available for drinks with Yerim that evening. He ended the meeting thirty short seconds later, and you think you saw him skip to the elevator.

He laughs, deep and caramel. "Not this time. Also—don't forget to review those job applications. Sent them to your email."

Before you can tease him again, he leaves, and you are forced to look at your teeming inbox, the only unfortunate side effect of your new position. But you've never been happier, and a hundred new unread emails never seemed so wonderful. The first time Jeonghan saw you in your new office, you were so giddy he thought you were coming down with something.

You take a hefty sip of today's coffee (ginger, molasses, cinnamon). On the side of the cup, the one you keep facing away from the door, reads SEUNGCHEOL and OAT, in loopy marker letters.

After you shook hands in the parking lot, you agreed to take it slow. You thought bringing everything to a simmer would cure you of your affection, but it wasn't even a month before Seungcheol was back in that same seat in your kitchen, eating the blueberry waffles you promised him.

But if slow meant long phone calls and the nervous twine of your hands after an ice cream date, then you think you like slow. You could do slow for a while.

He's taken to bringing you coffee in the morning. He claims it's your editorial right, but you think he just likes having an excuse to barge into your office. (And close the door behind him. And kiss you. But that's aside the point.)

Plus, Seungcheol's had plenty of legitimate reasons to be in your office. The newest one is the launch of Ask Sunny! , which you think is the best idea he's had since deciding to get you coffee every day. He spent the last few days campaigning to reuse his old alias, but you're pretty sure he was just looking for reasons to argue with you.

"Afternoon, boss."

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. You always seem to learn the hard way with Seungcheol.

He swaggers in, ear-to-ear smile on his face, before taking a seat at the designated corner of your table.

"I think I like this desk better," he says, folding at the waist so he can lean close to you. Instead of reminding him it's the same desk, you just choose to make space for him, you let him press his nose to yours.

"Friendly reminder we're at work."

"Everyone's at lunch, genius."

He interrupts you with just a touch of his lips, which should be considered no less than a war crime by now.

"You are the worst."

"Not what you said last night. Not even close." He places another wet kiss on your nose before sliding off the table edge to his feet. There's a horrible warmth in his eyes as he watches you very clearly remember what exactly he's referring to. (A wandering hand. A cherry. Dark hair, wound through your fingers). "Anyway, I've got serious problems to solve. Or should I say Sunny? I still think we should have gone with Samuel."

"Executive decision," you tease. "Now if you don't need anything, scram. Out of my office."

"Just wanted to remind you I made reservations for us at Avra today," Seungcheol says, lingering in the doorframe with the shit-eating grin he tends to sport nowadays. "I'll even let you order."

There's no fighting the familiar bloom of laughter in your chest. It boils up, sparkling and citrusy, as you roll your eyes and watch Seungcheol return to his desk no less starry-eyed than how he walked in.

If cooking is a language, then love is the words, and you finally think you're learning to speak them.

You open the email at the top of your inbox: Seungcheol's last draft of the article he never published. You urged him to let you consider it for the next issue, and he finally caved (although you're learning that he really doesn't take much convincing when it comes to you).

Eat, Play, Love: A Guide.

Maybe you'd put it through. Maybe.

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

[moririki]

⤷ AN EIGHT-LEGGED PROBLEM

OIKAWA TOORU & SAKUSA KIYOOMI & HAIBA LEV & MIYA ATSUMU X READER -> 1.8K
you save your boyfriend from a massive problem which is currently in the corner of your bathroom )

REQUEST -> n/a
CONTAINS -> spiders, bugs, you picking up said creepy crawlies, hq boys being no! help! at! all! (but that's ok bc we love them for it), fanon-ish sakusa cos i haven't read the manga and he had like 5 seconds of screen time so i'm just going off of what i've read + seen, clear favouritism despite the fact that i know basically nothing about sakusa, manga timeskip spoilers in sakusa's
MORI'S THOUGHTS -> haven't seen one where the reader is the one in the relationship who takes care of bugs so since i'm a #girlboss who throws spiders out of my room whenever i see them without breaking a sweat i'm writing that into a fun lil thing with the haikyuu boys that i strongly believe are scared of bugs. also besides the point but look at the pretty colour palette that their banners make fjfjfjdj will go back to writing the requests after this! inspiration just struck

❍ OIKAWA TOORU

-> omg this fucking guy

-> don't let his pride fool you this man HATES bugs with a burning passion

-> he'll never admit it though

-> between you and the aoba johsai team he would never hear the end of how the great king oikawa would cower at the sight of a moth doing laps around a lightbulb

-> so when you pretended not to hear the shriek that left your boyfriend when he saw something flying around the bathroom light and he declined your offer to get rid of the moth for him, this left oikawa in a pretty difficult situation

-> it was just him alone in the bathroom, trying to brush his teeth while eyeing the bug warily

-> you came in a few minutes later, getting ready to go to bed as well

-> "you know, babe, that moth's been there for quite a while," you teased him

-> oikawa hummed in response, his eyes never leaving it as it continued its circumnavigation of the light fixture

-> "oh, you know. who am i to kick someone out of their home? i'm no monster"

-> you almost snorted at how poor of an excuse that was, but ruffled your boyfriend's hair anyway

-> "i'll take care of it, ru, you just finish getting ready"

-> "but y/n-chan, that moth has feelings! don't be mean to it!"

-> you gave tooru a very blank stare at that

-> "so do you want me to leave you alone with your new friend?"

-> "......no"

-> "that's what i thought"

-> you went up to the moth, managing to trap it in your hands before releasing it from a window

-> oikawa shuddered as you came back to the sink, giving your hands a quick rinse before resuming with brushing your teeth like nothing had happened

-> "you're so brave, my love"

-> "anything for you, babe"

❍ SAKUSA KIYOOMI

-> bless this poor boy

-> so it's no secret that sakusa isn't the fondest of germs

-> and that extends to bugs and spiders too

-> besides a normal amount of disgust that he held for them, the thought of where the insects had been or placed one of their many feet on never failed to make his skin crawl

-> that's where you, his wonderful significant other, comes in

-> as much as he loves you, he just can't understand how you always stared at bugs with wonder in your eyes

-> you'd even pick them up, cooing at the way they crawled up your arm while sakusa just stared at you in disbelief with a can of bug spray in hand

-> tonight was one of those swelteringly hot summer nights

-> you know, the ones where the air seems to be still no matter how many windows you open and every insect in a mile radius is actively trying to enter your home

-> you were spending the night at your boyfriend's apartment, ready to have a relaxing night in with him since your schedules had finally synced up and allowed you both to enjoy a day off at the same time

-> it took months of trust before sakusa finally admitted to you how much he enjoyed doing skincare

-> so whenever you two spent the night together, you decided to start the evening with some face masks and idle binging of a tv show

-> against his half-hearted protests, you had insisted that sakusa wore a headband while this happened (one that had a very cute duck face printed on it)

-> just to keep the curls out of his face, of course

-> whenever he caught you sneaking a candid of him with facemask and duck headband on, he just shot you a halfhearted glare and threatened you to never send that to atsumu or the rest of the msby team

-> (you set it as your home screen instead)

-> anyways, i digress

-> so tonight you decided to cool down from the heat with a few facemasks and cuddling in your boyfriend's heavily air conditioned living room

-> but he kept all his skincare stuff in the bathroom, so you went to go get them as he set up a show to watch along with some snacks

-> you flicked on the light, going to his cabinet when something in the corner of the room caught your eye

-> there was a fairly large spider, desperately trying to crawl up the smooth tile wall

-> you decided to take pity on it and release it

-> but when you had it cupped safely in your hands, you decided to terrorise your poor boyfriend just a little

-> "hey, omi, look what i found!"

-> your boyfriend perked up at your signature nickname for him, though his eyes narrowed as he saw your clasped hands held in front of you

-> "no"

-> "but baby, you haven't even seen-"

-> "no"

-> you giggled at how defensive he had become

-> "come on, don't you want to name it? it's very cute"

-> "i want you to throw it out, y/n"

-> "alright, alright"

-> you took the spider to a window, releasing it back outside before heading back to the bathroom and grabbing a few masks for real this time

-> sakusa gave you the cold shoulder as you sat down next to him, humming as you gave him a face mask and putting it on without a word

-> "aww, baby, i'm sorry"

-> "..."

-> "i'll give you a head massage if you stop ignoring me?"

-> sakusa turned to you, his eyes narrowed in thought as he stared you down

-> the act soon broke, though, and he smiled against the sheet mask that was on his face

-> "it better be a good one," he huffed as he tugged the duck headband off, already sighing at the sensation of your fingers against his scalp

-> "omi, come on, what do you take me for?"

❍ HAIBA LEV

-> ngl lev gives off equal amounts of being terrified of like the tiniest spider or just finding bugs insanely cool vibes

-> it's funnier to imagine this 6-foot-something guy scramble away from a fucking crane fly in terror though so this is how it's going to play out

-> when you invited your giant of a boyfriend to your flat, you didn't anticipate just how small he made everything appear

-> he even towered in your doorway, having to stoop to step through into your hall

-> "woahh, i love your place!"

-> it was his first time staying over for the night, and lev was making sure to drink in every aspect of your interior design

-> you found it sweet of him, and watched as he stared in wide-eyed wonder at the little trinkets you had collected over the years to make your small apartment seem more like a home

-> you didn't expect him to scream at the top of his lungs and practically run back to you, though

-> you jumped at the sound, watching as he scrambled away from your lamp and pointed back at it with a shaking finger

-> you squinted at it, making out the very menacing form of a crane fly as it bumped into the lampshade and continued on its path

-> "lev, you big baby," you giggled, heading to the kitchen to grab a glass and trap it

-> "y/n, don't leave me alone with it!" he yelped, and you rolled your eyes at his antics

-> you came back, smoothly capturing the insect and throwing it out of a nearby window

-> lev was sat on your couch the whole time, hands covering his eyes as he curled in a ball

-> "is it gone?" he asked, and you you giggled at how childlike he was acting at the moment

-> "it's all good, baby" you smoothed his hair and lev gratefully leaned into your touch, a sigh of relief leaving him

-> "thank you, y/n"

-> "i'll get rid of all the bugs in the world for you, lev"

❍ MIYA ATSUMU

-> gives off the vibes that he used to eat bugs as a child i'm sorry but

-> have mercy on his soul lmao

-> so twins are supposed to be identical right?

-> anyone who spends more than a few minutes around the miya twins know that that's a complete fucking lie

-> and you've had the misfortune of being friends with them for a very long time

-> like your mums were friends and you were all born around the same time

-> you've been pulled into their shit before you could walk or talk

-> so you're well aware of just how different these mfs are

-> even though they were both absolute bastards, osamu always had a slightly more mellowed out approach which would always end up with atsumu getting the blame for what they got up to

-> especially as a child, osamu loved to terrorise his twin with the unwilling help of you

-> one of the ways was through osamu exploiting one of his twins' fears

-> that being bugs and spiders

-> he always cackled at the sight of atsumu screaming and trying to run away from him due to the spider he was holding

-> as they both grew up, this became less of a frequent thing for osamu to do

-> you also somehow started dating atsumu, but nobody could exactly pinpoint a moment that signified a beginning to your relationship

-> but since you're dating the world's biggest manchild in disguise, and osamu gets annoyed with atsumu quite easily, you would have to swoop in to rescue him from time to time

-> recently the twins had been getting a little snappy with each other, and it had yet to sort itself out

-> from what you had heard your boyfriend was in the wrong this time, but you still listened to him whine and rant about it

-> you were going to the inarizaki school gym to say hi to your boyfriend and best friend before practice started, only to see absolute chaos unfolding

-> with kita yet to arrive, the twins were effectively unleashed and that much was clear with the way atsumu was practically screaming his head off as he ran around the gym

-> your eyes took in the rest of the players- aran had his head in his hands, suna was snickering with his phone out to record the newest miya twin fight, and osamu's deranged laugh could be heard above everything else as he chased his brother, hand held out in front of him

-> only one thing was capable of making atsumu scream like that, so you already knew what was happening

-> atsumu quickly spotted you hovering in the doorway, and made a beeline to where you were

-> his eyes were panicked, and you were quick to wrap him in a hug as you shot osamu a nasty glare over his shoulder

-> literally this lmfao

-> "that's enough, 'samu"

-> your best friend paused, before a smile spread across his face as he dangled the centipede in front of him

-> "you know it was rubber, right?"

-> you felt your boyfriend tense in your arms and you bit your lip to stifle a small giggle

-> but at least they would be back to normal by the end of today

back to the menu - ,, 🕷 ·˚ ༘ ꒱

[hawkwhore]

hi hi hi could i request a hawk imagine where it’s an enemies to lovers kinda thing, so hawk is still in cobra kai and y/n is in miyagi do. basically tori hurts her and he sees her after and gets protective over her, then they get close and kinda secretly date... something like that haha THANK YOUUU <33333

Do Better — Eli Hawk Moskowitz x Female!Reader

HI OMG IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. I literally had an entirely different fic at like 8k words for this before I decided it didn’t fit close enough to the prompt and I just completely started over and this one was even longer than the first so that’s why it took me literal ages LOL.

includes; swearing, fluff, fighting, so much angst

words; 11,394 (im sorry its a whole ass novel)

this takes place late s2, after demetri and hawk’s friendship ends but before eagle fang forms!

Most of your time in high-school you spent in a bubble, keeping to yourself and just your few friends. You didn’t involve yourself in other people’s crap very often, but when an all-out karate war happened at the end of your junior year, you couldn’t keep lurking in the shadows anymore.

Bullying was becoming heavy at your school, and while you weren’t usually a target, you grew tired of watching other people get hurt. Primarily, by a familiar face to you-- Eli Moskowitz.

Not that you knew him particularly well, but you remembered the shy boy you’d shared classes with, and you always tried your best to be nice to him knowing how others treated him.

You never would’ve thought that now he’d be the bully, destroying the confidence of other kids who were just like him.

“Look at this kid,” He laughed to his friend, Mitch. The two boys were standing in the hall, hovering over a small, scrawny boy who looked terrified. “You wanna be in Cobra Kai? Well, see, we had to be un-flinched first. We can do that for you right now, though. See how much you can take.” He teased, threatening a punch, watching the boy wince at his movement.

When you were in the halls on your way to your next class, you witnessed this horrible incident. You watched for a moment, before deciding that it was time for you to step out of your bubble. “Hey, leave him alone.” You said annoyedly, urging the boys to give it up.

Hawk turned to you and leered, and Mitch pushed the kid against the locker so he wouldn’t move while they dealt with you. “Be careful who you talk to like that, princess.” He moved dangerously close, and despite the feelings of anger you had towards him, your stomach dropped a little at the nickname.

Not letting it affect you, you came back bitterly. “Oh yeah? And who am I talking to, Eli?” His face contorted in disgust at the use of his real name. “You know, it’s sad, how you became everything you used to despise. I remember the other side of you, you were sweet..” You said, smiling to your self in remembrance. “And now look at you.” Looking at him in resentment, you finished.

Turning angrily on his heel at your words, Hawk punched the boy in the face and let him go running. He looked back at you with a look of victory, and Mitch smirked. “You better watch your back.” Hawk said threateningly, and knocked his shoulder into yours as he walked to his class.

Through the rest of the day, Hawk thought about you. He knew who you were; Y/N, the only girl to ever be nice to him during his shier days. He remembered the feeling he got any time you’d talked to him, and also how pretty you looked each time you did.

He had almost forgotten until then, how much he had always admired you. He even wanted to ask you out all that time ago, but now too much has changed. Way too much, clearly, because when the commercial for Miyagi-Do came out, you were quick to join.

It was that interaction with Hawk that really set you off, actually. You wanted to be able to stop the cruelty, and you thought that joining Miyagi-Do for defense would be a good start.

Little did you know, the rivalry would only grow.

As weeks passed, Miyagi-Do gained students and flourished. But in the meanwhile, Cobra Kai only got rougher, angrier, and just.. worse, in general.

You had done your best to avoid fights, (like a true Miyagi-Do would) but on a particularly bad day of yours, you were unlucky enough to find yourself running into Tory outside of school.

Being close friends with Sam, you knew to stay clear of Tory after hearing what she did to her. You thought Tory was a vile human being, though, and if she were to start anything-- she was probably the one person you wouldn’t hesitate to absolutely destroy.

When on your way to the dojo, you took a pit stop at a convenience store to pick up some snacks since you had some time to kill between after school and when practice started. You were met with an unpleasant surprise on your way out, when you saw Tory approaching the store.

The two of you made eye contact as you crossed paths, and you decided to ignore her and keep walking. Until, as you walked past each other, Tory stuck out her leg and tripped you over the concrete pathway.

“Are you kidding me, bitch?” You pushed yourself up, scoffing at her, and she smiled maniacally. “What’d you just call me?” She teased, obviously looking for a fight.

As much as you wanted to stay calm, you were pushed over the edge. “You heard me, bitch.” You repeated, letting her know you were not afraid. “What’s your problem? I keep away from you and you just can’t help yourself from starting something. I’ve never even done anything to you.” You confronted Tory, looking for an explanation for her behavior.

It was true, you’d hardly ever interacted with her-- but since you’re in Miyagi-Do and friends with Sam, she just didn’t like you. And Tory being Tory, if she didn’t like someone, she was going to be a bitch about it.

She laughed at your attempt to reason with her, and looked at you in self-satisfaction. “I just think it’d be fun to watch you bleed.” She seemed proud at the insult, stepping forward threateningly-- but you thought it was pretty lame.

Clearly, she had no real answer for the questions you asked her. She was far gone in her own world, using only anger to dictate her decisions.

You had let out a disappointed sigh, shaking your head, and turned to simply leave the situation, remembering that it wasn’t worth it. But Tory had other plans.

She grabbed your wrist, twisting it painfully forcing your body to face her. You quickly rotated it to release yourself from her grip, and punched her in the face with your newly freed hand.

“Leave me alone, Tory. This fighting for no reason crap is bullshit.” You said, stepping out of her proximity and holding your fists up in case of needed defense. Tory felt blood trickle from her nose, and as she wiped it from her face, she threw you a sickening sneer.

Seemingly avid on letting her rage out on you, she only continued. “You’re pathetic.” She cackled, taking a swing at you. You blocked this, but the movement left an opening for her to then kick your stomach, which sent you to the ground.

Before you could manage to get up again, she was hovering over you, punching your face repeatedly. It wasn’t until the pain was sinking in that you finally gained enough power to push her off, rolling forward and pinning her down tightly.

You grabbed a fistful of her hair, turning her face towards the ground. “Give it up, Tory.” She stayed quiet, breathing heavily, until she used her remaining strength to free her arm and dig her elbow into your side.

You fell back at this, and you were now both sat on the ground, mere inches from each other. “Seriously, I mean what’s the point? What are you gaining from this besides a couple of bruises?” You stood up, asking again.

You genuinely wanted to know, what could make a person so heartless. You had done nothing to provoke her, yet she was so intent on hurting you. Your question had unfortunately only sparked her rage again, the way you acted so ‘above it all,’ in Tory’s mind made her only angrier.

She rose, charging towards you for another strike, when the owner of the convenience store came out. “What the hell is this? Do I need to call the police?” The man asked. He had caught you in the blocking position of Tory’s attack, and she bitterly pushed herself off of you.

“You got lucky.” She spat, walking back towards the store she was originally on her way into. “Think about it, Tory! Why?” You yelled as she walked away, wanting your final words to sink into her.

You assured the owner that you were fine, and that he didn’t need to get the cops involved. You took out your phone and checked your complexion in the front camera, cringing seeing the cuts and bruises from Tory’s punches all over your face.

But remembering the bloody nose you had given her in your first punch, you smiled to yourself. Looking at your phone’s clock, you had certainly killed the time, but much more than you had wanted to. You were going to be late, so you texted Sam, alerting her that you got in a fight (sparing the details for later,) and that you would be late to practice.

You figured you could just clean up your cuts when you got home, it wasn’t a big deal, probably. But on your walk to the dojo, a passing car slowed at the sight of you. You started walking faster, instantly assuming the worst, but when the window rolled down, you heard a familiar, extremely unpleasant voice. Hawk.

“On your way to practice, huh? Still no car?” He taunted, knowing you still hadn’t saved up enough to buy your own. You glanced at him and rolled your eyes, continuing to walk down the sidewalk. How many enemies were you going to bump into today?

That was when he noticed your face. “Jesus, Y/N, what happened to you?” He laughed, fully stopping the car. You halted and responded annoyedly, “Tory happened. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to be late.” Turning back towards the walkway, you continued down the street.

But before you could get far, Hawk had gotten out of his car and caught up to you. “You’re not seriously headed to the dojo like that are you?” He said confusedly, trying to keep up with your pace.

You looked at him like his question was stupid, and continued walking. At your ignoring of him, he pushed his point further. “You need to clean those cuts.” He said, still following close behind you as you walked.

“Since when do you care?” You said irritated, continuing to disregard the boy’s words. At this, he finally stopped following. “You know what, fine.” He stood, speaking sharply, and you looked at him curiously at his abruptness. “Just trying to help, or, be nice or whatever.” He muttered aggravatedly, raising his hands in mocking surrender at your attitude.

You had ignored his concerns, because quite honestly you didn’t believe he was actually concerned. You had assumed it was some sort of set up for a new insult, or a way to just mess up your face even more.

“Oh yeah? That’s pretty unusual for you, isn’t it?” You said rudely, engaging back in the conversation. Hawk pursed his lips together and shifted uncomfortably.

You didn’t know it, but Hawk still cared about you. He may have changed, but his feelings for you hadn’t— as much as he tried to get them to. And right now, seeing you hurt, and since there was nobody around to judge him for it, he wanted to help you.

“Look, I’ve got some first aid stuff in my car. Let me help.” He stayed where he was, not wanting to provoke you, and spoke softly, nudging his head towards his car.

You narrowed your eyes looking at him, feeling skeptical of accepting the invitation. He noticed your hesitation, but did not back down, looking at you expectantly for an answer.

You let out an exasperated sigh, and walked towards his car without saying a word. Continuing to argue with him about it seemed like a waste of time to you at this point.

Hawk smiled to himself in relief that you gave in. Hurrying after you, he retrieved the first aid kit from the trunk of his car and ran to open the passenger seat door.

“You wanna sit?” He pointed at the seat, motioning you to take it. You dropped your bag and got in the car, still glaring at Hawk.

He seemed sincere in his intentions, but you really just wanted to get out of there as soon as possible. Who knows what he could really be planning?

As you took your seat, you reached out to take the kit from Hawk’s grasp. “Hold on,” he said, moving the box away from your reach.

You gave him a bothered look, scrunching your eyebrows in confusion. “Have you ever even done this before?” He said, referring to cleaning up after a fight.

“No?” You shrugged, “It can’t be that hard.” You said impatiently, reaching for the box again. “Can you please just let me do it? I’ll show you how for next time.” He practically pleaded, wanting to make sure it was done right so you healed properly.

You didn’t understand why it was such a big deal to him, but you were tired of going back and forth with him. “Whatever, just make it quick. I’ll miss all of karate class at this rate.” You complained, moving closer to the edge of the seat so Hawk could reach you.

The height of his car made you two the same height, so Hawk was face to face with you as you were seated. “Hmm, miss a Miyagi-Do lesson? I don’t see the problem.” He joked, almost making light of their rivalry.

You smiled lightly at that, playfully rolling your eyes, but not saying anything. He stood close enough to examine your face, and it was close enough to make you both nervous.

It was silent as he opened the kit and started to clean your cuts, but you broke it to ask a question that was burning in you. “Why are you doing this?”

He looked at you for a second, looking reluctant to answer your question. “What do you mean?” He dodged, continuing to tend to your bruises.

You laughed, knowing full well he knew what you meant, but deciding to answer him anyway. “Why are you helping me? We aren’t friends.” You said plainly, making sure to keep your face still.

“I don’t know, you just obviously needed it.” He brushed off the seriousness of the question, starting to dab the cloth over your lip so you couldn’t talk.

You pushed his hand away lightly. “That’s hardly an answer. You’d never help a Miyagi-Do, so why?” You snapped, not letting his hand near your face again until he answered.

He finally took a step back, and stared at you looking defeated. “You’re the only one who was ever nice to me. Before.. this.” He pointed to his hair, referring to the era of The Hawk.

You crossed your arms skeptically. “Aren’t you forgetting someone?” You asked expectantly, and he rolled his eyes. “Demetri’s different, okay? He betrayed me. But you..”

He trailed off, struggling to maintain eye contact with you. “You were never anything but good to me. You deserve better.” He said, and your heart both stung and fluttered at once, trying to figure out what was going on with him.

You wondered if his actions were truly coming from a place of sincerity. It was very unlike him to be anything but an asshole, so hearing something like that come out of his mouth really made you think.

He tried to ignore the sentiment he had just said by walking back towards you and starting to tend to your wounds again, but you only pushed him back for a second time.

“I don’t understand what happened to you.” You said sadly, examining the way he stood. “I changed.” He said monotonously, trying to avoid matching your energy of seriousness.

His hot-and-cold temper was starting to annoy you, the way he would open up just to close right back down again.

“Yeah, and not for the better. Are you even happy?” You said, frustrated, looking at him hard. His face turned sour.

“More than I was before!” He yelled, stepping towards you threateningly. You were taken aback at his outburst, suddenly feeling small as he grew angrier. “My life was hell, remember?” His voice cracked, and he tried to calm himself as he saw the way you leaned back into your seat uncomfortably.

“Look, I’m sorry for keeping you, I probably cleaned you up enough so... just go.” He said softly, sounding regretful as he moved out of the way so you could get out of the car.

You furrowed your brows in confusion. You felt completely clueless on how he was feeling, and you didn’t want to leave it like this. “Hawk-“, you started, but he cut you off. “No, just go.” He pointed away. “I was stupid to think I’d get a second chance with you.” He muttered to himself, turning to walk around to the drivers seat of his car.

“Wh— second chance? What do you mean?” You shouted after him and hopped off the seat, grabbing his arm before he could get too far.

At your tug of his arm, he looked back at you with the most intense feeling in his eyes. Not wanting to use his words anymore, Hawk turned to grab your wrist from the hand that was already resting on his arm, and pulled you against him.

Hawk smashed his lips onto yours, holding you loosely in fear of your rejection. You weren’t expecting it, but you didn’t pull away. Your kiss continued and you subconsciously shuffled backwards, now being able to lean against the side of the car as he grew more passionate in his movements.

Being with him like this felt amazing, but it was confusing, too-- you had to pull away and clear up this situation.

Finally letting each other go, Hawk looked at you with glossy eyes. You had no idea where all of this came from or what to say, so you were silent as you waited for him to explain.

He knew what you were waiting for, and sighed deeply before expressing how he felt. “I just feel like after everything, I owe you my best.” Hawk said quietly, and you waited for him to go on, having not yet made up your mind on the whole situation.

You enjoyed the kiss, yes-- but you didn’t understand why it had happened, and that was something you needed to know before anything could proceed further. Hawk was a jerk, and he was going to have a lot of explaining to do for you to suddenly be able to forget that.

He moved even closer, and reached his hand out to brush your hair away from your face. “And I don’t like seeing you hurt.” He whispered, ghosting his fingers across the bruises on your face.

You felt a shiver down your spine as he touched you, closing your eyes in the moment. “And,” he pulled away from you, his voice changing to a more regular tone again, “I don’t ever want to be the reason you feel pain. Not after all those times you helped me escape mine.” He said, reaching out to hold your hand, as he referred to how you were there for him so long ago.

Pure concern and care for Hawk overtook you as the words left his lips, and you had never felt so conflicted in your life. It made sense to you now why he would often avoid you, whereas others he’d make it his mission to pick fights with.

He had just admitted to caring about you, and that he never wanted to be at fault for your hurt. He had a reputation to uphold, but he really did have a soft spot for you that never went away.

You felt like you were talking to Eli again, as though the sweet boy he once was had never left, but you also knew that once this moment was over, he’d go back to his corrupt ways again. And that terrified you.

All these new feelings for Hawk were rising in you, but how could you act on them when he was supposed to be your enemy?

He studied your expression, waiting for you to say something. He felt more confident now, seeing as you kissed him back, but he was still nervous for whatever you were about to say.

“What do we do?” You spoke shakily, your expression timid and lost. He caressed his thumb over your hand, noticing your own nerves. “What do you mean?” He asked, not expecting that to be your first question.

“I’ve always cared about you and you know that, but then you go through all these changes and become a total dick, and now you kiss me and tell me how you care too.” You say awkwardly, trying to point out the weirdness of the situation. “I’m confused, Hawk, and afraid. We can’t be together when everything about our lives will keep us apart.” You whimpered, scattering your eye contact.

His heart leapt at the mention of you two being together, but frowned once registering the context of the words. He suddenly felt guilty, seeing how distressed you were. Maybe he shouldn’t have done this, he thought.

But it was too late now, and as he released your hand to move forward and hold you, he never wanted to let go.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled into your ear. He knew his recent actions since joining Cobra Kai weren’t exactly admirable-- he knew he should do better. But it was hard; and all he could muster right now, was an apology.

There was a lot to process in such a short moment of time, and you felt overwhelmed. You felt comforted and safe as he held you, but at the same time you felt wrong for feeling that way.

Maybe he was trying to do right by you, but would that be enough if he continued to act terribly when everyone else was around? You needed some time to think. “I should go.” You pulled away from his grasp, trying to be gentle even though your exit was abrupt.

“Oh,” he nodded, watching as you picked up your karate bag. “I just don’t want everyone at the dojo to worry.” You said, trying to rid the conversation of its tension.

He was trying to play it cool, but he was screaming on the inside, terrified that once you left you would never talk to him again. “Just promise you’ll fix that when you get home.” Referring to your still-slightly-messed-up face, he urged you, unable to refrain from making sure you took care of yourself.

You smiled sadly and nodded in response, feeling awkward about everything as you turned to walk back on your route towards the dojo. “And um,” You looked back at him once more. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” You said, assuming he wouldn’t want his Cobra Kai friends to find out he had kissed a Miyagi-Do.

His heart broke when you said this-- you basically thought he was ashamed of you? In a way you were right, he didn’t want them to know. But the guilt that spread across his face at your words, showed how badly he wanted to tell everyone just how much he liked you.

Clearing his throat, he tried to pull himself together again. “Right, yeah. See you.” He said, and watched you for a moment as you walked away.

Getting back into his car, he fought the emotions threatening to spill out, and pushed them away as he headed home. He couldn’t stop thinking about his next move, and what would happen next time he saw you.

Obviously the first thing he would want to do is kiss you, and hold you, and touch you.. but he knew that instead he would likely end up being encouraged by his friends to attack you in some way.

He couldn’t just say, ‘back off guys, she’s cool, i like her now.’ because that would definitely earn him a beating and a seat at the rejects table. He had been fighting these feelings for so long because of this exact reason, and he was pissed at himself that he couldn’t have just kept it under control for longer.

It would have been easier for him, and you. Even you were worrying as you walked to practice about what you were going to do when you saw him again. Your friends may be more forgiving than Hawk’s, but you doubted they’d be particularly thrilled about any of this news.

They would surely tell you to be careful, not to trust him, that it was just a game to find a weakness in you. These doubts inflicted your mind constantly, and it sucked that you had to figure all of it out on your own.

You were a half-hour late to karate when you arrived, and luckily Sensei Larusso had the tools to heal the remaining injuries on your face. You explained what happened with Tory, but you didn’t tell them about Hawk.

Your classmates were angry, Sam especially, and you were too. But after everything, you knew nobody in Cobra Kai was really in their right mind. Tory was an out of control girl with aggression issues, and Hawk was constantly battling a feeling of pressure and pent-up rage.

The worst thing about being in Miyagi-Do, was knowing the right way to go, and knowing that the right way was going to be a long, slow, and difficult process. It was a waiting game at this point-- how many fights would it take for the Cobra Kai kids to realize that wasn’t what they needed to do?

How much pain would they all have to endure, to realize there were better ways to solve their problems? You had only hoped that Hawk taking this step towards you was a step in the right direction-- and that maybe the rest of the Cobras would soon follow.

But until then, it was a secret. And the next few times you saw Hawk were an extreme struggle for the both of you.

Each passing day that you’d make eye contact at school, you’d both immediately look away. Neither of you had spoken or even texted since the kiss, and you were both failing miserably at proper communication.

At first, you thought that maybe the whole thing had been a mistake, and maybe it should just be left alone. But recalling everything Hawk said to you that day, you couldn’t ignore how real it felt. You wanted to be with him, but you had no clue how to go about that.

You were waiting for Hawk to make the next move, but to Hawk-- the ball was in your court. You had left him there, with no definite answer on how you felt about it, and never got back to him since. It seemed to him like you wanted to forget about it, so when one of Moon’s parties rolled around that weekend, he decided to forget about it too.

You were coming to the party, but got there late; and what a wonderful sight it was for the first thing to see as you walk in be Hawk, face inches away from another girl’s, flirting the night away.

Of course, you thought, feeling disgusted at what was in front of you. Of course everything he said was bullshit. You couldn’t figure out for the life of you what his goal was in pretending to care for you, especially when he got basically nothing out of it except a stupid kiss he could’ve gotten from anyone-- but clearly none of it was as real as you thought it was.

It’d been a few days, sure, but you thought maybe tonight you’d finally just talk to him. You watched as the girl played with the string of Hawk’s hoodie, and feeling a pang of jealousy you decided to walk by them, making sure your presence was known.

It definitely worked, because at the notice of your movements he excused himself from the conversation and followed you out towards the pool, where you had gone to get away from the sight of Hawk and the girl.

“Hey.” He whispered, as you poured yourself a drink. “Hi.” You replied boredly with your back turned to him, not exactly feeling excited to have a conversation with him.

He looked around, scoping out who may be listening, but luckily the only others outside were heavily invested in the drinking game going on at the other side of the patio.

Hawk could tell you were bothered about the girl, but didn’t understand why, since you had so obviously been avoiding him.

“Can we talk?” He asked, still being cautious as to not attract any attention. “Go ahead.” You were being difficult, but quite frankly you thought he deserved it. He made you spend days analyzing what had happened between you, only for him to move on from it after a few days?

He stomped closer, and you looked up at him. “You know we can’t talk here.” He nodded his head towards the back of the yard, hoping you’d go with him somewhere private.

You scoffed, and looked at the spot doubtfully. You were upset, but still curious to hear what he had to say. “Fine.” You rolled your eyes, feeling disappointed in yourself for giving in, but you couldn’t pretend you weren’t dying to know what the hell he was thinking.

Hawk walked eagerly to the secluded part of Moon’s property, hoping to get some clarity from you. But before Hawk could say anything, your anger got the best of you.

“So what the hell is your problem?” You started, as soon as you knew you were out of earshot from the rest of the party. Hawk looked taken aback, his eyebrows immediately coming together. “Me? What are you talking about?” He said, offended.

You looked at him in disbelief, mouth dropping open slightly. “Are you joking? Are we going to pretend you weren’t just about to make out with that girl in there?” You said, feeling a twinge of hurt from your own words.

His face knotted in confusion and annoyance. “Seriously? You’re jealous right now? After I confessed everything to you, and you avoided me for days afterwards, I was just supposed to think you actually wanted me?” He tried to keep his voice down, but his emotions were getting the better of him.

“What? I just needed some time to think! It’s not like you bothered to text me either!” You whisper-shouted, now feeling like you were missing something.

“Well when you kiss someone and they basically run away from you, who’s responsibility do you think it is to reach out after?!” He threw his arms up in bafflement, looking at you expectantly.

Your face fell to a look of guilt, and eventually his did too. Suddenly you both felt like idiots at how far you jumped to conclusions.

“I was gonna talk to you today. But when I saw you in there with that girl, all these insecurities just came over me. I thought everything you said was just some Cobra prank and it never meant anything.” Your face drooped, feeling a little embarrassed to admit any of this.

His eyes saddened, and he shook his head. “And I just thought you hated me, and that no matter what I said it’d never be enough for you to forgive me.” He explained his own worry, and your eyes started to water at his words.

Feeling overwhelmed after finally being able to piece together what had been going on this whole time, you sprung into his arms, hugging him tightly. You both stayed embraced, enjoying the feeling of comfort from each other once again, until you finally felt strong enough to pull yourself away.

He kept a hand around your head, as though cradling something delicate. “I meant everything I said that day. It’s not a scheme. I want to be with you.” He told you, proving your suspicions wrong.

You smiled weakly, feeling warm at his confession, but nervous for what’s to come. “I’m sorry I never texted you, but I just don’t get how we’re going to do this.” You said, unconvinced. “We can’t tell anyone, and despite whatever we have, there are a lot more reasons why we won’t work than will.” You look away, your mood of happiness faltering at the idea of being realistic.

“I mean, you know I like you Hawk. And maybe it’s different for us, but, I can’t exactly support the way you treat other people.” You say reluctantly, trying not to sound rude. Hawk gulped, looking down shamefully.

Not wanting to think realistically right now, he ignored what you said and pulled you closer. “We’ll figure it out.” He said sweetly, and moved his hand to lift your chin, kissing you tenderly. As nervous as you were about all of it, the way he kissed you somehow seemed to make all your worries disappear.

Just then as your lips met, sirens went off nearby. “Shit, cops?” Hawk said, breaking apart from you. You giggled at the unfortunate turn of events. “You go that way,” you pointed him in the opposite direction of where you were planning to exit, not wanting others to notice you were together. “See you around.” You said playfully, and he caught on to your plan.

Before he could give you a final peck or even say goodbye, you were gone around the corner of the house, and he wondered longingly when he’d finally be able to kiss you again.

The next couple days at school you’d both done your best to avoid looking suspicious with each other. There were many stolen glances, and lots of private texts, but you both somehow managed to keep whatever fling you two had completely under wraps.

Though you had been initially uncomfortable with the whole secret-dating-thing, you eventually gave up on worrying about what would happen if others found out. You were happy, and having a lot of fun sneaking around with Hawk.

You noticed he had even toned down some of his bullying, and your heart felt full at the thought that he might have done that for you. Of course, there were always a few ‘slip-ups’.. but he made sure you weren’t around to see those.

Even if it was difficult, it was thrilling in a way-- having make-out sessions in his car when no one was around to see, and slipping in through each others’ windows at night to see each other... 

It was fun, pretending to hate each other by day, and then not being able to stay away from each other by night. It felt like the whole school was being pranked, and you two were the only ones in on it.

It had been a few weeks now since you admitted to liking each other at Moon’s party, and you were now headed to the sports shed near the soccer field where Hawk had asked you to meet him after school.

You’d came here and gotten a little wild with him twice before, so at the invitation you fully expected to be met with an aggressive Hawk, ready to hook up. But instead when you opened the shed door, he was standing shyly and gave you the sweetest smile.

“Hey,” he said, taking a small step forward to meet where you were standing. “Hi, baby,” you grinned and kissed him chastely, taking note of the more innocent energy coming from him today.

He wrapped his arms around you, his eyes examining your face adoringly. “Um,” he said, radiating nervousness and backing up slightly. “What’s up?” You smiled at him curiously, taking his hands in yours.

After only a moment, he released his hands from your hold, and you suddenly felt concerned. Why was he acting so weird? You watched confusedly as he fiddled with the inside pocket of his jacket, not saying a word.

Pulling out a small box, he opened it to reveal a simple but beautiful silver necklace. “Hawk!” You gasped, looking at it in awe. He felt more confident at your reaction, and felt safe to say something again.

“I thought that, since we always have to act around each other, you could wear it as a reminder of how we really feel.” He said, searching your expression for some sort of approval.

You stared at him in admiration, not yet able to find the words to respond. “It’s simple, so nobody will think it means anything, but, we’ll know.” He spoke again, hoping for it to grant a response from you this time.

Your face began to bloom with happiness. Taking the box from his hands, you kissed him passionately. “I love it. Can you put it on me?” You asked cheerfully, and Hawk smiled brightly. “Yeah,” he nodded excitedly, turning you around.

You did your best to move your hair out of the way, and Hawk gently pushed the few stray strands to the side. Feeling his fingers brush across your skin, you breathed heavily. You could feel his own breath hot on your neck, as he clasped the two ends of the jewelry together.

With your back still against his torso, he placed his hands around your waist, starting to leave soft kisses against your ear, and down towards your collarbone.

You closed your eyes, soaking in the feeling, until the door of the shed barged open. You stumbled away from each other in shock, and looked to see Tory standing in front of the both of you.

“I knew it! What the hell is this, Hawk?” She screamed, prowling towards you. Feeling completely unprepared from the utter suddenness of the situation, you stepped back in fear. “What are you doing here!?” Hawk shouted, ignoring Tory’s question as he blocked her path from getting to you.

She sneered at the both of you, stopping as she noticed his protectiveness over you. “I’ve noticed how you sneak off at the end of school. I finally decided to follow you here.” She said matter-of-factly, giving you a glare.

“So what is she, Hawk? Your girlfriend?” She taunted, starting to circle you. Out of everything she’d said so far, that was the thing that actually made you the most nervous. You hadn’t actually used that word before... ‘girlfriend,’ you hadn’t really made it official, despite how much it felt like you already had.

You weren’t sure how Hawk would react now that he was caught, but you desperately hoped he would say, ‘Yes, she is, and I love her.’ But that was nowhere close, to what he said.

“What? No! We’re just having some fun, alright? It doesn’t mean anything.” He forced a laugh, stepping away from you. Your heart ached. This is what you were afraid of. You knew it was probably for the best for him to have said that, but you couldn’t ignore the hurt you felt when you heard him say it.

You wished he would’ve right then and there just admitted it, stood up for himself, and chosen you. He could’ve just told the truth, and left Cobra Kai, and been with you. But you weren’t enough. He had a reputation to uphold.

“Oh, really.” Tory scoffed, barely believing his lie as she looked between the two of you. “You can have fun with anyone, Hawk, and you a choose a Miyagi-Do?” She spat, staring him down, and his usually-confident demeanor diminished instantly. “Break it off, or I tell everyone.”

Storming off, her threat lingered in the air as the two of you stood alone, unable to meet each other’s gazes.

“Maybe we should just end this, Y/N.” Hawk spoke meekly, finally breaking the silence. Your eyes widened in horror, forcing yourself to look up at him. “What?” You said, your voice faltering. “So that’s just it then?”

Tears threatened to spill out of your eyes again as he met your stare. “We don’t have any other choice!” He shouted angrily, getting in your face. Your mouth fell agape at the way he was acting, your expression hardening.

“Yes, we DO!” You shouted back, and sobs started to escape you. You of course meant the choice being he stands up to the Cobras, and fights for your relationship. You understood his dilemma in the beginning, but at this point none of it seemed worth it to you anymore.

His eyes were fixated on you intensely, and his mind was running a mile a minute trying to figure out what to do.

“You can easily stand up to them, the Cobras! You’re stronger than all of them combined. Why won’t you fight for us?” You cried, searching for any sign in his face that showed he regretted his words. He had never said so, but you could tell the only thing holding him back was the fear of the Cobras’ reactions.

His insides scrambled with guilt watching you cry. But he had to stay strong. Unaffected, unfazed, completely unbothered. That’s how he forced his expression to appear as he turned and left the shed, leaving you alone and in pain as you watched your worst fear come true.

“Hawk!” You yelled after him, but he only kept walking. “What happened to never wanting to be the reason I felt pain?” Your voice cracked, and you wiped your tears from your face, giving up.

Your words cut into Hawk like a knife. If even possible, Hawk was hurting more than you. Each step he took farther away from where you stood, he felt his heart scatter into another piece. He wished things could be different, too-- but you were too much of a risk.

Cobra Kai may be a large reason for his troubles, but it was also the only reason he was still on top. He wanted you so bad, but he was too afraid to let go of everything else just to have you.

It was safer this way, he told himself. If nobody knew, you’d be safer. You wouldn’t have to be involved in the drama that would come from it, you wouldn’t have another reason for the Cobras to come after you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about him anymore.

Hawk repeated these things to himself over and over to make himself feel better about the way things ended. But no matter what he told himself, it was never enough for him to fully believe that he made the right choice.

Feeling helpless, you called the only person you thought might understand. “D-Demetri?” You spoke into the phone, taking a gasp for air between sobs.

“Y/N? Are you ok?” He answered, sounding worried. “I need to talk to you, can you-” You paused, trying to catch your breath. “Can you come get me?” You were nervous he wouldn’t be able to, but you needed someone in person, not over text.

You and Demetri weren’t particularly besties, so for you to call him out of the blue, crying, was extremely worrisome to him. “Uh, yeah, okay sure. I only just left so I can turn back.”

Letting out a shaky breath of relief, you thanked Demetri and hung up, walking out of the shed and towards the front of the school to where he would be meeting you. Hawk was supposed to be your ride home, but clearly that was no longer an option.

When Demetri arrived, he didn’t wait for you to get in the car, he immediately got out and walked over to you. “What happened?” He said cautiously, becoming nervous about having to deal with others’ emotions.

He was never particularly great at consolation, being the awkward and blunt person he is-- and he really didn’t want to make things worse for you.

“It’s Eli,” You said, trying to hold back your tears. “I did something really stupid.” Your lip quivered, feeling embarrassed talking about it. You weren’t supposed to tell anyone about you and Hawk, but at this point, you had nothing left to lose.

Demetri looked at you confused. “What do you mean?” To his knowledge, you and Hawk barely conversed, and there should be absolutely no reason whatsoever for you to be crying over him.

The closer you got to explaining it, the harder it got to contain your emotions. Despite knowing Demetri wasn’t very keen on hugs, you ran into him, desperate for the feeling of comfort.

At this point, Demetri’s level of concern was on the rise. Why on earth would you hug him? That’s never happened before. “I just thought you’d be the only one who would understand... if I told someone.” You spoke, words slightly muffled as you were pressed into his chest.

Reluctantly, Demetri accepted your hug and rested his arms around you. “Okay, Y/N, you’re scaring me. What did he do?” He asked, looking down at you.

Gaining the courage to explain yourself, to Demetri’s relief you let go of him and steadied your breathing. “A few weeks ago.. Hawk and I kissed.” You said hesitantly, preparing for the worst.

“What?” Demetri’s face scrunched into the most confused and offended look you’d ever seen him wear. “I know, okay, just wait.” You told him, hoping he would hear you out.

“I thought it was just a stupid mistake, or something?” You began, recalling the uncertainty you felt when it first happened. “But then he said all this stuff about how much he cared about me, and it turns out we actually have something real.”

Aware of the weirdness of what you were saying, you looked to see how Demetri was handling it. He showed a look of understanding, but you could tell he was simply masking the discomfort he was truly feeling. “It was really confusing at first, but then we started secretly dating.. because we knew everyone would flip if they found out.” You continued, the awkwardness worsening with each sentence spoken.

Demetri’s eyebrows rose. “Dating?” You visibly cringed at the reaction, but carried on with your story. “And he even started being nicer to people!” You mentioned, hoping to make the situation seem like you weren’t a complete idiot for allowing it to happen. “Because, I told him I didn’t think I could be with him-- with the way he treats people, you know? And things were actually going well until today--”

You took a moment, preparing the end of your explanation in the hopes you wouldn’t start to cry through it. Demetri looked at you impatiently.

“When Tory found us together and threatened to tell everyone about us if we didn’t break it off, and then Hawk just left me there and said that we should end things because he’s a coward and can’t do what’s right because HE WANTS TO LOOK COOL.” You shouted, running through the sentences fast and furiously. Instead of getting sad like you thought you would, you got angry. Ah yes, another stage of grief.

Demetri looked slightly scared of you at your sudden tantrum, but having heard your story, he did understand what you were feeling-- because in a way, it had happened to him too. This time, it was him who reached out to hug you, and you appreciated him for it. Hugs always seemed to make you feel calm.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I know how it feels. He’s stuck right now, but we can’t give up, okay? He’ll come around.” He said honestly, awkwardly patting your back. You laughed a tiny bit, seeing Demetri trying to console, but you were grateful for his presence.

You released each other from the hug, and you wiped any leftover tears off of your face. “Thanks, Demetri.” You said, smiling sweetly. He nodded, placing his hand on your arm in reassurance, and motioned for you to follow to his car.

The ride back to your house was quiet, but your thoughts were busy and loud. That’s how things were for awhile after that day. You kept to yourself again, and though you tried to look alive, you felt like you had retreated back inside the bubble you worked so hard to get out of.

You went to school, you went to karate, you did whatever responsibilities you had to do-- but for the rest of your free time, you spent it alone in your room, wondering what it would take for Hawk to come back to you.

It was unhealthy, really, how you would wait everyday for a sign of acknowledgement from Hawk, and decline any other social invitation because you never got one.

You even wore the necklace, everyday, in hopes that he’d notice and remember how much you meant to him. But it never worked. He never came back.

You got away with the isolation for awhile, but people were starting to notice how you’ve been pulling away. At least you had Demetri to cover for you once and awhile, to help keep up the facade that you were okay.

Because, you weren’t. You wondered if Hawk was, though. He certainly seemed like he was okay, but he couldn’t be. For your own peace of mind, you had to think he couldn’t be. To think that he was doing just fine while you were spending your days miserable, wouldn’t be fair.

He’s stuck right now, but he’ll come around. Demetri’s words echoed in your head, wondering if they were even true. Would he ever really come around? Is he in too deep? The thoughts scared you beyond belief, but as more days passed, the more you believed them.

You eventually forced yourself to stop caring. To stop thinking about it, and to just give it up. You’d spent too long waiting for him, and you were done letting his actions control your happiness. Although there was a part of you that could never really stop caring, you convinced yourself that it was gone.

After a few weeks, you stopped wearing the necklace. When you showed up to school without it on, it was the first time Hawk had noticeably looked at you since the breakup. He always avoided your eye contact, but that day he locked them onto yours as you passed him in the hall. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your neck, and you could see the glum look all over his face.

As much as you wanted to give in to the hope that he missed you, you ignored it. You weren’t going to let any of those thoughts in again-- not when you already worked so hard to let go of them.

Hawk watched you make your way through the corridors, hardly caring who noticed. While you may have had the ability to attempt to move on, he didn’t. It was his fault any of this happened after all, and it was completely up to him whether or not he could fix things between you.

The pressure of knowing he was the only reason for your and his despair was agonizing, and with the necklace no longer around your neck, he realized he was running out of time.

Time is what he thought he had, to turn things around for himself, and you. But his window was closing, and he was panicking.

Not knowing what else to do, Hawk waited a few blocks away from where you trained at Miyagi-Do, knowing he’d catch you on your walk home.

Making your way down the sidewalk after practice, you were completely unsuspecting when Hawk jumped out of his car and jogged towards you.

Things had really come full circle now, hadn’t they? You, walking home on that same sidewalk, pure disgust for Hawk in your veins as he tried to catch up with you.

You stopped short as Hawk stood in front of you, blocking your path. You were nervous and confused at his intrusion, and decided not to bother avoiding him right now.

His stare towards you was intense, and you only glared back, waiting for him to say what he needed to say.

“You stopped wearing the necklace.” He said it so plainly, you couldn’t tell what kind of response he was looking for. It seemed almost like a question in disguise-- why did you stop wearing the necklace, perhaps?

He was looking at you eagerly, though trying to hide the desperation behind the statement.

“Yeah, and?” You laughed at him, matching his tone of carelessness. He looked like he didn’t understand, so you continued. “What’d you expect? That I’d just keep waiting for you?” You said unpleasantly, with a hint of sadness in your own voice.

A shameful look glossed over his features, but you only kept going. “It’s obvious you’re not coming back, Hawk.” You smile at him mockingly, enjoying the feeling of guilt you were giving him.

He tried to stay strong, but every word you spoke was like a hit to his built-up walls, and they were so close to falling down.

“I spent weeks wondering what I’d have to do to get you to come back to me. To choose me.” You said, your voice calm, but the rest of you not. Your body was shaking with anger now, but your eyes were brimming with tears.

“Until,” You sniffled, gaining a tone of indifference, “I finally realized there was nothing for me to do. You just weren’t coming.” You were almost smiling through the pain, and Hawk looked at you in a loss for words.

You appeared so fragile to him, he just wanted to wrap you in his arms and spout apology after apology for what he’d caused. Seeing your eyes squint in attempt to hold back the waterworks, physically pained him.

“So yeah, I stopped wearing the necklace. But you know what?” You stepped forward confidently, despite the single tear that had just fallen down your face. “I think it hurt more wearing it than it did taking it off.” You finished with hardly any emotion in your voice, and Hawk looked mortified seeing you try to act so unaffected.

He had been silent through your whole exchange, because he knew there was nothing he could say now to make things better. He had done too much damage, and he had caused you too much pain. He did exactly what he said he’d never do.

You waited for him to say something, anything-- but as your eyes bore into his strongly, he couldn’t find the courage to speak. The disappointment was immense, and feeling hopeless once again, you pushed past him to go home.

Panicking at your leave, Hawk grabbed onto your arm. “Y/N, Wait, please-” “No!” You cut him off, looking at him coldly. His face was red, and his eyes were stinging now, too. Ignoring the feeling you got when you saw him like that, you ripped your arm from his grasp. “I’ve waited long enough.”

You turned to leave again, and this time, Hawk didn’t follow. There was only one thing Hawk could do now to get you back, and you knew he wasn’t ready for it. There was no use in you hanging around for him anymore, you deserved better. You deserved someone who cared enough that they’d do what it takes to be with you, regardless of social status.

You didn’t even care if he stayed in Cobra Kai, you just wanted him to stand up to his friends and be proud that he was with you. Didn’t he realize that he was one of the strongest Cobras, and that he could get through any of their shit? If his biggest problem was Tory, he hardly had any reason to stay quiet. You knew deep down he could do better.

Hawk hadn’t understood that then, but as he lingered on you walking away, something clicked in his head.

Maybe he really could do better. He wanted to, for you. He was still terrified at the idea of coming clean to the Cobras, but whatever he’d deal with from that couldn’t be any worse than being without you.

He liked the power he had being in Cobra Kai, and he hoped that he could keep it-- but if losing the power meant gaining you, at this point he was totally okay with that risk. But, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t at least try to negotiate with his friends first.

“Y/N!” It was a new day at school, and you were walking side by side Sam heading to your lunch table when he called your name. You shared a look with Sam, glancing towards him with a bothered look upon your face. “Come here!” Hawk shouted again, apparently not caring that the whole cafeteria had his attention.

A look of dread spread across your face, and you slammed your lunch tray on your friends’ table in defeat before stomping over to where Hawk and his asshole friends sat. Your friends watched from afar, completely clueless as to what Hawk would need you for, and Demetri struggled to pretend he was just as lost as they were.

“What.” You said bluntly, staring him and the rest of his table down. “Yeah, seriously, what are you doing calling her over here?” Mitch asked, looking at you in revulsion, and you rolled your eyes at him.

Hawk looked between you and his friends, struggling to keep his confident manner in tact, and sighed uncomfortably. “I know we don’t like the Miyagi-Dos. And we don’t like the way they run their dojo.” He stated, hoping to hook his friends in by starting negatively towards their rivals.

His friends looked at him in reluctance, wondering where he was going with this-- and you did too. “But I love Y/N.” He said loudly, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in, and looking around at his friends. He was more nervous to see your reaction than theirs, so he barely looked at you once he said it.

“What?” The words came strongly from not only his friends, but you, too. He had never told you that before, and your heart melted at his declaration. When you spoke, he gathered the courage to look at you, and you’d never seen him so nervous.

“I love you.” He repeated, looking you in the eyes. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, and on top of that he was announcing it to the whole school. You glanced over to see Demetri, mouth ajar, observing the interaction like it were a movie.

He meant it, and you could tell. He was waiting on you for a response, feeling more stress than he’d felt in a long time as he studied your bewildered expression.

Before you could say anything, Bert interrupted the moment. “You can’t love a Miyagi-Do. They’re stuck-up pansies who think they’re better than us.” He said, completely convinced that Hawk was out of his mind and needed a wake-up call.

Hawk cringed a little at the feedback, but was surprised when you decided to bite back. “I joined Miyagi-Do because I was tired of people getting bullied. You all choose violence when it isn’t needed, so I just wanted to be prepared.” You defended your intentions, fearlessly.

Tory snorted. “Oh yeah? And how’s that working out for you?” She jabbed, trying to make fun of your self defense skills. Before you could retort, Hawk slammed his hand down on the table and leaned in towards his peers.

“Listen! I’m with you guys, but she’s right. We’ve been reckless.” He said carefully, trying to keep a balance between who’s side he was on. “Sensei told us to fight smart, and we haven’t been.” He locked eyes with Tory, clearly sending her a message.

You watched as Hawk tried to reason with them, admiring his every move. Keeping up his confidence, he set down what was going to happen, and there’d be no arguments against it. “You guys can hate the Miyagi-Dos all you want, but I’m going to be with Y/N, and I’m staying in Cobra Kai.” 

Interlacing his hand with yours, he looked at you pridefully before turning back to the outraged looks on his friends’ faces. “From now on, if any one of you touches her, you deal with me. That’s of course if she doesn’t kick your ass first.” He said smugly, and you smiled widely, feeling content at his speech.

Your heart was jumping out of your chest at the gesture he made, and you wanted to smash your lips onto his and tell him how much you loved him back-- but you kept yourself restrained for the sake of the situation.

Most of the Cobras nodded nervously at his announcement, not wanting to challenge Hawk when he was so sure of himself. But Tory wasn’t having it. “You guys can’t seriously be okay with this?” She snapped, death-glaring the entire table.

The group looked like they were trying to decide whether they were more afraid of Hawk, or Tory. You smiled to yourself, knowing that no matter their reaction, you had won this, because you were with him now. It would certainly be a bonus if you gained their acceptance, though.

Mitch looked around in uncertainty about what he was going to say, but stuck up for Hawk. “Come on Tory, I mean, I get it... she’s hot.” He said referring to you, and you laughed a little at the shallow but positive response.

Hawk wasn’t as pleased with it though. “Hey.” He threatened, pointing a finger at Mitch. You giggled slightly at his jealous reaction, but pulled him back from Mitch by the hand you were holding his with. Mitch raised his hands in surrender, and Tory stood from the table, getting close to the both of you.

“You’d better sleep with one eye open, assholes.” She spat, and stormed away from the table. It went better than you would’ve thought, truthfully. Everyone else was loyal to Hawk, and you didn’t really expect anything less from Tory. Again, having Tory be your only threat seemed like small potatoes now that you two were together.

You nodded at the rest of the Cobras in respect, and with that whole thing being over, you tugged him by the hand towards your table of Miyagi-Dos. Hawk groaned, realizing where you were taking him, but did his best to stay civil.

Chris glowered at the both of you, and Sam looked a little disappointed, but she tried to look supportive. “So.... yeah. Sorry.” You said sheepishly, knowing that they had already heard everything.

“I’m glad it finally worked out.” Demetri said through a sad smile. You felt a little bad, knowing that Demetri still needed to work out his relationship with Hawk, and here you were rubbing yours in his face. That would be your next mission, you suppose-- operation get Demetri and Hawk to be friends again.

“Thanks, Dem.” You said appreciatively, and Hawk looked suspiciously between the two of you. “Wait, did you tell him before?” He asked defensively. The whole table looked to you and Demetri curiously, and you crossed your arms sassily.

“Uh, did I call someone to come get me after you left me alone in a shed? Yeah.” You recovered, your facial expression sly as you knew he couldn’t come back from that one. The others looked at him exasperatedly at your response, and his face dropped instantly. 

“Oh my god, Y/N I am so sorry about that.” He cowered, immediately dropping it, and you laughed at the remorse he was finally showing. You already knew he was sorry, but you guess it was nice to hear him say it.

He didn’t understand why you were laughing, though. He felt awful. And he also really needed a chance to completely apologize to you in private, now that he had already confessed his true feelings.

Suddenly, he picked you up entirely, arms holding your legs and you wrapped your arms around his neck instinctively. “Whoah, what is happening?” You laughed, looking at your friends who all looked just as puzzled as you.

Without saying anything else, he took off out of the lunch room carrying you, and made his way to the nearest exit to the outdoors. “Babe, where are we going?” You cackled, amused at the adventure he was taking you on.

Finally outside and alone, he let you down gently in front of him, and took your hands in his lightly. “I’m so sorry. For all of it. I was a complete idiot for letting you go. You knew all along that we could do it, and I was too busy being a pussy to even try. And I’m really sorry for everything that went down today, I hope you aren’t mad, I literally told you I loved you in front of everyone and that must’ve been awkward, I mean you didn’t even get to respond, which, now that I think about it maybe you didn’t want to, or--”

You silenced his rambling with a forceful kiss, grabbing the sides of his face with your hands. “I love you too, Hawk.” You said, pulling away from the kiss quickly, to give him the response he had been looking for.

He smiled big in return, and it turned your insides to mush. “You know, I realized we never got the chance to make things official.” He looked up at you cutely and you smiled back, knowing what was coming.

“So, will you be my girlfriend?” He asked charmingly, his face mere inches from yours. Blushing furiously, you nodded as you touched your forehead to his. “Mhm,” You said in agreement, grinning.

He took a moment, just admiring the look of you so happy, and with his manner still playful, he reminded you of something you had said before. “See? I came back to you.” He said proudly.

You looked at him lovingly, feeling a little emotional at the sentiment. His expression turned serious now, and he parted from you only slightly. “I’m gonna do better for you, Y/N. I promise.” He spoke lowly, and you put your hands on his shoulders, beaming at him in acknowledgement.

You stepped forwards again, getting closer to him. He gave a seductive smirk at your movement, and you subconsciously traced your fingers along his neck, fixated on his face more than anything.

Hawk stared back at you affectionately, his attention flickering down towards your lips. Feeling bold, he placed his hands dangerously low on your waist, and pulled you in roughly for another kiss. You quickly reacted, letting your hands travel to the nape of his neck, your mouth opening slightly-- allowing Hawk the opportunity to deepen the kiss.

Your lips stayed connected as Hawk’s hands made their way up your back, his chest pressing closer to yours. As much as you wanted to continue, you were in broad daylight right outside the halls of your school-- and you really didn’t want a detention for too much PDA.

“Mm, Hawk-” You giggled, breaking away from him. “Hm?” He smiled, his hands resting loosely on your waist as he pecked your lips again before letting you free. “If we don’t go back in soon we’ll miss the whole lunch period.” You said, disappointedly.

“Eh, that’s fine with me.” He shrugged, smirking at you as he clutched you closer. You scoffed playfully, hitting him lightly, and gave him one last kiss before escaping his grip.

He pouted at you, and you looked back at him mischievously. He missed your touch already, so he snaked his arm around your waist as you walked back inside to satisfy his need of holding you.

You felt on top of the world with him by your side, now having full confidence in him and his feelings for you. “It’s a good thing I still have the necklace, huh?” You teased, looking back up at him, and Hawk smiled, tilting his head to meet your gaze.

Though your comment may have only been a joke, both of you felt whole at the idea of you wearing the necklace-- and as you walked joyfully through the halls with him, you knew you’d never be taking it off again.

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i just wanna talk about real quick how much i cringe when writing like its actually terrible how much i cringe at myself so idk if i’ll keep doing fics or not HAHAH but y’all can always send requests and i’ll get around to them if i can. hope yall liked this one tho and made it through the whole thing cuz yikes.

[bokutoslittlebird]

In Your Eyes

Bokuto Kōtarō x Chubby!Reader

Author’s Note : There are some dark things in here and if you feel suicidal please do not keep it bottled in. It’s not healthy and needs to be addressed. The really bad stuff isn’t until the middle (right before the smut, basically), so be warned! That’s where the suicidal stuff is and like I said, if you do any of this or feel suicidal please seek professional help because it’s not worth keeping unhealthy feelings inside ; If you are wondering why Bokuto’s obsessed with licking and biting in this, I have been rereading a doujin where Bokuto does that and, well, it’s hot ; I swear this would not have taken me so long if I didn’t keep crying while writing it omg I would be dead if I had a shot every time I had to stop writing so I could wipe my tears and snot. This is why I don’t like to read or write angst but wow was that therapeutic.

Warnings: angst, fat shaming, use of the word “pig”, body dysmorphia (inability to look in a mirror), vomit, suicidal tendencies/intention (via overdose) + implied past actions alcohol, soft!dom Bokuto, choking, creampie(s), mating press+doggy style, licking and biting, facesitting

The cheers of the crowd erupted as the whistle blew. Once again, the MSBY Black Jackals had won. This match was against the Red Falcons, another team in the V.1 division. It was a close call, but Hinata managed to break the deuce with his monstrous quick attack and seal the set with their victory.

The team was jumping and bouncing, giving out high fives as they did. Of course, they had to shake hands with the Adlers, bowing to the audience and thanking them for their support. When Bokuto did his classic ‘Bokuto Beam’ move towards the audience, you could hear the girls squealing and giggling. It isn’t like they didn’t do the same when Atsumu or Hinata waved to them, but it hit you different. After all, they were beautiful in your eyes, slim and flawless.

Oh, yes. You’re the MSBY Black Jackal’s manager, being a classmate of Hinata in his second and third year (as in you tutored him and helped manage the volleyball club with Yachi). Hinata was your first friend, which kind of sounds pathetic. It was, if you were being honest with yourself. Being heavier than the average girl at your school subjected you to bullying and pranks that ended with you crying until you threw up. Hinata never made you feel like that, though. He always made sure you were comfortable and every member of the club at Karasuno treated you like an angel. You ended up applying to be the MSBY manager when Hinata asked, saying they needed a manager and wondered if you could apply. Well, it was either that or finding a job at the circus, as your family would sneer at you. Truly, Hinata was the first to accept you.

Once you got the job, it was like being back at Karasuno, honestly. Everyone was friendly and treated you no differently than they would treat others. However, you wished one of them would treat you differently.

Bokuto.

He was the ace of the team, a goofy fella that could make anyone smile. Including you. Aside from Hinata, he made you feel accepted and made you forget about any woes and horrid thoughts you were facing. He didn’t know about them like Hinata did, but you were sure he’d treat you different if he knew.

Once everything was packed up, you and the coach headed out, the team not too far behind you.

“Shōyō-kun, that was one of yer best sets yet!” Atsumu cheerily piped up, walking behind Hinata. Hinata was right beside you, as he always was.

“I’m glad you think so! I don’t know if we can surprise the Adlers next time, though. Kageyama still knows my tricks,” he huffed as he finished his statement, putting his hair down so he could mock Kageyama. You giggled at his antics.

“Alright, change up and meet at the bus in 10 minutes, let’s go!” Coach commanded. Each member voiced their acquiescence. You decided to use this opportunity to go to the bathroom. After all, their match lasted almost an hour, if not more.

In the restrooms, you were almost done when you heard a bunch of girls giggling as they entered. Instead of leaving, you stayed in place, waiting for them to go.

You wish you hadn’t.

“Gosh, those boys are so attractive!” One of them said. Two voices agreed.

“Have you seen Atsumu and Kageyama? They’re both so hot!”

“I was too focused on that number 12,” oh no, “Bokuto, I think? He’s a good looking man, bet he has the stamina of a god, too,”

“Yeah, it’s a shame their brand is ruined by that mascot of theirs.” What?

“Mascot? Oh! You mean the pig? Yeah, she does put a damper on everything, doesn’t she? Imagine being that attractive and having that thing follow you around!” The girl cackled, her friends following suit. You felt your stomach drop, tears springing in the corner of your eyes as you listened to them.

It was easy to forget you were different when you with the team since they made you feel normal, but that didn’t mean others wouldn’t notice you.

The girls eventually left, the door slamming shut behind them. Whether they came in there to do makeup or just talk shit about you knowing you were in there didn’t matter. Not when you were crumpled up on the floor as sobs wracked your frame. Life sucks.

It’s not like you didn’t try! That’s the other thing! You try to lose weight and nothing happens, exercising doesn’t do much and diets are practically useless. You used to go to the gym, but stopped when you kept getting stares. You also used to run with Hinata in the mornings, but since he was so much faster than you, you stopped. What’s the point if you’re panting and breathless after a minute while he’s still going strong after 30 minutes? It felt like nothing would ever help.

A buzzing interrupted your crying fest, you sniffling as you wipe away the tears and look at the screen. It’s from the groupchat, Hinata asking if you’re okay and they were all at the bus. You typed back a quick ‘K’ and got up. The best you could hope for was nobody would point out the red eyes and the sniffling.

Hinata knew of your troubles, being there for you when you broke down in school more often than not. When you confided that he was the first person you felt comfortable with, it broke him. Seeing you had bottled up your emotions because nobody bothered to listen or care, it made him want to include you in his life. He would invite you over for dinner and his sister would excitedly talk to you, never making you feel uncomfortable. When he heard that you were in Osaka, he immediately called you up about being the MSBY manager.

He also knew of your crush on Bokuto. It was obvious to him, with how you looked at the ace with longing. Hinata even encouraged you to confess, but that was quickly dismissed when you told Hinata how you felt like Bokuto deserved better than someone like you. Bokuto was muscular, attractive, and charming — in your eyes, he deserved to be with someone his equal. That did not mean you. Hinata knew of your troubles, but he also knew of Bokuto’s. Bokuto has a crush on you, too, finding himself more accepted with you around. Contrary to the ace’s personality, he was insecure in a lot of things. He wasn’t very smart, which was often pointed out by others. He knew when someone was upset, though, so he always knew he needed to make you feel better.

Once you arrived at the bus, Hinata greeted you as everyone else had boarded. “What’s wrong?”

“The same old thing, you know,” you sniffle, your voice cracking as you remember the hateful words. Hinata’s face soured as you said those words. Back in high school, he would sit down and cry with you. Now, he was tired of you still being picked on as an adult.

“Immature, that’s what they are. Come on, we’re gonna stop by that restaurant you love.” Oh great, food. You may have been starving when the match ended, but after the incident, you just wanted to go home and cry. You numbly nodded and followed Hinata onto the bus. The coach didn’t bother pointing out anything, but he sent you a sad look when he noticed the red eyes on you. You sadly smiled and continued to your seat, behind the coach as the bus started to move. Curling into your jacket, you tried to think of something else.

The restaurant was a disaster. Everyone had been excited and gotten off the bus when a bunch of fangirls came up to them. You had just smiled and shook your head, feeling better already. At least, you had been until the girls noticed you and gave you looks of disgust. It was short lived, their attention turning back to the boys, so you briskly walked off, into the restaurant, away from the crowd. It took almost 5 minutes for the girls to leave, but you refused to eat anything other than a salad and drink water. Even then, you excused yourself to the restroom to take a break, crying and attempting to force yourself to throw up. Once home, you locked the front door and let your emotions spill out. Crying and screaming was common, so that’s what you did. Then came the process — getting rid of any reflective surface. Turning off the lights, turning on the tv, covering the mirrors with sheets, closing the blinds, shutting out any possibility of looking at yourself. Even with nobody around, those words and looks stuck and struck deep, you eventually curling into yourself on your bed as you cried yourself to sleep.

The next day came, your alarm ringing and the sound bouncing off the walls. You turned it off, completely turning off your phone. Instead of dealing with alarms and people, you’d suffer alone behind the comfort of your home.

The team was worried, you were never late. Bokuto was more pouty than normal, your cheerful greeting missing from his morning and his bear hug. Atsumu also missed your cheerful greeting, asking Hinata if he knew of anything. When Hinata said he did not, he texted and called you, receiving no answer.

Okay, then he’d go to you.

Hinata had stayed at your apartment before, spending the night or just to hang out. Sometimes he brings you food and snacks when you need it, or he just checks on you. He has a spare key in case of anything and he’s glad he does when the door’s locked with no answer. He calls you once more time, knocking until he hears something. It’s faint, but it sounds like movement. So, you’re awake. But not answering the door. Sighing, he unlocks the door.

The apartment is not surprising to him, the windows covered and reflective surfaces covered. He was afraid of this, but he continues on. When he reaches your room, he hears more sniffling and crying. “[Y/N]?”

“Leave me be, Shōyō,”

“[Y/N], please. The team misses you,”

“Fuck off. I’m a charity case to them, I know it. Why else would they keep me around? I should just wallow away,” your voice sounds tired, the thought of the boys sticking with you out of pity a common thought you’ve had.

A thought that isn’t true, but breaks Hinata’s heart. “You know that’s not true. Everyone loves you! Even Bokuto,”

“Shōyō, shut up. Empty words do nothing. Maybe it’d be better if I just... stayed here. Maybe I should just end the misery,”

“Do not. Talk like that. Please.” Hinata’s voice cracks with each word. He knew you were bad, but you could pretend like everything was fine. He should’ve known the harsh treatment yesterday would affect you like this. He should’ve spent the night with you when you ordered a salad and a water. He should’ve told the coach or Meian when you went to the bathroom for 10 minutes that you were trying to throw up. Your lie of there being a line was obvious, a common excuse after a long time away. Hinata felt his chest tighten as he realized you didn’t answer him. “I’m getting Bokuto.”

“Shōyō! Don’t you dare!” Your screams do nothing as he basically runs out your apartment, you flinging the door open to see him gone. You start crying more, afraid that Bokuto will see just how pathetic you are. If he ever looked at you with disgust, the way everyone else does, you don’t know if you could continue on with your life.

Maybe it’d be better that way.

Bokuto doesn’t really know what’s going on, one moment he’s stretching and the next he’s running to the train station with Hinata’s words repeating over and over again.

‘[Y/N] needs you’

Bokuto’s first thought immediately went into the gutters, a blush coating his cheeks until Hinata continued.

‘I think she’s in trouble’

With those two sentences, Bokuto ran off, forgetting his bag and just taking his phone with him. He only needed his phone, really. Strange stares from the public didn’t bother him, he knows he’s still wearing his practice clothes and his knee pads, the material looking like leggings. He made it to the train station before it left, getting on and calling Hinata back.

“Bokuto?”

“I’m on the train, is everything okay?” He was panting, the train station being a bit away from the practice gym. He didn’t even bother sitting, just standing beside the doors.

“I don’t know. She’s.. She’s in a bad place. She won’t listen to me, but she’ll listen to you,” Hinata’s words are slightly muffled, sniffling accompanying his sentence. The words make Bokuto’s chest tighten.

“I don’t know what I can do, you’re her best friend. What could I do?”

“She’s in love with you. Has been for a while, actually. I know you can help her where I can’t. Just — I’ll give you her apartment key when you get to the station. Once I do, please go to her. Please,”

“I—“ Bokuto’s eyes are wide, his face definitely pink now. He’s still worried about you, but the idea of you actually liking him — no, loving him the same way he loves you, it makes him giddy. It gives him the push he needs to make it to you.

As soon as the doors open, there’s Hinata, holding a key ring for him to take. Bokuto doesn’t hesitate, a quick nod in Hinata’s direction before he rushes off to your apartment complex. All of the boys have been to your apartment before, but Bokuto and Hinata are the only ones who know the way to the place. Bokuto has gotten a bit drunk before and ended up crashing at your place, as well as just staying there when practices run late since his place is the farthest away from their practice gym.

Arriving at the apartment, he slides the key in and turns the knob, momentarily confused at the sheets covering your glass coffee table and the TV, but he continues in. He knocks on your bedroom door. “[Y/N]? Are you in here?” When he gets no response, he freaks out. Turning the knob, he notices you’re not in there, but there are more sheets covering things, as well as the blinds being shut. Even more confused, he turns back to the hallway and notices the bathroom door is closed. Fear strikes him as he thinks he knows why you’re not answering — he hopes he’s wrong.

When he opens the door, he realizes he was partially right. With a bottle of wine pressed to your lips, an empty pill bottle in one hand, your eyes wide as Bokuto’s golden eyes met yours. A brief moment of anger flashed across his face before you were forced over the toilet, his thick fingers going down your throat.

“Shtap!” Your muffled voice comes out, gagging around his fingers as he attempts to activate your gag reflex. He doesn’t stop, your squirming easily quelled against his strong grip on your arms pinning them back. You feel the bile rise and then you’re expelling the contents of your stomach into the toilet, coughing and sputtering as the painkillers you just took are now emptied into the porcelain bowl. Bokuto doesn’t let go of you as you cry, trying to get out of his hold.

He doesn’t know what he should bring up first, the fact Hinata called him over or the fact he caught you in the middle of a suicide attempt. You’re screaming and telling him to get off of you, but he instead holds you closer, your sobs fading as tears spill out of his own eyes, staining the hoodie you’re in. “Why would you do that?” He whispers.

You don’t know how to respond to that, instead choosing the phrase, “why not?” His face scrunches up and you don’t know if he’s in pain or angry as he shakes you.

“Why would you do that?! Don’t you know how many people would be distraught over you? Hinata would be inconsolable! Who would TsumTsum and I joke with? Did you even think about that? Did you think about me?” His voice is loud and it makes you cry harder, the weight of his words hitting deep. Bokuto’s been there for you through a lot and you’ve been facing all your problems on your own. “You can’t just do that! That’s selfish!”

“Why would it matter, Bo? What’s the point? I can’t face myself let alone face my feelings! Why not just stop hurting?” You’re both crying, him holding onto you tightly as you dry heave a bit, a stinging in the back of your throat and an arrow in your heart.

“Why can’t you face your feelings? You have Hinata and me!” Before you can tell him something else, he presses his lips to your forehead. You freeze. “I don’t know what I’d do if you left me. I don’t think I could live without you,” He dryly chuckles, tears still streaking down his face. You hiccup and look down, afraid to face him.

“You don’t mean that. You’re trying to make me feel better, I know. Just be honest with your feelings. I’m already low enough, no reason to keep up appearances,” more tears come out as you try to not break into another fit. Bokuto would never look at you the same you looked at him, especially not after seeing you like this. You couldn’t blame him, you look like a mess in your old sweatpants and the old hoodie that felt too tight even if it was one of the largest sizes you could find. Your hair is no better, hasn’t been brushed and you’ve been in bed for a while.

“Hinata said you loved me—“

“Stop,”

“So I came because he said he was worried—“

“You don’t need to say it,”

“If I had been a second later—“

“Stop it, please,”

“I wouldn’t have been able to tell you my feelings—“

“Please, don’t,” you cover your face, tears blurring your vision anyways. Bokuto removes your hands, looking into your eyes. His own are full of warmth and love, not disgust or regret. It makes you cry more, a horrible wail as you dive into his chest. He laughs as his arms wrap around you, comforting in these dark moments.

“I love you, you know? I have for a while,”

“Why? What do you see in me? What could I possibly have to attract you? I’m not—“

“Don’t say it. Don’t say ‘I’m not like other girls’, because everyone’s different. You make me want to be a better man, you make me excited for each new day. Nobody can compare to you,”

“I can’t.. I’m sorry, I can’t trust you. I’ve— I’ve been made fun of for too long, I want to trust you, I want to love you, I want to be with you, but I don’t know if my heart can take another one,”

“Another— what?”

“It’s a long story, I don’t want to bore you,”

“Baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he nuzzles your cheek, more tears spilling out as your chest tightens with love.

You decided to explain to him what happened in the past and how you trusted Hinata. Bokuto brought you to your room and made you some tea, brought a bottle of water, and also made you a snack. The thought of eating made you feel sick, but a pouty buff man had you slowly nibbling on the piece of toast. You hadn’t eaten since dinner the previous day, so you wanted to inhale it, but you didn’t think you could stomach it.

After explaining everything to Bokuto, you tried to laugh it off, saying it wasn’t a big deal, but he refused to accept that. A quick call to Hinata to let him know you were okay and that Bokuto would be taking a day off was the next step, letting Bokuto stay with you for the rest of the day. He didn’t want to leave you alone, the fear of almost losing you still making his heart race in a bad way. Even as you just scrolled through InstaGram on your phone, he worried if he left you’d go back to the dark headspace. He couldn’t stop it, but he figured he could prevent it.

The first thing to change your mood is get you in the shower.

When he bounced back into your room, you looked at him from your position. You looked exhausted, the toast only half eaten but the glass was empty. Bokuto shook his head and clicked his tongue. “You need to refresh yourself. Time to take a shower!”

“What are you, my dad? If you want me to do it then make me,” You muttered, snuggling back under the covers. Bokuto closed his eyes and sighed, trying to not say anything sexual.

“I will throw you over my shoulder and into the bathroom. Don’t underestimate me, [Y/N],” the bed dips as he sits on the edge. “I’ll strip you down and wash you if I have to,”

“Why are you so forceful? Damn,” you made it sound like a bad thing, but you were smiling. “Fine, I’ll shower. You don’t gotta wash me, I’m not a baby,”

“But you’re my baby?” He sounded so confused, you freezing half out of the bed. Clearing your throat, you continued.

“Uh, sure. Are you planning on leaving soon? Or..”

“Nope! I’m staying over. I’ll change the sheets while you shower, too!”

“Oh, okay,” you say, numbly getting up to get clothes. With the lack of clean clothes, you have a few shirts and some pajama pants, but your stomach twists as you realize why they’re clean. They don’t fit as nicely as the other clothes, so you face two options: reuse the hoodie you’re wearing or face the humiliation of putting on a tight shirt. Thinking of the restriction, you decide the hoodie would be best. A large pair of pajama pants and a pair of panties is all you take, but Bokuto notices the lack of clothes.

“Are you just changing your pants? You’re showering, right?” Hes rifling through his bag, planning on changing out his practice clothes while you’re in the shower. He doesn’t want to get your clean sheets dirty, after all.

“Um, I’m out of shirts, so.. I’ll just reuse the hoodie,” you shrug, not seeing a problem. His eyes light up as he holds a finger up, digging through his bag once more. Apparently, Hinata dropped it off while you were taking a nap, all that crying had exhausted you. Bokuto smiles brightly as he pulls out his own hoodie, the black hoodie with the golden MSBY brand and the Black Jackal claws. “I don’t think—“

“I’ve been dreaming of you in my hoodie for some time, so this is a perfect opportunity! I’d prefer you to wear this,”

“Uh, I’m pretty big, Bokuto. I don’t think it’ll fit, if I’m being honest,” you look down at the ground, the disgust from earlier rising in your chest. Bokuto just tilts his head to the side.

“I think it’ll fit. It’s pretty big on me, so it’ll fit. If it doesn’t, let me know. I’ll get you something else,” he just shrugs, holding out the hoodie. His name is on the back and in a way, it feels like he’s marking his territory. You take it, thanking him as you head towards the bathroom. If it didn’t fit, you didn’t know what you’d do.

When you finished washing up, you put on the clothes. As big as Bokuto was, you still didn’t expect the hoodie to fit. When it slid on easily, you were highly surprised, but also it took you a moment to collect yourself. Seeing you in his hoodie was something out of your wildest dreams, him even telling you he’s fantasized about it making your body hotter than it should be. You had to calm yourself down before exiting the bathroom, entering the bedroom to see him lying on the bed in sweatpants. That’s it.

“Where the hell are your clothes?!” You cover your face, spreading your fingers a bit to see him stand up excitedly.

“You look so good in my hoodie!” He hugged you tightly, lifting you up a bit.

“Don’t pick me up, put on a shirt!” The only thing separating your skin from his was the hoodie which, well, wasn’t very thick. The zipper itself was as high as it could go but still felt too low.

“Why? Don’t I look good? Are you uncomfortable?”

“Yes, you look good and I’m uncomfortable. This is just a weird situation,” you try to explain... as if you had a shred of dignity left. The laptop propped open with the opening of your favorite movie caught your attention. “Are you gonna watch a movie?”

“We’re gonna watch it! To make you feel better, of course!” He seemed so proud of himself, standing with his fists on his hips as he smiled. You shook your head, rolling your eyes.

“Okay, then. Do you want snacks?”

“Snacks?!”

After getting snacks for the movie, to which he fed you some while you fed him, you ended up falling asleep as you watched the movie. It was nice and warm under the covers and Bokuto’s body heat right next to you helped to lull you to sleep. He didn’t seem to notice you falling asleep until your head hit his shoulder, eyes closed as you peacefully slept. After pressing a kiss to your forehead, he closed to laptop and got comfortable under the sheets. The worry of him losing you was still there, but he kept his arms around you tightly in case it was a dream. Like you, he hoped it wasn’t.

Waking up wasn’t that bad, an urge to quench your dry throat a common thing to wake up to. What wasn’t common, however, was the thing poking your butt. Now fully awake, you tried to shoot up in bed to see what was going on but Bokuto’s arms held you down. It was then you realized what was poking you. Attempting to get his arms off of you was a hard feat, trying to squeeze out of the grip when he moaned. You froze and looked at his face, still asleep. Attempting to move again, he let out another one. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

He was having a wet dream. In your bed. Beside you.

Your immediate thought was who? Your next thought was me? You dismissed that idea, rolling your eyes as if that could happen. Well, until your name came past his lips. You were surprised to hear it, even if he showed and attempted to prove his feelings for you. Him dreaming of you subconsciously? It gave you confidence.

Enough confidence to wake him up and let him continue his dream in reality? No.

But, you didn’t think you’d have another dark episode anytime soon. He didn’t seem to relent his grip on your body, so you dealt with it, staring at the wall in the dark as he continued his noises. Well, at least until he bucked his hips. You gasped as he did, him waking up to your noise. “You ‘kay? Somethin’ wrong?”

Wide eyes looked at him, before glancing down and flickering back up. He follows your eyes and his face goes red. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but the moonlight coming in from the uncovered window illuminates enough. “I am so sorry, I’ll le—“

“Why?” You can’t stop yourself from asking, immediately smacking your forehead. He’s a bit confused from your actions, but you continue. “Um, I’d, uh- I’d like to know what you dreaming about.” Confidence? Yeah, right. You’re practically shaking from the fear of his answer. Of course, it was your name but you could’ve heard wrong, right? Yeah, you—

“My boner speaks for itself, doesn’t it?” Does he have shame? You just look at him so exasperated as he just stares at you, not too sure what you were expecting. “Or do you not know?”

“I— Okay. Was it me?”

“Who... who else would it be?”

“Oh, okay. Why?” You’re both so confused, you not understanding the appeal while he’s not understanding why it’s so weird. Or confusing.

“Why not? I’m in the bed with my girlfriend, longtime crush, who I find extremely attractive? Is this too much? Is it wrong for me to, um, wanna do that? Or dream about it?” No shame!

“I’m still having problems seeing things from your perspective, but okay. Still cannot see the appealing side of me, so it’s just... it’s weird for me to actually realize you like that. You actually,” you gulp, “like me,”

“I’ll say it as many times as I need to, [Y/N]. You’re perfect in my eyes. I want you to see that in your eyes, too,”

“I cannot, if ever, do that. Sorry,” you just shrug, going back to lay down. It isn’t long until he’s straddling you. “What are you doing?”

“I want to make you see things how I do. You gave me this,” he gestured to the bulge in his sweatpants. Looking at it too long scares you, the size scaring you more. “I want you,”

“Oh my god, I’m being dead serious now: you are not gonna like what you see. I’m not attractive, Bo,”

“Let me be the judge of that, hm?” It’s the only thing he says, but you hesitantly nod. He smiles and as much as you want to enjoy it, you’re still shaking. You have no idea what’s coming next, you don’t know what he’s gonna do once he sees what’s underneath and it scares you. So badly. His hands go underneath your—his hoodie, running over your skin. “If you’re scared, I can stop. I don’t want to push you into anything,”

“It’s not that, I just can’t see what you see. But I want to. I want to see myself in your eyes, if you can do that,”

“All you gotta do is give me a signal if you want me to stop. I’ll try my best but you’re gonna have to relax, baby,” he has no idea what his words are doing to you. You just nod as he smiles, leaning down to kiss your forehead. He isn’t rough and excited, but rather gentle and soothing. Hands running under the hoodie eventually go up to the zipper, slowly pulling it down. It’s a small thing, but you notice his eyes flickering to your face for any sign of distress. Evening your breathing, you let him completely pull the zipper down as your skin is completely bare to him. You hide your face in shame, ready to apologize and have a million excuses lined up, but he doesn’t let that happen when he starts licking your chest.

“Oh!” Your hands thread through his hair, softer than you expected as it barely brushes against your skin. His eyes are still on you, your fingers moving his strands away so he could clearly see you and you, him. The way his predatory gaze latches onto your face has heat pooling between your legs, rubbing them together to create some kind of friction. Keeping his tongue connected to your skin, his eyes on yours, he moves onto one of your breasts. Popping your nipple into his mouth, he swirls the perked nipple in his mouth as his hand tweaks your other nipple. You’re panting, your head is thrown back as he continues. Soon enough, just rolling your nipples in between his fingers is not enough.

Gathering spit in his mouth, he lets it dribble onto your skin. It’s warm and slick, when he smears it across your other breast as goes back to tweaking your nipples. You look down at what he’s doing only to find him grinning devilishly at you. He then goes down to your stomach, biting into the flesh there. “Bokuto!”

“What? I just wanna taste you,” he shrugs, before licking the area he bit. He has a lot of spit, too, sucking into your flesh and leaving behind a bite mark and his saliva. It’s.. kind of gross, but hot. When he comes back up to your face, he pushes his lips against yours so forcefully that you’re reeling back, mouth opening as he slips his tongue in. It’s a deep, passionate kiss as he runs his hands over your body, squeezing anything he can as he slips his fingers into your pants. “May I?”

“Of course.” Once he has the okay, he moves back down, occasionally leaving love bites as he does. Pulling down your pants, he finds himself face to face with your damp panties. You don’t have time to get embarrassed, however, when he sticks his nose into your crotch and licks the fabric. “What is up with you and licking?” You giggle, finding humor in it. He just pops back up, shrugging. You giggle again, throwing your head back in the pillows. He goes to pull down your panties, sliding them down your legs until they’re completely off. Except for his hoodie, you’re completely naked.

Now if only you could have his cum in you, then would his wet dream be complete. However, there was one more thing he’s always wanted to try, but he’s worried you’ll be against it. “Babe?”

“Is something wrong?”

“No! No! Nothing’s wrong!” He hates how your mind immediately goes negative. Your shoulders relax and your wide eyes slowly lessen as you realize nothing wrong, yet. “Um, can you sit on my face?”

“Bokuto, I don’t-“

“C’mon, please? I’ve always wanted to try it! Especially between them delicious thick thighs of yours,” he then licked his lips with a resounding moan. Although embarrassed, you roll your eyes.

“If I’m too heavy, let me know. I’ll— I’ll get off,” you prop yourself up on your hands, feeling his spit ooze down your body. “You have a lot of spit. Reminds me of how much you sweat,”

“I produce a lot of liquids, y’know?” If it wasn’t for his wiggling eyebrows as he widely grins, you would not know he meant it to be sexual.

“Lay down!”

“Yes, ma’am,” he excitedly gets on his back, his bulge much more prominent than before now that it’s just there. You can see it. You’re still hesitant, but eventually move to straddle his face. He helps you, easily maneuvering your dripping cunt over his mouth. With his strong hands, he forces you down on top of him to the point where your legs can’t keep you up. You attempt to get up, afraid you’re crushing him but he keeps you firmly planted on his face.

A growl erupts from his throat when he gets tired of your squirming, you halting your movements as you try to calm down. His thumbs run over the skin of your thighs to try and soothe you. And it works. You’re feeling lightheaded as he sucks and licks your cunt and probably makes it messier than it is. He brushes his teeth over your clit, sending shivers down your spine as you moan from the feeling. With a grin, you can tell, he gets to work on tongue fucking you as well as sucking on your clit. It isn’t long until your fingernails are digging into his abdomen as you let out a high moan as you come undone on his face. He moans himself, using his thick tongue to gather up every ounce you produced. He also makes a loud slurping noise as he cleans it up.

You move off of him, panting as you look at him. He looks absolutely blissed out, like he saw Nirvana and Heaven all at once. You smile at him, his own smile wide and proud. He immediately gets up, pushing hips lips against yours once more as he licks the corners of your mouth. He is quickly moving to pull down his sweatpants and boxers, but hesitates. “You sure you want this?”

“You aren’t allowed to stop now,” you giggle as he glows, pulling down his pants. Your eyes go wide as you realize how big he actually is. The bulge in his pants was nothing. It is scary, you wondering if it’ll fit.

“Everything okay? Do you— Do you not want it?” He sounds so sad, you immediately coo at him, forgetting the third leg he has.

“No, no, no baby! It’s just— you’re very big. I did not expect that. Just be gentle, yeah?”

“Of course!” Another kiss to your lips, this one more of a peck than a passionate open mouthed kiss. “Can you get on your hands and knees?” You listen to him, rolling over on your stomach before getting in position. This way, you don’t have to worry about seeing him and can focus on what he’s doing, so it’s better in a way. Really, Bokuto just wants to end the night with you on your back and he plans on having you shaking from multiple orgasms before it’s over. He guides his cock to your entrance, a shaky breath leave him as his tip brushes against your folds. You shiver yourself, feeling yourself about to cry, but you wait.

Once he pushes into you, the tears come out for a different reason. “I’m sorry, it’ll feel better in a moment,” he licks your cheek, nuzzling you. You nod as you try to relax, him continuing to push into you. It isn’t until he nudged against your cervix does he stop. Even then, he is still not completely in you. He focuses on evening his breathing, inhaling your shampooed hair. It’s hard to not blow his load so quickly, you squeezing him so tightly. You’re nice and snug, though, your walls eventually relaxing as he stays inside.

“You can— you can move, Bo,”

“Fuck yeah,” he grunts, pulling out only to roughly thrust into you. You lurch forward from the thrust, immediately dropping your mouth open to moan as he sets a steady pace. It’s not fast or slow, but he’s definitely rough with his thrusts. It’s the grunts that really do you in, the way his hands grab at your ass and hips, sounds of pleasure coming from his as sinks his cock into your cunt that has you tightening around him. With a mewl, you have another orgasm and he curses, a low “shit” coming out as he struggles to pull out. He leans down to put his mouth next to your ear, biting the shell as he continues. He doesn’t even break a sweat as he does, stilling himself deep inside you as he lets out a low groan, your eyes scrunch together as you whimper. His cum fills you up to the brim, his hips swiveling to make sure he’s all done.

Well, for that round.

You’re panting heavily as he leaves you, leaning back as he watches your legs shake. His cum oozes out of you, your cunt clenching as it makes more pour out. It’s a beautiful reality, but he wants more. You’re soon flipped onto your back as he is over you again, his hands on the back of your knees, pushing them up. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not a very comfortable position, either. Confusion is etched in your face as he does, but his lidded eyes as he licks his lips tell you he’s not done. You’re exhausted, but he’s not.

He wastes no time in sinking himself back into you, his eyes focused on your face as you moan. His grin is almost evil, the way his lips stretch as he bottoms out inside you before roughly thrusting into you. It didn’t take long for another orgasm to start to buildup in you, your head thrown back as your back arches, your head turned to the side as he leans down to lick and bite your collarbone, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. His hands find yours, intertwining his fingers with yours as he brings them up to your head. You focus on the way his arms flex, the muscles bulging with each thrusts as he puts every ounce of effort into the action. It really shows to how much he loves you and your body.

Even with all the marks on your body, even with all the places he’s touched and licked, that gnawing thought of you worrying nags him. The thought that you’ll still not know just how much he loves you. The thought that you’ll think it was a one time thing. He needs to know you know. He needs to know you’re seeing things in his perspective now. One hand leaves yours, it finding itself around your throat.

“Say my name,” he grunts, alternating his gaze between your face and his cock disappearing inside you. It’s something he’ll never get over. Maybe next time, he can record you two.

“B-Bo—“

“No, my given name. I want you to scream it,” his grip on your neck gets tighter, your walls tightening at the same time. He groans as he throws his head back, his thrusts slowing down as he drags his cock against your walls. “I want your neighbors to know who’s fucking you,”

“You, Kōtarō!” You loudly moan, humming in pleasure as he picks up the pace.

“Who’s making you feel this good? Who does your little cunt belong to?”

“God, you! It belongs to Kōtarō!” You scream, your eyes rolling back as his hands go back to under your knees, pushing them up to your chest. It’s hard to breathe, but you’re clamping down on his cock as a sheen of white forms around it, your slick dripping down your ass and down his balls. The last urge he needed to fuck you like an animal was that, you screaming his name. Your ands wrap around his neck, the material of his jacket rubbing against his thick neck as your nails take down his back. Hissing, he fucks you faster and harder, determination set to get you to one more orgasm. It doesn’t take long, your mouth hanging open as you come undone for one last time, him burying himself as far as he can as he spills another load into you. It’s heavy and fulfilling, but it’s wonderful. A wonderful feeling of being loved.

As you both come down from your highs, he gives you another sloppy kiss. Instead of pulling out, he released your legs and lays on his side, taking you with him.

“Shouldn’t we clean up?”

“That can wait. I don’t wanna leave quite yet,” he pants out, another sloppy kiss. Like he can’t get enough.

Really though, he can’t. He loves you too much

[heyitsyn]

Keeping Up With Seijoh Ep. 7

a/n: im sorry but takeru could take my uwus like hes so adorable yall 🥺😭

anon:

-LETS BE HONESTTT WITH OURSELVES. oikawa bringing takeru to practice cuz he forgot he promised to watch him n so he asks you to watch him while he rushes off to change— and then takeru goes OFF after he hears that YOURE the person uncle tooru keeps talking about. he basically just exposes oikawa, gets on your good side w all the embarrassing blackmail material he can provide, and oikawa comes back to you grinning like a madwoman HAHAHAHAHA c,:

tumblr moot:

-‘ Omg Takeru spills to his mom and grandmother how Oikawa had a crush and how awkward he is around this girl. Which leads to them inviting her over without Oikawa knowing. He comes home one day, a lil upset because yn wasn't at practice only to hear her giggling with his mother and sister while having tea ‘

NOW THIS IS THE REAL TEAAA!!!!!!!

TAKERU IS SUCH A MOOD MY GOD IMAGINE HAVING A CRACKHEAD UNCLE LIKE OIKAWA!!!!😭😭😭😭

uwu yes i love this req so lets start

so basically

two words:

uncle oikawa

bahahaha no not really but yes really tho

anyways

this is going to basically be the scenario where takeru has accepted you as his auntie

so sit down my little grasshoppers because this is finna be a long one

it all started when oikawa forgot his promise

now,

oikawa prides himself in being a know-it-all and being ‘responsible’ or shit like that but hes,,,,, far from that

like how he was currently running towards the gym where takeru’s volleyball class was at because he forgot that his sister made him promise to pick his nephew up since she was working overtime today

oikawa tooru didnt care about his appearance and the way he huffed as he sonic nyoomed his way there since he was more scared of what his sister would do to him if she finds out he was late

the sight of the gym door has never felt so good

‘TAKERU!!’

he yelled and a head peaked out that belonged to the one and only boy

‘uncle, youre so loud’

he chided and tooru rolled his eyes before grabbing his hand

‘hey, go get your stuff. im late and y/n is going go kill me if im not there’

takeru rolled his own eyes and went at a snail’s pace as he packed up his knee pads and his water bottles

‘TAKERU HURRY UP WHAT-!’

‘hmm,, dont lie uncle. you just want to see the pretty goddess nee-chan’

OKAY TAKERU DANG

so basically,,

its been mentioned that you call the boys a lot or its them calling you and oikawa happens to be the one who calls you constantly

and takeru lives with them and he’s usually up quite late so he hears tooru downstairs while talking to you

like one time, he couldnt sleep and his mom told him to drink warm milk to help him so he was just going down the stairs when he heard tooru laugh

now, dont get him wrong

hes heard his uncle laugh before so hes seen how he laughs around girls and it was like nails on a chalkboard

but this time, it sounded very genuine and his chuckles were almost,,, shy

and he figured that tooru was talking to a girl since he kept saying a girl’s name

‘y/n-chan~ youre so cute~ dont make me come over there and kiss you~’

oikawa cooed and takeru cringed 

so he was talking to you

he was no stranger to your name as he once teased his uncle for being whipped and got an hour long rant about how beautiful you were and nice and angelic and how you were just an angel on earth

so yea he knew you

tooru’s voice became clearer as he stepped foot into the kitchen

even a child like him could tell his uncle was basically in love with you

and he doesnt even really know what love is!!

‘disgusting’

the child said and tooru, who believes in ghosts and is the biggest scaredy cat, shrieked at the sudden voice 

‘oikawa-san? what’s wrong?’

your voice could be heard through his phone but tooru quickly told you good night and ended the call before he got off the chair and crossed his arms to stand in front of takeru

‘what did you say?’

he asked and takeru looked up at him, mimicking his pose

‘i said, its disgusting, uncle’

oikawa looked offended

‘what?! how could you say that?!’

takeru shrugged then he walked over to the fridge

‘yozora-kun told me that girls have cooties and we would die if we get it’

god it was such a childish thing to say but to an actual child like takeru, it sounded perfectly valid

‘its gross and nasty and he said you get all sweaty and you get a fever and ew’

tooru shook his head in disbelief before going over to help the boy get a glass

‘its not nasty or gross or disgusting, takeru. its actually,,, really nice. you dont die from it and you get sweaty when you get nervous and you dont get a fever, you just get flustered, thats all’

takeru still didnt believe him

‘well, he also said girls become monsters and they would eat your face’

KFJDSLFJSLDKIM SCREAMING

oikawa chortled 

‘what?!’

‘you heard me. all girls are monsters and you should protect yourself, uncle’

but when he met you, my oh my, you were no monster

you were,,,,,, really really really pretty

poor takeru doesnt really know the real meaning of beautiful so he settled on you being really really really really pretty

like when oikawa dragged him in the gym, takeru stared at you 

his mind couldnt process on the fact that someone as pretty as you even existed 

but that doesnt really say much since hes only like 8

BUT STILL

oikawa was hurriedly shoving them both in the gym and he was annoyed that takeru was just standing there but he was really just watching you as you scurried around to give the team their towels

‘takeru! come on!’

tooru’s voice snapped him out of it so he finally walked forward

‘y/n-chan~!’

oikawa called out and iwaizumi was about to yell at him for being late but you already had your bad bitch face on and you were strutting over

‘oikawa tooru, do you know how late you are?!’

you scolded and pulled his ear down to your height

‘eeeehhhh~~??? y/n-chan dont be so rough! it hurts! dont hurt oikawa-san!’

he teased to ease your anger but you sucked in a sharp breath

‘ill make sure it hurts more’

oikawa turned pale and started pleading and stuttering

‘please pleaseplease y/n-chan, i had to pick up takeru and it was a total mess and-’

at the mention of takeru, you let go of him and you finally caught sight of the little boy

ohmygee he was so adorable and youre just a sucker for adorable kids so you kinda squatted to his height since the height difference wasnt that big

you gave him a big smile and waved a hand

‘hey, you must be takeru. im y/n’

the poor kid’s face turned red unknowingly and he stiffened before nodding aggressively

‘my name is oikawa takeru and i am 6 years old’

he hand out his hands to prove his age and you giggled before nodding

‘my name is l/n y/n and i am 16 years old’

you held out 10 fingers then switched to having 6 up like he did

‘waaaa youre,,,’

the boy paused to subtract with his fingers before looking up at you with wide eyes

‘youre 10 years older than me!’

you sweatdropped at the sudden thought of being old 

‘hmm i guess i am’

you tilted your head to the side and continued to talk to the boy, completely oblivious to the stares from the others

they all sported a bright red blush and red ears at the thought of you being so good with kids and what if it was their own?

kindaichi gasped and held his hands to his face to cover the burst of all shades of red that decorated his entire face

OHMYGOSH THEYRE SO WHIPPED WHAT

‘ne, nee-chan, i know you’

takeru spoke as you led him to sit down on the bleacher, away from the practicing team and from any rogue balls

‘oh? you do?’

‘eung! uncle talks about you all the time! and he calls you too! i live with him, see, and nana yells at him for being on his phone during dinner because hes talking to you’

takeru admitted and you turned red, suddenly flustered

‘he talks about me? what does he say about me, take-chan?’

the little boy paused, holding his chin to think, then he lit up

‘he calls you beautiful goddess y/n-chan!’

YALL TAKERU IS SO CUTE WHAT THE HECK

‘he does?’

you asked, wholeheartedly surprised

takeru violently nods his head

‘yes! uncle talks about you all the time! my friend yozora wants to meet you too!’

‘hah? who is that?’

takeru sheepishly scratches his cheek

‘yozora-kun told uncle that girls are gross but uncle got mad and told him you were different because you were pretty and nice and yozora wants to see if you really were’

you laughed at the childish claims of this yozora boy

‘well,,, take-chan, do you think im gross?’

you asked, making the boy flustered again

‘no,,,, nee-chan is really pretty’

he mumbled while twiddling his fingers and you squealed before hugging him

‘oh, take-chan! you should visit more often!’

takeru nodded, smiling at how warm you were

‘eung! i love nee-chan! see? i can say i love nee-chan because im not a coward like uncle!’

you pulled away just slightly with a raised eyebrow

‘what are you talking about, takeru?’

the child puffed out his chest and his lip took on a smug angle

‘uncle talks to the mirror every morning! he says hes practicing! he takes forever just saying he loves you in the mirror and he doesnt let me pee! but its okay! because uncle can keep being coward but i get the pretty nee-chan!’

a disbelieving smile settled itself on your face and you absentmindedly caressed his smaller hand

‘what else does uncle do, take-chan? you see, nee-chan wants to tease him!’

takeru paused then lit up

‘oh! before i was born, mama told me uncle ate flowers because he thought his fart would smell like roses!’

‘hah?!’

your cries of shock made the boy laugh and you joined in with him

‘also! iwa-nii made me a tree house, right?! and uncle wanted to go in but he was too big so he got stuck at the front door! iwa-nii had to take the front part out and used soap to get him out!’

your cackles attracted the now ready captain and oikawa had an uneasy look

that little brat mustve told you some embarrassing stories based on how you laughed

‘oi! takeru! you shut your mouth right now, young man!’

he shouted and quickly stomped over to you at the bleachers

but you held the boy close, protecting him from the angry brunette

‘no! you stay away, oikawa-san! nee-chan will protect you, take-chan!’

you proclaimed and takeru was more than happy to snuggle closer and stick his tongue out at his uncle

you had a similar mischevious look and a wide but scary grin on your face that spelled nothing but trouble

was he,,,, being blackmailed right now?

tooru was scandalised at the thought and the act causign him to lunge over to you, tickling your sides so you could loosen your grip on the child

but you held on, giggling loudly causing takeru to also laugh when tooru’s fingers would touch his side too

‘no! stop-! ack-! tooru!’

you shouted but tooru was able to find an opening to grab takeru by under his arms and you reached over to grab him back but he was already lifted high

‘now what did you tell her, you brat?’

‘nothing!’

takeru shrieked but tooru hummed, not quite believing him

‘i dont think so’

tooru sat down on the floor and placed takeru on his lap with his fingers quickly hitting his ticklish spots

‘NOOO!!!! UNCLE!!!!’

you giggled and joined over, completely forgetting where you were and what your responsibilities are

okay can we take a second on how cute this moment is?

like despite the team practically being in love with you, they couldnt help but think of how much you guys looked like a family

iwa herded everyone to stop staring and keep practicing bc he knew that this was the first time tooru has been truly happy in a very long time

by the end of practice, you and takeru were practically best friends already

you were very sad to have to let him go home but he promised to come back soon

tooru gave him over to iwa so he could talk to you while you were packing up

you were putting on your jacket when you felt him tap your shoulder

with a smile, you turned around and he mirrored your grin

well,,, it was more like a shy and bashful grin

from behind him, you could see takeru being lifted by mattsun and his laughter echoed in the wind

tooru noticed your gaze then chuckled softly

‘thank you for,,, yanno,, keeping him busy’

you waved your hands around with a laugh

‘nonono! its okay! really! hes so adorable that i look forward to seeing him again!’

he let out a relieved sigh then placed his hands in his pockets, rocking on the balls of his feet

‘y/n,, youre really good with kids’

that comment made you flustered but you waved it off

‘nah, i just connect with them more. theyre so easily entertained and the innocence is nice’

‘well,, youll be a great mother in the future’

you chuckled then ruffled his soft hair

‘youll be a great father in the future then oikawa-san’

at first, he was just going to laugh it off but then the image of you playing with a child who possessed chocolate brown locks and beautiful e/c eyes appeared

he turned red and he fumbled for a response, completely speaking gibberish with no idea of what to even say

unfortunately for him, the team was not in a far distance and they could hear oikawa sputtering nonsense so to ‘help’ him, they started shouting for you guys to hurry up

‘come on! lets go, you guys! the bakery closes in a 10 minutes!’

makki yelled and you perked up and waved to signal you were going

‘come on, oikawa-san!’

you grabbed his hand and pulled him along

takeru noticed his uncle’s red face and a cute sly smile creeped up on his face

‘hmmm,,,,’

then he started a plan

and wow god must’ve wanted him to succeed because its like the fates and the stars and the universe just aligned

takeru was walking with his mom around a supermarket when he noticed your familiar h/c hair

‘y/n nee-chan!’

he shrieked before he could even stop himself and you were startled, wildly looking around for the person who said your name

‘nee-chan!’

takeru shouted again, running away from his mom towards you

‘takeru-!’

yall what is oikawa’s sister’s name? lets name her ‘tara’

tara shouted for her son and ofc ran after him when he didnt listen

‘takeru!’

you greeted back and winced a little when the force fo the little boy crashed into your legs

‘nee-chan! momma, look its nee-chan!’

takeru said when his mother caught up to him

‘oikawa takeru! you never run in the store like that again, you hear me?’

she scolded but then smiled up at you

‘oh hello darling, you must be y/n. im tara, tooru’s older sister and takeru’s mom’

she outstretched her hand for you to shake so you awkwardly shook it

‘uh-im l/n y/n’

‘momma! shes the pretty nee-chan i told you about! and shes the one uncle talks to every night!’

you cringed a little when takeru was excitedly talking as he was attracting other people with his loud voice

tara bless her heart noticed your discomfort and told you to go and follow her to the checkout if you were done

she ended up paying for your stuff despite your protests but she excused it as ‘consider this as payment for putting up that idiot brother of mine’

takeru wanted to show off so he held your bags but you still held on to their own to help tara out

‘ne, nee-chan! why are you not with uncle? its practice today, right?’

takeru asked as you three walked down the street

‘natsu’s sick so i was picking up some porridge for him to eat. i excused today because i wanted to take care of him’

takeru lit up

‘nee-chan! you should come over! nana wants to meet you too!’

tara rolled her eyes at her son with a smile

‘no, take-kun. nee-chan needs to go home to look after-’

‘ah, its okay, oikawa-san! natsu wont be awake for a while so i can spare an hour or two’

‘yey!’

tara made small talk with you while takeru hummed in front of you

‘thank you so much for putting up with my two boys, y/n. i heard from hajime that you kept takeru company while tooru practiced’

you nodded

‘it wasnt a big deal though. i love takeru, hes a sweetheart. and oikawa-san takes good care of him’

tara chuckled

‘as much as takeru loves to poke fun at tooru, he really does appreciate him you know? without a father, i worried on who would be his male figure. but tooru lived up to his title and takeru wants to do everything he does. like say, volleyball’

you followed along and you could see the little bits of tooru even by the way takeru walked

the little skip that his uncle had seemed to copy itself on to the nephew with even the happy humming

‘oikawa-san is,,, a really great person’

you off-handedly mentioned and tara looked at you from the corner of her eye 

warmth blossomed in her chest because although she knew how much of an insecure and rash person her brother was, he deserves someone who talks about him with such love in their voice

even the look in your eyes was enough to make her think,

yep, you are the one

omg nana oikawa is ltr head-over-heels for you already

the love for y/n is an oikawa thing

when takeru opened the door, nana oikawa rushed to greet her grandson when she saw another person

a girl

‘nana! nana! this is y/n nee-chan! uncle’s pretty goddess!’

uwu nana knows who exactly you are

lets just say shes exactly like takeru and has witnessed her son lovingly talk to some y/n girl at 3 in the morning

and her son has expressed his love and admiration towards you every chance he can

so yes lets just say she knows who you are

thats why nana brightly smiled and quickly ushered you into the house

‘oh come in! come in! takeru-kun, go lead y/n-chan to the couch and make her comfortable! ill get tea!’

takeru nodded and he grabbed your hand with his small one to go to the living room

you awkwardly sat stiffly, not exactly knowing what to do as this entire family seemed to know who you are

takeru settled himself beside you and was actively talking about what they did at volleyball practice today

you were enamored in his story that you didnt notice nana walk in with a try of tea with tara trailing behind her with cookies

you moved to help her but nana shook her head with a gentle smile before sitting down at the chair beside the couch

‘here you go, dear’

you bowed slightly and held the cup of green tea

everyone was now settled and you were nervously tapping your finger against the cup

you dont even know why youre nervous

its like youre suddenly meeting your boyfriend’s family without your boyfriend actually there

‘so,’

you jumped a little at the voice of nana and she smiled at you

‘oh dear dont be so nervous! we’re not that bad! we dont bite’

‘unless you want us to’

takeru whispered and you giggled, ruffling his hair with your free hand

‘so youre the famous y/n-chan then?’

you nodded again

‘takeru told us all about his adventures at seijoh the other day and, well,, he likes to tease his uncle but,, we believe him’

tara smiled, remembering her son’s words

‘nee-chan, i told them that uncle was very weird and shy and awkward and it was so weird’

he whispered, yet still able to be heard by everyone in the room

‘oh my, when we heard that we couldnt believe a person, much less a female, could even do that to him! i worried that my son would never develop interest in any girl but it seems i was worrying for nothing!’

nana giggled and you couldnt help but smile, realizing her laugh sounded exactly like tooru’s

‘you know, y/n, tooru’s never really had a crush before. and believe me, id know but even with his last girlfriend, which was also his first, he didnt seem interested at her in that way-well, maybe he was but he wasnt exactly enamored with her like he is with you’

you knew little about tooru’s first and last girlfriend

it was the butt of mattsuhana’s jokes all the time but you never partook bc you could see how,,, sad,,, tooru looks whenever its brought up

but you turned red,hand waving at her last comment

‘oh nonono, youre wrong. uhh, how do i say this,, oikawa-san,,, he just appreciates me bc,, i,,, reject his advances,, and,,, bring him milk bread,,, and banana milk,,,, and such,,,’

you trailed off and the two older women shared a look behind their cups

heh, it was refreshing to have tooru do the chasing this time

‘you must be wondering how, we, you know, know you, right?’

you nodded at nana’s question

she chuckled then placed her tea down

‘you see, we are aware of tooru’s,,,, expiditions. and by that, we mean the interest of others in him and his returned interest. but hes our family so we know that his interest is,, actually fake’

you looked down, knowing exactly what shes talking about

‘especially with girls, we see his annoyance, his ignorance, and we’re not proud of it. but with you, when he talks about you, its as if he was talking about the,,, the love of his life!’

you were startled, not sure if you should be proud of that or confused about that

‘mom! dont say that!’

tara nagged but nana shrugged her off

‘no, i want to express my gratitude for this girl. y/n, i want you to know now that,,, my son is damaged’

‘takeru cover your ears’

tara hurried and the boy shot his mother a confused look but still did it anyways

‘tooru,,, feels that he shouldnt burden us as he’s now the man of the house after his father and i’s separation. and,,, perhaps its the past of his father’s but,,, he doesnt let anyone in, except for us and hajime’

nana oikawa’s eyes held sadness

a raw emotion that shouldnt be shown to a stranger but by how much and how often tooru talks about you, she practically knew you already

‘and he refuses to do anything that isn’t necessary. he hates doing pointless things unless they will serve him purpose in the future thats why he focuses on that damn sport so much, even giving himself injuries! i worried and worried for him but then,, you came along. all the sudden, i see the life in his eyes that was wrongly taken from him, be replaced and its all because of a girl. ive never heard tooru talk about someone else other than his team or hajime so it was quite a surprise for us that he found someone who was, what he considers, worth his time. and the way,, the way he looks when he talks,,, y/n, i believe you are what he says, an angel’

a sudden wave of tears appeared as nana oikawa looked up to meet your eyes and you let out a stiff laugh but you tightened your grip on your cup

‘you are,,, my son’s angel’

DKFLJSKDFJDSLKFJSDLKFJD MY FEELS

the conversation was quickly shifted by tara as she could see the conflict in the way your eyebrows furrowed and the rapid movement of your pupils

she knew that you were probably still at a stage that you didnt realize your captain’s real and authentic feelings for you and she didnt want you to find out this way 

tara knows how emotional her mother can get regarding her son so she switched to another topic to not get too in deep with the whole situation

next thing you knew, you were giggling and laughing at nana oikawa’s merciless onslaught of her son’s childhood events

you attempted to hide your laugh by sipping your drink but it still came out wholeheartedly

‘yes! i wondered for a whole week as to why my roses were disappearing and i never would’ve thought id find my son eating them at 6 in the morning!’

nana cackled while takeru was so laugh-tired that he slumped over to your side, completely breathless

‘oh! dont forget the mickey mouse one! you see, y/n, we spent about a week at my aunts house and tooru saw a mouse! the poor child woke everyone up at midnight, screaming about a mouse sleeping next to him! and just to top it off, we visited disneyland and, whew, we just know now to avoid mickey mouse. to this day, that child is still traumatized by that cartoon’

meanwhile at seijoh,

oikawa was sneezing nonstop and iwaizumi has bonked him many many times now

‘OI! IF YOU GET SICK RIGHT NOW I WILL HIT YOU!’

‘OH GREAT! ILL BE SICK AND HAVE A CONCUSSION AT THE SAME TIME! THANKS IWA-CHAN!’

tooru irritably snapped and iwa was even surprised at how snippy he was

‘oi, what crawled up your ass and died today’

oikawa pouted then stomped his foot like a child

‘y/n isnt here today’

‘oikawa shes taking care of her cousin! she has a life outside of us you know?’

makki teased but flinched when tooru stomped his foot harder

‘but im her life! im all she needs!’

the entire team sweatdropped at the sight of makki and mattsun holding back their bara arms vice captain from beating up their captain 

‘ill be sure to give him mickey mouse stickers next time!’

you teased and they laughed

there was still remaining giggles left when the door handle twisted and the front door opened, revealing the man of the hour himself

takeru perked up and ran to the door to greet his uncle

‘uncle! uncle!’

he exclaimed and tooru sighed before grinning at him

his ears twitched at a familiar muffled giggle but he thought nothing of it by excusing it as him missing you so much that hes now hearing you

the thought of you dampened his mood again

‘uncle is too sad to play with you, takeru’

takeru’s head tilted to the side and one eyebrow was raised

‘heh? why? iwa-nii bonk you too hard?’

tooru shook his head solemnly

‘no. my darling wasnt there today and-’

‘oikawa-san, welcome home’

you emerged into the small hallway and tooru’s jaw dropped

then he snapped out of the surprise and ran straight towards you, picking you up and twirling you around

‘Y/N-CHAN~~~~~!!!!!’

he cheered and you giggled, trying to hold on to his shoulders to stabilize yourself

‘dont be so loud, oikawa-san’

you chided but with a smile

tooru calmed down however he still held you in his arms and was looking up at you with a grin, completely missing the fact that youre even at his house

‘its so nice to have y/n-chan greet me at the door. its like i have a wife! you wanna be my wife, y/n?’

you blushed a deep red and flicked his forehead

‘oikawa-san, your mother and sister is-’

you whispered harshly but a sudden shout made you both turn

‘NO! NEE-CHAN IS MY WIFE! NOT UNCLE’S! SHES TOO PRETTY FOR A COWARD LIKE UNCLE! I WILL FIGHT FOR NEE-CHAN! SURRENDER, UNCLE!’

you and oikawa looked at each other exasperatedly but with a fond look in your eyes

‘go’

you whispered

‘avenge me, oikawa-san’

that was enough for him to drop you gently and run to tackle takeru, who was giggling and kicking the air

you returned to your spot on the couch but shrunk back at the smirks the two oikawa women were directing to you

nana oikawa wanted you to have dinner with them so you stayed and oikawa held your hand under the table

even though they could obviously see it but yanno just stay quiet

‘y/n-chan, as much as i love you being here and meeting my family, how did you get here?’

takeru proudly raised his hand and swallowed his food

‘I BROUGHT NEE-CHAN HERE! I SAW HER AT THE MARKET!’

tooru nodded and reached over to ruffle his head

‘thank you, takeru! you turned uncle’s bad day to a good one!’

you turned to him with a worried look

‘huh? did something happen while i was away?’

tooru shook his head and pouted at you with his puppy eyes

‘y/n-chan wasnt there at practice today and oikawa-san missed her very much and-’

‘oikawa-san, please refrain from speaking in third person’

‘BUT Y/N-CHAN-!’

again, the two oikawa women shared a look

yep, you are the one

oikawa naturally took it upon himself to walk you home by saying ‘y/n-chan shouldnt walk home by herself!’

but in reality, he just wanted to spend more time with you because he didnt get to do that today

he just wanted his daily fill of you

O_O

aNYwAys

you both were walking down the street, hand-in-hand

KDSFJLSDKFJ FLASHBACKS FROM THE OIKS ROUTE

‘i love your family, oikawa-san’

you said and he giggled

‘well, just wait a few years and youll be a part of it too’

you blushed and smacked him on the chest making him wince and exagerrate an ‘ow!’

‘your mom,,, really loves you. and your sister, and takeru! theyre really nice and im happy your family loves you so much’

‘what about you? do you love me?’

you hummed

‘eung! i love oikawa-san! and the boys! i love all of you!’

DKFLJSDKFJSDLKFSJD NOOOOO FLASHBACKS AGAIN TO THE KUWS EPISODE OF THEM LEAVING AND OIKAWA TELLING HER HE LOVES HER ANDFJDKFJSDKFLDKJ ACK! FEELINGS!

oikawa had a sad smile on but he didnt push any further

‘well! you met my family already so now its my turn to meet yours!’

you turned to give him a deadpan expression

‘oikawa-san, my father chased you with a broom. i dont think its safe for you to even step foot at my front porch’

oikawa scoffed and puffed out his chest smugly

‘hah! your oikawa-san is a strong man! he doesnt get scared over some broom!’

‘oh! oikawa-san! i need to get your opinion on this! i want to give iwa-san this mickey poster but-’

noticing that oikawa was no longer walking beside you, you turned around to see him staring at the spot you were previously at 

‘oikawa-san?’

he didnt answer and you giggled

‘oh? is it mickey mouse? you scared?’

you neared the phone to his face and then his eyes settled on the terrifying face of the disney character

oikawa screamed

a/n: AAAAAAAAA WE FINALLY GETTING THROUGH REQS AND IM SO HAPPY THAT MY TEACHER IS SO NICE AND OMGOMGOMG MY FRIEND GOT INTO AN ACCIDENT AND WE WERE TALKING ABOUT HOW A BIRD GOT INTO OUR CLASSROOM AND SDKFJDSLFKJSDLKFJSDLFKJNOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

anyways, how yall been? i know ive been gone for a hot sec but uwu hey!!! 

[discotreque]

LwD 2.05: An Embarrassment of Dooplers

So I was a little nervous about this one! I hadn’t heard any spoiler-spoilers, but screeners have been out for weeks now, and I’d heard a bunch of individual, vague, non-spoilery hints about (1) big character moments, on the scale of a mid-season finale even though the show’s not taking a mid-season break; and (2) an ending that would make me cry.

I guess I imagined something relatively serious and dramatic, like “No Small Parts”? This show makes me cackle with laughter and giggle with nerdy glee and “d’awww!” at heartwarming friendships every week, but it’s only ever made me cry once—and then I was impressed that they were going to get there from the wacky hijinks we saw in the brief teaser.

The lack of a cold open made me apprehensive too—in my experience, that’s typically a sign that there’s so much plot in the rest of the episode that they need that extra scene—but after ~21.5 minutes of aforementioned hijinks, I was having so much fun that I’d completely forgotten about the alleged tear-jerker at the end…

…and they were not the tears I was expecting.

I didn’t think I’d be smiling and crying!!!! That was wholesome as SHIT!!!!!

I almost can’t believe they earned that—but they totally did.

After a Mariner–Tendi episode and a Boimler–Rutherford episode, we’re back to the “usual” Season 1 pairings… except the relationships between these characters have changed since Season 1. Mariner still feels thwacked in the abandonment issues by Boimler bailing for the Titan, and Rutherford’s having a tiny little existential crisis about losing an entire year of his life.

Both of which are extremely understandable and very heavy situations—and both of those situations get resolved because everyone in them is vulnerable with each other and honest about their feelings—AND that honesty and vulnerability brings both pairs of friends closer together. Are you kidding me?? I would watch SEVENTY seasons of that shit. Put it in my veins.

Onto the notes:

So basically Dooplers are Tribbles, but for cringe comedy instead of slapstick? Ohhhhh boy.

Look at Ransom the diplomat, tossing his own fork on the floor! I like that he’s actually a pretty competent Starfleet officer, despite also being a completely ridiculous person.

Wait a second, is that—OH HOLY SHIT, THE DOOPLERS ARE VOICED BY RICHARD KIND.

It makes sense that B. Boimler would find William annoying—who likes seeing their own flaws reflected back at them? And who could be a better reflection of one’s flaws than one’s literal duplicate?—but most interesting to me is that it implies on some level, Bradward knows the stick up his butt is a flaw. (Does William?)

Why does the Cerritos model have working phasers?!?!

I’m loving hot pink as the currently en-vogue colour for “dangerous sci-fi energy” in animation (cf. almost every previous episode of this show; Into the Spider-Verse; other stuff I can’t remember right now). As a former child of the 80’s, I’m living for it… but as a former teenager of the 90’s, I can’t help but wonder if it’s going to age as poorly as the harsh neon green of The Matrix, every Borg appearance on Voyager, and like 80% of the websites I made in high school…

SKANTS! SKANTS! SKANTS!

That fake-out joke with the fly-by over the Cerritos model was in the season trailer weeks ago, and I was so enthralled by that handsome lady that the sticker coming into frame still got me good 😂😂😂

BECKY Mariner????? omg yes

Some top-quality Boimler screams in this one. Poor Jack Quaid must drink gallons of throat-coat tea when he records.

One of the great things about Star Trek to me is that you never know what you’re going to get from any random episode. A murder mystery? A road trip? A spooky thriller? A cheesy romance? Broad comedy? Body horror? Didactic political screeds shrouded in tissue-thin science-fiction metaphors? Brain and brain, what is brain??? And after this many years of watching, you’d think I’d be hard to surprise. But if I ever told you I thought I’d see a Blues Brothers–style car chase through a frickin’ shopping mall on an episode of Star Trek, I would have been straight-up lying to you. I loved it, it worked for me, my jaw was on the floor and I was clapping with joy—but I’m definitely comfortable calling this one “unexpected.”

It’s CAPTAIN SHELBY!!! And an ancient babydyke crush rose from the depths of my childhood subconscious… (Also I think her Number One is based on the original makeup—eventually deemed too complicated—for Saru? Now that’s a deep cut.)

In 20th-century Trek, you almost never got to see what was going on inside a starship from the outside. Even after they switched from physical models (where it was next to impossible on a single episode’s budget) to CGI (which was still in its infancy, still not exactly cheap, and still broadcast in SD anyway), it was a rare thrill to see any meaningful interior details in an exterior shot. Disco’s modern VFX have given us some tasty, tasty treats in that department, but nothing quite as sublime as all the pink Doopler light glittering through the Cerritos’s windows.

Mariner says she’ll take her contact Malvus down with her, and threatens that they’ll end up “in the same cell.” Malvus is a Mizarian, a species introduced in TNG’s “Allegiance,” in which Captain Picard is held in a mysterious prison with one. I think I see what you did there, McMahan?

Bartender… so hot… lesbian circuits… overloading…

The Tendi and Rutherford C-story was, well, a C-story within a 22-minute episode, so there wasn’t much to it, but the one scene that mattered actually mattered a lot. I’m ambivalent on whether they should end up romantically involved—I’d prefer they don’t, but they’ll be one of the cutest couples in Trek history if they do—and as long as they keep that pure, sweet friendship between them at the heart of whatever else happens, I’m on board.

Carol Freeman was already one of my favourite captains before this season, and she’s been steadily moving up the list. The quiet throughline about her ambition to be on a better ship has been fascinating so far, and it’s starting to actually make me feel a little conflicted: I’m of course rooting for Captain Freeman to recognize her worth, make Starfleet recognize her worth, and become the ass-kicking captain of a hero ship that she’s clearly ready to be—but that almost surely means she’d be kicking ass off-screen, because LwD isn’t about those kind of adventures, and I’d be devastated not to have Dawnn Lewis on the show every week. So I’m kind of on the edge of my seat about this one!

I had so many favourite jokes this week I put them in a separate list:

“Even the replicated water on the Titan tasted better” is a low-key brilliant dunk on people who can’t shut the fuck up about the cooler places they used to live.

“Ooooh, they have a Quark’s now! That used to just be an empty lot where teens would make mistakes!” ← That’s literally me every time I go back to where I grew up. I felt so Seen™ I almost hid under a blanket.

“I would never go down the stairs!” (evil grin) (goes up the stairs)

The “well, shit” expressions from Mariner and Boimler as their crashed car sank right into the water… which started to bubble innocuously… and then the bottles of Data bubble-bath popped up, paying off a joke I thought had already been paid off—that was the one that woke up my poor cat this week. Just exquisite timing.

“YOUR PAGH IS WEAK, AND IT DISGUSTS ME!” “I don’t even know what that is, but I don’t like your tone!”

“Okona’s in there? He’s not even Starfleet! This is outrageous!” made me shout “NO!” at the screen like I was scolding my cat for scratching furniture. (She did not wake up that time.)

Best background joke: the neon sign at the dive bar advertising FREE SHOTS & BEERS. (Get it? Because they’re on a Federation starbase? Where nobody uses money?)

And of course Quark merchandised DS9.

This wasn’t just a standout episode of Lower Decks, this was a brilliant episode of Star Trek, period. The Dooplers, though extremely silly, are nevertheless also a clever sci-fi metaphor for real and relatable personal/interpersonal issues, and an effective plot catalyst for meaningful character growth from all four of our ensigns and the captain.

The jokes were hilarious, the action was kinetic, the A-, B-, and C-plots linked up thematically, the visuals were consistently and thoroughly gorgeous, the character beats—between Mariner and Boimler, Tendi and Rutherford, Mariner and Capt. Freeman—were all genuine, heartfelt and wholesome, and the references to other Trek canon were both deep and deeply affectionate.

Only 15 episodes in, and this series knows exactly what it is, exactly what it wants to do, and knows that it can knock our socks off doing it. Mike McMahan has said in recent interviews that the back half of S2 (and the apparently almost-fully-written S3) is a straight line uphill in quality from here—which surprised me at first, because McMahan seems like a pretty chill dude who doesn’t normally brag about his own work like that.

But then the Prophets sent me a vision of my space dad Ben Sisko, who reminded me of the words of 1930’s baseball player Dizzy Dean:

“If you can do it, it ain’t bragging.”

[Thanks to cygnus-x1.net for the screenshots this week—I was too lazy to do my own.]

[teenage-mutant-ninja-freak]

How would the boys react to their SO doing something like this 😳😅😏

Now you guys are just trolling me for sure! But I am nothing if not a slave to your demands so here we go (OMG I can’t stop laughing at this)

Leo

Leo is still panting from the release you just gave him

and he’s about to say “thank you” like he always does after you’ve just pleased him

when you raise your thumb and cackle “Simbaa!” as you rub his cum across his forehead 

“Did...Did you just!?” he says feverishly wiping it away

when the shock is over he ends up bursting out laughing at how ridiculous that just was

“That’s disgusting, baby!”

he still can’t quite believe you’ve done what you have

vows he will get you back for this in some way, and it’s gonna be creative as hell

Raph

He’s just finished telling you what an amazing job you just did

when you reach up and wipe a thin line of his cum on his forehead while saying “Simbaa!”

“What the fuck, that’s so nasty what were you thinking?”

not sure what to feel, but shock is the first thing that comes to mind

“Come ‘ere, I’ll fucking nut on your forehead, see how you like it!”

you remind him that he kind of has given you a facial before...

which he blushes at

makes you clean him up because he doesn’t want to touch it

but you start giggling and he tells you not to but can’t help but laugh along with you

“Never do that to me again, yer hear me?”

Mikey

oh he’s still riding his high when you do it

net really sure what you just did so he just goes along and sings the “AHH Savena!” (not sure wtf the lyrics are but you know what I mean) but

then he feels it drip down his forehead a little

“Eww, gross baby!”

wipes it off and tries to wipe it on your face along with a handful more from his belly that he scooped up

there may or may not be 10 minutes of him chasing you round the bed, cum in hand, saying “I’m gonna get you!”

after he catches you he wipes it on your face like it’s a goddamn face mask and you just have to let him because his grip is too strong

calls you frosty the cum man because of how it looks (will call you that forever now...)

you regret ever doing this to him but you both find it so funny

at least it’ll make a good story

“Hey, remember that time I wiped cum on your face?”

Donnie

Donnie always says “thank you” after

it’s like his post sex ritual

but then you do that thing

and he can see it coming but can’t stop it

goes through the 5 stages of grief in about 3 seconds

acceptance is him holding his head in his hands

and saying “you’ve done this, for what? For what?”

a simple “It funny” from you is enough to make him crack a smile

puts his forehead on yours so you have some on you too

“I’m never letting you near my dick again” but you both know that’s a lie

you try and do it again and he fucking tackles you to the bed

“You wanna play lion king? Do you?” 

he pushes you off the bed saying “long live the king”

[sharperthewriter]

Chapter 12 of Possible-y Utah

Chapter 12 - The Agreement II

(2:18 pm)

A pink convertible pulled up into the driveway of Richard's house and two girls, both seniors, got out of the car.

The girl who was driving the car was Genna Majenta. She, whom had recently graduated from MHS, had long shoulder-length black hair, brown eyes and was slightly taller than Kim. She was dressed in a blue croptop shirt, a silver star necklace, Club Banana dark baggy denim overalls with the bib folded down and straps hooked and a belt to hold them up and white sneakers. She was co-captain of the Middleton Golden Dancers dance team in her senior and the girlfriend of Richard.

The other girl whom was the passenger of the car was Jeanna Montana, the girlfriend of Jack. Like Genna, she was approaching her senior year at Middleton High and was also on the Golden Dancers. They were also of the same height. But whereas Genna had brown eyes and black hair, Jeanna had blonde hair and blue eyes and had a tattoo of two starts on her midriff. She was wearing a pink tubetop, silver hoop earrings, black carpenter jeans, and pink sneakers.

"Ugh...do you wonder why Richard called us here, Gen?" Jeanna asked while popping her strawberry bubblegum.

"Dunno. Maybe both he and Jack could get lucky with us tonight!" Genna replied, texting away on her phone.

"You wanna take Jack upstairs or in the basement?" Jenna asked, popping a medium-sized bubble.

"Since I went upstairs with Jack last time, I'll take the basement for a little 'extra-session' with him!" Genna replied with a very vapid grin, licking her lips. "I am wearing my 'special' panties for him!"

She opened the door to the house and saw that, to her surprise, that Bonnie and Rebecca were sitting on the couch.

Jeanna reacted with disgust at the sight of a cheerleader in her boyfriend's house.

"What is this...?" she asked with a slight growl.

Richard gasped in horror at his girlfriend appearing. "It's not what it looks like, Jeanna! They were the ones who called us up to come here.

Jeanna stomped to the living room with her left hand clenched in a fist.

"I am going to give Miss Rockwaller a piece of my mind!" she exclaimed.

Bonnie saw the approaching, and very POed, Jeanna but she stood her ground. She jumped out of the couch right in front of her.

Rebecca exclaimed, "B! Please!"

"If you even dare come closer to me..." Bonnie insisted, her shoes digging deep in the carpet, "...I will make sure that my mom will give you a good paddling with her Swatter!"

Genna also intervened, "Jenna...I'd hate to say this, but Bonnie's right! You do NOT want to cross paths with her!"

Jeanna stopped herself in her tracks. She knew all about the reputation of Veronica Rockwaller and her infamous wooden paddle.

"You're lucky that your mom is the head disciplinarian of the entire school district, Rockwaller! I would've given you a black eye if I had the chance!" Jeanna sneered.

Richard tried to intervene.

"Ladies! Ladies! Let's chillax!" he nervously chuckled, "Let's not fight here! Let's be reasonable before someone calls the police on any of us!"

Jenna unclenched her fists but turned her anger to her football-playing boyfriend.

"Richard, I am going to have a very long talk with you after this..."

"You know, this may be just be a mistake...just like what you two losers did with 'The Incident'!"

Rebecca, however, was still confused.

"Okay, I'm totes mixed up."

"What is it now, R?" Bonnie asked.

"Why do you have beef with the Golden Dancers?" Rebecca questioned.

"It all started about six months ago. We were about to hit the showers after cheer practice one day." Bonnie began to explain "The Incident."

Jenna then smirked, "Oh yeah, now I remember! One of our Dancers turned off the hot waters to the showers!"

"I have never taken a shower that cold in my life...about as bad as the time Possible pulled that same trick on me last year at Wannaweep." Bonnie muttered. "Good thing we had our towels on."

"That was only Part 1 of our little 'fun' against you cheerleaders!" Genna giggled.

"Oh yes, the other part of their prank against us!" Bonnie continued, "Another one of your little Dancers poured Stoppable's Mad Dog banana cream foam down our cheer skirts!"

"We had a very good laugh after that!" Jenna grinned. "Celebrated at Mr. Swirley's that night."

"I, along with the rest of the squad, had to wash my uniform thoroughly to get rid of Stoppable's gunk!" Bonnie bitterly complained.

"He should have stored the foam in a more...secure...place!" Genna cackled.

Bonnie huffed before saying, "I wish if I had punched you in the face right then and there...but Possible, being the Miss Goody-Two-Shoes she is, banned the squad from ever engaging in violence or any criminal acts against you Dancers. And your little Dancer who poured the foam in our skirts got kicked off!"

Genna sighed, "Yet, a couple weeks after that, someone on your squad disobeyed Kim's orders! Stole our hairsprays for an upcoming dance competish! To my recollection, didn't Kim kick her off the team?"

"Truth be told, yes!" Bonnie replied, while darting her eyes around.

Jenna then turned to Rebecca. "So you see, due to 'The Incident' , a brawl was inevitable between the Dancers and the Cheer Squad."

She then continued on the aftermath.

"A few days after that, me and Kim agreed for the Cheer Squad and the Dancers to set up a truce that we won't carry our rivalry on the school grounds during school hours. It's now pretty much limited to mean glares and taunting. No practical jokes or physical contact that would draw the ire of the school board."

"It's a controlled rivalry, then?" Rebecca asked.

Jeanna, Genna, and Bonnie all nodded their heads.

Genna then intervened on Rebecca and Bonnie's intent of visiting.

"So now that we've got the deets of 'The Incident' out of the way, I am going to ask again, Rockwaller. Why are you and..."

Jeanna then whispered in Genna's ear on who the other girl was with Bonnie.

Genna gasped, "That so can't be! That's Rebecca Starlet, the billionaire heiress to the Starlet family oil fortune!"

"OMG! I totally loved your reality show about what's it's like being rich and all..." Jeanna exclaimed breathlessly before having a forgetful moment. "Oh man...what's that show called again?"

"Being Rich with a Starlett?" Rebecca guessed with a smirk.

"That's the one!" Genna said in between breaths. "Oh man...I'm so amazed that we have a celeb here that I forgot what we were talking about!"

"You were about to say, 'Why are you here', Genna!" Richard corrected his girlfriend.

"Oh right!" Genna replied before taking a deep breath. "Forgive my fangirling, but why exactly are you and Miss Starlet here for, Rockwaller?"

"We're here because we need your BF's help to not only humiliate Possible, but also break the loser couple up for good!" Bonnie replied on their real intent of their visit. "Since he has already graduated from Middleton High, he won't have the threat of Barkin dangling over his head."

"Yeah, before I met this lovely lady here..." Richard said, turning his head towards Genna, "...I did have a blind date with Kim last year...only to be rejected by her dad, all because I was 18 months older than she was!"

"And I also only had one date with that redhead around that same time..." Jack snarled, "Just because I made a pass at Jeanna does not mean that she has the right to splash water in my face!"

"So we have at least something in common...hatred against the wannabe for at least something" Bonnie grinned, "Well...except for Rebecca because she's not on Possible's radar...yet."

"Yes, but what is in it for me and Jeanna if we go along with your little plot of breaking up the couple?" Genna asked.

Bonnie shifted her teal eyes to Rebecca.

"R, would you like to demonstrate?"

"I sure can, B!" Rebecca grinned as she took out two credit cards with a $100,000 limit on each to Country Club Banana.

Jeanna gasped, "That is genuine Country CB?"

Rebecca nodded her head.

"You would have to pass a credit card check just to even get in the place!" Genna exclaimed, her jaw dropping.

Rebecca continued, "My daddy gave it to me last Christmas, but I still haven't figured out to do with them. So may as well put them to good use!"

"Rebecca will give you the Country CB credit cards IF the plan to break up Possible and Stupidable is successful." Bonnie explained. "If you fail, you get nothing!"

"In exchange, me and my Dancers will not play any practical jokes on you or any of your cheerleaders for the rest of summer except for the intended target of Miss Possible!" Jeanna replied.

"Do we have a deal?" Bonnie asked grinning, extending out her hand.

Jeanna also extended her hand and shook hers with Bonnie's, sealing the agreement.

"Now..." she began, "...here's the plan."

And the six teens began to discuss at length Bonnie's vile plan to break up Team Possible.

[felsdumpsterfire]

Pls give us those good sweet headcanons for your fave ships

WHAT- WHAT HAVE YOU DONE ANON??? YOU’VE UNLEASHED THE FLOOD GATES

more under the cut because this is going to be a looooong post :D

OK, SO, SO, WE’LL JUST GO IN ORDER BECAUSE WHY NOT???

Protag 1 x Duo

*Duo and Protag 1 would understand each others wants (being treated like a kid/their ages) so they’d totally act like it, they’d be relaxed and super playful with each other*There’s always an air of calm between them when it is just the two of them. *They’re always holding onto something of the others, be it a sleeve or their hand- they’ve been known to cling to the backs of each others shirts too.*The rest of the Protags are super supportive of this- Shuichi, not so much. He finally warms up to the idea when he sees how happy Duo is, but it also takes Protag 2 threatening to rip his balls off and shove them down his throat for him to look past his brother complex for all of 2.5 seconds. *Duo and Protag 1 tend to give each other cheek kisses.*Protag 1 also has a habit of kissing the tips of Duo’s fingers, and though he doesn’t show too much emotion, Duo gets extremely flustered by this.*He got Protag 1 back by giving him one of his coats. *He cried and hugged Duo the entire afternoon after that. *Duo was smiling all day the next day (Shuichi almost had a heart attack-)*It’s one of Portags 1 personal treasures*Protag 1 and Duo had never properly asked each other out, everyone just kinda assumed they were an item off the bat. *Suuuper soft with each other*Protag 1 was devastated at Duo’s betrayal(Protag 1 didn’t eat for three days afterward. Protag 3 had to ask Ded to talk to him because he wasn’t listening to anyone else. *He clung to Duo’s coat the entire time he locked himself in his room.*He’s still sad about it, but he’s working on doing better.*Duo is doing shit*He feels guilty af and shitty af*Protag 1 bought him a little charm of a Ranger and he stares at it for hours on end when he has free time. *Oso tried to tease him for it once and he almost lost an eye*Protag 1 will get random texts from random numbers with messages saying: ‘I’m sorry’, ‘your beautiful’, ‘please don’t leave me behind’ *Protag 1 cries over them from time to time because he knows who it is, but he wished he didn’t. Protag 1 x Robinson*kKJSL;EJLJ*S O F T*I headcanon that this ship cropped up after Duo, but even without that influence, they’d be so FUCKING. SOFT. FOR EACH OTHER. *Robinson and Protag 1 always hold hands. ALWAYS. *That or Robinson will wrap a friendly arm around Protag 1’s shoulders and keep him close*Protag 1 likes to go and spend his allowance on getting clothes for Robinson. *He swears he doesn’t need them but Protag 1 just gives him some puppy eyes and Robinson can’t say no.*Robinson is so whipped for Protag 1*He’s almost shot Sitri because he thought he was trying to put the moves on him. In actuality he was asking him how to ask Protag 2 out, or get her to like him- he just got too close for Robinson’s comfort. *Did shoot Ikitoshi though. He swears it was on accident. It was not. (Iki was teaching Protag 1 some defensive moves when Robinson just…. Shot him in the ass. Bathym couldn’t stop laughing for a week).*Robinson likes to take Protag 1 on little “dates” where they just walk around town while holding hands and talking about their days to each other.*Triton got Robinson a phone and the only person he texts is Protag 1.*Protag 1 is his background photo*Robinson getting excited over his first ever ice cream cone is Protag 1’s background photo. *Protag 1 has exactly 290 photos in his gallery and it’s filled with pictures of his friends and more than half of them are Robinson doing cute shit.*Robinson carries Protag 1 everywhere. Like- he just scoops him up with his little man baby muscle arms and n y o o m- he’s gone.*Robinson is not afraid of PDA. *It almost gave Protag 1 a heart attack the first time Robinson just marched up to him and planted a kiss right on his lips.*That was also their first kiss.*In front of all of the Summoners and Protags*Protag 4 still won’t let him live it down*Robinson will pick random flowers for Protag 1 *Protag 1 has books and books of pressed flowers; he’s saved every single one*Robinson and Protag 1 will lay together in the middle of Protag 1’s room and hold each other hand and simply exist. *Once in awhile they’ll giggle and whisper to each other what they adore about the other. *Robinson loves Protag 1’s giggle and Protag 1 loves Robinson’s eyes. *They are SOFT AND HEALTHY*AND IT THIS TAKES PLACE AFTER THE DUO INCIDENT. DUO IS A DEAD CHILD LDKJFLKJDELF ROBISNON IS OUT FOR BLOOD (AND SMOOCHES)

Protag 2 x Kengo *THESE TWO ARE THE CHAOTIC DUO OF THE DAMN CENTURY.*They love each other so much and it is sickening*Ken isn’t necessarily lovey-dovey; he actually gets super embarrassed about it, even in private*bUT PROTAG 2 HAS SO MUCH LOVE TO GIVE THAT SHE’LL JUST,,, STARE AT HIM WITH THESE EYES FULL OF LOVE AS SHE HOLDS HIS HAND AND EVERYONE AROUND THEM ARE LIKE “GET A FUCKING ROOM YOU DISGUSTING LITTLE SHITS.”*Protag 2 has slammed a man to the ground for Kengo because the dumbass thought it would be a good idea to try and steal from Ken. Either way he would’ve been fucked, but Protag 2 is merciless when it comes to loves ones*Ken likes when she compliments his muscles or when she runs her fingers over his arms*Ken actually has a possessive streak*He’ll just pick her up if she’s paying too much attention to someone and walk off (Shiro’s about killed him every time he’s done this in his presence)*Protag 2 loves it*If Oniwaka is in any vicinity near Protag 2 he knows. No one knows how, but he just gets a weird feeling in his gut.*Actually gets waaaaaaay more into PDA when Oniwaka is there. *Has shoved his tongue down Protag 2’s throat in front of everyone when Oniwaka was trying to have a genuine conversation with. She almost passed out*20/10 would do it again despite getting his ass pulverised by Shiro for public indecency*He likes to take her on sparring dates and they just train together the entire time.*Surprisingly good at bra picking, so Protag 2 will drag him to go and pick bras. *He almost flipped when she dragged him into Victoria Secrets.*She likes to tease the ever loving SHIT out of him*He has a very, very big love/hate relationship with it*The first time they did the do Kengo about had an aneurysm because, woah. You have bigger boobs than I thought you did.   *And Protag 2 almost died because she was laughing so damn hard because omg, Ken, you did not just say that out loud. *They almost got caught in the Janitors closet they were in.*And yes they did the dirty for the first time in a damn janitors closet. They’re both impulsive and chaotic bastards, of course they would*Very supportive of each other*Kengo was the first to say “I love you” to Protag 2 because he almost came too late when she was being ganged up on by a group of app users. She almost missed it because she blacked out right afterwards.*She woke up staring at Ken bewildered as he sobbed, and the first thing she asked was: “Did you say you loved me???”*He kissed the fuck out of her because Omg, I thought I was the dumbass in this relationshipOniwaka x Protag 2*Oniwaka swears he’s getting grey hairs because of her. *She straight up tried to fight someone three times her size for him and he almost screamed. *He always gets matching keychains for them, or just keychains that remind him or her.*Protag 2 has taken to buying him plushes and he saves every single one.*She was the one to ask him out and he turned so red. *Then he fainted and Protag 2 started crying because she thought she killed him. *He was the one to initiate the first kiss tho*He set it up so nicely too, peaceful time on the town and ending it with a beautiful picnic under the moonlight; and Protag 2 holds that memory so close to her heart. *Protag 2 will jump on Oniwaka’s back randomly. *At first it freaked him out*But he’s so numb to it now*Called her babe in public once and no one lets him live it down*He was so ready to kill Bathym when he started cackling*Ryota is their biggest shipper*He will go down this ship. Fuck you*So, like, reverse uno from Kengo’s headcanons because Oniwaka is just as bad with PDA when Kengo is around.*The only difference here is that Ken will throw a bitch fit with no hesitation, also Oniwaka is a little more subtle about it*He’ll wrap on arm around her waist and pull her real close, once in a while, if she’s wearing jeans, he’ll slip his hand into her back pocket*Ken just stares at him with all the contempt in the world*Oniwaka has this tendency to step in between Protag 2 and new peopleaBOUT BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF SURTUR WHEN HE SAW HIM AGAIN*“YOU’RE THE ASSWIPE WHO HURT THE LOVE OF MY LIFE YOU HUGE HAIRY BITCH.”*They would both 10/10 kill for each other.

Protag 3 x Shinya*OK, OK, OK, OK. THIS IS A CUTE AF SHIP OK??????*YOU CAN PRY THIS ONE FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS*Shinya  and Protag 3 are so soft for each other*They hold hands, and will touch their foreheads together and just*Bask in each other’s presence*Scarily attuned to each other*They don’t even have to say anything. They just know what each other want off the bat*Shinya is a jelly baby (you can also rip this from my cold dead hands)*Shinya will get pouty if Protag 3 is paying attention to someone for too long, or if someone is trying to put the moves on them, he’ll just,,, slide up to Protag 3 and cling to his arm, bat his eyelashes at him, and whisper: “I’m tired…”*He has Protag 3 wrapped around his finger and he KNOWS IT *But he loves him so much that he would never, ever, ever take advantage of their heart or willingness*Cupid loves Protag 3 to death and Shinya has gotten jealous about it because Cupid is not afraid to ask for some smooches ok?*Shinya gets kisses too when this happens*Protag 3 doesn’t get jealous?? Like?????? Ever???????*And Shinya really wished he did because he wants to see alright?? It’d be terrifying or cute as hell ok?*Protag 3 always gets something for Shinya before they go and meet with him.*Protag 3 would D I E for Shinya*The first time they had the intercoarse, Protag 3 couldn’t stop babbling about how beautiful Shinya was and that turned into a bout of passionate love make*This seems like a good time to state that I am a firm believer that they are switches*Shinya made a special drink named after Protag 3*Every Saturday, they go over the the other’s house and watch movies all night*They have fairly moderate PDA*They’re always touching each other in some way*Cheek and hand kisses are extremely common between them *They are very much in love and very much soft with each other*I LOVE THIS SHIP SO MUCH ;-;

Protag 4 x Toji*No one knows how they got together*NO ONE*NOT EVEN TOJI*In actuality Protag 4 just kinda built up to it, got Toji where he wanted him and B O O M. They’re dating now*Toji is easily flustered and Protag 4 thrives off of this *Protag 4 is quite protective of Toji*This leads to some arguments, but they never really have big, relationship-threatening arguments.*Which is surprising*Protag 4 is prone to showering Toji is gifts*Toji treasures them all, but this is a simplistic boi and too much stuff makes his head reel*Protag 4 is terrified that Toji is going to ask where he got all that money from *Toji doesn’t because Toji is kinda dense some times*They like to talk about books together*They’re dates consist of going to the library, reading books, going to a cafe and then discussing them*Protag 4 loves to play with Toji’s hair*Sometimes they’ll just go to Protag 4’s room and listen to his playlist that he had saved from his previous life and close their eyes and maybe fall asleep*Very relaxed around each other*Toji also likes to play with Protag 4’s hair in return and will do so when Protag 4 lays his head on Toji’s lap while he’s reading a book or reports*Protag 4 and Toji don’t actually have a lot of PDA in their relationship*Sometimes Protag 4 will text Toji in the middle of the night because the feeling of wandering hand is on his skin again and he feels like he’s on the verge of a mental break down*Drags Toji to try on clothes*Toji almost choked when Protag 4 came out in a form fitting dress*They had sex while Protag 4 wore that dress.*Toji is still embarrassed to this day when he sees that dress*They love each other a lot they just don’t say it*A surprisingly relaxed relationshipProtag 4 x Ophion*Protag 4 is a PRINCESS OK?*Ophion and him will go for flies through the night sky and Protag 4 loves it*He wears every single thing that Ophion gets him*His closet is fucking full of clothes and he is L I V I N G*Him and Ophion have a shit ton of intelligent and philosophical conversations*Ophion rubs it in the other Tycoons’ faces that him and Protag 4 are together*Ophion aslo fucking PREENS when Protag 4 gets into one of his moods where he just showers him in compliments and runs his hands up and down Ophion’s waist and chest. *Protag 4 has cried in front of Ophion and Ophion held him and whispered sweet nothings to him and Protag 4 couldn’t help but whisper that he loved him and *Ophion just smiled and hugged him closer to his chest**Slams fists on table* OPHION AND PROTAG 4 ROLEPLAY. THEY ROLEPLAY A DRAGON WHO KIDNAPPED A PRINCESS AND THEY DO IT W E L L.*Ophion will buy Protag 4 anything he wants in a blink of an eye with no hesitation*Protag 4 actually feel super secure with Ophion and it genuinely scares him*But he loves him so he’s going to try*Ophion will wait a lifetime and more for Protag 4*Very soft and pompous relationship right here. They’re so fucking in love you might as well barf

Protag 5 x Zao*This is another GOOD ONE OK?*They both love hiking and the outdoors and they’re both socially awkward and they’re both in love*Fucking perfect*Zao likes to carry Protag 5 and they get super flustered about it*Protag 5 will make sure that Zao doesn’t go too far into the mountains and reminds him about school that they still go to*Zao likes to pick up pretty stones for Protag 5 and give them to them*They have a whole ass collection of them at this point*Protag 5 holds onto Zao’s hand when they get nervous*Zao would beat a whole man’s skull in if they even breathed near Protag 5*Zao and Protag 5 nerd out of different plants and animals*Protag 5 has a camera that they take with them when they go hiking*Zao is so, so, so gentle with Portag 5 when they go out on dates*Like, no matter where they go Zao is happy to be with Protag 5*Protag 5 kissed Zao’s cheek for the first time and Zao almost imploded*They both ended up on the floor covering their faces with their hands and were beet red *Protag 5 and Zao go to this little run down cafe tucked away in the corner of the street and they’ll sit there for hours just talking and laughing quietly to each other all while holding each other’s hand across the table, their palms sweaty, but do they care? NO*THEY’RE IN LOVE OF COURSE THEY DON’T CARE*Zao almost murdered a couple of punk ass thugs because they were being a dick to Protag 5 and he was not having it*They were lucky Protag 5 was there otherwise they would be dead.*Sometimes Zao stares at Protag with stars in his eyes, amazed because they’re together. He always thought that he only loved the mountains. And then Protag 5 came around and blew it out of the water*Zao was the first to tell them that he loved themIt was a quiet night, just staring up at the stars, when Zao took their hand and squeezed. He looked at them with a soft smile, “I love you so much, my mountain.”*Protagonist 5 started crying and chaos ensued *WHOLESOME SHIP, OK?????? WHOLESOME

[stonerbughead]

Maria watches friday night lights (#9)

I really really loved 3x10! Like one of my favorite episodes so far, for sure. so here’s another post about just one episode, “The Giving Tree.”

@lockitin I saw your comment saying I’d like this episode like an hour after I watched! You were very right!

-Aw I love Julie and Tyra’s friendship. Julie trying to help Tyra strategize on how to catch up in school after her ill-advised trip with the cowboy — that’s what we love to see!

-this flirtatious girl (later, we learn, MADISON) insisting on pouring milk into a wine glass for JD is up there as one of the strangest things I’ve ever seen happen in a teen drama party scene

“Do you need silence to watch naked women? Is that what you’re saying to me?” The things that come out of Buddy Garrity’s mouth are truly wild.

-oh boy and then Buddy got into a getting-arrested level fight! Wish I could say I was surprised, but...

ANYWAY MATT AND JULIE DO IT NOW yet they’re still so fucking cute it’s wild

-I am truly HERE for Matt and Julie post coital and naked, just laying in his bed after school saying “I love you” while listening to the radio and HOLDING HANDS?? This is so beautiful.

-so of course, here comes Coach Taylor to walk in on them. Honestly this scenario kind of like NEEDED to happen? Inevitably? I mean, “quarterback sleeping with the coach’s daughter,” as Riggins said. (And now it’s finally actually true.) The comedy of Eric just walking right back out the house, stone-faced. Oh I am living.

-Hahahaha Landry’s bandmates exchanging looks while Tyra comes to ask Landry for help with the SATs. This show does such a good job of actually conveying teens being teens in little moments like this.

-oh yes to the Lyla/Julie tooth brushing scene where she confides what happened with her dad walking in on her and Matt!! then transitioning right into Tami brushing her teeth while Eric sits on the side of the bed, pained and disturbed by his teenage daughter’s burgeoning sexuality. Cinematic.

-what I love about this episode is how well crafted the plot is — Eric only catchs Matt and Julie because he had to pick Julie up so Tami could tell Lyla about Buddy’s night in jail. and Eric clearly showed up earlier than Tami would have. After all, they thought they had time for one more song. It’s just...such good writing. Ugh! Yes.

-I love how this development actually left Tami speechless too, when usually she’d be running into Julie’s room with exactly the right words to say

-I really do love how this plot lines up so that Lyla is in the Taylor house to comfort Julie.

“Your punishment is you have to have a conversation with me about it.” Fair, Tami, fair. Bc there should not be a punishment at all for a teenage girl having consensual sex with a boy she loves!

-Did Buddy really just plead not guilty??? Sir you did all of the things they just charged you with!!!!

-Tyra’s mom immediately wanting Landry to change the pilot light when she sees him in the house helping Tyra is....too real. Also reminds me of Lorelai joking about how she liked how Dean would change the water bottle in Gilmore girls

-fuck you buddy!!!! Why would you gamble your daughters college money??? Related: I love how betty cooper had a similar plotline to Lyla garrity here but in the Riverdale version her mom gave the $$ to a cult

“Please tell me the lesson we’ve learned.” “Always lock the door.” “...when having sex with the coach’s daughter.” HAHAHAHA omg this show is so good, having Eric glance at Saracen in the locker room to see his eyes downcast. That’s that shit we like.

-I’m proud of Landry in this episode standing up for himself bc Tyra was totallyyy taking advantage of him. Like she expects him to ditch his bandmates bc she wants to take a break and lengthen their study session which he’s doing as a favor to her??

-oh yes and the Giving Tree metaphor! Amazing. Art.

“That’s exactly what I feel like, just a stump.” Damn. I felt that.

“What about birth control?” “I don’t want to talk about that!” “Hon, that IS the conversation.” Damn right it is! Tami is a good mom.

“Chasin skirts,” Mr. McCoy? You’re gross. Ew and now he’s literally trying to control his son’s love life. Disgusting.

-Julie’s long pause after Tyra asks if Landry is right about how she’s the little boy in the Giving Tree. I cackled.

MATT SARACEN IS TERRIFIED IM DEAD

-I CACKLED at the fear in his eyes when Tami suggest he wait in the back with Coach Taylor

-Lol at coach aggressively cleaning his grill while lecturing Saracen, who is literally one of the most mild mannered and sweet boys you could ever want your daughter to lose her virginity to tbh. Especially if it’s gonna be a football player.

-ugh Lyla I’m sorry your dad is so trash. Riggins is sweet and hot though. “What do you want me to do?” he says when Buddy bangs at the door. He respects her wishes. We stan.

“I was the idiot who stuck with you! Don’t call me spoiled. We’ve been saving that money since I was a baby. You said if I made the grades, it was mine.” GO OFF LYLA this is cathartic to watch. Also LOL I have mad student loans now bc my dad the cheater similarly lied about our financial situation for most of my life so that hit HARD for me. 😭😬🥺 I sent Lyla’s rant to my mom and she said lol did you write those words

-omg Tim at the door being like “you need to go” to Buddy?!?! Oops I’m aroused.

-oh god poor JD is actually listening to his dad and breaking things off with Madison?? Fuck man. That is so not cool. But wait there’s more! Riggins called him on it right away, we love him. “How do you expect all these boys to battle for you if you can’t make a decision like that on your own?” YES Riggins! Now that’s some good team captain mentoring shit! With the ear buds in one ear. Ugh yes.

-I’m surprised we haven’t gotten angry Coach Taylor chasing a ref sooner. “HOW CAN YOU NOT SEE THAT”

-I love how Coach Taylor said “we’re gonna not lose our temper out there” about the refs to the players earlier in the week then ended up getting ejected from the game himself. Classic.

-omg and he’s calling the other coaches on the field on a flip phone, that’s. Mmhmm. Yep. Early 2000s gold.

-but oop now Wade Aikmen is gonna be getting all the attention. Oh boy. This show keeps ya on your toes!!

-JD’s mom wants her 15 year old son to date wayyyy too much and JD’s dad wants to control his love life wayyyy too much. Maybe they should both just chill???

-omg Katie McCoy totally would’ve kept JD’s date with Madison a secret if the dad hasn’t seen it. This is a *sings* deeply unhealthy family dynamic~

-Saracen is so cute being nervous that Landry’s gonna bomb. Friendshipppp

-okay Landry’s band got a decent turnout! Anyway I hope a girl throws her bra at Devin.

-wait really? Landry in a metal band now suddenly has Tyra feeling him? Again I DO NOT UNDERSTAND TYRA AND LANDRY.

-wow Buddy said Lyla was right AND apologized? I’m actually surprised. Can he call MY dad and teach him how to apologize? Kthxbye.

Yeah seriously I think that was my favorite episode so far!

[celawrites]

Day 18

When I wake up in the morning, the day already feels weird. While this could just be me being paranoid, I honestly don’t like the feeling. It’s a Sunday, which means a hangout session with my public school friends, specifically the movie group.

As expected, the groupchat is blowing up with ideas.

Tired: GOOD MORNING WHO’S READY FOR HELL ON EARTH

Clown: SHUT UP IT’S 8AM ES ISN’T EVEN AWAKE YET

Mist: Then we plan without her lMAO

Clown: Where do we go today?

Tired: Park. Or we can find a cute coffee shop and chill

Clown: You’re driving if we do

Tired: sMH

Mist: Roasting waters. I need a new water bottle

Clown: Alright. @ Tired you’re driving

Tired: I hate you

Clown: LOve you too <3

Seen by 2

As I dress and prepare to leave the room, I notice rustling outside my window. And lo and behold.

“sUN?? Z???”

“Uh. Shoot she wasn’t supposed to see us. HI?” Z panics, nearly falling off the tree.

I pull open the window and let the two in.

“Why?”

“Well an anonymous source told us that you’d be going on a date today and we were hoping to get material on this”

“???”

“Don’t ask me. Z wanted to crash at your house for today”

“Then call me like a normal person?? I have plans????”

“Then we’re crashing your plans as well. Don’t even think about going on a date today”

“hUH????”

“No going out young lady”

“I’m single?????”

“Wait. Then Estelle lied?”

“Uh. I guess?”

“You don’t have a date today????”

“Nope”

“Then where are you going? yOU have plans?”

“Hanging out with friends. How’d you guys get here anyway?”

“Our parents dropped us off”

“And you sneak in through the tree?”

“WHy not?”

“Money??? What if you broke the window???”

“Then it’s a win win”

“hA?”

“You gotta stay and guard your house, and you won’t end up on a date”

“I can’t with you”

“Who are you hanging out with later?”

“A couple of old friends. We try to hang out every weekend”

“Can we join today”

“No Z. I’m gonna drive you guys home and then I’m gonna hang out with them.”

“No fair!”

“Says the one who broke into my bedroom”

“Oh by the way. You have a very nice figure”

Time stops. I malfunction, and Sun braces himself for Z’s demise.

“yOU SAW ME CHANGE?”

“IT WAS AN ACCIDENT”

“OH SO SNEAKING UP THE TREE TO MY BEDROOM WINDOW WAS AN ACCIDENT TOO?”

“I’M SORRY”

“No you’re not”

“No I’m not. If you weren’t in love with my brother, I would’ve 11/10 asked you out by now. Like who in their right mind would leave a person like you hanging?”

“Sibling goals. I’d steal the man if I had a sister with no mercy”

“Maybe I should take you on a date then”

“Aren’t you a little too young for her?”

“GeTTING PROTECTIVE NOW AREN’T WE?” Z cackled.

“I mean last time I checked, she was into men older than her”

“You make sound like I’m attracted to 40 year old men or something”

“Are you not?”

“I don’t know darling. I mean I do love you after all. I’m pretty sure your age is somewhere around 40 mentally”

“I will actually choke you”

“That’s kinky” Z and I pipe up in sync.

“Both of you are disgusting”

We only snicker in response.

“Wanna go somewhere before I have to kick you both out?”

“Hm? Sure”

“Can we go shopping?”

“Disgusting”

“yOU’RE A GIRL?”

“sO?”

“I thOUGHT GIRLS LIKED SHOPPING”

“I SWEAR-”

“Enough. We can go to the mall and check out anything new. Both of you” he glares at both of us. “No chaos.”

“bUT”

“No buts”

“I hate you”

“Can we throw him out the window?”

“Oh yeah sounds nice”

“You two are insane”

“Only with you”

“What have I gotten myself into” he mumbled.

The three of us walked over to the mall, and started wandering around.

“Cress.” Z grins.

“Hm?”

“Can we dress you up?”

“No”

“bUT”

“No”

“One outfit. plEAAASE”

“Last time you turned me into an E-girl, and the time before that I was transformed into a vsco girl, and the time before that you turned me into an ABG. No more”

“Please? I’ll pick the comfiest sweater”

“We already have a school uniform. What’s the point in having a closet when you don’t need one?”

“I donno. Ask Pebble”

“Please? I’ll pick an outfit that actually suits your vibe this time?” I glare at him.

“You have 10 minutes to put an outfit together for me. No more than that”

“yES. I LOVE YOU”

“Love you too now get going”

Z runs off to grab clothes and Sun sighs next to me.

“You really trust him after you almost ended up in a bikini last time huh?”

“My clothes are starting to wear off at the seams, I need a couple new pieces of clothing.”

“So you trust my brother with it?”

“yeP”

“Don’t blame me when you end up in a tube top and butt shorts or smth”

“I mean I am hanging out with my friends today, it doesn’t hurt to look good”

“And get harassed?”

I pause for awhile. “No. But I trust him”

As I crouch down on the floor, I let the scene before me sink in. I’m crouching next to the wall, and endless rows of clothing racks limit my vision. The floor is a pale marble, and the walls are a quaint shade of baby blue. Sun is on his phone, probably looking at science facts again, and in the corner of my eye, I see Z running over.

“I got it!”

“What’d you get me?”

“Ok so. I got this pure black hoodie, it’s the last one and your size. I also got you a pair of black shorts. So it’ll look like you’re in just a hoodie. It works right?”

“I did need shorts. Hm. I’ll try it on”

“Of course!” I grab the clothes and head over to the nearest dressing room, the two tailing behind me.

When I enter and change. I find that the outfit is nice and cozy. I smile, knowing that I’ll just rip off the tag and pay at the cashier. But for the sake of decency, I grab my clothes and head out.

“You look cute!” Z grins.

“You sure you’re not just saying that because you put this together?” I tease.

“Of course not! You look cute!” Z beams. Sun only hums in agreement.

After paying for the clothes, I text into the groupchat that I’d be driving there myself and drove the two home.

“Call me if you need to wiggle your way out of anything” Sun reminds.

“Or me if you don’t wanna bother him!”

“Yeah yeah. See you guys tomorrow!”

“See you!”

I finally let out that breath I had been holding the whole day. Heading over to the location we agreed to meet up at, I was greeted by the four of them together. My usual order already waiting for me with them.

“I love you guys”

“omG ARE YOU NOT WEARING ANYTHING UNDERNEATH?” Es screams.

“What?”

“You’re wearing just a sweater? Are you trying to get laid? We have enough siblings already please”

“JFKASLD nO. My classmate came over today and decided to help me dress up”

“You look very cute” Mist pipes up.

“Thank you. You look cuter as always”

“nO”

“Ok there’s one thing I can’t stand today and that’s you all arguing over who’s the prettiest and I will say. None of you. So be quiet and let us enjoy this afternoon”

“I hate you”

“I love you too”

The hours fly by, and soon, it’s time for dinner. Deciding on korean barbecue, we head over to the nearest store. In which we destroy our wallets, scream, and have fun. Soon, the time is over, and we all have to head home.

“See you!”

We text eachother when we get home, and I shower and fall asleep. And like that, the day is over.

Previous : Masterlist : Next

[spootiliousrps]

My first Drarry

Stranger: ((Post DH. Not est. 8th year.)) Sharing a common room with the other repeating students wasn't actually awful. He had his own private bedroom, at least. He was only there to satisfy his probation, which meant when he wasn't in class or in his room... that was his only real option. So two months in, he was actually used to reading and ignoring the other students milling about. It would drive him mad, just being alone in his room all the time. Some of the others were playing some sort of game. Weasley was made to wear his trousers as a shirt and vice versa. Granger had to recite  the alphabet backwards. Draco rolled his eyes.  Silly. He tunes them out. Then an apparently slightly tipsy Blaise is tugging at his ankle and he kicks him in the shoulder, about to tell him to piss right off, when he hears that apparently it was Potter's turn. And the prompt was 'The person to your left has to talk dirty to you' Blaise succeeds in yanking him off the couch and onto the floor with the rest of them. "Oi! You mother- What?" He looks around. Then to his right. Potter. "... Oh, come on. I'm not even playing." He sighs, hangs his head in one hand, kicks Blaise again when he keeps tugging at him, and looks at Harry. "... How long do I have to talk?" Blaise supplies, "Until he can't keep a straight face any more." And Draco sighs. "Fine. Get over here, I'm not going to shout pillow talk at you."

You: [reading]

Stranger: ((Thanks! Sorry about lack of separation I'm on mobile. Also I have another prompt, if you'd rather.))

You: [No worries!]

You: [I love this! LOL... bare with me its been some time since I've been in the fandom and honestly this is my first Drarry ^^; ]

Stranger: ((Nah dog no worries right back atcha. Heads up Draco is gonna speak some French later do you want ooc translations ou non? PS my French is Not Great so bear with me.))

You: Harry listened to the others rambling off, a small amused smile playing on his lips as his gaze followed each person in turn. It wasn't until Blaise turned it from harmless amusement to something dirty and embarrassing. To top it all off he had yanked Draco in to all this. His brows furrowed at the words but he wouldn't back down if the blonde didn't.

"Fine. But I doubt shouting is going to work." Harry huffed, glaring off in the opposite direction.

[No worries. I took a few years of French but I'm pretty shite at it so ooc trans would be very appreciated. ^.^]

Stranger: Draco rolls his eyes and leans forward to tug Potter closer to him, until their knees almost touched. "There we are. Now I don't have to shout." He paused. "Does it have to be in English?" He glances around. Blaise is /cackling/. He gets a few shrugs. "... Est-ce que quelqu’un parle français? Non?" He looks around the group. No one seems to know what he said, "Ta mère est une sale pute" he tries glancing around, then directly at Granger, "... et tu peux sucer ma jolie bite rose. No, nothing?" He eggs on, and she actually shrugs at him. "Why would I know French?" Draco scoffs. "Ah yes because you have abaolutely no arbitrary knowledge bumping about that brain of yours." He tolls his eyes, then he's looking around again, blank faces. "So... ne pas de problem? Bien." He looks back to Harry. "Ready?"

Stranger: ((Does anyone speak French? No? Your mother is a dirty whore (possibly bitch?) And you can suck my pretty pink cock. So... No problem? Good.))

Stranger: ((Testing to see if anyone would react to him throwing insults around was then going idea there. This way if you want anyone to say they know any specific word or something you can))

You: [Got it ^.^]

You: Harry tensed as he was yanked forward, heart beginning to race a bit. He didn't pull away as his own gaze followed Draco's to each individual. He waited until Draco spoke once more before mumbling a few words under his breath. It was a small incantation he had learned during the Triwizard Tournament to translate for one of the French speaking students. It would only last a short time but it would do the trick. The words where practically a whispered and he wasn't sure if anyone heard it but it was worth a shot.

[That is... if this is okay. If you don't want Harry knowing, thats fine too. :3]

Stranger: ((No omg that is fantastic. And hilarious Draco is bout to say some DIRTY shit lol))

You: [lmao!]

Stranger: He heard Harry speak, but didn't quite catch it. "... Alright." He rolls his eyes, and under the protection of the fact that Harry wouldn't understand him anyway, he licks his lips and leans in a bit, some of his weight on his hands, and he pitched his voice soft, "Tu veux m'enculer, Potter?" He asks, and even Harry's last name rolls off with an accent. "Tout ce que tu as à faire, c'est.. demander gentiment.." His lips twitch there, teasing, a bit wicked, "Tu sais... Je pourrais juste vous laisser." He throws in a lovely little look at him, through his lashes. The room is too quiet suddenly. And the way Potter is looking at him is... almost like.. He knows what he's just said.

Stranger: "D'you wanna fuck me, Potter? All you'd have to do, is.. ask nicely.. You know... I just might let you."))

Stranger: ((The word he used for fuck actually might translate more directly to bugger))

Stranger: ((In fact scratch that f word it would translate to bugger))

You: Harry's gaze was focused on the floor as Draco began to speak, there was something about the way the accent rolled off the other man's tongue in a way that made Harry want to shiver. Draco had always been attractive... and frustrating... but he had purposefully never considered him like that. But when the question left his lips, Harry's gaze shot up to meet his. Still, Harry was fairly good at schooling his features; keeping them from showing any real reaction. To everyone else, it was as if he was simply listening to the words he didn't understand. It was all in good fun after all... he couldn't believe any word of it... right?

You: [Kk]

Stranger: Harry actually managed to keep a straight face through all that, so Draco sighs. He probably didn't understand him after all. He wonders if he should just say something shocking in English to make him break, but there was supposed be a 3 minute timer anyway so it hardly mattered. "... Ton yeux vert es.. beau, vraiment. Je ne sais pas.." He shakes his head, just a little, a movement so subtle it was barely there, a subconscious little thing. "Je ne sais pas... Je ne puis me détourner.." he laughs, a breathy little chuckle. And somehow he was just. It all just came out, "Ils sont si verts.. t'es un sacré pagaille.. mais... t'es charmant. C'est terrible..."

Stranger: "Your eyes are gorgeous, honestly. I don't know... I don't know.. I just can't look away sometimes. They're just so green. You're such a damn mess... but... You're charming. It's awful."))

You: Harry's brows furrowed a bit more in confusion, though it no doubt seemed as if it was simply because he didn't understand and in a way he didn't. Draco's words didn't make any sense. He comprehended them but not there meaning... it just... couldn't be right. Still, his emerald gaze seemed to darken with intensity as if he were searching for something that could only be found in the mirrored blues. Other than the furrowed brow, however, he gave no other reaction to the words. [I feel like I'm leaving a lot of this to you and for that I am srry ^^; ]

Stranger: Three minutes was apparently more than Draco thought. Blaise behind him says something about Draco not getting anywhere and he rolls his eyes. "I'm just wearing the bloody clock down." He lies, and somehow looking at Harry's confused expression just. Hurt. It felt like he knew what Draco was saying but just, couldn't even comprehend it. And suddenly he felt disgusted with himself, it was an old feeling. For a split second, it shower on his face, and he looked down, then back up at Harry, "Sod it." He rolls his eyes, all snark and none of the flirtation or the hurt and shame that had been there before, he just leans in real close, back arched, and honestly dramatically, he moans out, "Oh, /Potter/" as he basically flops down, rolling as he went so he was almost, almost laying his head in his lap. He was careful not to actually touch him. "All I want is your big, fat, Saviour cock in me." Which at the very least gets a hearty laugh out of Blaise, and Pansy, and even Longbottom chokes on a chuckle. Weasley and Granger both just choke, "/Pleaase/ pump one of your /perfect/ loads in me," he writhes on the floor next to him, hands roaming over his own body dramatically, with a frankly /perfect/ pork star moan, "Oh, Merlin, I /need/ it Potter, save me, Chosen One, save me with your /massive cock/"

Stranger: ((pork star is officially my favourite typo of ALL time))

Stranger: ((Porn***))

You: I

You: am

You: fucking

You: dying

You: LMAO

Stranger: XDDD over just pork star or over Draco's display??

You: [Mostly the pork star but Draco's display is perf. *applauds*]

Stranger: ((Yeah no pork star is fucking typo gold))

You: [Agreed!]

You: Harry waited, practically hanging on for the next word. There was a brief moment of silence before the moan of Harry's name filled the room and he frowned, letting out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. He watched Draco's ridiculous display, his frown only deepening before he gave his own eye roll. "You win." He stated flatly as he pushed to his feet, obviously done with it all. Draco's drastic change had gotten to him. He was confused and suddenly exhausted.

Stranger: "Oh, come on!" He laughs, watching him go. "That was /funny/." He says, grinning a bit hollowly up at him, upside down on the floor. His hair was longer, worn a bit loosely, he hadn't been bothering with doing much to it, so it was spread out under his head in a white-blonde, wavy halo. "Don't you think I'm pretty, Potter?Tu as écouté si attentivement à Mon français" he taunts, "Am I not good enough in the Queen's English, Potter?"

Stranger: ((You listened so carefully to my french"))

You: Harry gave a dismissive wave, as he turned to storm towards his room. He paused at the sound of the French once more, his annoyance only growing with the words.He turned on his heel with a glare, just inside the thresh hold towards his room. "C'est simplement parce que vous étiez plus intéressant en français." He shot back, only wanting to wait long enough to catch Draco's reaction before he would disappear down the hall.

You: [still with me?]

Stranger: It was, admittedly, a bit clunky. And formal. And it didn't sound conversational or casual. And his accent was... awful. Draco's mouth snapped shut, though. Because that was definitely French. And. Oh. Oh, fuck. There was the look of utter shame, again. Blaise is laughing, "look at Malfoy's /face/ oh, Merlin. You poncey bastard." And. Okay. That was about all he could take. He sits up, "You know what, Zabini? Go fuck yourself gently with the business end of a dragonhide mace, you smarmy cunt." And now it's Draco's turn to storm off. He bumps against Potter on his way to his room and mutters, "You're a right foul git, Potter." As he goes. There's a pause, throughout the room. Draco's door slams. Neville pipes up, "... He left his book..."

You: Harry didn't move to stop him, just shot him another glare as he pushed by. He should just leave it at that. He should have never used that stupid spell... It was better not know. Besides, his French was bad even to his ears; the spell had done just enough to get him by at least. His attention went from the door to Draco's room back to the common area at Neville's words and after a moment's hesitation he strode back to the boy and offered his hand out for the book silently.

Stranger: Neville looks a bit uncomfortable. But then he hands the book over. "I... didn't know you spoke much French, Harry." He says. Hermione looks surprised, too. Ron scoffs. "Bloody hell if he was saying anything like that in French I don't know how you kept such a straight face.." And cue Blaise, "What DID he say?"

You: Harry took the book, and flipped through the pages briefly, not making eye contact with anyone.. "I don't." He answered Neville, "And he didn't." He answered Ron before completely and obviously ignoring Blaise, before turning back towards his room, book in hand.

You: Draco obviously didn't expect anyone to understand his words which meant they were private. Harry might not quite understand what they all mean but he knew it wasn't for any of them to know at the moment.

Stranger: Draco was leaning out his window, cigarette hanging off his lip, a hand in his hair. He'd shut the door but- shocker. He wasn't allowed a lock. He'd already been barefoot and timeless, out there. (He recalls the first time Potter had seen Draco walk out of his room like that. He stared at Draco's feet for an uncomfortable amount of time. Until Draco had finally said 'what did you think I just had little pegs that expensive shoes attached to?" And he'd actually gotten something almost like a laugh) The memory makes him groan, now. Sucking a drag off his cigarette and thumping his head against the windowsill. He was already more undressed, now, having immediately shucked his trousers and pulled on a thick jumper. It was dark blue and had a cowl neck, wide sleeves, and he'd yet to bother with pulling anything on over his trunks.

Stranger: ((To remove confusion bc I've no idea where you're from precisely and am not actually sure how common the term is or who would even know this trunks are basically pants somewhere between boxer briefs and reg. Briefs. An American once asked why he had a swimsuit on when I used the term xD))

You: [XD lol I'm from Texas but I actually watch way to much British Television but I really do appreciate the clarification. I remember the first time I actually had to have someone clarify. It was pretty embarrassing lol]

Stranger: ((I live in the states now but spent some of my childhood in Manchester so everything is all screwy. Half the time I'm positive something is American slang and am dead wrong. I called fireworks bangers once and was greeted with so many chuckles.))

Stranger: ((Then i said "Oh you thought i meant sausages" and there were even MORE laughs))

You: Harry stepped into his room, book tucked under his arm, closing the door behind him. He gave a huff as he plopped onto the bed, stretching out a bit as he stared up at the ceiling still frustrated. Did Draco really think that about his eyes? Did it really matter? Surely it was just one of those passing thoughts that everyone had. Kind of like the way he could appreciate the way Draco's shirts squeezed his upper arms so well or his perfectly form fitting jeans... okay no. He gave another huff, kicking off his shoes. This was just stupid he just needed to forget about it.

He sat there for some time, trying to do just that, distracting himself the best he could with anything he could think of; like reciting the alphabet backwards like Hermoine had or listing every spell he knew by heart... but after a bit he finally threw in the towel and pushed to his feet, collecting the book he had tossed on his nightstand and heading across the hall. He'd just knock on the bloody door and demand to know what it was all about... Right... Easy...

Still he hesitated, lifting his hand only to pause... try again... same result. Finally he gave a curse under his breath and knocked.

You: [Lol I love it! Thats super cute. I actually started using the word trouser instead of pants a long time ago and everytime I had to write an order form for uniforms at work I'd get made fun of lol. All in good humor of course.]

Stranger: Awe lol s'cute. Brb I have to ice my arm))

You: [???]

Stranger: ((I broke my elbow))

You: [Oof. Srry to hear that.]

Stranger: ((Still healing lol))

Stranger: ((Well dislocated it. It happens. ))

Stranger: ((I have a joint thing in one arm. ))

You: [Sounds painful]

Stranger: ((Oh 10/10 worst pain of my life. ))

You: [<3]

Stranger: By the time Harry knocked Draco was starting his second cigarette, though it wasn't lighted yet. He rolls his eyes. It's probably Pansy, trying to worm her way back into his good graces. "What." He says flatly as he yanks the door open, still not wearing any trousers. And that was Potter. At his door. He drops his cigarette. "... um."

You: Harry had planned on exactly what he wanted to say but as Draco pulled open the door, all coherent thought left him; his gaze lowering to take in the other boy's state. His stare lingered briefly before he cleared his throat and glanced away. What was he doing? Oh the book! Right! He lifted the book high enough to almost use as a barrier between them, gaze still averted. He didn't say a word, still unable to.

Stranger: He bends, picks up his cigarette and snatches the book away from him, hastily, slamming the door in his face right after. He smacks himself in the face. Stupid. Fucking. Stupid. He pulls a pair of sweats on, they were knee length, sinched at the ends and lacing up the front. He swings the door open again. "Ta." He says, and then goes to swing the door shut again.

You: Harry did /not/ want to watch Draco bend to pick up the fallen fag, absolutely NOT. He didn't have long to think about it before the door was being slammed in his face. He blinked, staring at the polished wood dumbly before it opened again. He let the other boy close it in his face once more, jaw setting in annoyance. Fine. Obviously he was indeed over thinking it.

"You're welcome!" He called loudly, tone exposing his mood. "Prick." He grumbled more under his breath as he turned back across the hall.

Stranger: The door doesn't open but Draco's voice is clear enough, "Fuck you too Potter! You don't get to be pissy at me right now!" And there's a thump. He threw something at his door. You know. Like an adult.

You: That did it! "Oh?! And why is that?!" He snapped in return, from where he stood in his doorway. "Because you're having your own tantrum! I was just returning your book you knob!"

You: [I'm going to have to go soon. But I don't want this to end T.T could we continue elsewhere?]

Stranger has disconnected.