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[doyeons]

doyeon through the eras ↳ for @itsays ♡

[pies-writes-and-more]

I hate that I love you p. 11

11. Stupid Tsukishima

Series Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter 

Warnings: mentions of an annoyingly persistent dude (he’s not in it too much tbh lol), probably some swearing too, and a first time writer’s SMAU so might be awful lol

Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader

A/N: I love a chaotic wingman Bokuto xD so just a warning: I wrote out a lot of this chapter just cause it didn’t really make sense to have the plot of this part over text haha. I hope you guys like it (i’m sorry if it’s sad!! I promise there’s a happy ending!!!!) but also the team loves y/n so much lol i love these characters ugh. let me know what you guys think :) 

You watched as people slowly left the gym, Yamaguchi waving a quick goodbye before you or Tsukishima could beg him to join your awkward ice cream “date”. You hated how awkward it felt, how tense everything was between you two. Normally you would feel at home with him, not putting on a face or some kind of front, just being you. And now it felt like everything you had known was crumbling.

“Here,” you held out the jacket that had been on your shoulders for the past few minutes, standing in front of Tsukishima as he knelt on the ground, packing his things.

He raised an eyebrow, shifting his bag on his shoulders as he stood up, “It’s cold out and you didn’t bring another sweater,” he pointed out flatly. “What, don’t want to wear something Bokuto didn’t give you?”

You felt yourself roll your eyes, huffing a little, “I just figured you gave it to me to be a little shit towards him. He’s gone now so you can take it back.”

“I gave it to you to wear. So wear it, dumbass,” he shrugged, starting to walk out the door. “Let’s go then.”

You stood there for a second, still holding his jacket in your hands.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tsukishima so eager to go somewhere with anyone,” Daichi spoke up, standing behind you. You glanced behind your shoulder, smiling shyly as you looked at his jacket in your hands.

“Is that supposed to be eager?” you laughed, smiling up at him. “Honestly? I think he’s just softer inside than everyone expects. But one day, when he finds that special someone, I’m sure you’ll see it more in him.”

Daichi looks at you, kinda confused. As if there was something he thought both of you knew. “Well.. have fun!” He told you, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward sort of smile.

You nodded and pulled the jacket on slowly before heading out the doors.

If you had lingered a little longer, maybe you would’ve heard Daichi asking the third years about you.

“Isn’t... isn’t she the one that Tsukishima keeps talking about?” Daichi asked, still a bit confused.

“Ya, the one that he spiked a ball at Tanaka ‘by accident’ for talking about?” Asahi asked, chuckling a little at how angry Tanaka got. Coach Ukai had to practically hold him back himself while Tsukishima just smirked like an ass.

“Hmm. Come to think of it, I think she was his phone’s wallpaper for a day too. But that was before Noya pointed it out and then he changed it then and there. Seemed a bit embarrassed about it,” Suga laughed.

But even though the third years were talking about it, they wondered how long it would take for you to notice too.

“Took your time, I’m starting to think you don’t care about ice cream,” Tsukishima muttered as you made your way over to his side, scrolling through his phone absent-mindedly.

“Sorry, I was talking to your captain,” you shrugged, starting to walk ahead. “But I’m ready now! Come on, it’s time for you to buy me ice cream!”

Tsukishima scoffed, catching up to you in a few moments, “As if I’d buy you ice cream.”

“And why wouldn’t you? The best way to apology is through ice cream. Or words, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say the words ‘I’m sorry’,” you smirked, smiling up at him. Even though you knew you weren’t fully ready to forgive him yet, and even though his past words still hurt… you really hated this battle between you two.

Tsukishima just clicked his tongue in annoyance, shoving his hands in his pockets. The two of you walked into town in silence, the sounds of cars passing and nearby conversations soon filling the awkward air between you two. You expected him to pull on his headphones and just ignore your existence the whole way but instead he kept them off, looking like he had something to say the whole time. After a while, Tsukishima stopped.

“Hm?” You turned back to face him, stopping in your tracks. “What’s wrong?”

“I need to know,” was all he stated with the same grumpy tone he had on earlier. “What’s going on with you and Bokuto?”

You wanted to roll your eyes, of course there was nothing going on between you and Bokuto. Your lips parted to tell him he was being stupid for thinking you two were anything more than friends, but instead, you heard yourself say, “What does it matter to you?”

Tsukishima scowled some more, standing up straighter and glaring down at you, “It doesn’t.”

“So why are you asking?”

“Curiosity. That’s all.” Tsukishima started to walk again, passing by you with a cold air. You stayed there for a moment, waiting for him to turn back and say something but he didn’t.

“Tsukishima Kei, why do you have to be so obnoxious?” You yelled after him before you could stop yourself. People passing by glanced in your direction but you were too annoyed to care.

Tsukshima paused, turning slowly to face you. Even from the distance you two were apart from each other, you could still feel his glare on you, “I’m the obnoxious one? Says the one who constantly needs my help. In school, in life, with your dumbass admirer.”

“Your help?” You laugh bitterly, glaring right back at him, “You were the one who volunteered for the fake boyfriend position, I never asked you to do any of it. In fact, I told you you didn’t have to but you just love torturing people don’t you?”

Suddenly he was looming over you, moving faster than you’ve seen him do up close before, “Torturing? Says you. You’re the one bringing some other guy to my volleyball game and wearing his stupid jacket, making me look like an idiot to the team.”

“Oh I’m so sorry to have ruined your reputation,” you mock him with your insincere apology, though you can feel yourself stepping back from his looming figure. “And maybe I wouldn’t have needed his stupid jacket if my stupid fake boyfriend had given me his instead! That gym was freezing!”

“Maybe if you hadn’t have brought some no-brain idiot to the match, I would have!”

You scoff and roll your eyes again, “As if. You’d gain nothing from giving me your jacket then anyways. You’d actually have to be nice to do that.”

“Oh I’m sorry was I not nice enough bringing you to school these past few days? Was I not a good enough friend to you?” Tsukishima felt the words leave his lips harsher than he wanted them too. He watched as your eyes displayed just how hurt you were and he wanted to apologize right away but... would it mean anything? Would you even care? An apology felt so foreign in his mouth, what would he even say?

"Don’t you remember? You told me I could ‘believe whatever I wanted to’ when I asked if we were friends... And our friendship, or whatever the hell you want to call this arrangement between us, has always felt one-sided. Honestly? Most of the time it just feels like you hate me.” 

Tsukishima’s eyes widened slightly, watching as you lay all of your emotions right there in front of him. Somewhere inside of him wanted to brush your tears away - he always hated seeing you cry. Why did it always feel like it physically hurt him? 

But he did remember. He remembered angrily typing out that message when you had asked if you two were friends. He remembered throwing his phone across the room because he didn’t want to see if you would reply. He remembered Yamaguchi calling him that night saying that you were really upset and that maybe he should call you. He remembered wishing he could call you and tell you just how he was feeling. He remembered wishing Bokuto never came to see you and that he didn’t make you laugh so much. He remembered it all.

Did you really think he hated you? Had it really always come across that way? He frowned as he thought about all the times he tried to be nice and it just came out as witty comments, all the times he had offered to do something nice for you but there was always a teasing point to it. You had always laughed at it… hadn’t you?

“Am I wrong?” You squeaked softly, and Tsukishima realized he hadn’t said anything yet. You had been waiting for him to say something while he was searching his brain for all the answers.

“I-” he started but found himself at a lost for words. It was like the entire dictionary of words he knew had been thrown out the window and he couldn’t figure out how to string a sentence together. How was he supposed to tell you that he didn’t hate you, he lov-

“You know what, just forget it,” you cut his thoughts off, in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper. “I won’t bug you anymore.” You tear off his jacket and throw it at him and before he can realize what’s happening, your feet pick up speed and head towards your home.

You could’ve sworn you had heard him call after you… or was it just your imagination? He won’t chase after you anyways and you knew that as you ran your way home. That’s just not how Tsukishima is.

You finally let your tears flow freely when you get home, closing the door of your room behind you and throwing your phone aside to avoid any text messages anyone might be sending you. You knew that just in a few minutes, Yamaguchi would be calling you because there was no way that Tsukishima would keep this from him. What were you supposed to say? Tsukishima couldn’t deny that he hated having you around but there were so many conflicting arguments rolling around in your head.

Why would he spend hours with you studying if he hated having you around? Why would he offer to be your fake boyfriend? What about the jersey? Why did he care so much about Bokuto if he hated you?

You whine a little, your head hurting from both dehydration and confusion. Did he hate you? Potentially. But it’s not like there weren’t signs that he liked you back so... maybe he liked you?

“Stupid Tsukishima,” you mumble softly, curling up on your bed and hugging the nearest plushie you could find. Almost immediately upon realizing what you grabbed, you threw it on the floor, glaring at it like it was Tsukishima himself.

That plushie had been the cutest thing ever to you, just this morning. Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and you had all gone to the arcade a few years back and Tsukishima had won it at some stupidly impossible claw machine game. He scoffed saying he was really aiming for the dinosaur plushie but Yamaguchi insisted that once he saw your eyes lay on the sweet bear, he just had to get it for you. And after numerous failed attempts, he did.

What kind of guy does that for someone he hates?

After a few hours of crying and eventually trying to find some sort of distraction, you picked up your phone off the ground. Unsurprised, there were a few missed calls and messages from Yamaguchi... but he wasn’t the only one.

You put on a fake voice for your messages, privately telling Yamaguchi and Bokuto that tonight had really solidified your fears. Tsukishima really didn’t care about you at all, or at least never in the way you would want him to. Any hope of him confessing to you was gone.

“Don’t give up hope yet, little sis,” Bokuto told you over the phone after insisting he wouldn’t go to bed until he heard your voice. “I know Four Eyes is awful with words and with people but you should see the way he looks at you.”

“With distain?” You half-joked, curled up in your bed and sniffling softly.

“I mean sometimes but that’s just his face I think,” Bokuto admitted and that made you laugh just a little. “It’ll be okay, Y/N, I promise. Even if that means I gotta come down there and beat him up.”

Or maybe I’ll just forget about him, you wished silently before saying goodnight to your new friend. Maybe I’ll forget these feelings. But part of you knew you never would. You could hate Tsukishima Kei all you wanted, but you would always love him so much more.

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added!)

@random-fandom-girl-24 @intergalactic-mango @celestair @lucyheartfilias-wife @owlnymph @lucyrocks86 @pinkhairedsapphic @mariachiii @aurumk @sana-li @mirikusashes @earphonekiyouka @why-000 @devilkittymusic @420-uwu @scphiredrafts @fantasycantasy @its-the-aerieljeane @laninasinnombre @trashy-simp @thisnoodlewritesao3 @darling-daydreaming @yourmajestythegreatest @so-lo-stuff @ibimyeon @satan-ruler-of-hells @ahiae @kpopandstarwarswhynot​ @imnisneedshercoffee @ramen-maker​ @chelly-ilysmiwdfy​ @animeanxiety​ @kaylig02​ @upwardscomma​ @jeppiet​ @simplyyyy​ @ashtheticals​ @calumsfringe​ @kac-chowsballs​ @dreamsandregrets​ @flamingosis​

[mrvdocks]

Selcouth

You shouldn’t have come on this stupid trip. Not even if it had opened you up more to him. If anything, you felt this trip had soured the more time had passed. Alex could tell. But you two had to play it safe, play the parts that Karl thought you two assumed from his perspective. You resented that, having to stick to an image that he had formed of you, one that tried to act like you weren’t so in love with him it made your heart ache. 

Or,

You and Alex plan a meet up with Karl for a week trip, only to have your feelings for Karl be put to the test when things don’t pan out how you all planned. (Karl Jacobs/Reader)  

After

“Stop it.” He says, voice serious and no longer joyful or even hinting at friendliness. You’ve heard Karl be serious many times but this time sounded different. This time he sounded like he was scolding a child after being annoyed by them repeatedly. 

“Stop what?” You ask, pretending to be aloof.

“Stop acting like a child!”

“I’m the one acting like a chil - since when was doing something I want, acting like a child?!” 

He makes a hmpf sound. “What is this supposed to be, payback? Is that what you’re playing at?”

“I’m not playing at anything here, Karl. I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He scoffs. “Oh yeah? So you just suddenly developed an interest in Dream overnight, is that it?” 

“Honestly, why do you care so much? My love life isn’t up for debate here.” 

“Oh and mine was?” He retorts.

You knew he would bring it up, you just knew. It was perfect ammo right now. You stutter to find the right words. 

“What - what do you want from me Karl? I don’t need to explain myself to you. Have you considered that maybe I just finally got tired of being alone? That maybe I just needed someone?” 

Karl tries to not let this dig push him over the line but his frustration and jealousy wouldn’t let him stop seeing green. 

“Is this what you do? You like playing with people's feelings? Do you think screwing my friends is going to help you or is this another one of your phases?”

It feels good in the heat of the moment but he knows he’s messed up as soon as he says it. 

Your mouth drops open. Incredible. In-fucking-credible.  

You laugh bitterly, trying to put up a strong front but your voice betrays you by cracking. “That’s low, Karl. That’s - really fucking low.”

Instantly regretting it, he tries to make amends but can’t put words together properly. His mind reels, heart races, palms suddenly feel sweaty and all he can manage is your name. “(Y/N)......I -”

You can’t bear to hear another false apology spill from his lips. If that’s how he felt, then there was no changing his mind. No matter how badly you wanted to. 

“No you’re right. You’re right. You made your choice and so have I. Goodbye Karl.” You conclude and hang up, throwing your phone across the room. You stare at it until your vision becomes blurry with tears. 

Where do you go from here?

Before

You didn’t think that when you first started streaming that you’d end up at the point you were now. You just wanted to have fun with your friends, maybe meet some new people, share your interests along with the loads of games you found amusing. Interestingly enough, your personality and content seemed to resonate with a lot of people. 

Pretty soon you’d become one of the top streamers on Twitch behind the other big talent that once dominated your dashboard. 

You’d made your way into the big leagues with names like GeorgeNotFound, Dream, Quackity, Nihachu, and even Karl Jacobs. Though you’d met the latter two years ago, you’d become quick friends with Quackity, or Alex(is), having bonded over having similar backgrounds and interests. 

He was more like a brother to you than anything, much to the chagrin of many in the chat. You believe it had to do with growing up in a family with mostly girl siblings. 

Your collabs with Alex garnered lots of views, with people tuning into the streams to watch you two yell at each other chaotically while playing odd games or attempting to bake things. 

Of course, while he did your side of content, that meant you had to hold up your end of the bargain. Minecraft wasn’t your strong suit at first, but as time went on and with some help from both Alex and Karl, you became a little more proficient. 

Karl was no stranger to you, not anymore. Alex had introduced you to Karl a little after he started streaming. You’d only really known him from a couple of Jimmy’s videos. 

He seemed kind, goofy, friendly, and all around a pretty fun guy to be around. Which is why when you started to fall just a little bit for him, you were surprised. You came into this Twitch thing with one rule. Don’t fall for people. 

Things could get messy, it was always a given. The fandoms would tear into you or them, people were unpredictable. It was just better to keep everyone at an arm's length when it came to shipping. 

You were thankful nothing had come to fruition from your friendship with Alex. If anything, all you saw were people shipping you platonically. Though you two would often tease each other if one had a crush on someone. 

Your dynamic with Alex meant that you had countless ridiculous and outrageous moments together, often documenting them when he would visit you in LA from Mexico or you going to Mexico to see family and stopping by to visit him.

It was starting to become a thing you two did a few times a year. This year was no different. Even when the pandemic seemed to sour your plans, you both promised to stay safe and healthy and limit the trips. So far, this was going to be the first trip you two would be taking anywhere. 

Your phone buzzed next to you as you scrolled mindlessly through your discord server. You laughed a bit here and there, looking at memes and chatting with people. 

Alex’s text ringtone was him rage quitting during a game where you absolutely obliterated his ass. You either cracked up at the sound of it or jumped in sudden fear when it bounced off the walls of your apartment in the middle of the night. 

A: Hey wiener, are you packed?? I know you take like three business days to get ready. 

You rolled your eyes. He was supposed to be coming to visit you first before you both made the flight out to see Karl in North Carolina. 

Y: Me??? I’ve been packed since last week. I thought you were supposed to be on the flight here already 🙄

A: I may or may not…...already be out. 💀

Your eyes widen. You abandon the chat and hit the FaceTime button. He lets it ring for a good five seconds before he accepts it and greets you with a close up of his face.

“What am I looking at?” You ask, feigning disgust. 

“My beautiful face, what else?” 

“Really? I thought it was a dog’s asshole.” You chuckle. 

He guffaws. “Fuck off! First I get stranded here in LA, then I get some shitty chicken nuggets and now you’re calling me butt ugly! Why does life hate me so much?!”

“Menso! You were supposed to call me when you - wait did you say chicken nuggets?”

“Yeah, I still have the rest but I can’t finish because every time I chew I think of the pink slime.”

“Ugh don’t talk about Supersize Me, I’m still having nightmares about it. Who shows that to little kids??” 

“Yeah well it’s shit, Burger King’s better.” He admits, munching down on the nuggets. He chews obnoxiously near the phone speaker to annoy you so you tap at the screen in retaliation. 

“Hey, I was supposed to record you trying out American McDonald’s! Why are you taking sweet sweet content away from me? Now no one gets to see you lose your McVirginity!”

He sputters through a mouthful of nuggets and does a combination of coughing and laughing. 

“Anyways,” he says, finally nugget free. “You coming or not? I don’t think I wanna sleep on the airport floor.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m coming. I’ll text you when I’m outside.” 

The airport was a forty five minute drive, thirty if you stepped on it and committed several traffic violations. 

Maybe that would make good content. 

You grabbed your keys and rushed out of your home, fully prepared to go fast and furious. You put your windows down, connected your phone to the aux and blasted Tokyo Drift as you merged into the freeway. 

Half an hour later, you’d arrived at a packed airport pick up area and texted Alex to let him know you’d arrived. He replied that he was starting to feel the effect of the chicken nuggets but that he would push through people to get out of the building before he caught anything from anyone.

Once you could make out his figure up ahead in front of the other cars, you got the bright idea to switch your music to something more interesting. You pulled up one of his videos where he was fully invested in a rendition of Hey There Delilah and honked excessively once you got closer to him. He looked around and pulled his beanie down lower to hide his face in embarrassment. 

You and the prerecorded Quackity sang in off key unison with the volume up as much as you could before he threw his luggage and bags into your backseat, hopped into the passenger seat and put the volume down.

“Never do that again.” 

“Hey, that was your welcome salute. I don’t do that for other people, you’re special and I like it.”

“Could you try liking me a little less? I could do without all the cringe covers.” He laughed to himself as he buckled up. 

The ride home consisted of a mix of very poor and impressive impressions of characters that would’ve annoyed nearly anyone else except you. Alex alternated from a gruff impression of Squidward to a raunchy Mickey Mouse that left you doubling over and gripping the steering wheel. You competed with him, doing your worst impression of Cookie Monster and Goofy. 

Your impression competition was interrupted by a phone call, Karl’s photo flashing flipped a panic switch in you as you scrambled to grab your phone. Alex takes your phone and extends his arm far from your reach. 

“Ah, ah, ah! No texting and driving! You want to kill us or something?!”

“I need to answer! What if he thinks I’m ignoring him?”

“I got it, I got it.” He assures, sliding the bar to unlock the phone and meet Karl face to face.

Karl makes a surprised sound, greeting Alex almost immediately. 

“Hey bub!” You chime in, keeping your eyes on the road but getting a glimpse of Karl in his frog outfit. 

“Hi! Sorry, I didn’t know you were driving.”

“No it’s okay! I’m just coming back from picking up this idiot.” 

“Who you calling idiot, dumbass?” Alex suddenly burst into his Mickey Mouse voice from earlier, ending it with the iconic Mickey laugh. 

Karl seemed to eat it up, breaking into laughter. It was infectious enough to make you chuckle. 

“You guys excited for the trip? It’s looking really pretty here this time of year. I can’t wait to show you around.”

“You mean show us your sweater collection?” Alex jabs.

You nudge him roughly to the side as a warning, glaring at him when he glances at you. 

You’d hoped that the change of scenery would do you some good. LA was an endless heap of  heat that you never could seem to escape. Not even with air conditioning. It was October already, which normally would mean Fall, orange leaves, pumpkins everywhere, a complete shift in temperature, right? Nope. 

It was the devil’s asshole all year round, something Alex could attest to. 

“Don’t mind him, I think he was dropped as a kid.”

“How dare you! There is nothing wrong with me, I’m perfect.”

“Ha! Sure. As if you don’t have a lot of things wrong with you.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

You tap at the time on your screen, “We don’t have enough time to get into it.”

You turn your attention back to Karl, very attentive to your bickering, small chuckles here and there. It wasn’t until he made eye contact with you that you felt your hands falter on the wheel. You were lucky enough that it didn’t make you stray away from the road. 

“Um - you know what? We’ll call you later, we’re almost home anyways.” 

“Okay! Be safe! Goodnight. ” Karl bids you both goodbye and poses his phone in front of him in order to hug it from afar, as if to hug both you and Alex. 

You groan to yourself, pretending to bang your head against the steering wheel as soon as you pull up to your complex. Alex laughs at your misery. 

“Oh man, you really are down BAD.”

“Shut up! I regret telling you things sometimes.” 

“No one said you had to! I guess I just have one of those faces.” He Chad swipes at his chin and squints at you.

“Yeah, punch able.” You remark with a quirk of your brow, slipping out of the car and heading to your front door. 

Alex follows, grabbing his things in a hurry before you can get the chance to lock him out and leave him to sleep with the coyotes. 

“Don’t leave me out here! I’m too delicious to die!” He cries.

You’re awoken by the feeling of warm sunlight on the left side of your face. You hesitate to move, feeling tired already even though you’re sure you slept longer than you should’ve. 

You prop yourself up by your elbows, shielding your face from the sun with your hand. You get out of bed groggily, staring at the floor for a second before making your way to the living room and finding Alex sleeping in a weird position. 

Amused, you rush back into your room and grab your phone to document this moment and post it on Twitter. However when you return, he’s gone. You lean over the couch to check if he’s hiding behind it but he’s nowhere to be found. 

You’re about to crouch to check for his feet or any sign of him when you feel fingers dig in your sides. You yelp in fear and surprise, smacking your attacker until he starts to yell in a shrill voice. 

Alex pushes you over the couch making you fall on your ass. 

“WHAT THE HELL?!” You scream. 

“That’s what you get for trying to take pictures of me!”

You try to stand, rubbing at your sore ass. “Ugh, what are you, a cryptid or something? The people have a right to see!”

“No one gets to see me in the morning! No one! I need my beauty sleep more than you.”

He extends a helping hand for you to take in a moment of truce but you take advantage and pull him down with you to land on his back. He groans when he hits the ground and curses at you in Spanish. 

“Play time’s over, we gotta get ready. The plane leaves in…..one hour????!” 

Your phone says it’s only nine in the morning but you hazily remember the tickets reading ten thirty. 

“No way! I have to take a shower, I have to order food….” He begins, counting on his fingers the various things he suddenly had to do but you stop him by running into your room and getting your bags. 

“No time! Brush your teeth, get dressed, I’ll buy us something at the airport.”

“NOOOO! Airport food is disgusting! Can’t we stop somewhere?” 

“Like I said, no time! We gotta be out of here in thirty minutes.”

He grumbles under his breath. 

“I heard that!” You yell behind you, grabbing a towel and turning on your shower. 

After Alex rummaged through your kitchen, stuffed himself with some snacks and an alarming amount of frozen food, you urged him to shower in the little time span you had left and ordered a ride to take you to the airport. 

You had to basically pull him away from putting on his finishing touches with his beanie, with him complaining that his hair wouldn’t settle under it the way he wanted. You rolled your eyes and shoved him and your stuff into the Uber and kissed California goodbye. 

You two started planning what you’d do in NC as soon as you landed, besides getting food. You could practically hear Alex’s stomach grumbling the whole drive to the airport and even after the Uber gave him some snacks.

There was a sense of urgency that made your stomach twist in knots until you’d arrived at the drop off section. You stuck your tickets in your pocket as you hurried Alex, dragging him and urging him to run faster than he’d ever imagined to catch the plane. 

With only minutes to spare, you didn’t realize you were holding your breath until you panted and tried to regain it once you were at the gate. Alex makes a joke about you being out of breath to the pretty attendant that you make a note of later, just in case he tried to flirt with her. 

Alex followed the attendant like a puppy while you popped your phone out from your pocket and snapped a photo of the plane. You debated sending it to Karl, not sure if wanting your boarding to be a surprise or not. You relented to posting it on Twitter and sending it to Karl. 

Big things coming ;) You tweeted, exiting out of the app as quickly as you’d posted it, knowing you’d be flooded with notifications. 

You switched over to message, sending it to Karl but unsure if he would be awake right now. Maybe it would make his day better. 

On our way! See you soon! :)) 

You ran to catch up with Alex, finding him still talking to the attendant. In the most bitchy voice you could muster, you hugged him from the side and nestled your head into his shoulder. 

“I’m so happy we’re going on vacation babe, thank you!” 

His face fell, the attendant suddenly losing interest and suggesting the two of you find your seats. You intertwine your hands with his and hold it up, making a joke about how you two were inseparable. 

He suppresses the urge to fight you and instead screams internally, whisper yelling to you as you both sit. “You couldn’t let me be a Chad once? Just once!” 

“That’s what you get for slamming me on my ass earlier.”

[spideycents]

B-Roll // Shawn Mendes - 2: quiet on set

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

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The first extras call for The Breakfast Club is posted almost a week after I apply to be a makeup assistant. It's the middle of the night on what is hopefully our second to last day of filming at this camp. The goal is to wrap second team shoots tomorrow night, then we'll be done, but we keep having to pause filming for stupid rain that won't seem to go away.

   During one of the rain breaks, we're at the top of the hill at the onset extras holding under a really large picnic pavilion. Everyone's on their phones or asleep or playing group games to try to stay awake. I'm spacing out and Michael's on twitter when Julie-Anne squeals loudly and shows us the casting call.

   "They're looking for high schoolers!" she says excitedly.

   "Sheet!" Michael sits up quickly and types fervidly on his phone.

   "Are you gonna apply?" Julie-Anne nods at me while she works on her own application.

   I shrug. "Later."

   "Why not now?" Michael questions me like I'm crazy for not jumping to apply instantly. "We've got plenty of time."

   I purse my lips. "I know, but my phone's in my jacket and I don't feel like getting it out right now."

   They both laugh and Julie-Anne says: "Mood!"

   They're quiet for bit while they finish their applications and find other days to apply for. The irony that we only ever get hired as teenagers when we're all in our 20s now. Extra irony that Julie-Anne is the oldest, but she looks younger than both me and Michael. I don't know why, exactly. We assume it's her round cheeks or the freckles, but we're not entirely sure. She claims she found the fountain of youth. I wouldn't be surprised since her whole family looks pretty young. Especially her mom and she's practically the spitting image of her.

"And done," Michael exclaims loudly and drops his phone into his lap. He falls back in his chair, flails his legs out, and let's his head fall back so he's staring at the ceiling, then he lets out a rather obnoxiously loud Dying Puma.

At least 20 heads turn and look in our direction. Julie-Anne and I both giggle wildly, but Michael's head is still tilted back, and his eyes are closed, so he's oblivious to the audience he's gathered.

"I have three left," Julie-Anne grumbles.

   "Bitch." Michael lifts his head and looks at her with super squinty eyes. When his face is as pinched as possible, that's peak judgement. "Gotta get that Verizon."

   She glares at him. He smirks. She sticks her tongue out him. He bends his right arm and twirls his wrist, then opens his hand and juts his chin out slightly. She flips him off. He flips her off too. She looks away. He tilts his head back again.

   It's basically the silent equivalent of an argument that goes:

   "Fine."

   "Fine."

   "Good."

   "Good."

   "Fine!"

   "Fine!"

   Then they both humph loudly and storm off in opposite directions.

   The most Julie-Anne and Michael ever do is stop looking at each other. It's okay anyway, their arguments never mean anything. They can't even jokingly insult each other without feeling bad about it. Michael was just joking once when she was throwing away everyone's trash for them. He told her that while she's at it, she should climb in there too. She actually tilted the trash can and lifted her leg to get in, for the meme, but Michael was already freaking out and apologizing because he felt that that was the meanest thing he's ever said to her. That happened eight months ago and he still brings it up.

   "I really hope we all get booked," Julie-Anne mumbles, but she doesn't look up from her phone. "And I hope we get to work with Shawn."

   "SAME!" Michael super exaggerates the word, turning each letter into its own syllable.

   The switch in language when talking about celebrities after you've worked with them, is so apparent to me. Other fans might say they want to see someone, we talk about working with them and mingling like we're co-workers. When, in reality, the most I've ever said to a principle actor was when I told Alexandra Shipp that I liked her shoes and she told me that costumes picked them out, then she walked away.

***

We wrap second team the next day and as we're pulling off the lot as the sun is rising, Michael plays One Last Time from Hamilton and as happy as I am to see the park get smaller and smaller in the rear-view, it's a little bittersweet.

   Michael leaves to go back home later that evening, after first getting a well deserved, and extended nap on my couch.

   It's a struggle, saying goodbye to him. Even if we don't know when we'll see each other next, the universe somehow finds a way to always bring us together every couple weeks. The longest we've been apart since we met was 23 days, and that was within the first few months of our friendship. Sure, we text and call and facetime and Skype and DM on basically every social media platform possible, all day, every day, but the separation anxiety is still so real. I'd say I have a panic attack about losing him and Julie-Anne every other day or so. It's exhausting.

   I still don't know how to tell them about all this shit in my head. They've given me so many opportunities, so many windows, and I keep not taking them. Being open and vulnerable with anyone is terrifying. I still have to work myself up for a few days, sometimes weeks, before I can tell my mom something and I tell her everything.

   "Sorry Dad."

   He's sitting at the breakfast table, painting with watercolors in one of his sketchbooks. He doesn't look up from his work while he speaks. "What are you sorry for, Rosie?"

   I smile slightly at my dad's nickname for me. He's been calling me Rosie or Rosebud since I was little.

   I wring my hands in my lap. It's a nervous tick I picked up from my mom.

   I shrug and drop my head so my chin is tucked into my neck and I'm staring at my hands. "Everything, I guess."

   Dad laughs lightly. "I'm going to need you to be more specific."

I'm not looking at him directly, but I can see him in my peripherals and he's watching me intently, but with kind eyes. Which is how he usually looks at me lately, unless he's mad, but that almost always fades within minutes. He started looking at me with those gentle eyes a few years ago. Whenever it happens, I feel like I'm six years old again, but not in a condescending way. I feel innocent. I feel cared for. I feel protected, safe. He looks at me like that and I feel like I'm home.

   I mean, I literally am home. I've been home for awhile, but that's beside the point.

   Today's different though. Today I don't deserve to feel warm and fuzzy. I deserve to feel small and weak right now, because that's where I am today. I'm 23 years old, I'm not in school, I'm broke, I'm unemployed, and I'm still living with my parents. I feel about as small as anyone could possibly ever feel.

   I scratch red lines into the back of my left hand. "I don't know." I shrug again. I shrug a lot. When you don't know things, shrugging's what you do, and I don't know anything.

   Dad rinses off his brush, then dries it and sets it down on a paper towel on the table beside his laptop. "Lyla," he sits up straighter and turns toward me. "Are you okay?"

   I don't look at him, but I nod. "I'm okay," I say a little louder than the whispers I've been at. "It's just a weird day."

   "Well, you know can talk to me about anything," he's quieter now too. Somehow our big kitchen now feels cramped. Like it's the middle of the night and we're talking softly so we don't disturb anyone.

   "Maybe later." I push my chair back and get up.

   "Can I give you hug?" Dad asks quietly.

I'm glad he doesn't stretch his arms out toward me cause then I feel like I have to hug him or than I look rude.

   "Not right now," I mumble and go up to my room.

   "I love you." His voice echoes up the stairs, filling the hallway. All our doors are closed so it feels like the sound just keeps bouncing back and forth. Even after silence has fallen, I can still hear his voice in my head and my ears ring with regret.

   I lock my door behind me and turn off the lights before climbing onto my bed. I pull my comforter around me and curl up into a ball in the back corner. I have a big bed so seeing all the empty space around me just makes me feel smaller.

   Nothing in particular happened to trigger this sudden onset bout of weirdness, but I guess that's how depression works. Some days are good and others are weird. I don't want to say bad, because they're not really. I just drift through them. I'm probably like this today because I've been non-stop for the past few weeks and now that Michael's gone, I've kind of hit a wall. I just need some introvert time to recharge so I can get all my energy back.

   It's funny to word it in that way.

   Recharging.

   It's like people are batteries and we spend our energy until we're drained so then we have to find a way to get all that energy back. I get my energy back from alone time or caffeine usually, but a good song or a good movie or book also helps, but that's mainly just to make me feel better. Spending time outside or eating a good meal or getting a good night's sleep is also extremely refreshing. But, so is a nice shower or a bath. Honestly, I find energy through lots of things. Even being around my friends or family when we're happy will help. It varies for everyone though, but whatever you have to do it's basically like plugging yourself into a wall until your angry red light turns into a bright, happy green one.

   Speaking of charged.

I unplug my phone and roll over so I'm facing the wall while I unlock it and scroll through my different feeds. I like some random Instagram posts from different celebrities and some wedding photos from someone I knew in college who invited a ton of our friends to their wedding, but didn't say a word about it to me. It's annoying to hear about your friend's engagement through a Facebook post, like everyone else they don't care about.

Yay.

I close Instagram and open Twitter.

My feed has been nothing, but angry political debates since 2016.

I've thrown my two cents into the void, but the only people who follow me are my friends and family and a few random One Direction fans from the good old days in 2012/ People rarely see my posts and I don't want to seek out people and start drama with them or respond to problematic tweets that I see from people I follow. A lot of people get really vicious and evil with their responses and I know I'm not the kind of person who can walk away from that kind of battle unscathed. There's definitely a war raging on the internet and I'll stick to serving as medic rather than a soldier.

I scroll a little farther down Twitter, but there's not a single happy or wholesome thing in sight.

I close Twitter and open Tumblr.

Thank God for memes.

As I'm scrolling, I catch a few South Park posts and DM them to my cousin, Esther, and I spot some Marvel things and share them with Michael, and then Shawn fucking Mendes appears on my dash.

Michael's right. I'm never going to be free of him.

It's a gifset of him lying half-naked on a couch.

It's a nice couch.

I scroll down to find another post about Shawn directly below it and reblogged by the same person too.

This is just one photo, a black and white still on him sitting on a bed. Subject matter aside, I have to admit that's a pretty good shot. The way the light's hitting him, the contrast of the shadows, the general composition...it's just really pleasing to look at.

I heart it and keep scrolling. A few memes and text posts and random quotes on nature photos later and I run into another Shawn post.

Another gifset and this work of art is a collection of moments of Shawn licking his lips.

Lovely.

Leave me alone, Mendes.

I close the app and lock my phone. I push it away and pull my blanket over my head. I lay there in the dark for a little, listening to my breathing and the faint murmur of my dad watching Seth Meyers downstairs.

My phone buzzes once.

An email.

It's probably spam, but I turn over and grab it.

It's from the movie.

I got the job.

I'm going to be working as a makeup assistant on The Breakfast Club remake.

I might have to put makeup on real actors.

I might have to work with Shawn Mendes.

I might have to put makeup on Shawn Mendes.

Oh my god.

—-

It’s cringey, but now it’s public so... *shrugs* Tell me your thoughts in the tags or message me.

[shanemuhdej]

for the drabble thing, can you do "fight me"

drabble prompts: fight me: one character fighting with or against another.

For YouFandom: Buzzfeed UnsolvedShip: Shyan (pre)

He’s mad and okay, there’s probably no reason for it (there isn’t), but he’sfucking mad, okay? If there’s one thing Ryan doesn’t like, it’s seeing Shaneupset. Shane may be annoying at times and he’s a fucking skeptic, but whatever, that does’t matter right now, but he was still one ofthe nicest people Ryan Bergara had ever met, and Shane was sad. That did notsettle well with Ryan. Shane wasn’t supposed to be sad. He was supposed to bethis energetic, happy, bubbly guy – yet today, today he was fucking sad and itmade Ryan mad. He was mad, not because he felt wronged, because the atmosphereat work was off, but because something had caused his friend to be sad and Ryandidn’t know what that was.

It was infuriating, because he didn’t know how he couldhelp.

“Hey, Shane,” Ryan swiveled his chair towards him.

Shane barely glanced up from his screen and Jesus fuck, hiseyes seemed so dull. It broke Ryan’s heart. “Yes, Ryan?” Shane hummed, forcing asmile on his lips.

What the fuck?

This made Ryan even more mad.

Who or what the fuck had the balls to upset Shane this much?

Ryan glanced at Shane’s screen and noticed he was on Facebook.

He looked back at Shane and smiled. “Whatcha doing, buddy?”

Shane glanced between him and the screen very quickly andminimized the window.

This made Ryan suspicious.

He squinted his eyes at Shane, but before he had a chance toeven ask him what the fuck was going on with him, Sara comes and snagsShane off for a video. Ryan watches them as they leave and Sara gives him aknowing look that is a little unsettling, but he pushes past it, because rightnow, what was important,was Shane and what the fuck was going on with him.

Ryan didn’t think he was going to get much work done todayand was unsurprised at himself when he logged into Facebook. He hated the formaton the computer but it made snooping a little easier ------- it would give him abroader picture. He would then spend the next thirty minutes snooping throughtheir Facebook page, trying to figure out if something there had been the causefor his friend’s distress.

Ryan spent a good portion of it looking through comments,wondering if maybe one of the fans had said something snarky about Shane. Hedid find some rather…rude comments about Shane and it didn’t help the coil ofanger in his belly, but it didn’t exactly seem like Shane’s kind of style.

Would Shane really get upset by someone’s comment?

He scrolled through them, reading each negative comment verycarefully.

The reason the ghosts don’t interact with you is becauseShane is loud and obnoxious and probably scares the ghosts away

Shane looked demented af LOL

#BoogarasForLife #ShaneSux

There were more, of course, but nothing that absolutelyscreamed “I Hate Shane Madej” and it only made Ryan more frustrated. What thefuck was wrong with Shane?

He was on his way to snoop more, when a hand clasped theback of his chair and Shane’s booming voice interrupted him.

“Hey there, Ry Guy!” There was more joy in his tone now andit relieved Ryan for a moment.

He exited out of Facebook and turned to look at Shane with asmile on his face, only to frown when he realized Shane looked pretty roughdespite the fact he seemed and acted better than he had been earlier.

“What’s wrong with you?” Ryan blurted. He hadn’t wanted tobe so blunt, but the curiosity and the worry for his friend was becoming toomuch to bare. Shane was Ryan’s best friend and seeing him like this was kind ofkilling him.

Shane frowns and drops his hand away. He shrugs hisshoulders, not too unlike a child who tried to act like that fall didn’t hurt. “Nothing’swrong, Ryan. Just tired – had a long night.” He yawns as if to prove his pointand all it does is make Ryan more suspicious.

However, he responds with a nod. “Okay…if you say so, BigGuy.”

They fall back into an easy routine, despite the fact thateach time he glances over at Shane or says something, he can tell something iswrong. The whole thing felt off – like Shane was forcing himself to be happyfor Ryan’s benefit.

It actually kind of pissed Ryan off, to be quite honest, buthe keeps his mouth shut.

As the day draws to a close and they’re logging off theircomputers, the capsule pops off and Ryan’s anger becomes unleashed. To be fair,it isn’t anyone’s fault but his own – het let himself get worked up, worrying aboutShane and getting made because he was acting like everything was fine (nothing wasfine).

Steven entered the Unsolved stations and placed his hands onRyan’s shoulders. If Ryan hadn’t been angry, he wouldn’t have cared, honestly.Steven was his friend and he appreciated him a lot – but Ryan wasn’t able todeal with anything today. Andrew had followed Steven into the area and wastalking to Shane when Steven had touched Ryan.

Shane still had that off kilter vibe about him and that’sprobably what set him off.

“Hey, Ryan, we’re heading out to the bar, you want to come?”

It was such a generous, kind request, and Ryan willdefinitely feel bad for snapping later.

He spins around at Steven, glaring at him as he shakes himoff and begins to put his stuff away. “No, Steven,” he begins coldly. If he’dbeen looking at Steven at that moment, he’d have seen the surprise on his face(Andrew and Shane, who were literally only a few feet away, held similar expressions).“I don’t want to go out to the bar. I’ve got shit to do.”  

He finally collects his things and faces Steven. Shane andAndrew walked over at that same moment.

Steven holds his hands up in surrender. “Woah there, easy tiger.What’s gotten into you?”

Ryan glances at Shane – no, it’s too long for a glance, helooks at him for a moment, before returning his gaze to Steven and huffs out arushed, “I’ve got to go,” before storming out of the building.

He gets stopped by none other than Shane Madej out by hiscar.

“Hey!”

Ryan turns to look at him, eyes finally softening and hevisibly relaxes. “What’s up, Shane?”

He knows what Shane is going to say before he even says it. “Whatwas that about?”

Ryan sighs and unlocks his car. He places his things insideand then turns to look at Shane, giving him a pointed look. “What was whatabout?”

Okay, Ryan can be stubborn sometimes.

Shane’s frown deepens. For the first time all day, Shanelooks a little more alive. But then again, it may have been because he nearlyran to keep up pace with Ryan-Speed-Walker-Bergara.  “Ryan…”

Ryan sighs again, more dramatically this time. “Oh, I don’tknow, Shane. Maybe it’s the fact that my best friend won’t fucking tell me whatthe fuck is wrong with him. Maybe that’s what all of this is about.” Even Ryanis surprised by the venom in his voice.

Shane flinches and finally, finally, sighs. “Okay.” He sounds resigned.

A long silence follows. They stand there in front of hiscar, looking at each other, and if Shane hadn’t been trying to hide a smile,Ryan probably would have gotten angry again.

“Can I come over?” Shane asked finally and Ryan finally,finally, was able to truly breathe for the first time that day.

“Yeah, Sasquatch – get in the car.”

Shane finally breaks into a smile and Ryan smiles back.Despite the unnecessary anger all day, Ryan finds himself happy and content inthe presence of Shane as they head back to Ryan’s apartment. He would apologize to Stevenlater ---- but not until after he takes care of Shane, of course.

[scriptmin]

Three Inches of Heaven [Pt.3]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | TBA

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader, Jimin x Reader Genre: Time travel, romance, Royalty AU (Mature themes ahead) | Length: 4.6k

Summary: A bizarre time-warp sends an unsuspecting woman hurtling towards an era of cunning plots, political strife, and strict societal hierarchy—it appeared the world between a few centuries hadn’t been too different after all.

“You there! Servant boy!”

You had only just resumed your descent to the gardens of the castle when a man’s shrill, authoritative dictation had echoed off the stone walls and into the hollowness in the bed of your ear. It was Jungkook who halted first with a sharp upward tug of his shoulder, startled out of the daze which you had left him in, before he was pivoting on the balls of his feet, the wind of his long, flowy robes breezing past you. You followed his motions only a second belated.

“Where is your mis—” Upon the rotation of your body, the natural widening of your scope of vision had accommodated an urgently advancing figure, which had, for a split second, registered in your mind as a cotton ball of blue and white. But as your own profile had come into his sight line, the figure had abandoned all movement, staggering to a stop while his extended index levitated upwards, pointing obnoxiously at you. “My gods, you look ghastly!

Though you barely felt it, you knew your expression must have fallen flat, an indication of unamusement which the man had caught in time with the slow dissolve of his initial mock. He returned his arm back to his side, lips forming a neutral line as the remnants of a smile faded back into taut, golden skin.

“I’d almost mistaken you for one of the servants. They have this walk, you see, slouched and defeated and honestly quite a bit pathe—”

“What is it, Taehyung?”

The man adjusted himself thoroughly this time, shrugging his shoulders straight, hardening his spine. The neutrality on his face had descended into that of sheer boredom, and perhaps hints of annoyance. “It's your brother,” he replied dryly, peering down at you through hooded eyes, “he wants you in his chambers. There was a raven.”

“A raven?” You echoed, anxious. In other words, a text. From somewhere—far. “What about?”

There was a dismissive shake of his head, and the deepening of utter disinterest. “I was not privy. You should see him quickly. Matters with the capital, I think it.”

It was at that moment that you had felt an innate tug at your body, the flexing of the muscles in your neck angling your head towards the man that once stood beside you, and had by that point retreated to a humbled position at the rear of the conversation. Jungkook too, had answered to the call of his own instincts, his wide, mahogany eyes shifting to meet yours, your gazes connecting and igniting in unspoken exchange.

“Best run along now.”

Returning to the nobleman before you, you had gently dipped your chin, according this close kin and friend of yours a temporary farewell, before you were once more treading down the corridor from which you had come. You hadn't made it too far before you were slowing your pace, allowing Jungkook to naturally fall into step beside you. The man was still shackled to the dramatic event from earlier, unable to fight off whatever profound internal monologue that was ongoing in his head.

His expression, which was a cross somewhere between apologetic and guilty, was almost enough to inspire sentiments of your own apology, from having perhaps overreacted at the discovery of something which you had apparently already known. You were not so foolish enough now to fail to recognize the mirror of dynamics between past and present—for the record, the “past” was now and the “present” was the future. Jungkook, be him the cheating ex-boyfriend or the loyal, soft-spoken yet not any less mischievous servant, had consistently managed to uproot you from the grounds you had stood, however momentary.

He mentioned it once; that it was not anyone’s fault that you held so little belief in the things you felt. If you were mad, be mad; if you were annoyed, be annoyed.

“You're the one going belly-up every time we have a fight and you're blaming me for always running you over!”

“Jungkook.” Alas, you had arrived before the heavy, ancient wooden doors of your brother’s private quarters. The travel here had not been short, his room was probably located in a different wing altogether. The smoke-like whispers of musing servants and the hubbub of market noises could not permeate the atmosphere here, the dimly lit stone corridors felt almost soundproof, silencing the very air which wrapped glove-like around your body, tight and warm.

“Yes, m’lady?”

Your hushed exchange was exponentially amplified by the near-vacuum which you stood within, a place where even your soft breaths could be heard like birds in trees. You were careful not to say too much

“If there had been a better choice, I would have fought for it, right?”

If it were possible, the man receded even deeper into his own silence, brooding longer, wandering further. The shadows on his face danced as whimsically as the flickering flames of the torches that lit the walls, casting his complexion in a fickle, part-ethereal orange glow. Jungkook seemed so far away that the baritone vibrations from his throat traveled to you underwater-like, muted and subdued.

“Yes, I believe that.”

You took your lips between your teeth, clenching briefly before you had permitted the servant an affirmative nod. Then you had knocked, had received permission to enter with a muffled, “come in”, from the room’s owner, and had left behind whatever you could of the Jungkook from yesteryear, determined more than ever to go through with the motions of this time if it meant returning your spirit where it rightfully belonged—

in death.

Namjoon’s quarters wasn't anything like you had expected, yet oddly enough, the state of the room didn't come off as surprising. There were the stone-cut windows and wide-open balcony doors identical to yours, but the similarities had ended there with the deep, redwood furniture that starkly contrasted the beiges and whites which made up the aesthetics of your own room. The varnish on the poles of his four-poster bed seemed to have their own shimmer, completely unreliant on the multiple torches that lit the perimeters of the room, and the two candles set up on each upper corner of the ostentatious, masculine study desk that sat perched right before the balcony.

The overall darker palette of the space was watered down by the soft, yellowed pages of open books, unfastened scrolls and loose paper. These were strewn all over the room, across every surface; his bed, the ottoman positioned at the foot of it, his own little round table, complete with a tea set that only peeked barely out from under the foots-long scroll that hung curtain-like down to the floor. The chaos was centralized at his desk, where your brother sat with unhindered focus, ultimate concentration, poring over a tiny, seemingly inconspicuous rectangle scroll that he held between his fingers.

But upon your full entry into the quarters, the last of your long, flowing robes tucked in before the firm shut of the heavy doors behind, Namjoon’s supreme attention had shifted towards you, at no delay at all, with the lifting of his head, the leveling of his worldly gaze with your own, quivering one. You were nervous, but what for?

“Taehyung’s a better messenger than I thought,” he said, smiling easily into his words. “Come, sit.”

Only then did you regain control over your limbs, putting one foot before the other under the floor-length skirt of your clothes, shuffling, essentially, towards one of the two upholstered, red leather armchairs that stood opposite your brother’s own seat.

“He said there was a raven.” Hearing the use of this phrase had not struck you quite as strange as saying it yourself, the combination of words being something completely unheard of in your own time. Nonetheless, you had ignored the rise of goosebumps on your arms, and pushed on, “from the capital.”

Namjoon chuckled idly, his hands trying to administer some order to the mess on his table. Books were shut and stacked, papers were shuffled and arranged to the side, until he had cleared out a small surface area where his busy hands could then rest, clasped in a loose, prayer-like position. Still according you a kind, brotherly grin, he continued, “he’s also better at inferencing than I thought.” He briefly released his hands from their place to hold up the little scroll he had been reading earlier, dangling it in the air before setting it back down, clasping his hands once more. “He’s right. A raven from the royal family, to be precise.”

“Is that good news?”

“I’m afraid not, sister. The capital has sent out ravens to all the Houses of the kingdom, very soon they’ll be having soldiers travel to every city, town and village with official announcements.” Though you would later come to know that the pause he held between his sentence then was that of mournful regret, at that moment it had felt nothing but dramatic, pulling you to the edge of your seat.

“The king is ailing. There seems to be not much time left. With that, naturally, the royal family will wish to find a match for the crown prince, produce an heir, secure the throne—a crown princess selection.”

Good lord, was all that occurred to you in that instance. You had spent barely half a week in this time, but guessing the implications of this was no rocket science.

“Every unmarried maiden in the kingdom must be sent to the capital for screening. I suppose girls of certain ages will be foregone under usual circumstances but this selection will be very different.” Unknown, perhaps, to himself, Namjoon began to fidget—his thumbs twiddling in circles, his pupils shifting every so often. “To hasten the selection, girls will be nominated by the king’s Council, the names of these girls will be entered into a ballot, from which only five candidates will be drawn. As the daughter of a very prominent House and- past… member of Council, you are very likely to be nominated.”

The downward spiral of his tone and the startling recession of the lighthearted, welcoming smile he sported all but minutes ago could hint at only one thing—he didn't want you anywhere near that selection. Or had this simply been your imagination?

“B- but it's only a ballot,” you replied, staggering, through your words, “nothing’s for sure.”

Why was he so worried?

Along with a world-weary sigh that parted his frowning lips, Namjoon’s entire posture had taken a 180-degree turn, abandoning the confident, straight-ruled frame which his spine and shoulders presented earlier, for a more down-to-earth, casual slouch. Though the defeat that hung ambiguously in the atmosphere was slightly unnerving, you found you much preferred this side of him. He had felt more brotherly like this than at any other time you had seen him.

“When you visited Silvercrest Palace with father and I two months ago, the queen had had a word with father in private. In truth, father had already known of the king’s poor health and the new selection arrangements from that point. She had asked a favour of him, which he later passed on to me.”

By that point Namjoon had forsaken all attempts to maintain any form of lordship or nobility, bringing one hand, that appeared wiry and bonier than usual, over his face, his features scrunched into that of utter exhaustion and defeat. This was not comforting in the slightest.

“She promised him that she would guarantee a successful draw of your name in the ballot, and from there, a smooth passage in ascending to crown princess, if you agree to let yourself be nominated. Kind as father may be, he was cruel to me in never making any sort of decision in this matter before his death. And the queen has sent, in secret, another scroll expecting a favourable reply.”

“Hang on, so… you mean we can refuse the nomination?” At this, Namjoon had scrubbed the hand down the expanse of his face, releasing a sigh through his nose before resting his head against a clenched fist. He looked so burned out. “Then why don't we simply refuse?”

“Considering that things are different this selection in that it's no longer an obligation… there are no laws that say we cannot reject a nomination. But more than that…” he was hesitant with his next words, glancing at you briefly before quickly averting his gaze elsewhere. What was wrong? “I didn't think you would ever consider refusing…”

You were ready to combust. What on bloody earth did he mean by that? Did he want you to enter the selection or not?

There was another sigh—yours this time. But you hadn't gotten as far as formulating even a word in your reply before Namjoon had spoken up.

“You've… changed, you know?” You frowned. “You're a lot, how should I say, calmer. It's like you aged a few years, gained maturity, become this… beautiful, grown woman.”

“Namjoon—”

“I have to be truthful with you,” he said, adjusting himself so that he sat a tad straighter, more somber. “I don't want you back in the palace. It was so hard to get you out and- and I fear what returning to such an environment might do to you. Some things… are just better forgotten.”

“Namjoon,” you declared firmly now, “you don't get to decide what memories I keep and what I let go of. Whatever it is… help me. Help me remember.”

You could feel the nervous palpitations of Namjoon’s heart from your position across his desk. You could feel it pulse around you, constricting and releasing, constricting and releasing; most of all you could feel the heat, the intensity with which he used in protecting you, sheltering your sights, choosing only the prettiest things to show you. He loved his sister—but god… you only wished you were her. Truly her.

“Father died in the palace. You almost lost your own life. I can't afford to lose any more family. You…” Bringing his two hands together, he had cupped your own resting ones, which were cold and clammy, in a sweaty but warm envelopment. You could feel it ebb into you, his plea and fear. Namjoon was just a boy too. “You're all I have left.”

“Then I just won't win. I just won't let myself be picked, that'll do, won't it? I can come home after that.” There was not much you could do but grasp back, your fingers threading with his. Under the pad of your thumb, you could feel the ripples of his pulse, vibrant and erratic. But somehow it had still felt like pulling at a fraying end of a cloth, the more you wanted to hold on to this, the more it came apart. His sister was long gone—he had lost everything. What much else could you do? Why were you even here?

“I wish that were the case but…” His eyes shut under the deep pinch of eyebrows, along with the instant drop of his shoulders, the release of yet another breath. “Of the five candidates, only the two who are eliminated in the first round will be sent home. It's quite impossible for you to fail to qualify—the first round looks at influence and status, only few can rival us in those aspects.

The remaining three, whether or not they become the princess, must remain on in the palace. Two will be concubines, forever sworn to the king’s imperial harem but will never be accorded the respect and attention a queen receives. As much as the prince loves you, rules and tradition will keep him from you. How can you expect me to stand and watch a girl who crosses plains on horseback faster than any man I've seen be placed behind a glass window, a puppet who dances in the queen’s shadow?”

“Then what- what do you want me to do, Namjoon?”

“Why don't you run?”

There were many worse fates to endure than being stuck in the body of a highborn girl, like ending up as a prostitute, or a debtor’s daughter, forced to beg on the streets—that was, if you even wanted to try and live.

You imagined suicide then would be much uglier than drowning in a pond dressed in silks and jewelry. You imagined your body would fester on the streets for days before anyone bothered to take notice, and it’d lay there a while more for the rats to have at it before anyone came to move you away, burn you somewhere at the edge of a forest along with the other bodies that no one thought to claim.

When you thought about that, running was not an option. Of course that wasn't to say that Namjoon would ever let you suffer a fate like that, even while on the run. But as bizarre as this occurrence might be, surely you must have been put in this body for a reason.

Perhaps you had not simply possessed it—perhaps this was a swap. The places of your “deaths” were both bodies of water, and—you were careful in thinking this—both had likely to be intentional.

Your fingers dipped shallowly into the icy cold waters of a black pond, swirling idly, drawing vague semi-circles in the water, the only light a shimmering silver crescent that flickered eerily in the ripples of water. In the back of your mind, you wondered if she was there on the other side—waking up frazzled and distraught in a foreign time, just like you had. You'd feel sorry for her, because unlike you, she has no one around her to ease her into it. If she tried to come back, would you be ejected out from this body like a CD?

You smiled at the thought.

But ultimately, it was the dramatic tail of your discussion with Namjoon that lingered in broken chunks in the front of your thoughts, punctuated by the hum of cicadas, winds rustling in the trees, the occasional soft pop! when the fish in the pond broke the surface.

Now in retrospect, you had gained a basket full of insight into the life you had taken over. These details were not given time to embed in your head before, but as you stood crouched in the silent garden in the wee hours of the morning, a destination found on your own accord after having creeped out of your chambers from sleeplessness, left to your own devices for the first time since, you had been given the space, both physical and mental, to afford any real thought to the bigger picture for your presence in this time.

This garden had been difficult to find. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that this place wasn't one that could be found by those who strove to find it, rather, it was stumbled upon, after various blind turns and throwing caution to the wind. The true owner of this body would have been familiar enough with her own home to know the exact location, but perhaps on her last night, it was the same aimless feet and thoughtless wandering that came to you that had claimed her as well.

Guesswork wouldn't have brought you this far without the information Namjoon had slipped to you unknowingly—or knowingly. Something about her father’s death had bothered this girl, more than it had affected Namjoon. It was strange, suspicious even, that something could happen at the same time and place to two prominent members, as Namjoon had mentioned, of the king’s court. You imagined this hidden factor was a secret that no one else knew but her, otherwise Namjoon would not have been so naïve as to deem her accident here at this pond a mere fall.

Something made her want to die. Something only she knew—and now she was gone. Lost to time.

The faceless, and thus far nameless (until your history lessons decide to come back to you), prince was also another pivotal piece of information. Her relationship with him was surely far from trivial if someone like the queen would interfere in favour of their development, going as far as to manipulate what should have been a fair selection regarding her son’s future. Although, the word fair here was subjective—every candidate would have their supporters, ministers, officials, relatives of the royal family, who would similarly fight for opportunities the same way the queen had promised to do for you. For her.

The prince loved her. Yet he had done nothing in reaching out to her after hearing of her “fall”—he must have known. Namjoon was in the capital then. But even that had something off about it.

Hearing his unspoken sentiments, there was no way he would return to a place so deeply entwined with the demise of his family if he were not forced to be there. Summoned, perhaps, by authorities greater than himself. Those weren't many, you learned, only few members of Council and the king could do so. Or perhaps, there was something he had to achieve, that the advantages the sacrifice would bring was enough to banish any hesitance from his contemplations.

“I thought I'd find you here.”

The slipping of another human voice in an atmosphere dominated by the sounds of nature had quite effectively shattered the little dream-like bubble of space you had created for yourself. A quick whip of your head around had you identifying this voice in no time at all. Jeon Jungkook.

“How did you know?” You said, rising to your feet. You were careful in stepping away from the edge of the pond, earlier which you had been leaning dangerously over.

“I came to replace the candles in your chambers. I knew they would burn out in the middle of the night. Didn't want you to be cold, m’lady.” He was standing at an awkward distance, three strides too far away, as if he were afraid, like you were disease-plagued. Or maybe it was he himself.

You nodded faintly in response, gaze falling downwards at a loss for words. It was then that you noticed that he had been carrying something, draped over his arms which were held at an angle against his sides. His usual stance. It was a cloak, you realised. And having followed your line of sight, glancing down, Jungkook seemed to recall this.

“Thought you would be out here a while. Would you like me to help you put it on, m’lady?”

“Yes, please.”

Jungkook only moved after a lag. Even then his movements were robotic and foreign, as if his limbs were borrowed and not quite a good match in his joints. You turned your back to him so he could drape the velvety fabric over your shoulders, your own hands reaching up to tie the strings in the front.

“Thank you,” you said, returning to face him.

“Was if an unfortunate conversation with your brother? Is that why you're out here?”

“No and yes.” You had then turned in the opposite direction, towards the stone bench that sat on the other side of the pond, trusting him to follow. Sweeping the train of your clothes under your weight, you sat on the further edge of the bench, leaving a space for the man to join you. Which he did, belatedly again, after a prompt with your eyes. “I learnt a lot just now. Namjoon admitted that there were certain memories he kept from me. I told him he couldn't decide that on my behalf.”

You paused at that moment, waiting to see if the implications would sink in. It appeared Jungkook was more perceptive than you gave him credit for, having treated him with biasness after your original experiences with him.

He visibly hesitated, his chin dropping, soft hair falling over his eyes, fingers fidgeting, his shoulders and frame rising and falling. A sigh—his sigh.

“It was I who pulled you from the pond, as I had recounted to your brother when he returned. But I was not wholly truthful with him, out of respect for you, m’lady.” The voice was soft as a murmur, but the moonlight in his round, boyish eyes burned at an intensity greater than the sun’s. This heat had only momentarily afflicted you when your gazes met and tore away with the split-second shift of his eyes, but it was a heat that warmed you so much more than the cloak that wrapped around your body.

“You had tied a stone to your ankles. I could only pull you after I had undone the knot. The weight of your clothes made it a difficult task on its own. They were not clothes you wear for the summer, m’lady. I left these details out of the story I told your brother. I assumed that if this decision of yours was something you would want to keep from a servant like me, all the more you wished the same for your brother. Unless another witness has told him otherwise, I suppose Lord Namjoon remains unaware of this truth.”

“Then how did you know where I would be?”

“I… I followed you, m’lady, even though you ordered to be left in peace for the morning. I must apologize for disobeying your instructions but I dared not leave you unguarded after your return from the palace. You were not the same girl that descended Light Hill for the first time. For sure I knew it was the passing of your lord father that afflicted you, but… it was worse than I ever dared to imagine. I wish I had gone with you, m’lady, I would have protected you with my life. Maybe… things could have been different now.”

The soft intonations of his speech were surely designed to placate, to smooth and calm an otherwise jarring delivery of news. But the words had been so gentle, so cautious, that you could not help but guess that more intimate motivations could possibly have driven the way in which he spoke this to you. Could there perhaps be personal emotions that spurred under his words? Could there perhaps be sentiments that defied the professional relationship he held with you, that he experienced a magnitude of devastation, disappointment and hurt far beyond that of what he articulated?

This possibility shouldn't be something that surprised you, for despite the betrayal that you would eventually come to experience, Jeon Jungkook had, in fact, loved you. It was only that this memory of him was so fleeting compared to the subsequent years of a downhill spiral that would eventually lead you to that bridge over the riverbank. It had been so easy to forget this memory, so easy to convince yourself that it hadn't existed to begin with—because it was so much easier to cope with something you never had rather than to grovel in the loss of something you had only ever grasped by a thin thread.

What would you convince yourself of this time if he had indeed harboured affections for you?

“Namjoon told me something else too.” This was something you said after a moment of silence for the conversation to breathe, the information to sink in. You wanted to confide in him, as he had with you. “The kingdom will see a new crown princess soon, chances are it will be me, but he doesn't want that to happen. I can't imagine how cornered he must feel for him to suggest running away. Literally, y’know? Live in hiding.”

“Well… what did you say?”

“I told him I'd think about it.”

There was genuine curiosity on his face when he glanced at you, brows raised and slightly pinched, his eyes wider than ever. “And have you? Thought about it?”

“I have.” You found yourself grinning softly at him, at the childlike reflection of a boy you knew from once upon a time. In this reflection, you too were a different girl, from a different time. Maybe things could change, now.

“I don't want to run anymore.”

[sun-summoning]

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi

part vii: in which sasuke gains an ally

The next morning, Sasuke woke up in a sea of multiple unnecessary pillows. He hated beds like that. Like what was the point. Those tiny pillows were mostly annoying and not good enough for sleeping on or cuddling. 

He fought through the purple blanket he was swaddled in and when he turned to the side, he saw Naruto on the other end of the bed. He groaned, waking Naruto up. 

Naruto blinked, confused and disoriented and probably just as hungover. “Did we...have sex?”

“What?” Sure, Sasuke got a little too wasted the night before, but he had a pretty good memory of the events that led up to him falling asleep on the balcony among a stranger and his succulents. “No, you idiot!”

“Oh, thank god.”

They heard a snort and looked to the doorway, finding Ino leaning against the frame with a bowl of cereal in her hands. She spooned some into her mouth, regarding them groggily. “You guys are still here?”

“We’re leaving now.”

“Good.” Ino gave Sasuke a look full of distaste that was easy to miss through all the aching his head and arms and legs felt. “You’re an asshole, Sasuke.”

Sasuke shrugged and wondered if she had a point. “Okay?”

“Like how dare you--”

“Not that I disagree,” Naruto cut in, “but what did he do?”

“What did he do? Ha!” Ino put her bowl down so she could cross her arms to fully embrace the full on bitch look she was probably going for. “He got too drunk!”

“That’s a thing?”

“And then he made my friend take care of him all night!”

“Ooooooh!” Naruto crowed, waggling his eyebrows.

But Ino smacked his arm. “Not like that, you perv.” Ino rolled her eyes. “No, asshole over here got so drunk and passed out on my balcony so Sakura had to take care of you.”

Sasuke considered Ino’s words, ready to tell her that she was as delusional as she was shrill, but then realized that shit, wait, hold up. She was right. Sasuke got drunk. Sasuke got super drunk. So drunk that he couldn’t really walk anymore and that he got overly warm but his sweater was too much of a pain to remove so he just dealt with it and then he found some succulents and he promised them a good home but then he failed them and then he failed himself and then some girl came by and she gave him water and she was really nice and she had pink hair and--

“Wait.” It took Sasuke a little longer to process the information. “Your friend took care of me? Your friend...Sakura?”

“Yes.”

“Sakura.”

“Yes. Why?”

Sakura. Ino’s friend Sakura. Sasuke didn’t think Ino had many friends named Sakura. It was a wonder she had any friends at all, really, with how loud and obnoxious she was. But Sakura. Sakura.

Sasuke got too drunk and adopted some succulents and right when he was going to take them with him on his quest for true love or whatever, Tinder Girl found him instead of him finding her. Tinder Girl touched his cheek and gave him water and he fell asleep on her shoulder. 

Sasuke felt like he was going to faint, so it was a good thing he was still in the bed.

“Your drunk ass moved around all my plants -- one of which is missing, by the way!” Ino complained. Tired of standing, she sits down beside Naruto. “Then you fell asleep! You’re lucky she’s ridiculously strong because I would have left you outside overnight.”

Sasuke’s breath quickened as he recalled Tinder Girl declaring she could benchpress him. And calling him scrawny. Did she call him scrawny? He wasn’t scrawny. 

“She had to haul your ass here,” Ino continued, gesturing to the purple bed that Sasuke now realized was probably hers. Then she turned and glared at Naruto. “And then for whatever reason you came and joined him and I had to sleep on the couch!”

“Sorry?”

“You better be.”

Ino and Naruto ran through their usual banter as Sasuke tried to process everything. Tinder Girl was there. Tinder Girl was with him last night, talking to him and checking on him and then helping him find somewhere safe to sleep. Sasuke shook his head and when he looked to the side, he found the succulent that he’d chosen as his favourite on the night stand beside his phone and wallet. Even better, Tinder Girl had plugged his phone in to Ino’s charger.

Damn, this girl was perfect.

“I have to go,” Sasuke said, shooting up from the bed. He pocketed his things and gently picked up the succulent, manoeuvring it so Ino wouldn’t notice him plant-napping it.

“Where are you going?” Naruto asked.

“Tinder Girl. I need to find her.”

“Who the heck is Tinder Girl?” Ino shook her head. “And since when did you use Tinder?” Her voice takes a different tone, the way someone’s might when they’re obviously lying about something they already know. Sasuke would call her out but he has bigger problems to deal with.

“Wait. Where’s my other shoe?”

-

Soon after, the three of them went out for breakfast. Sasuke pointed out that Ino already had breakfast so Naruto clarified that while he and Sasuke were getting breakfast, Ino was getting second breakfast and that was okay too. Naruto and Ino sat beside each other and while Ino made a show of saying she wasn’t hungry whilst making sure Naruto was getting something she liked enough that she could steal from his plate, Sasuke kept busy by scrolling through people’s photos from last night and then watching some Snap stories.

“Why are you doing that?” Ino asked.

“Because maybe she’ll be in the background.”

“Who?”

“Tinder Girl.”

Sasuke hadn’t even looked at her through that entire exchange, so Ino turned to Naruto for an explanation.

“The love of his life,” Naruto said.

“Oh, yes, great.” Ino smiled primly. “So helpful. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“I was being sarcastic!”

“I found her!” Sasuke slapped the table in his excitement, getting the attention of the other people around him. He didn’t notice though, too busy holding his phone out for Naruto and Ino to see. 

“That’s...Sakura.”

“Yes.”

“Sakura Haruno.”

“Yes.”

“She’s my best friend.”

“Yes.” Sasuke looked like he swallowed something particularly sour. “I am aware.”

“I...I love her.”

“Wait.” Naruto frowned. “What kind of love?”

Ino smiled and winked at him. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, now I’m definitely going to worry about. Ino, I’m sorry, but if you stand in the way of my best friend finding the love of his life, I’m going to have to fight you.”

“Oh, relax. Tragically, she and I are both heterosexual.” Then she looked back at Sasuke, her serious face back on. “But you. What the fuck are you doing?”

“Yeah, Sasuke.” Naruto snickered. He obviously found amusement in Sasuke’s discomfort. “Tell Ino what you’re doing.”

Sasuke glared at Naruto and kicked him under the table for good measure, but then Ino yelped and Sasuke realized he kicked her instead. He figured he should apologize, but since it was just Ino, he decided not to bother wasting the breath. 

What was he doing? 

He was trying to use all the resources available to find the woman who eluded him. 

He was trying to find true love. 

He was...trying to win a bet to prove that he wasn’t a complete failure. Sure, those weren’t Itachi’s words, but Sasuke could hear subtext when it was there. In that moment, Sasuke almost laughed, because it hadn’t occurred to him in quite some time that his search was largely sparked by Itachi offering to pay his rent if he could do this because he didn’t think Sasuke could. So did that mean he wasn’t doing this for true love? Was he doing this for true spite? Was he doing all this to spite Itachi? 

Sasuke considered his actions so far -- freaking out Hinata (although to be fair she just lacked a spice), breaking in to Juugo’s house (but like seriously lock your door), whoring out Naruto (granted that was a failure) -- and decided that spite wouldn’t exactly be very surprising as a motivator. 

Or maybe he was just obsessive? 

His mother always said he had a one track mind, but not in the way Naruto did in his endless to chase anything with a skirt. No, he just...fixated. Not very frequently, but when he had a goal in mind, Sasuke stuck to it and did whatever he needed to accomplish it. Maybe he wasn’t trying to spite Itachi. Maybe he was trying to prove something to himself? So was that just selfish then? 

Honestly, did any of this even matter? 

During his moment of reflection, Naruto deigned to recap Ino on everything, starting with Sasuke accidentally swiping left for Sakura on Tinder and all the other wonderful things that happened after. 

“So you found Sakura on Tinder, huh...”

Naruto made sure to include every embarrassing fact, but Ino was too busy pursing her lips and looking down at her breakfast. Or, technically, her second breakfast.

“Why do you look like that?” Sasuke asked. He gestured to her with his cup of coffee. “All...constipated. Contemplative. Whatever.”

Ino took a bite out of her toast and gave him the finger. She looked like she wanted to tell him something important. She reminded him of that one asshole in every zombie movie who got infected but didn’t tell anyone and was thus putting everyone at risk. 

What was she hiding? Something pertaining to Tinder Girl, sure, but that was a given consider she was Tinder Girl’s best friend.

Then she smiled, the pull of her lips insincere. She shook her head. “Nothing,” she replied oh so sweetly. 

“Oh, come on,” Naruto whined. Apparently he’d seen the look of constipation on Ino’s face as well and decided that constipation wasn’t actually the case. “What are you hiding?”

“Nothing.”

“Ino!”

“Nothing!” Ino repeated. But then she winked and Naruto and whispered, “I’ll tell you later.”

Naruto grinned and nodded and Sasuke gawked at them. “Are you serious?”

“You bet I am.”

“I’m not here for your approval,” Sasuke told her. “And I’m not here for you to have your dumb jokes.”

Ino smirked. “Then what are you here for, Sasuke?”

“Well, I mean...breakfast.”

“Wow.”

“I’m going to find her,” Sasuke declared, “and then we’re going to go on a date. Or something.”

“Or something?”

“Yes, or something.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m not gross like the two of you.”

"Screw you!”

Before they could bicker further, other members of Team Sasuke seemed to arrive, and judging by the way Naruto was waving at Karin and Shikamaru at the door, he was probably the one who invited them. They crammed their way into the booth beside Sasuke as he shook his head at Naruto.

“Why do you keep inviting people to our discussions!”

“Because they liven things up.”

“How?”

“I’m sassy,” Karin piped up.

“And I’m...” Shikamaru paused to think of the right word. “I’m snarky.”

Sasuke huffed and pointed to the two across from him. “And I guess she’s Bitchy and he’s Dopey?”

“You’re being very rude for someone who always needs our help,” Karin pointed out.

“I don’t need your help!”

“Your first in-person glimpse at Tinder Girl was at my party.” She nodded at Ino. “And your second one was at hers. Which, by the way, we told you would work for drawing her out.”

“That wasn’t--she wasn’t--” Sasuke sighed, defeated, because fine, sure, he actually needed his friends throughout this entire process. “Whatever.”

“Why are you being so difficult?” Karin asked.

Something snide was on his tongue (specifically “Why are you being so difficult?”) but Sasuke stopped himself and sighed. Why was he being difficult? Was this self-sabotage? Was he afraid of actually meeting Tinder Girl or something?

He looked up and found everyone staring at him. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

“Is it because you’re scared?” Naruto reached across the table and laid his hand over Sasuke’s. “It’s okay to be scared. It’s a good kind of scared--”

“Okay, no,” he said, yanking his hand away, “that wasn’t an invitation to talk about my feelings.”

“Then why don’t we do what we always seem to have to do for your sorry ass,” Shikamaru suggested, “and make a new plan.”

“Sure,” Sasuke agreed, just as Ino said the same thing. He couldn’t help but regard her with surprise. He’d honestly expected to have to fight her like she was the dragon guarding the castle Tinder Girl was locked up in. “Really?” 

She shrugged. “I mean this could be good. Sakura needs to get laid.”

Karin nodded. “I agree. Not in the sense that she’s a wound up bitch. More so like…she deserves it.”

“Wait, then why would we set her up with Sasuke?” Naruto asked, ignoring Sasuke’s stare of disbelief.

“What the fuck, Naruto.”

“He’d only disappoint her.”

“What the fuck, Naruto.”

“Because Sasuke is an asshole, but he’s good-looking,” Ino explained, also acting as if he wasn’t there. “That means she’ll give him a chance, but she might just end up dumping him. The point is, she’ll get something out of it.”

“What the fuck, Ino.”

Karin ignored Sasuke and raised an eyebrow at Ino. “You’re strangely okay with all of this. She’s your best friend and he’s...Sasuke.”

“What the fuck, Karin.”

“Eh, it’s not like Sasuke is some random loser,” Ino said. “He’s just a regular loser. And besides,” Ino continued. “We actually know him. He’s a jerk the majority of the time, but I know he’s not some serial killer.”

Naruto frowned. He squinted at Sasuke then turned to Ino. “You don’t actually know that though.”

Shikamaru tilted his head and examined Sasuke. “Nah, Sasuke isn’t the type to be a serial killer. Maybe a regular, one-time-only kind of killer, but I think after the first one he wouldn’t want to have to bother with a second. And then to maintain the pattern for a third would probably be too much.”

Sasuke didn’t even bothering asking what the fuck this time, settling for just glaring. 

“Okay, that’s enough,” Ino said. “Okay. So. The point of these little meetings. We’re supposed to help Sasuke find and woo his...Tinder Girl?”

“Yep.”

“Basically.”

“I’m just here for the drama.”

Ino nodded. “Fine. Clearly trying to meet her at parties doesn’t work because you drink too much, so I’m just going to settle for something simple and classic.”

“And what’s that?” Sasuke asked.

“A date, you fucking dolt.”

The simplicity of it all kept Sasuke quiet.

“She’s my best friend,” Ino explained. “I’ll tell her I’m setting her up with a guy I know. She might put up a fight because she doesn’t exactly trust my judgement--”

And for that, Sasuke liked Tinder Girl even more.

“--but I’ll find a way to convince her.”

“I...” Sasuke swallowed thickly. Being so close to reaching his goal made him nervous. “I like this plan.”

“We can go on a double date!” Naruto suggested.

“Or we can go on a triple date!” Karin added. She looked at Shikamaru and they agreed they’d go on a date together for the sake of watching Sasuke make an ass of himself in front of the girl he’d tried so hard to find. 

“No,” Ino said. 

She tried to smile at Sasuke, but it was just a weird twitch of her lips that made him wonder, for a split second, if she might be having an aneurysm or something. Then he realized she was aiming for kind. Or, if not kind, just not mean. She was aiming for not mean.

“It’ll be just Sasuke and Sakura.”

“I have to get ready,” Sasuke suddenly said. 

“For what?”

“For fate. Or something. I don’t know. Shut up.”

He tried to stand but was trapped in the booth and just ended up hitting his thighs. He pushed Karin and Shikamaru so he could get out. He began walking away from the table, ready to take on the day, ready to maybe do a bit of studying, ready to freak the fuck out.

Sasuke immediately sat back down at the booth, this time settling beside Ino and Naruto.

“Fuck,” he breathed, missing the way they all looked at him with both confusion and annoyance. “Wait.”

“Now what?”

“Shit.” 

“Communicate, Sasuke. No one has understood a thing you’ve said in the past two minutes.”

“What if she’s one of those girls who say they’re not like other girls?” Sasuke worried. He actually looked pale. Or well, paler than usual. “Or like, what if she self-identifies as quirky? What if she’s vegan and slips that into every conversation? What if--”

Ino rolled her eyes and shoved him out of the booth. “Get out of here, idiot!”

-

That night, Sasuke found himself on campus studying. This wasn’t too uncommon amongst students considering midterms were coming up. 

After breakfast, Sasuke received a text from Karin saying he owed her money because he left without paying for his stuff so she had to cover him. He waited and waited for Ino to update him, but figured that obviously she couldn’t tell Tinder Girl about him yet. Right? Of course not.

And what would Ino even say to her? 

“Hey, Sakura, remember that drunk mess you took care of last night? He wants to go on a date with you. Yeah, I know, he’s kind of a loser. Yeah, I know, he thinks he’s a succulent whisperer or something.”

He said he was going to get ready, but upon stepping out of the diner, he realized he had no idea what he was getting ready for, so he went home, showered, and went back to sleep. Upon waking up at four in the afternoon and ignoring Itachi’s disapproving stare, Sasuke had something to eat, grabbed his bag, and left to go study.

It wasn’t about the bet anymore. It was about succeeding in school, about not being a disappointment, about spiting Itachi. And, obviously, it was about love--

“Hey, would you mind if I sat here?”

Sasuke tried not to visibly cringe. Because midterms were coming up, all the tables were taken and it was totally normal that someone would want to share his table. He tried not to groan as well as he wondered if they might tried to make conversation. 

Then he actually looked up.

It was Tinder Girl.

Sasuke was, somehow, breathing normally. He nodded and he tried not to stare at her too obviously as she set her bag on one of the chairs and proceeded to pull out her laptop and some books. When she was settled, she looked at him. Really, truly looked at him. Then she paused.

“Oh, it’s you!” She smiled and Sasuke’s heart skipped a beat. “I see you’re feeling a lot better now.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah,” he replied smoothly. He looked away hoping to hide the blush on his cheeks. “I...yeah.”

She laughed a little. Fuck, she was so cute. “Well, I’m glad. You didn’t seem too well.”

“I drank too much.”

“Classy.”

“I try.”

“And did your succulents make it out okay?” She shrugged. “Or well, technically, Ino’s succulents.”

“What?”

“The succulents.”

“What?”

“Well, as I was tucking you in, you made me promise to bring back your best buddy succulent so you could bring it to a better home. I literally had to go back and forth twice because apparently I grabbed the wrong one the first time.”

Sasuke cringed and wondered if he could just die from embarrassment. 

“Although to be fair, Ino’s actually really great with plants and you probably should have just left the succulent there.” She chewed on her lower lip as she mulled over her thoughts. “Then again, succulents are pretty idiot-proof.”

Naturally, that shook Sasuke out of his stupor. “Are you saying I’m an idiot.”

Sakura laughed. “No, no, of course not. I don’t even know you.” Then she held out her hand. “I’m Sakura, by the way.”

Social propriety dictated he shake the hand being offered. Normally he would do so grudgingly, but this time he was eager. Were his hands sweaty? Shit, probably. But his fingers were resting on his keyboard and there was no way he could somehow discreetly wipe his clammy palms on his jeans before shaking her hand. And now he was taking too long. Crap.

Hoping he wasn’t repulsive, he shook her hand and introduced himself. “Sasuke.”

“It’s nice to meet you--”

“I have to go now.” 

He blurted out the words before actually processing them in his head. He had to go? Did he? Uh, no he didn’t. But he said the words so now he had to go. Sakura was staring at him, clearly confused by his behaviour, and so he decided that he definitely needed to go. 

Shit, was this that self-sabotage again? Was he scared? That “good kind of scared” Naruto was going on about? What did that even mean?

“Oh.” 

Sasuke was too busy shoving his textbooks and and laptop back into his bag to check if the disappointment he swore was in her voice was also on her face.

“Well, okay then.” He glanced up and she was smiling at him. “Good luck with your studying then!”

“Okay, bye.”

Sasuke grabbed his stuff and practically ran out of the room. When he was outside and walking home, it occurred to him that everything was going perfectly fine and then he just ran away. 

What the hell was wrong with him? What the hell was he even doing? Fuck, no wonder he couldn’t make any decisions without any help from his friends. 

Maybe Naruto’s double date idea wasn’t so dumb after all.

-

tbc