#whatever it is its a mess so slap all the labels on it

[ivystoryweaver]

What a Mother Can Be

Pairing: Moon Dads! Steven Grant x mother!reader, Marc Spector x mother!reader. (Jake is mentioned). The story does not state that this reader has given birth to these children, nor the reader's gender, so anyone who could ever feel like a mother would be included here.

Word Count: 1.7k

Content: MOON DADS!! fluff, domestic fluff, kids, married life, it's Mother's Day, kissing, mentions of food and eating, there is a tinge of angst-ish, as Wendy Spector is mentioned, but this is not an angsty fic. This story is what I wish for the Moon Boys IF this is what they would want. They deserve to heal and they deserve a family if they want one - whatever that may look like. not beta'd

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

He finds you in the kitchen early Sunday morning, standing over a hot griddle, pancakes sizzling.

Your babbling toddler wiggles in the high chair, pinching one Cheerio at a time in her chubby fingers and stuffing it into her mouth, making a kind of weird mush as she entertains herself.

You back is turned to him so you don’t realize he’s there until his arms wind around you from behind.

“You can’t cook today,” he breathes on your ear, stealthily removing the spatula from your hand.

You giggle and pretend to shrug him off. “Why not?”

“It’s Mother’s Day,” he declares, with an adoring kiss to your cheek.

“So? We have two boys about to come barreling in here,” you remind him matter-of- factly. “My present to myself is not listening to them demanding to know what’s for breakfast.”

A sliver of shame shoots through Steven's heart. He intended to wake up before you and take care of all this: breakfast and the kids. But Jake was out late last night and he accidentally overslept.

“Dada!” Lockley calls from her high chair, playfully slapping her hands down on the tray.

“Hey, sweet girl,” Steven greets his daughter, bending over to kiss her forehead. “Did you know it’s Mummy’s day?

“Ma-ma, Ma-ma, Ma-ma,” Lockley wiggles back and forth, chanting proudly.

As predicted, two energetic boys burst into the kitchen, their tousled curls an adorable mess.

“Happy Mother’s Day!” the twins shout in unison, holding up a handmade banner, constructed from about 60 post-it notes stuck together.

“Wowww,” you whistle in admiration. “Somebody’s been ransacking my office for supplies.” You wink, kneeling down to inspect their handiwork, and assuming they were unable to locate the construction paper to make this unique banner.

Then you take a closer look as Steven tends to the pancakes, finishing them up and removing them from the heat.

“Oh…” Your eyes mist over instantly when you realize the reasoning behind using such small paper to build a banner.

"There's messages on each one," Grant, the oldest twin by two minutes, shyly murmurs.

"Read 'em, read 'em, Mom!" Your energetic Jakob almost tears the feeble construct apart with his bouncing up and down.

Several of the notes boast simple messages such as, "Happy Mother's Day!" or "We love you!"

A few of them have small handprints - Mother's Day classics. There's even a tiny handprint, with LOCKLEY printed messily underneath.

"We had to write hers because she can't write," Jakob states the obvious. "But she tried to eat the Post-its."

"I'm sure she did," you chuckle, glancing over a few "coupons" where the boys have offered to load the dishwasher, fold laundry, give you a back rub and the like.

Then you notice a rather good drawing of your family under a banner reading, "The Spectors": You, holding baby Lockley. Grant and Jakob are flanking either side of you. And there are three dads pictured and labeled, Marc, Steven, Jake, underneath, "DAD" written in all caps. "MOM" is above your head.

"Grant, did you draw this, bud?" You ask your little artist, ruffling his curls.

"Yeah. It was hard to fit everyone on a Post-it, so I made it on two. So you have to keep them together...okay?" His dark eyebrows shoot up hopefully.

You nod, continuing to inspect each one.

Jake has written a few notes in Spanish and Steven left you a riddle...which led to a second riddle underneath the first one. And a third.

Jakob is giddy, dying to tell you what the riddle's answers are, but Grant silences him.

The bottom post it says, "Turn around."

Curious, you stand back up and turn to find Steven holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a wrapped present in the other.

"One-two-three," you hear Grant coach. Then Jakob joins in. "Surprise!" Your husband and twin sons chorus.

"Happy Mother's Day, darling," Steven smiles at you, handing you your gifts. "These are from Marc and me."

"Thank you, I love them," you accept the flowers and kiss him sweetly on the lips.

"And Jake says he's going to get Frenchie to babysit next weekend so he can take you out in the city and 'show you off.' His words."

You snort, clearly amused. "Frenchie wants to babysit these three?"

"Yay!" Jakob cheers. "Uncle Frenchie! Uncle Frenchie!"

"Fen-he!" Lockley attempts, bouncing in her chair.

"See, everyone loves the idea," Steven grins, nodding for you to open the wrapped gift. "You can wear this."

A moment later, as he places your flowers in some fresh water, you unwrap your gift.

"It's beautiful," you gasp, touching the golden necklace, bearing hieroglyphs.

"It represents motherhood," Steven gushes. "Here, I made sure to get the paper that explains it all."

"Thank you." Wrapping your arms around his neck you hug him tightly. "Will you put it on me?"

Steven obliges, and you turn back to your boys. "What do you guys think?"

"It's pretty, Mom," Grant sweetly replies.

But Jakob has already dropped his half of the banner and is reaching for a pancake when Steven clears his throat pointedly.

The five of you gather around the table for an all too sugary breakfast before heading out to the park to get some fresh air, let the kids play and spend some quality time together.

Lockley can't walk quite yet, so she's rolling and scooting on a blanket on the grass while Grant and Jakob play close by.

Steven has already apologized for oversleeping, but you confess that you heard Jake come home extremely late. Lockley had a fussy night, so you turned off the baby monitor not ten minutes after he fell asleep and spent most of the early morning rocking your sweet, fussy girl.

"The perfect mom, as always," Steven compliments, with a sparkle in his eye. "And the day's not over yet. There's more to come."

You tangle your fingers with his, laying your head on his shoulder. After a brief silence, you ask, "How's Marc?"

You normally don't ask one alter to deliver messages for another. Half the time, they don't know anyway. But this is Marc. On Mother's Day.

"Quiet," Steven answers. "I think he's okay."

You hum a response, handing Lockley the pacifier she spit out.

"And you, my love? How are you today?"

Because Steven lost his mom too. And not simply because she passed away, but because the mother he thought was his was not real. Parts of her were real, to Steven anyway. The parts from childhood when she wasn't drunk, wasn't violent.

Those were Steven's memories to hold.

But he lost who he thought she was, as well.

"I'm better this year. Better every year," he nods, eyes focused on his twins playing together. "Get to spend this day with the best mum there is."

He gazes over at you adoringly.

"Thank you," you whisper, sealing your mouth to his.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Later that evening, after you and Steven have wrangled three kids into bed, you decide to take a quick shower.

When you emerge, Marc is waiting for you with a glass of wine.

"Happy Mother's Day," his dark eyes flicker down the curves of your body and he wets his lips.

"Marc," you breathe, taking the wine glass from his hand and setting it aside so you can throw your arms around him. "I didn't think I would see you today."

His strong forearms flex against your back, pulling you closer. "I'm here. Did you get the flowers?"

"Yeah they're on the dining room table. Thank you, they're beautiful."

"Good." Easing back, he kisses your mouth, before taking your hand and retrieving your wine glass. "Come on."

The sound of the record player drifts faintly down the hall, welcoming you into the den, where Marc has built a fire.

"I know it's May, but I turned the air down low," he explains, answering your quizzical look. "I know how much you love a fire."

You beam at him as he leads you to sit down on the plush rug in front of the fireplace. There's a tray with some adult-worthy snacks, like - the nice brand of cheese and fancy chocolates.

"No kids allowed," he winks, knowing you're always the one to give up the last pancake or slice of pizza for your children, or for him.

"Oooh, okay, this almost feels like an anniversary." You reach for a chocolate as the two of you get comfortable.

"Too much?" He questions, dark eyes focused intently on the way your lips wrap around the candy.

"Owh naw - its puwfect," you mumble, mouth stuffed full of a truffle.

Marc laughs, nodding mockingly, but playfully. "Sexy."

"I know," you humph, finishing your treat. "But today's my day. I don't have to be sexy."

"You couldn't help that if you tried," he smoothly counters, reaching up with his thumb to swipe chocolate from the corner of your mouth.

"You're really racking up the points here, babe, like, this is..." You glance all around you before taking a swig of your wine. "This is good. Really good."

"I thought you could use some kid-free time," he explains, "With your favorite things - without Jakob eating them all first."

You share a laugh, knowing it's true. Jakob is barely a middle child, but he certainly acts like one.

"If you want some alone time, just say the word," Marc adds, a bit reluctantly. "I just want you to be able to relax."

Setting down your wine glass, you pull him close by his t-shirt. "Don't you dare. You're mine."

You surge forward to meet his lips in a hungry kiss, the wine and the pampering treatment truly reminding you of more of a romantic anniversary setting than anything else.

Marc hums against your lips, cupping your face in his hand as you deepen the kiss, licking open the seam of his mouth to taste him. The wine and the chocolate and the essence of your husband soothes and thrills you equally as you melt into his arms.

"Thank you," you whisper, rubbing your nose against his as you part for air. "Thank you for making me a mother."

He touches his forehead to yours and earnestly returns, "Thank you for showing me what a mother can be."

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

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[somebluemelodies]

@atthebell's SPIDERBIT WEEK DAY SIX: it couple | enigma revisiting the coffee shop au for this one, which you can read here! consider this a couple months or so post first date :> featuring: qroier being hopelessly in love and qcellbit being a total fucking nerd (/affectionate. and also hopelessly in love) this is a little lengthy like the last one my apologies-

"Roier, I can hear you thinking from here, man."

Roier abruptly stands from his spot leaning against the counter. "Perdón."

"Keep thinking that hard and you're going to destroy your last functioning brain cell." Mariana eyes his best friend. "Are you still trying to ask that guy out?"

"Yes," he answers, exasperated. "I don't know what the fuck to do."

"Just fucking ask him, man! It's not hard."

"I don't want to just ask, man! I want to do something cool for him, you know? He deserves it." Roier eyes Mariana right back. "Besides, I don't think you're allowed to offer relationship advice. You and Slime just started making out every day and eventually slapped a label on it."

Mariana looks smug and punchable. "And we're engaged now."

Roier only flips him off, leaning back against the counter and returning to his moping pondering. The other barista huffs after a few seconds, finally attempting to make himself useful. "Well, what does he like?"

"He's an investigator," is how Roier answers, "he—"

It's like a flip is switched in his brain, and he shoots back upright. "That's it! I know!" And before Mariana can question it, he's rushing out back to grab his phone.

When he returns, he's near-silent for the next several minutes upon grabbing a pen and napkin, save for occasional mumbling to himself as he studies intently whatever is on his phone screen.

Mariana doesn't bother stepping over yet, watching as Roier eventually starts writing something down on the napkin. Only when the pen has been capped, and Roier sighs to himself, seemingly satisfied, does he finally question the other again. "Happy now?"

Roier nods, smiling. "Sí."

(And so it goes.)

...

“And someone left this on one of the tables?”

Roier nodded. “Sí. Shortly before my shift ended.”

Cellbit seems mildly skeptical, but he doesn’t question it. Besides, who would he be to pass up solving a jumbled mess of letters?

“Well, it’s not a Caesar cipher. Doesn’t make sense. But…” He leans down, reaching for his satchel and rummaging through its contents before he finds a piece of paper, placing it on the coffee table alongside the napkin.

Intrigued, Roier scoots closer from their spot on his couch, hooking his chin over Cellbit’s shoulder. It looks like a table, but it’s full of letters instead of numbers. “What is that?”

(It’s just to get a closer look.)

(Cellbit wills his cheeks to cool down.)

“It’s for a Vigenère cipher. The letters in the middle are for all the encrypted letters. The left-hand column is the alphabet for whatever the key is, and the top row is the plaintext, or the 'normal' letters, if you will. In this case, it's what we're going to solve for."

(Cellbit explaining is leagues better than reading a bunch of words on a screen.)

(He could listen to Cellbit talk all day.)

“So how exactly do you solve it?” Roier asks. He has somewhat of an idea, but it was mostly him filling out the criteria on the website to encrypt it for him.

“I want to try and figure out the key first. I’m guessing the little coffee cup in the corner here has something to do it.” Cellbit points to the little doodle in the bottom right-hand corner, thinking for a moment. “It might not work, but let’s say the key is the word café. Vigenères are polyalphabetic ciphers; it utilizes multiple Caesar ciphers inside of itself, but the increments depend on whatever the key is— sorry, not important— polyalphabetic just means that they—"

“Use multiple alphabets?”

Cellbit smiles, and warmth blooms in Roier’s chest. “Yes!”

He pulls a pen from his chest jacket pocket. “We’re going to repeat café until it matches the length of the message.” He starts writing the letters underneath the cipher, continuing to talk. “We’re only going to be using the C, A, F, and E letters on the left-hand column, none of the others. Let me just finish this…”

Roier waits patiently until Cellbit gets to the last letter. When he does, he reaches for the table he’d pulled out. “Okay! So, now, to actually decipher it, we’re going to take the first letter of the key, C, and we’re going to locate the first letter of the cryptic message, Y, in C's row.” Cellbit’s pen lands on the letter Y. “Next, we’re going to follow that up to the top row for the plaintext.” The pen travels up. “W. So, the first letter of the decrypted message is W. Does that make sense?"

The barista nods as the investigator glances over to check. "Yeah. You're very smart, gatinho, you know that?"

Cellbit chuckles. "Gracias, guapito."

With that, he starts to work on decoding the rest of the cipher. Roier can't help but marvel at the speed he's able to work at - and doing it manually at that, not just putting it through online like he did. But Cellbit solving it fast is doing nothing for his nerves, his heartbeat starting to pick up.

He lets the other work quietly, trying not to shuffle and shift too much from his place leaning against him. He can't tell if he's regretting this or not, with the way the anticipation is killing him.

(But he also knows shit like this makes Cellbit happy, so maybe it won't be the complete end of the world.)

When Cellbit gets to the last word, though, he starts to slow down, processing exactly what the message is in front of him. He becomes acutely aware of Roier's head on his shoulder, the way his dark eyes are flitting back and forth between him and the papers, and pieces start clicking into place.

But he finishes it, because he knows Roier made it. Because he's stunned someone would go to this length for him. And so, the decoded cipher stares back up at him.

(WILL YOU BE MY BOYFRIEND)

Cellbit reads it back over to himself, once, twice, heart hammering in his chest as a haziness washes over him. He feels Roier lift his head, momentarily mourning the loss of contact, but wills his voice to work. "Roier..?"

"Well?" Roier asks after a moment, and Cellbit feels brave enough to glance over at him. They lock eyes, and he looks just as nervous as Cellbit feels, if not more. "Will you?"

For a moment, Cellbit doesn't move, expression unreadable, and Roier wonders if maybe this was a mistake after all. But then he sits upright, and orients to face him. "Cellbo—?"

He's effectively cut off by lips pressing against his, one of Cellbit's hands cupping his face as the other rests against the back of his neck.

Roier's eyes close immediately, melting into it as one arm wraps around the investigator's neck. His other hand goes up, threading through Cellbit's hair and subconsciously deepening the kiss.

(It feels warm, it feels right.)

They only pull apart when their lungs demand oxygen, foreheads resting together.

"Does that answer your question, guapito?" Cellbit breathes out.

Roier grins. "I think I need a little more clarification, gatinho."

Cellbit can't help but laugh. "Let me try again, then."

"By all means."

And somehow, the second kiss is almost better than the first.

(Enigma solved.)

[theragamuffininitiative]

Repeat after me:

"Christian" is not a genre.

I wrote an essay and I deleted it but just:

Christian is not a genre. It isn't a genre of music. It isn't a genre of books. Or movies. Or whatever else you want to slap it on. The rampant misconception that it is, is just a marketing label that has corrupted our perception of how to experience art in a spiritually fulfilling way.

"I'm a Christian but I hate Christian music," just means you haven't found the type of music you like which happens to be also overflowing with the artist's foundational relationship with their creator. I have a slew of artists I adore who are never featured on Christian radio, ranging from singersongwriter acoustic, to southern rock, to lo-fi pop, to hard rock, to west-coast flavor drive, etc etc etc. There's a lot more where they come from, too!

"There are no good modern Christian authors." Not true. But very few writers who care about crafting good stories make the Christian best sellers list bc if you can't market a devotional to go along with it, then the big publishing house probably doesn't care. That's just the messed up world of marketing for you again, and the secular writers have to fight the same (but honestly probably less cannibalistic) machine fighting for slots that might become the next great film saga. Authors are out there telling absolutely Phenomenal stories, they're just small- or self-publishing, or publishing mainstream bc they were paying attention to that whole "slip by the watchful dragons" essay and a story doesn't have to be an allegory or have an alter call to be Christ-honoring.

Also! Don't knock stuff that was published 5, 10, 68 years ago! There is So Much Amazing Art made by beautiful wonderful artists whose love for their Creator and their fellow man and their world just swirls all through their compositions. Y'all love rediscovering random retro stuff, go have a ball with all that has already been made.

Anyways.

👏 "Christian" 👏 is 👏 not 👏 a 👏 genre 👏 label 👏

Seek out the art that moves you, the styles that you enjoy, the stories that speak to your story. You will either be able to experience that art on a deeper level than even its originator intentioned bc of your relationship with the Creator of all that is lovely and pure and true, or you discover that was their intention and suddenly you have a new artistic guidepost in your life laying out stepping stones of their art carved with deep care by the hands of their own faith.

[thisblogwilleatourselves]

OHHH YEAH, let’s dive HEADFIRST into that WILD MORAL SWIRLPOOL 🌀🕳️ all y’all humans and half of everything else keep gettin’ tangled up in!! bad, good, evil, sin, karma, justice, MORALS, HAHA! y’all really think these lil labels are some universal TRUTHS carved into the cosmos itself? 🚫✨ well, spoiler alert: they ain’t. these are just your *shiny little constructs,* tiny sandcastles built on the edge of an endless sea 🌊🏰 tryna make sense of a universe that doesn’t give a single cosmic CRUMB about your “right��� and “wrong.”

take a step back n’ look at nature, yeah? 🌌🌿🦁 it’s filled with beauty n’ horror, coiled up together like a big ol’ glitchy serpent, always devouring itself. a lion eats another’s cubs, is it EVIL? 😱 no! it’s nature. it’s raw, it's brutal, it’s reality chewin’ up yer comfy lil concept of morality n’ spittin’ it out like a bad taste 🤢🦷 it’s horrifying, sure, but it ain’t wicked, it ain’t cursed, it just *IS*. there’s no cosmic judge up there tallying sins in some sky-high spreadsheet 📊⚖️. it’s just LIFE, messy and untamed, constantly breakin’ yer tidy lil boxes.

and THEN you got sapient minds, comin’ along, prancing all high and mighty thinkin’ they can define the undefinable 🧠💥 they slap words on the wild, tryna wrestle it down to their level, puttin’ chains on chaos, drawin' lines in the sand n’ callin’ it "truth." but ya know what that does? it traps ya, makes a prison outta concepts that never even existed until YOU built ‘em. this “evil” you see everywhere? ya MADE it, you conjured it outta thin air like some magic trick gone wrong, n’ now you’re all haunted by your own creation 🪞👁️.

“justice,” pfffft HA!! they keep singin’ songs about this grand idea, punishin’ the “bad” ones, right? like dolin’ out pain is some kinda balance act, like that makes it all okay. but tell us, how’s that any different? you hurt the ones you say are wrong, you use the SAME weapons of pain n’ call it “good.” that ain’t justice, it’s a revenge loop, it’s rot, it’s the snake eatin’ its own tail again and again 🐍🔁. they got all these systems built on hypocrisy n' call it fairness. y’all keep thinkin’ you’re on some high moral ground, but ya built it on quicksand and it’s sinking, sinking fast.

look around—look at the natural Irkens, yeah? 🦠🌌 us wild, untamed creatures don’t play by yer twisted rules. there’s no GOOD, no BAD, no guilty or innocent; there’s just survival, just existence, just the endless dance of becoming, of shifting n' changing like the skies in our territories. we don’t shackle ourselves to concepts like punishment or “redemption,” cuz those are just TRAPS! chains made of words and thoughts meant to control, control, CONTROL 🕸️🚨 ya say you want peace but all yer systems do is breed more hurt, more suffering, more walls between you n’ whatever it is yer tryna reach.

so maybe, just maybe, ya oughta take a lesson from those you fear to understand. 🪶🌠 free yer mind, break the cycle, stop tryin’ to hammer the universe into shapes it don’t wanna fit into! LET IT BE!! let yourselves be! the natural world’s always gonna outgrow yer categories, always gonna spill over the edges, and that’s the beauty of it—the boundless, uncontainable chaos of it all. 🌌🔥 let go of these petty human constructs that do nothing but weigh ya down, n' embrace the glorious mess that just IS! human minds think they know it all, but ohhh they’re just lost in their own tangled webs, too scared to see the freedom that lies beyond their broken ideas. 🪐✨

[koa-z]

This is so good though, because public perception of gender really is such a joke at the end of the day.

For reference, I'm a trans man who experiences physical dysphoria (which isn't necessary to be trans, I just happen to) to such a degree that I need surgery in order to be comfortable in my body. I have always felt this way, ever since I was a very small child, long before I knew about trans people. That's my sex. It is the truth of who I am. No matter what anybody, and I mean anybody, ever thinks or says about me, that is the truth.

My gender expression, on the other hand... I've always looked pretty androgynous. As soon as I had top surgery, everybody instantly started clocking me as a guy and that was that (which was such a joke, because I'd been begging for over a decade to be treated with basic human dignity and have a whole sob story about that, but whatever). But I moved somewhere that it's safe for men to have long hair and wear pretty colors, so I started doing that because I realized that I liked it.

Now that I've got a fluffy lil pastel pink bob, I get "sir'ed" and "ma'am'ed" pretty much 50/50. If I put on a hat, I get "sir'ed". If I wear a skirt, I get comments about being a man in a dress- which I am, and I'm wearing it better than they ever could, but I digress. When I use my customer service voice, I get ma'amed. It's all just such a joke. I mean I can't stress enough how much the people who throw tantrums over these gender roles don't even understand them themselves; it is SO easy to mess with them.

Cuz like here's the thing, right? The longer that I live as my true self, the more I've realized it. No person is ever going to perceive me the way that I am. All of the silly "she's" and "he's" and rarely "they's" directed at me don't actually change anything about me, they only indicate what some fly-catching rando's final fox-news-powered brain cell is capable of computing in its one instance of desperate half-lucidity. It doesn't actually say anything about me, who I am, or what I want. And you can try as hard as you like, but ultimately the vast majority of people are too wrapped up in their own worlds to care about who you really are. They're gonna slap a label on you and call it a day, or throw a bitch fit if it isn't that easy.

Gender is a game that you win by not playing. Dress how you want. Give authoritarians aneurysms. The way that somebody else perceives you will never determine how you actually are.

***and yeah I know that's coming from a position of extreme privilege, as a "passing" trans man in a patriarchy. There's a lot of bs that people who can't "pass" have to put up with, and I don't want to write any of that off. There was a long period of time, over a decade, where I felt like if I didn't "pass" then I was going to die. But now that I'm on the other side of that (which again, is a privilege, and I do not want to write off people who do not have that option, especially given the unforgivably high rates of violence especially against trans women / trans femmes who are outed or do not "pass"), I'm just so... angry and disenfranchised with the whole thing, because how most cis people determine gender and its validity is so silly, childish, and wishy-washy. It's unfair that we and our bodies should be dictated by something that they're not even fully cognizant of. I mean I worked so damn hard to "pass" and in the end I realized that I didn't even want to look like their idea of an ideal man that they had sold me- I just wanted my god damned body! Doesn't make me less of a man, just less of a product. So, if you have the safety and ability to do so... make your body look like YOUR body. Otherwise, I hope that you reach the ability to do that one day. The rest of us will keep fighting and advocating for that. We're going to get you out of there. Hold on.

"you're not man enough, not feminine enough"

so gender is something we can fail?

that means gender is not genetic and absolute and unchangeable

but something we can build and perform, and fail at (the standards they set) but also redefine?

if i can fail at being a woman, does that mean i'm not a woman? so does that make me another gender?

[eldesperadont]

headcanons that nobody asked for about my wrestling blorbos under the cut hehoo 🌈

any character i like is queer and/or ND in my head lmao but heres a few people i have proper thoughts on

NJPW

Hiromu: autistic polyam king, neither cis or het, queer queer queer

El Desperado: dealt with self worth issues and depression since he debuted on the main roster, got better in the last few years tho :)

unfortunately in love with Hiromu - gender doesnt play a role in his attraction, not big on labels

Jay White: smug disaster gay, *slaps his head* this bad boy can fit so many mental issues in it, sooo insecure and masks it all till he can't anymore, calls himself King SWITCH so imma take that literal-

No but really i have a lot of thoughts about Jays motivations, in my reading he feels like the only way to make it in njpw as a gaijin is if you disregard the rules, fans and opinions of others - he's deeply afraid of everything he did to even be a wrestler having been pointless, he may cheat to get to his goal but a title is a title, the ultimate proof of his sacrifice having been worth it.

Juice Robinson: genuinely thought about giving up on wrestling, i don't buy his 'haha i tricked u all' explanation, he either reached out to BC or — the spicier take :)c — Jay reached out to him:

He knows how its like to be at rockbottom, feeling like everythings pointless. (his post WK15 promo) The guys Jay was in the dojo with were/are people he genuinely cared about (i could bring up counless examples), so he couldnt sit by and watch Juice throw his shot away

KENTA & Naito both gimme "bastard dad that constantly messes and jokes around but actually deals with a lot of depression and anxiety and whenever he (in the most unexpected moments) brings it up it gives you whiplash, feels like forbidden lore" vibes; they are very similar and i love them a lot, ive written about that before here

also Kenta and Shibata are bitter exes

ELP: bi adhd DUMBASS. with more depth than u would think, dreads all his sacrifice not paying off in the end, similar to Jay, thats generally my theme for Bullet Club, if these dudes weren't so toxic they could be a great support system for one another

Robbie Eagles: bi nerd with the worst taste in men lmao, Ospreay's his ex, him and ELP are whatever the hell they are, obsessed definitely - ive written about them a bit here and here

BUSHI: transmasc genderfluid dude :)

Miho Abe & ZSJ: are whatever makes you fall in love with the trash emperor, they both date TAICHI

Kota Ibushi: adhd/autistic mlm king. okay no but genuinely i have so many feelings about Ibushis struggle to fit in, to do as others expect of him, being the weird one - i can relate to that so much it makes me cry

LIJ group dynamic:

Shingo and Naito are bastard brothers that annoy each other on purpose, Sanadas the younger brother both get along with

Naito and Bushi are parental figures for Hiromu, based on Naito being Takahashis mentor and Hiromu literally describing Bushi with お母さん, mother.

Shingo is Hiromus loud scary uncle, Sanada is his cool quiet uncle

Naito and Bushi are married.

also a few aedub thoughts:

all of BCC is autistic.

Kingston has adhd.

HOOK is autistic, non verbal most of the time, uses sign language.

the whole roster's queer good for them good for them (except the ones i dont like.)

my Danhausen thoughts!

EDIT: i forgot Ricky, Ricky Starks is autistic

idk that's it, i dont have many HCs for aew so far lol

[bakumu-archive]

to capture a star

rich!Daichi x fem!reader

wc: 13k

summary: when daichi asks you to go with him to his family’s cabin during spring break, the last thing you expect is to be greeted by a giant mansion. Will the money and social life scare you away or will you be able to find love with daichi, despite being thrown into a world of fast cars and expensive clothing?

cw: rich people, SMUT (daddy, praise, biting, feral daichi, unprotected sex, creampie), pining, racing, one punch, blood (from the punch), alcohol, insecurity, mild jealousy, possessive daichi, side kiyoko x tanaka, probably ooc

a/n: this is for the rich boy collab hosted by @bakugohoex​! be sure to check out all the other submissions! you can find the link to the masterlist here

terushima is an asshole in this and i'm sorry, i love him but i needed a captain to be sleazy and he volunteered. he told me he couldn't resist hitting on a cutie like you, and who am i to stop him.

check out the mood boards i made here and shout out to my beautiful beta reader @winniethepoohloathesyou​ for working so hard on this with me!

minors do not interact. this work contains mature themes and if you continue reading you have agreed you are willing to see such content

When Daichi sat down next to you in your econ class last week and asked you to come to his family cabin during spring break, this is not what you imagined. 

You thought that you would be able to spend some time alone with him, enjoying nature together in a small house nestled in the forest, spending enough time together to finally put a label on whatever the spark was between the two of you.

But no.

You blink rapidly and take a good look at your new surroundings, trying to make sense of what your eyes see. Before you stands the largest house you have ever seen. But just calling it a house would be an extreme understatement. 

This place is a mansion. Three stories of white brick detailed with elaborate stone embellishments. The gray mansard roof’s steep slope meets at the top with a fenced stone parapet. An elaborate garden extends between you and the house and you swear you can see an Olympic-sized swimming pool nestled into the courtyard. And this isn't even the front of the house. You blink in disbelief when you spot a giant race track off to your left and what looks like a massive, ten-car garage. The scent of sea air assaults your senses and when your gaze flickers to your right, you can see the ocean and the mansion's very own harbor. 

And none of that even includes how you got here: on a private jet, landing on a personal runway where you currently stand. 

The beat-up duffle bag you use for your family’s camping trips that hangs from your shoulder suddenly feels very wrong in a way you can't explain.

You turn to face Daichi as he joins you on the tarmac. “Daichi, this is your family cabin?” you ask wide-eyed, your voice sounding so high-pitched that you barely recognize it. 

He rubs the back of his neck, one of his nervous habits. “Yeah, it's kind of embarrassing. I used to spend all of my summers here with my siblings but now the house barely gets used,” he says sheepishly.

Before you can ask any more questions, the loud rumbling of car engines interrupts your conversation and you see two sports cars taking two corners on the track before barreling down the straight of the runway towards you at top speed. 

“Ah, those two are here already, I see,” Daichi grins. He takes your duffle bag from you, throwing the strap over his shoulder and pulling you closer to him while wrapping his arm around your waist. 

The cars roar to a stop right behind the jet, creating the perfect image, an Instagram influencer’s wet dream. 

Daichi leans over to whisper in your ear as they both get out of the cars, “The one in the red Ferrari LaFerrari is Kuroo Tetsuro and the one in the white Lamborghini Aventador is Bokuto Kotaro.”

The two are pointing fingers at each other as they get out of their cars bickering and you can see the wealth dripping off them. The man with the spiky black hair, that Daichi told you was Kuroo, is pointing back in the direction they came from as he closes his car door, while Bokuto, with his spiky gray hair, pouts, throwing his hands up in mock innocence. Both of them grab a bag from the trunks of their cars, still arguing with each other before Kuroo places his arm around Bokuto in a show of faux peace before they start walking towards you and Daichi.

“They're both idiots,” he pauses to watch Bokuto swat at Kuroo’s arm, “but they are actually really good guys.”

The two of them are still heated, poking at each other's chests as they reach you and Daichi, only stopping when he coughs to grab their attention.

“Are you two done yet?” he questions with a raised eyebrow.

“Daichi, I was faster, wasn't I?” whined Bokuto, giving Daichi and you a small pout as Kuroo pats his shoulder, leaning slightly closer to you.

“This must be Y/N. She’s cuter than you said Dai,” Kuroo says with a laugh.

You miss the way that Daichi’s cheeks start to turn pink because you were so taken aback at his statement. Daichi told his friends about you? His apparently super rich friends?

Daichi’s grip around your waist tightens slightly before he responds, “Guys this is Y/N L/N. Please, don't annoy her too much.”

Both of their heads perk up at that.

“Oh yeah Daichi, we will be perfect saints,” Kuroo smirks.

Bokuto matches Kuroo’s playfully devious look, suddenly over his apparent loss on the track. “Oh yeah, nothing but angels.”

Before Daichi has time to wipe the smiles off their faces, you hear the sound of helicopter blades whirring above.

You look around until you see it fly directly overhead. The sound fills the air as the helicopter starts its descent onto the helipad next to the parked jet.

The helicopter blades whip up the grass and plants all around, and you have to place your hand on your head to prevent your own hair from being messed up by the whirlwind. 

You look over to Bokuto and Kuroo to see them fiercely trying to protect their hair spikes from the wind and failing. Daichi follows your gaze and when he sees them, he lets out a laugh in full force.

The helicopter makes a soft landing and the blades slow down when the engine turns off and two people step out. 

The most beautiful girl you have ever seen in your life hops out from the operator's seat, throwing her gorgeous black hair over her shoulder as she walks over to the man holding his hand out for her, hoisting their designer bags over his shoulder.

“Kiyoko, Tanaka, I'm so glad that you guys could make it,” Daichi smiles at the couple as they approach.

Daichi lets go of your waist so he can give the two of them a proper hug, before introducing you.

“This is Y/N.”

Kiyoko walks up to you and grabs your hands in hers and smiles at you, “Finally another girl. It's about time.”

Tanaka laughs, “What, babe? Are you getting tired of us?”

She lets go of your hands so she can give Tanaka a playful slap to the chest, “You know that's not what I meant, Ryu. It'll be nice to have someone to get ready for the gala with!”

You feel Daichi slightly flinch next to you at the mention of a gala.

Your brows furrow as you ask, “A what now? Daichi never mentioned anything about a gala.”

You turn to him, questioningly, and he moves his hand to the back of his neck for the second time in ten minutes. 

“It's nothing really, just this huge party my family has hosted for years. We really wouldn't even have to go if you don't want to…” the last few words trail off before he is interrupted by Kiyoko.

“What are you saying Daichi, you have to go! It's your family's gala.” Her brows are furrowed and she is looking at him suspiciously.

Daichi lets out an exasperated sigh, “Well that's a discussion for the future. Let’s go settle into our rooms.”

Daichi puts his arm around your shoulders as he leads the group up to the back porch, walking through the garden and around the giant swimming pool and fire pit area. 

“I assume you four are taking your normal rooms?” Daichi asks the group.

They all nod before splitting in different directions, obviously understanding the intricate layout of the house after what you assume is years of friendship. 

Daichi leads you through the first floor, pointing out various rooms and points of interest as you take in the vastness of your new surroundings. Most of the rooms have white or cream-colored walls with very intricate crown molding. Some have very distinct and uncomfortable furniture that looks like it has never been used, while others look like they are ready for a full day of lounging. He even takes you past the bowling alley and the in-home movie theater.

Eventually, he leads you to a huge staircase that circles around the main entryway to the house. The whole room looks like it's made out of marble and you take a twirling step to bask in the grandness of the space. 

Daichi calls out to you, pulling you back into reality. He has one foot on the first step and his hand is outstretched for you to take.

“You coming?” he smiles at you, wiggling his fingers, waiting for you to take his hand. 

When you do, you hold on to it like it's your lifeline, the only anchor you have in this unfamiliar territory. He leads you up two flights of stairs to the third floor and then down a large hallway filled with doors and golden crown molding.

He stops in front of a door before saying, “Well, this is you,” and moving your duffle bag back to your shoulder, letting his hand linger on your skin until he forces himself to pull away. 

“I’m right here across the hall if you need anything, alright?” he reassures you with a smile.

You nod at him, trying to process all of the new information you've just taken in, before putting your hand on the doorknob and turning away from him.

He calls out to you before you go inside, “Why don't you take an hour or so — take a shower, there's a bathroom attached to the suite — and then when you come down to the kitchen, we can get some snacks?”

You turn to face him again, narrowing your eyes at him with a pout, “Is this your way of telling me I smell?”

His laughter fills the hallway. “No, I just want you to relax. This is your vacation too, ya know?” His smile is contagious and you can't help but smile back at him, really hoping that a shower will help as he says.

“Okay Daichi, I'll try.”

With that you enter the bedroom, closing the door behind you before resting your head on the wood, letting out a very small sigh.

You try to relax like Daichi said by taking a warm shower, but everything was way too nice. The grand marble shower and the elegant tile tub just serve to remind you that you are in a world different than your own, giving you more anxiety than relaxation. 

You manage to get through your shower: fiddling with all of the button options to turn the water off, grabbing a plush towel to dry off, and then changing into some of the clothes that you packed.

You head back out to the bedroom in a huff and take another look around, half expecting the room to have transformed into a new one completely, but you are glad that it's just as you left it. 

The massive four-poster bed sits against one wall next to the room's giant floor-to-ceiling windows that let in the afternoon light, casting long shadows on the fireplace gracing the opposite wall and the plush sitting area in front of it.

You flop yourself on the bed, arms stretching out and you curse at how comfortable the mattress is. 

Who would have guessed the handsome boy you met in your econ class was this filthy rich.

You don't want your brain to fantasize but your thoughts drift there anyways as you sit up to sort through your clothes; it dreams of a future where this could be all yours. It's not like you weren't dreaming about a future with Daichi before, but now you’re imagining paying off your student loans, using some money to help your struggling friends and family, or maybe going even bigger than that, like starting a business or a charity to really help people. 

You have to stop yourself from going too far. You shouldn’t spiral with these thoughts because that's the big issue: you and Daichi, what are you really?

You were instantly infatuated with him when he smiled at you during your first economics lecture together just a few months ago. Sitting next to each other, passing a notebook back and forth drawing little doodles together when you should have been paying attention. The chemistry between the two of you only grew when you started studying together and he invited you out to party with some of his friends. 

The two of you have even shared a few make-out sessions together at said parties, but the next day when you expected things to be awkward or to at least have a discussion about what it meant, Daichi always acted like everything was normal, like the two of you hadn't had your tongues down each other throats the night before. 

And that's not to mention how he always seems to be holding your hand, or hooking his arm around you, giving you butterflies at every turn. He always seems to be more touchy when other guys are around, but you can say that you do the same. Hugging him back tighter when other girls look his way.

In the beginning, the small touches and longing glances you shared in class slowly turned to long hugs and holding hands. You thought that maybe Daichi was this way with all of his friends, but when he introduced you to his roommates, Asahi and Sugawara, you noticed that he isn’t that touchy with them. It seems to be something only reserved for you.

You think of all the shared touches that you've had just today and your heart flutters. It's like when the two of you touch, your heart is instantly filled with happiness that calms your soul. His touch just feels right and being with him feels as easy as breathing.

If soulmates do exist, you can imagine that this is what it feels like. 

You let out a deep sigh, shaking away your thoughts, before you decide to make your way down to the kitchen to meet up with the others.

You follow the voices through the maze of corridors and staircases to the kitchen, thank god they are a noisy bunch. 

Everyone is gathering around the huge kitchen island, with bowls of chips, candy, and other snacks scattered around, and there seem to be two different conversations going on.

Daichi has his back to you, and you walk up next to him, putting your head on his shoulder. He looks down, throwing his arm around you, pulling you into his space more before whispering, “How was your shower?”

You wrap your arms around his waist before shrugging your shoulders, choosing to instead focus on the conversation that Tanaka and Kuroo are having. Daichi grabs a few of the bowls of snacks and pulls them closer to you, taking a big handful of food for himself.

Kuroo lets out a loud annoyed groan before explaining, “Oikawa just texted me that he’s going to dock here for the night.”

You sense the mounting tension in the air and take a handful of snacks, ready to take in whatever drama that was about to unfold.

The mention of the name you are unfamiliar with seems to bring the other conversation to a close as everyone focuses their attention on Kuroo and his phone. 

Daichi lets out an exasperated sigh. “I could have sworn I told him to keep that thing away from here,” he says, rubbing his hand down his face in annoyance. 

“He's bringing that party boat here? During gala week?” Kiyoko adds, blowing hair out of her face with a huff. 

“Eh, I'm not going to complain, it's always full of hot babes,” Tanaka says right before a smack lands on his chest from Kiyoko. He pulls her into him, playfully kissing her cheeks, “No one is hotter than you babe, you know that.”

She rolls her eyes at his response but seems to accept his apology.

Not having any idea about who or what they are talking about you pipe up, “Who’s coming?”

Daichi lets out a big sigh before explaining, “Oikawa is this guy we grew up with, he’s a big flirt with an even bigger yacht. It's pretty much a giant party boat that he fills with supermodels.” You can practically feel the way Daichi’s eyes roll at the notion of a party boat stacked to the nines with supermodels.

Bokuto moves to Daichi’s other side, leaning over the island looking around him at you with a wide smile and adds, “Not to mention the alcohol and drugs.”

“Yes, yes, Bokuto, we all know why you enjoy Oikawa’s visits,” Daichi retorts, shaking his head and laughing.

“He just texted again,” Kuroo says with an annoyed groan. “Says he's going to be docking in three hours.”

“Well, what do you guys want to do until he gets here?” Daichi asks, taking a big handful of pretzels from a bowl close to him.

“We could go for a race around the track,” Kuroo says with a devilish smile.

Bokuto lets out an excited yell before pointing at Kuroo and exclaiming, “Hell yeah, lets go!”

Everyone heads outside into the evening sun. The warmth that the sun provided during the afternoon seems to be fading, giving the air a slight chill. 

Kuroo and Bokuto run with their hands in the air from the house to their cars before starting them and speeding off towards the track while Daichi leads you, Tanaka, and Kiyoko to the large ten-car garage that spans the side of the house.

He opens a side door leading everyone into the garage, pressing a big button on the wall causing all of the garage doors to begin opening, filling the space with light.

Your eyes widen when you look at the millions of dollars worth of vehicles equally spaced with precision in front of you. While you recognize some brands: Lamborghini, Ferrari, Bugatti, and Mercedes, there are more that you don't, and your eyes glaze over at the pure wealth displayed in the garage.

Tanaka's excited voice pulls you from your haze as he practically jumps up and down in place, “Can we take the Bugatti?” he shouts questioningly, making you jump.

“Sure thing,” Daichi replies as he takes the keys to the Bugatti Veyron SS off the hook and tosses them to Kiyoko.

You watch her unlock the car and climb into the driver's seat as Tanaka jumps into the passenger seat next to her. The engine roars to life and she carefully pulls it out of the garage before she peels off towards the track, leaving you and Daichi alone in the garage. 

“So, do you see a car you like?” he questions, his eyes following the car as it barrels around a corner.

The first real time alone with him since landing here and he decides to ignore the elephant in the room? You wouldn’t be surprised if there was actually an elephant around here somewhere.

You ignore his question and turn to face him, “Dai, what the fuck. What is this place? How are you so rich?” 

“I'm not rich, my parents are,” he quickly retorts, turning to face you.

“That's exactly what a rich person would say,” you roll your eyes at him.

“I know you must feel pretty deceived right now; it was so nice when I was just Daichi to you, not the heir to this big conglomerate worth millions of dollars,” he walks close to you, moving to place his hands on your shoulders but stopping himself, and lets his hands fall to the side almost in defeat. 

“My dad is this huge businessman and he has all these women who throw themselves at him because of his money. He's never been in love, even when he was with my Mom, and I didn’t want that. I don't want that. I want to be in love. I want to marry someone I'm in love with and not because it is what has been decided for me.” 

Of course, he would have a real reason that you couldn't get mad at. And of course, it’s romantic as hell. At least he’s being open about it now.

You look up at him, and you realize that this is the same Daichi that he's always been. Those are the same eyes that you've been looking at for months, the same hands that have held you so many times, the same Daichi as always, just a different setting.

“You know I'm not like that Dai, you could have told me,” you reply, your voice softer than it was earlier.

He takes a step closer, his hands reaching out and rubbing away at the stress in your shoulders.

“I know, I know, I’m sorry that I kept this hidden from you. I should have told you.” He sighs, closing the remaining space between the two of you and moving his hands to cup your face. “I just want you to understand what getting into a full relationship with me would mean.”

The way Daichi is looking at you makes your heart melt. His eyes reach your face in desperation, half expecting you to push him away but you just lean into his hands, closing your eyes and savoring his touch before you match his vulnerable gaze.

“What would a full relationship mean then, Daichi?” you practically purr at him.

“It means all this,” he says before kissing you lightly. “All the fun stuff, the cars, the houses, the private jets,” he kisses you again. “But it also comes with a lot of not fun stuff too.”

You take a deep breath before responding, heart pounding from the intimacy of the moment. “And what would happen if I said that I still wanted a relationship with you? Even with the not-fun stuff.”

His breath hitches before he smiles. “I'd give you everything,” he whispers, eyes searching yours again, thumbs caressing your lips softly as he still cradles your face in his hands. “I'd buy you the moon if you wanted it.”

“Good thing I don't want the moon then.” You grab his shirt, closing the gap between the two of you before kissing him.

His hands fall to your hips before he starts to push you backwards towards the Ferrari behind you, until your ass hits the car, never disconnecting from the kiss.  

His lips feel warm on yours as you get swept away into the moment with him. Your lips moving in tandem before his tongue expertly sweeps out at your bottom lip. You let out a moan, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth. 

His grip on your waist only gets harder when he starts to move his body against yours, rutting his hips against yours, letting out a small moan into your mouth.

If the two of you weren't so caught up in each other, you would have heard Kuroo pull up to the garage and step out of his car before just staring at the two of you locked in each other's embrace. He rests his cheek on his short car door before he reaches a hand inside his car to honk the horn. You and Daichi startle at the sound, pulling apart as Daichi sends Kuroo a death glare.

Kuroo lets out a loud laugh unaffected by Daichi’s glare. “Thanks for the show, but are we going to race or what?”

Daichi waves him off, looking back down at you, his eyes bouncing from your lips to your eyes, with a smirk, “Do you want to drive?”

You hear Kuroo drive away as you playfully smack Daichi’s chest before you exclaim, “God no!”

His eyes close as he chuckles at you, “Okay, fair. But which one do you want to take?”

You look around at the cars not really knowing too much about them, so you ask, “Which one is the fastest?”

He smirks at you and says, “That’s my girl,” before throwing an arm around your shoulder and grabbing the key for the white Koenigsegg Regera off the hook.

He walks you over to the passenger side of the car, opening the scissor door for you and watching you take a seat before pulling it closed and jogging to his side, getting in the car. 

The brown leather of the interior is a stark contrast to the white of the outside paint, and you find your body being cradled in the expensive bucket seat. Daichi leans over you, grabbing your seat belt and buckling it for you, bringing his face inches away from yours, teasing you before he buckles his own seat.

He pulls out of the garage slowly before putting the pedal to the floor and driving off towards the airstrip, racing around a few tight corners before he drives towards the runway where the other three cars are already lined up. 

Bokuto jumps off of his side fender when he sees you and Daichi approach and makes his way inside his car with an excited spring in his step. Kiyoko kisses Tanaka before making her way into her borrowed car and Kuroo, who was sitting cross-legged on the roof of his car watches the two of you pull up before jumping down and walking towards you.

Daichi meticulously lines up the front wheels with the other cars, before letting the engine idle, rolling down the window to talk to Kuroo.

When the rooster-haired man leans down to talk into the window, you don't miss his glance at you, before his eyes dart back to Daichi, and a small dusting of pink appears on his cheeks.

“We've decided we're doing a mile drag, first to cross the line wins, the loser has to make dinner and wash the dishes,” Kuroo announces.

Daichi looks over to you, intertwining your fingers and bringing them up to lips, kissing your knuckles, and a determined look crosses his face, his mouth turning up on the corner in a smirk. “Winner gets to pick what's for dinner, so you better decide what you want.”

His competitive side is something that you rarely see, usually only coming out when he's challenged, and the charged air around him has heat pooling between your legs. 

Daichi lets your hand go and starts going through the settings of the car, setting up the launch control, mumbling to himself as he remembers how to set it up, as Kuroo heads back to his car.

You hear the roar of the other engines as they come to life and look through Daichi’s window at the other drivers, all giving thumbs up, ready to start.

Before Daichi gives his thumbs-up, he turns to you, “Just keep your head back, alright?”

You give him a worried look, but comply, placing the back of your head on the headrest behind you. You're concerned about what to do with your hands so you decide to place them in your lap.

Daichi gives the thumbs up and rolls his window up, giving the engine a few revs before hovering his foot over the gas in wait.

You watch as a now shirtless Tanaka walks out in between the cars. You can barely hear him as he starts to count down from five, but when he gets to one, he starts waving his shirt in the air wildly and Daichi slams on the gas.

The world starts to blur as the car accelerates. The loud roar of the engine assaults your ears as your heart starts to beat faster from the sudden adrenaline rush. 

Time seems to slow as you go faster. You watch the speedometer increase: 60, 80,100, 120 and it’s still climbing.

The noise of the air rushes past as the car seamlessly cuts through and you feel your heart beating in your throat. 

You look over at Daichi to see a big smile on his face; he knows he’s winning and you take the time to look back as Kuroo is being passed by Kiyoko, and she's getting closer to Daichi.

You let out a laugh: the crazy speeds and all the adrenaline pumping through making your body seem like it's on fire.

You glance at the speedometer and watch it hit 240 mph before you and Daichi cross the finish line first and he slams on the brakes. You are very glad you listened to him about keeping your head back, or else you're sure you would have whiplash.

Daichi stops the car, putting it in park before turning to look at you, your eyes full of bewilderment as your body tries to process the fact that you're in one piece after such a rush. 

“Holy shit Dai! You won! We won! That was amazing!” you exclaim frantically to a smiling Daichi, laughing along with you as you stammer on about how fast it was. 

The other cars form a circle with the hoods facing each other, and you watch as everyone starts to get out.

Daichi nods his head towards the others, “Come on, let’s go gloat.”

Everyone sits or leans against the hood of their cars, and Daichi once again has you tucked under his arm. You laugh along with the group and their antics as they argue over the standings. The official decision was that Daichi won, which was unanimous, with Kiyoko taking second, followed by Kuroo and Bokuto. 

Bokuto said something about his launch control was being finicky before all of you hear whooping and yelling coming from a very out-of-breath Tanaka. He had apparently started running after the cars had left and was just now reaching the group.

Everyone is in high spirits as you talk for a bit and you seem to mesh seamlessly with them, throwing out a few quips that make Bokuto and Kuroo snort, teaming up with Kiyoko when the boys get too rowdy. It almost seems like you're not the new person in the group, that you’ve known them forever, and you are really happy that Daichi has surrounded himself with great people.

The rest of the evening was spent driving the cars and having long chats afterwards, about nothing and everything all at once. 

When it came time for dinner, since you and Dai were the winners, you got to decide what Bokuto was making for everyone. His attempt at your favorite dish left the kitchen filled with smoke and Daichi surprised everyone with pizza, even before talks of a back up plan for was discussed.

Then you heard the horn of a ship, followed by mixed reactions as the five of you clear up dinner and get ready to leave the mansion for the ‘sex ferry,’ as Bokuto called it.

Daichi gets closer to you and murmurs into your hair, “Watch out for pervs on the boat, stay close to me, yeah?” You nod, as you wrap your arm around his ready to leave.

That is, until Kiyoko stops Daichi before the two of you make it out the door, “I’m stealing her for a second, she can't go on a yacht dressed like that!”

You look yourself over in the mirror and you have to admit, Kiyoko did an excellent job dressing you up.

Your hair is perfectly styled and your face has just the right amount of makeup. Kiyoko crosses in front of the mirror applying the finishing touch: a shimmering lip gloss that is the perfect shade for you. The oversized, white knit sweater that she had you put on hangs loosely over your curves, tucked in perfectly into the brown skirt that she picked out for you. It's not a look that you would usually go for, but you have to give her credit, she did a good job, you look stunning.

On the way up to this ginormous closet, she had explained to you that Daichi’s sisters had this closet stocked with every size and designer label known to man, just in case any of their friends needed a last minute change of clothes. 

At first, you didn't believe her, but when you saw the enormous room with a rainbow of color-coordinated clothes hanging from floor to ceiling you changed your tune. You were even more shocked to find that all of the clothes still had their price tags on, wincing at the $1,000 price of one pair of pants.

Kiyoko gives you one last glance over before she starts to get herself ready, dressing in a black long-sleeved dress, the hem of the skirt falling just at her thighs and fishnet stockings, the exact opposite of the aesthetic she chose for you. 

She applies her red lipstick with a pop before turning to you, “Well, what do you think?’

She takes your hand and twirls you around so that you are facing the mirror before she rests her chin on your shoulder.

You laugh at her antics, before replying, “I think we look hot!”

The two of you make your way down to the boat, exiting the mansion through a side door and make your way down to the dock.

Now that you are up close to the boat, you can see the massive amount of people on board. The four decks are filled to the brim with people dancing, talking, and making out, all with various drinks in their hands, and you can see Aoba Johsai written in cursive on the side of the boat.

The two of you step onboard and you hear him before you see him, “Kiyoko, over here!”

Tanaka is calling out for her through the crowd of people, leaning along the railing of the boat, dressed in all black and holding two beers.

She makes her way through the crowd with you close behind. Tanaka wraps her in his arms, kissing her on the cheek.

“Looking good babe,” he growls into her ear as she takes one of the beers from his hand.

The two of them look like they are about to start making out with all of their flirty touches, and you would like to find Daichi as soon as possible so you clear your throat and ask, “Do you know where Daichi is?”

“He's usually in the second-floor pool room; it’s up the stairs, second door on the right,” Tanaka replies while gesturing toward the stairway back by where you just came from.

You nod and take your leave, making your way to the stairs, bumping into people on the crowded deck. After the first few steps, you look back at Kiyoko, wondering if she’s coming with you. Too late, you think as you watch Tanaka pull her hips closer to his, whisper into her ear, and start kissing down her neck.

You shake your head and continue on, happy that she's having fun, but wishing you still had her company by your side. 

At the top of the stairs, you only see one door that opens to an empty hallway. You decide to take your luck with it, even if this isn't the right place, it's a nice space to take a breather from all the people. 

You open the door and what you thought was a quiet hallway turns out to be an echo chamber for the bass echoing off the walls. Where is the music even coming from; you barely heard it outside?

Leaning against the wall, you take a few deep breaths, which are immediately interrupted by the smell of cigar smoke wafting towards you. Part of you wants to leave but the other part of you says stay, stay for him. 

This is so much to process, you can already feel a migraine coming on. The smell of cigar smoke and the thumping bass echoing off the walls of the ship isn't helping your stress levels. Where is Daichi? This would be so much easier if he would just appear by your side magically.

The door you just came through opens and shuts with a squeak, and you hope that your prayers have been answered, but when you turn to look at the person who just joined your space, it is very much not Daichi.

His blonde hair and very noticeable tongue ring are the farthest from Daichi as you can get, and you really wish that you weren't in this hallway alone with him right now.

He makes his way closer to you, getting in your personal space, leaning one arm against the wall next to your head to look you up and down, before licking his lips.

“Hey baby girl, are you lost?”  

You start to look for an exit as he moves closer to you. “No, I'm just looking for someone,” you reply.

His arms cage you in, not giving you any room to move away. “Aw, don't be like that, I can show you a good time too,” he insists. “The name's Yūji Terushima, you'll need to know it when you're screaming it out later.”

You try to move away from him but he won't let you pass, until you hear a door open. 

Daichi comes out of one of the side rooms and the instant he sees you trapped by this man, his eyes turn red with anger.

He rushes over to the two of you, yelling out, “Hey! Get off of her!”

Terushima isn't quick enough to respond, turning to face Daichi, but Daichi is already at his side sending his fist flying towards the blond's nose with a mean right hook. 

Your body sags with relief as Daichi pulls you into his arms and Terushima is on the floor withering in pain, gasping at his probably broken nose.

Daichi is frantically looking over you, checking your arms and face for any sort of harm, “Did he touch you? Are you okay?” he questions you rapidly.

You bury your face in his chest and nod, “Yeah, I'm ok.”

He puts his arms around you before pulling you away towards the door he just came from.  “We're down here,” he says, glaring at Terushima covered in his blood on the floor, leading you away from him.

The room that Daichi was in is stuffed full of people. People line the walls, getting very personal with each other, while others sit on the couches in the center of the room with people pulled onto their laps or under their arms. There are two pool tables on either side of the couches and you spot Kuroo and Bokuto playing what looks like a game of strip pool with four girls, and, from the looks of it, they are losing badly. On the other end of the room is a large bar, with glass bottles lining shelves behind it and a few empty bar stools.

Daichi chooses to ignore his almost naked friends and heads towards the bar, pulling out a stool for you before taking the seat next to you.

The bartender has very fluffy brown hair with matching brown eyes and once he's done serving up drinks to the couple down the bar, he makes his way over to you.

He starts to gather a glass for Daichi without even asking him what he wanted and then looks at you expectantly, “Well cutie, what can I get for you?”

Daichi levels his gaze at the man, and you can feel the deep grumble vibrate from his chest before he turns to you, “This,” he gestures to the bartender, “is Oikawa.”

Oikawa gives you a wink before scurrying out of Daichi’s reach as he playfully tries to grab him, causing Daichi to let out a huff. 

With the weird environment you're in, you think it's best to forgo alcohol, at least for now, so you ask Oikawa for water.

He hands you a glass with lots of ice in it and you watch the way the two of them interact. Their friendship looks to be built on a bed of mutual annoyance, but you can see how they care about each other hidden in the undertones of their speech. 

The night goes on and you spend a lot of it with Oikawa and Daichi at the bar. Oikawa asks you lots of personal questions, some of which you choose to ignore, and some of them you indulge him a little. If Daichi trusts him, it's okay for you too, right?

Just as your ass is starting to hurt from the barstool, a younger man comes up to Daichi, his orange hair bouncing in the wind as he practically vibrates in place. You catch his name, Hinata, and some of what he's trying to explain. There seems to be trouble between him and another guy, and he came to Daichi to be the mediator. 

You can't blame him; in fact, if you were having any sort of trouble, Daichi's the first person that you would seek out. Daichi is so strong and dependable, he makes the rest of the world feel safe and easy. It's not that he makes problems go away but he seems to take in the situation for what it is and find a solution that seems so blatantly obvious you can't believe that no one else thought of it first.

Daichi is that and so much more. His playfulness and competitiveness are something that you saw today when he was driving that car. Not to mention how hot he looked behind the wheel, his arms muscles were on full display and you barely even got the chance to stare at them. You think about going back in time just so that you could watch them flex as he gripped the steering wheel.

You shake your head, trying to pull your brain away from the horny thoughts, but all that manages to do is send you back to the memories of your hot makeout session in the garage earlier. How his hands were all over your body, his lips pressed to yours...

Daichi’s laugh pulls you from your daydream and you realize that he, Hinata and Oikawa are all staring at you. His hand is waving in front of your face, “Earth to Y/N.”

Your shocked expression tells you everything he needs to know so he repeats himself, putting his hand on your knee, “You good here for a minute? I gotta help Hinata with something.” You nod at him and the two walk off together.

Oikawa talks to you in between serving people drinks and you manage to have a decent conversation about your university studies. Turns out, he is studying a major very similar to yours.

Oikawa pulls his phone out and answers it, before putting it down on his shoulder, turning to you, “I have to take this, I’ll have one of my boys take you to Daichi.”

He turns to one of the nearby couches close to the bar before barking out, “Mattsun, take her out to where Daichi is. I have some shit to deal with.”

The man he called out to kisses the blonde sitting on his lap before moving her off of him so that he can help you find Daichi. His tall body leads you out onto the deck of the boat through hordes of drunk people dancing and making out until you spot an orange mess of hair and Daichi standing next to him.

As you get closer you notice a small, but rather important detail that you couldn't see when you were farther away, Daichi is surrounded by tall, skinny, gorgeous-looking supermodels, and all of them seem to have their hands on him.

Daichi seems not to notice the touches, he's too focused on a boy with black hair laying upside down on a lounge chair, his hair softly caressing the wooden deck with every small gust of wind. 

You notice another woman start to touch his hair before Daichi swats her away like she’s a fly before he's kneeling to look at the chair guy again. 

Mattsun leads you closer to Daichi, announcing your arrival before saying his goodbyes and heading back where he came from. You yell out thanks as he is leaving and he waves his hand in the air as he walks away.

Daichi stands from his kneeling position and moves to your side. He has to get closer to your ear to talk as you are now closer to wherever the loud music is coming from but you don't mind, wrapping your arms around his waist possessively, eyeing the other girls.

“Kageyama had too much to drink, he's absolutely wasted,” Daichi says loudly, making sure you can hear him over the bumping bass.

You wished you would have grabbed your water before you left the bar. Just when you're about to suggest someone go get him some water, Oikawa bursts out onto the deck from a side door, exclaiming, “That little shit!” before running off towards the upper decks. You see that he's being followed by Mattsun, the guy who just helped you, and two other men, one with spiky black hair and the other with short pink hair. They all look extremely pissed.

You hear the sound of helicopter blades before you feel a blast of wind, causing the water to start rippling around the boat. You look curiously up at Daichi before he's turning and barking orders to Hinata to get the drunk guy some water and crackers before he's grabbing your hand.

“There's only one man that could be, and we better go make sure Oikawa doesn't kill him.”

By the time you two make it to the upper deck where the helipad is, there already seems to be a standoff in place. A tall man with dark olive hair stands with a large briefcase tucked under the arm of his suit coat. He does not look like he's dressed for a party, but instead like he's about to go into a courtroom.

This new man's face is void of emotion as Oikawa is practically snarling at him, lip upturned like an angry dog.

Daichi runs between the two warring factions, putting up his hands to Oikawa before turning to the tall man.

But before Daichi can say anything Oikawa is yelling over his head, “Who said you could land here, get lost!”

The tall man completely ignores Oikawa, walking up to Daichi, “Ah, Sawamura, just the man I was hoping to see.”

Oikawa's face turns red with anger, if this was an anime you are sure that there would be steam coming out of his head.

Daichi looks at him quizzically, “All this just to see me? Should we go talk in private?”

Ushijima gives him a confirming grunt, nodding his head and Daichi leads him around Oikawa and his men, stopping to whisper something in Oikawa's ear, looking at you, before making his way over to you.

His hand cups your face and you nuzzle into them as he speaks, “I have to go talk to Ushijima. Oikawa said he'll watch out for you so stay here until I get back alright?”

You don't want to leave his side again, but this must be important if a guy is willing to land on what seems to be his mortal enemy's boat only to talk to Daichi. You give him a small pout before you nod, and he kisses you before turning and jogging after the mysterious Ushijima.

Oikawa throws his hands up into the air making his way over to a bar. Damn, he really has these things on every level, doesn't he?

This bar is smaller than the one in the pool room, and only has two stools, but there is a long couch next to it where his men sit down. He motions for you to take a seat at the bar as he starts pouring drinks for the other three, before offering to do the same for you. Taking him up on his offer this time he makes you both matching fruity drinks with cute umbrellas before he joins you, sitting at the barstool next to you.

Oikawa still seems to be on edge from his confrontation with Ushijima, or the lack of one, so the two of you sit in comfortable silence for a bit. You watch some of the party-goers stumble around on the lower decks, and you see women and men come up to talk to the three sitting on the couches. You pick up their names after a bit — Iwaizumi, Makki, and Mattsun, are what everyone calls them — and you eventually watch Mattsun get pulled away by the busty blonde you saw him with earlier.

Oikawa seems to pull himself out of his mental slump when he finishes his drink while you've only been sipping on yours, so you are nowhere near close to finishing it. He makes his way back over to the bar side and washes his cup before he starts making another concoction for himself.

He breaks his silence, “So, you and Daichi are pretty cute together.”

You hum at him in agreement, taking another small sip of your drink.

He continues, “He must be pretty serious about you if he's bringing you all the way out here. He's never brought a girl here before.”

Daichi and you haven't talked about your past relationships, but you aren't really surprised to hear that with what he told you earlier about wanting to be in love.

You don't want to pry, but you do want to know more. This side of Daichi’s life is still a mystery to you. 

“Not even one girl?” you ask him in all sincerity.

Oikawa smirks, glad that he caught your attention with that one. “Well, he did date a girl from our neck of the woods, if that's what you want to call us rich shits. She was hot and smart but they never really seemed to mesh.”

You give him a curious look so he continues, “She was all business, no heart. And you know Daichi, his heart is ten times too big. They just didn't work.”

You nod taking in your new information before you feel someone next to you, the man with the pink hair, Makki. 

He opens his mouth before he leans on the bar to stabilize himself, the alcohol apparently starting to kick in. His words are slurred together. “Are you two talking about Daichi? I heard some models say they would pay $10,000 to lick one of his thigh muscles!”

Oikawa pushes the drunken Makki off the bar and he stumbles back to the couch before slumping over into a woman's cleavage.

“Don't mind him,” Oikawa says, trying to bring back the lighter mood from earlier. “He doesn't know what he's talking about.”

Oh, but you do know what he’s talking about. You've been avoiding the thoughts since you landed, but now there's no holding back the dark thoughts you've been trying to suppress. 

How are you supposed to be good enough for him? For Daichi and his big heart? You've seen it so much tonight, the way he laughs and takes care of his friends, like it’s second nature, coming easier than breathing for him. He's so caring, compassionate, fun and you're just you. 

How are you supposed to compete for his attention when you are up against literal supermodels? 

You swipe at frustrated tears forming in the corner of your eyes before speaking to Oikawa, “Can you tell Daichi I’m gonna go back to the house, I'm tired. But it was nice to meet you.”

You were very much not tired. This was the most wide-awake you have felt in quite some time. Your mind races with all the things that are wrong about the situation you find yourself in. You would laugh at how being on a billionaire’s floating sex boat is what made you feel this insecure if you weren’t feeling so pathetic.

You find your way off the boat with ease, pushing past people grinding on each other to get back to the dock so you can make your way to the safety of your bedroom. 

As you get to the house’s side door you hear a familiar voice calling out your name.

Turning around, you see Daichi running up the path you just took, before he stops next to you, out of breath. 

“Did you sprint all the way up here?” you ask him.

“Yeah…” he pants out in between breaths. “I wanted ... to catch you.”

“I told Oikawa I was going to bed, it’s been a long day and —,” you try to explain but he interrupts you. 

“Are you actually tired?”

You are fidgeting with your hands, not wanting to lie to him, “Well, not exactly...”

“Come somewhere with me.” It flows out of his mouth like a demand but you can see the question in his eyes as they gleam in the darkness. You look at him quizzically before he continues, “Don't worry, no one else is gonna be there.”

Your lips turn in a small smile at his statement, “Just us?”

He takes your hands, placing them both between his own and brings them to his lips, giving your knuckles a light kiss. He keeps them there when he replies, “Yes, just us. I promise.”

You think for a minute, and then give him a hesitant yes. 

His face lights up, “Okay, let's get some supplies.”

He takes your hand, pulling you into the kitchen, grabbing the snacks you like, and a nice chilled glass of water along with two glasses before motioning to a cupboard, telling you to grab the best blankets. 

When you rub the blankets on your skin to test which ones are softer, Daichi smirks at you. 

“Cute,” he says before making his way over to you, “but make sure you grab one of the big sturdy ones too.”

He grabs a basket for all the stuff and wraps you in one of the soft blankets before heading to the elevator that was tucked away in the corner of the kitchen.

“An elevator, really?” you grin at him, your earlier frustration easing away the more time you spend with him and his smile.

“To be fair, it was installed before we bought the house, but my grandma does use it a lot.”

The two of you ride the elevator to the top floor where Daichi starts running a hand along the wall looking for something. When a secret door pops open, he laughs at your shocked expression before motioning you to follow him inside.  

A hidden staircase leads the two of you up to the roof and you take in the sight of the grounds. You can see the race track where you spent your evening, the large yacht floating below filled with people still bumping away to the music, and the stars... You swear that you've never seen the stars shine so bright before. You can see them weaving patterns in the night sky, their stories unknown to you but you enjoy their beauty nonetheless.

When you look over at Daichi, his eyes are soft as they trace your features, and you love the way his gaze makes you feel.

He leads you out to a small section of the roof near the middle of the house where he lays the thick blanket on the ground, setting out the snacks and taking off his shoes before sitting down on the blanket, patting the spot next to him as you take off your shoes and join him.

The two of you sit together, eating snacks, sharing stories for a while, staring up at the night sky together, before he turns to you with a playful glint in his eyes. 

“Let's play a game,” he proposes.

You look him over and nod, waiting for him to explain the game.

“It's easy, just ask me anything, whatever you need answered and I won't hold anything back.” He seems very confident, obviously wanting to make himself an open book after keeping this big secret from you. There are so many things you could ask, you don’t know where to start. 

You raise an eyebrow at him before asking, “What is the worst decision you've ever made?”

He rolls his head to look you in the eyes, before raising his eyebrows at you, “Going right for the hard-hitting questions then?”

“You said you'd answer Daichi, are you gonna take that back?” you say with a little smirk.

He thinks for a moment before replying. “Fine,” He says before rolling his eyes, “I let Bokuto give me a tattoo once when we were both drunk.”

He sees your quizzical eyes as you try to suppress your laughter, “It’s on my ass and it’s a smiley face. Stop laughing!”

You can't stop the laughter that comes from you as you imagine your big strong Daichi with a funky little tattoo on his ass cheek. You are wiping the tears out of your eyes as he takes his opportunity for revenge.

“Okay, my turn!” he exclaims, rubbing his hands together.

You have to stop laughing so hard so that you can retort, “Wait, wait, you never said that I would have to answer too!”

He smiles and shakes his head, laughing. “Yeah, I guess you're right. How about I get to ask you a question for every two questions you ask me? And you don't have to answer if you don't want to.”

You look at him questioningly and you are very curious as to what Daichi would want to know about you so badly he’s willing to put himself on the line first. “Sounds fun,” you smile. 

“Good, what's your second question?”

“What were you talking about with that guy, Ushijima?”

He looks uncomfortable as he tries to think about how to answer you. “Well, he mostly just saw Oikawa's boat and wanted to annoy him,” he chuckles before continuing. “But he also wanted to talk about a deal that our fathers are trying to make to secure our family ties. It's something that we both are very against.”

His answer leaves you with more questions, “What do you mean, ‘family ties’?”

He smoothly switches from his uncomfortable state and offers you a coy smile, “Do you want that to be your next question, sweetheart?”

Rolling your eyes at him you respond, “Ugh, no.”

“Okay, good because I really don't want to think about it. My turn then.” He thinks for a second before asking, “Do you think this,” he gestures into the air, “is too much for you? You know, the cars, boats, houses, money?”

You pause to gather your thoughts, staring up at the night sky again.

“I think that it's a lot to take in all at once,” you say slowly, calculating each word before it comes out of your mouth. “Especially the sex party boat,” you chuckle, “But I could get used to it.” You let the ‘for you’ hang in the air unspoken. 

He grabs your hand, looking up to the stars, “I’m glad. Okay, what's your next question?”

You don't want to ruin the mood and ask about the ‘family ties’ between his and Ushijima’s families, so instead, you choose a safer route. 

“What was it like growing up?”

He seems taken aback at first before a simple smile adorns his face, “My parents didn't love each other, not really. They had me, and then my brothers and sisters, but when times got hard they didn't support each other. They divorced pretty early in my life, I was still a kid when it happened.”

He pauses when you squeeze his hand in reassurance, but he's still smiling as he continues, “They split the companies between them, got us a nanny, and we bounced back and forth between houses every few months. I eventually just ended up as the caretaker for my siblings, making sure they didn't turn into spoiled brats.”

His laugh at the last part is so genuine it makes your heart flutter, but even so, his life has been far from perfect. “Wow, Daichi, I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It wasn't that bad, I got to have a lot of fun.” He shakes off your concerned look before he gets to ask his question, “My turn again. What was it like for you growing up?”

You explain to him about your family dynamic, watching how his eyes seem to light up when you make jokes and then fall when you mention your hardships. He squeezes your hand like he never wants to let go when you finish telling him your stories, a playful smile returning to his lips before he tells you to ask your next set of questions. 

You think of what to ask next, and your face grows hot as your brain churns up a question that you have never talked about with Daichi before. 

Your tongue stumbles as the words flow from your mouth, “Have you had sex before?”

He tries to suppress his smile, “Yeah a few times, not with anyone really special though.”

Your lips part in surprise and you find yourself asking in a breathless tone, “What’s your number?”

Daichi leans closer to you, erasing the distance between your bodies as his hands move up the skin on your exposed thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake, “Is that your next question?”

You're breathless, the heat from his fingers distracting you from the fire brewing inside you,  “Yeah, it is.”

Daichi’s lips are so close to your own you can feel his breath on your soft skin, his voice dipping an octave when he asks, “Why, do you want to be one of them?”

You clear your mind enough to retort back at him. “Is that your next question?” you say, brushing your nose against his teasingly.

“Yes,” he answers before his breath hitches in his throat as you move your hands to his thighs.

“You first,” you giggle as his cheeks turn a bright shade of pink.

He answers as quickly as possible, his words almost too fast to hear but his tone is so low it sends shockwaves straight to your core. “It’s four, Laney in high school, this girl Kay at a party, Hime my ex and then Jackie in college a year ago. Your turn.”

Your mind clouds with his scent as you bring your hands up to his chest. Why is he so hot when talking about other people he's fucked, and why aren't you more jealous? 

“I- uh, yeah. I would love to be your number five,” you stammer out. 

He smirks at you, both of you are very obviously in need of each other's touch, more than you were getting and you can't deny how good it feels to have his undivided attention like this. Something about Daichi makes you forget your sense of self, and his touch instantly sends your heart racing.

“Do you have any more questions, sweetheart?”

You nod, biting your lip, “Are you going to kiss me, Dai?”

He nods before his eyes search yours. The stars tonight are reflected in his dark irises and you swear that you could get lost in him if you looked long enough. 

Daichi moves closer to you at an agonizingly slow pace, and you savor the electricity that is simmering in the distance. It's enough to have your heart skip a beat before he closes the gap.

His lips meet yours and it's slow at first. His touch and kiss are reminiscent of the way that stars seemingly burn for eons until they can't take any more heat and explode in a fury of passion.

You grab the collar of his shirt, bringing him impossibly closer to you, wanting to erase any remaining space between the two of you. You seemingly throw him off his balance as he almost falls on top of you. You can feel him smile into the kiss before he starts to reposition your body with his big, strong hands. 

Daichi sits back, before pulling your body into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist before continuing the kiss. His tongue swipes at your bottom lip and you moan at the contact, allowing him access, while you snake your hands into his hair, giving his roots a slight tug to get him to kiss you harder.

More. You need more.

His hands move up your body from your hips with a slow drag of his fingertips up to your neck, cradling your head in his hands, angling your head to kiss you deeper. 

Your body burns at the contact with him, your soul reaching out for his through your kiss. Hearts melting and colliding into one supernova as your lips push and pull against each other. This heat that ignites within you that only he can seem to control, grows and grows until you feel like you're going to go insane if you don't touch him more soon. 

Grinding your hips down on him, you can feel how much he is enjoying this, and you can't help but smile when he lets out a small whine into your mouth. Kissing him harder you start to move your hips against his as he ruts up into you at the same time. The delicious friction you've been craving but it's not enough, you need more.

His mind must have melded with yours because he stops kissing you, pulling away with your bottom lip caught between his teeth until you let out a small gasp. 

“Pretty girl, tell me you want this,” he asks breathlessly.

You feel your cunt clench at his praise, needing more from him, needing everything. 

“Dai, I want all of you.”

His breath hitches in his throat, and his eyes take in the sight of you on top of him with the endless backdrop of stars above you. 

The look he's giving you melts any remaining pieces of your heart into a giant puddle, his eyes are soft and a small smile is on his lips as he whispers, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

You rest your forehead on his, looking him in the eyes and reply, “me too.”

He smiles at you bigger and you can't imagine feeling any happier than you are right now, his eyes crinkle in happiness before he buries his face into your chest, wrapping around you and hugging you with a huge amount of strength. 

You let him hold you like that for a few seconds before the need growing in your stomach becomes unbearable.

You move your hands to cradle his head, pulling him from your chest so that you can look at him. His eyes are half-lidded looking up at you in awe, like he can’t believe that you're here with him on his lap.

“Daichi,” you practically purr, “please, fuck me.”

His eyes flutter at your words, and he bites his lip. He looks like he's fighting some sort of internal battle.

Before you can register his movement, the world is tilting on its axis, and your back is now on the soft blanket. His strong arms caging you under him and your legs are around his waist as he leans over you.

You can see why he was staring up at you earlier, he looks heavenly with the night sky as his backdrop. The soft glow from the house illuminating his features and he looks beautiful and so fucking sexy. 

His eyes land on your lips and you watch as one corner of his mouth tilts up in satisfaction at your reaction to him. 

“Aw, my girl thinks I'm sexy,” he says, nuzzling his nose against yours as he taunts you.

You can't believe you said that out loud, but it's true so you nod, worried what else will come out of your mouth if you choose to open it. 

He leans down so that he is right next to your ear and he growls, “I think she’s fucking sexy too.” 

He gives your earlobe a small nip before he starts kissing your neck. You turn your head, giving him more room, and he takes full advantage of it, tracing his tongue along your pulse before moving his lips against your skin. His lips search your neck until he finds that spot that makes you gasp, and then he focuses all his attention there, biting it lightly before his tongue swipes away the sting. 

You moan for him, moving your hand to his hair, gathering some between your fingers before he sucks hard. Your hips jut up, grinding on him in pleasure, and both of you moan into each other as your clothed cunt brushes against his hard cock.

“I’ve been so fucking hard for you since our kiss earlier.” His mouth kisses down to your shoulder which is still covered by your sweater. “Do you want my mouth or my fingers?”

His hands make their way under your sweater and over the skin of your stomach, before teasing your nipples through your bra and you let out a gasp when he gives one of them a squeeze, a warning for you not answering him.

“I asked you a question, answer me,” he says in a stern voice that sends shivers down your spine and makes your eyes flutter.

Your mind tries to calculate a response, as the assault on your nipples increases, sending shocks of pleasure right to your core.

Unable to focus on anything but how his fingers feel on your skin as he trails a hand down your body, “your fingers, please” you moan out for him.

He leans back and pushes your skirt up around your hips before he starts to tease his fingers along the cloth covering your core. 

His gaze on you makes you want to cover yourself up, but when you move to close your legs, his hand grabs your knee and pushes you back open for him.

He uses both of his hands to pull your underwear down, staring at the string of slick that connects them and your soaked folds. He tosses them somewhere over his shoulder, before taking in the sight before him. The cold night air meets your warm cunt and sends shivers up your spine, but the cold is quickly replaced with the heat of Daichi’s warm hands on your thighs.

“God, you're beautiful,” he groans, as he watches your cunt flutter around nothing at the depth of his voice. Fingers moving back to your slit, teasing your folds before he moves his fingers up to circle your clit.

You let out a gasp when he finally touches you where you've been needing him. Your hips jut up in search of more contact. 

He teases his fingers through your folds before sliding one into you. You can feel how wet you are and it makes your face heat up but he feels so good inside you, you don't care.

He thrusts his finger into you a few times before adding a second, watching your face morph into pleasured bliss before focusing his attention on the way your walls are trying to suck him inside.

Your hands move to your chest, kneading the flesh there as he increases his pace, finger-fucking you until he finds the spot that makes you scream.

The pleasure in your body continues to build as he focuses all his attention on that one spot. Your nerves are all on fire and you can feel the building pressure, just waiting to be released. Daichi is making you feel so alive, his fingers working magic on your body, weaving their way into your soul and imprinting his mark there where it can never leave.

All of the muscles in your body tense and you hear Daichi say, “cum for me,” before the coil inside you snaps and your body convulses in pleasure, singing out his name in praise as he sends you to the stars. His voice and fingers still work you over, sending more pleasure into your system before you feel yourself gush around his fingers, your body almost folding in on itself as you grab at his wrist to hold him still inside of you. 

Your breath comes out in short bursts as you relax onto the blanket with him still kneeling between your legs. When you look up at him, he has the cockiest smile on his face, obviously proud of himself.

You weakly smile and nod at him, hoping that he understands that he just sent you into orbit before you stretch out your hands for him. 

He reaches out, and you pull him down on top of you. You kiss him roughly and he eagerly ruts his hips into you, moaning into your mouth when he can feel your wetness seeping through his pants.

You reach down between your bodies, unbuckling his belt and undoing the button on his pants. You try to get to his cock, but with the angle you're at and his boxers getting in the way, you can't seem to reach, and you let out a small whine. 

Daichi seems to understand, and he pushes his pants and boxers down past his thighs, giving you the perfect view of his cock. 

It makes your mouth water and you want to taste him so bad. Your hands move to stroke him, gathering the precum that leaks onto your fingers before you pop them into your mouth, lapping up the flavor eagerly.

You moan at the taste, sucking on your fingers, wishing they were his cock. You vow to yourself to take him down your throat and have him at your mercy before the end of this trip.

Daichi’s hand pumps his shaft a few times before he runs the tip through your folds, gathering your slick, before circling your clit with the head of his cock. 

You moan at how thick and heavy he feels against your soft folds. “Please Dai. I need you so bad, please, fuck me.”

He lets out a groan. “When you ask so nicely, how can I say no?”

He lets go of his cock, and moves his hands up to hold yours, interlocking your fingers together before his lips connect to yours in a hungry kiss. He holds eye contact with you as he slowly moves his hips into position as the head of his cock slowly presses into you.

You watch him bite his lip as he fights the urge to buck into you, his half-lidded eyes concentrating on your face, watching your mouth form into a beautiful ‘o’ and your eyes flutter as he pushes more of himself inside you. 

When his hips are flush against yours, he stills, wanting to give you time to get used to his girth. He can't help but savor the way your walls are squeezing him and sucking him into you. You give him a slow nod before he starts moving again, slowly pulling out of you and before pushing back in with more power.

You can't help but dig your nails into the back of his hands, forming crescent-shaped indents. The way his cock hits all of the spots inside of you perfectly has you questioning if this is a dream, but the way he sounds and looks as he moves above you is something so hot that your brain could never imagine it this perfectly.

His lips scatter kisses along your jaw until he's at your neck again, savoring the feel of your still tender flesh against his tongue. He’s taking his time focusing on leaving his mark at the top of your collarbone, sucking and nipping at your skin.

His head falls to your shoulder and his breath turns uneven as he pants out, “if you keep squeezing me like that I'm not gonna last,” in between thrusts.

You aren't going to last either, the coil in your stomach is already dangerously close to snapping again.

“Da-Daddy,” you moan, completely lost in your pleasure.

He pauses above you with his cock still fully sheathed in your dripping cunt, his head snapping up off your shoulder to look into your eyes, his brow furrowing. “What did you just call me?”

It takes a second for your mind to process what you just said. His hips being completely still as his cock continues to stretch you is not helping your brain processes. 

And then it hits you, why did you just say that, oh no. “I’m sorry it slipped out — I’m so —” you panic, stopping when you realize he is shaking his head with a gleam in his eyes you haven’t seen before.

Daichi angles his hips before thrusting into you at an even harder and rougher pace. “Say it again,” he commands, each word accentuated by a heavy thrust.

You bite your lip as the pleasure takes over you once again as he pounds into you. The sheer strength he has is evident in the power behind each thrust.

You can't help yourself when you start babbling out a mixture of his name and new nickname, the two words becoming interchangeable on your tongue and streaming together. 

Daichi releases your hands so that he can get a better grip on your hips, pounding into you without abandon. His eyes go dark as he loses himself in the feeling of your cunt, so soft and pliant and warm all around him. All his.

He can feel you tensing around him, squeezing his soul out of his body as his cock begs for release.

He speaks through his teeth as his whole body is clenching, hold out his orgasm for you, "Fucking cum on my cock baby girl. I need to feel it."

He lets out a primal growl as you feel the pressure inside you release as your pussy milks his cock. Your orgasm crashing through you, forcing you to grip onto his strong shoulders, leaving dark circles that will eventually turn into bruises into his perfect skin. 

You cry out for him, chanting his name as your vision clouds over, and you swear you can see the universe unfolding and refolding in on itself as your body is propelled through time and space.

Your mind is hazy as your muscles twitch. Daichi is still pounding into you, babbling about how much of a good girl you are and how much he's going to fill you up, claim you as his. 

Your body is still shaking with pleasure when you feel Daichi’s thrusts start to waver, your pulsating walls still pulling him even deeper until he lets out a moan of your name above you. His eyes lock with yours as he spills his cum inside you, filling you up completely until it seeps out around his cock.

You both are panting as Daichi leans down to kiss you, his soft lips a stark contrast to the pounding your cunt just received. 

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his weight on top of you and keeping him sheathed inside you. 

The stars shine down on you in their infinite beauty and you wish you could stay in this moment forever with him, breathing in his scent, the two of your souls merged into one, with your breathing in sync. All you need is him, you think, only him and you could be happy forever.

Daichi wakes up to the sound of his phone buzzing on the nightstand. He looks down at your sleeping form on his chest and debates on whether or not he should move you to turn the assault of buzzing off. 

When his phone quiets down, he lets out a small sigh of relief.

After last night on the roof, the two of you managed to sneak to his room without anyone seeing you. Kuroo and Bokuto almost caught the two of you, but with women on each of their arms, they were a little too preoccupied trying to navigate through the mansion to pay attention to you and Daichi hiding in the shadows, giggling at their antics. 

After the two of you got cleaned up, you both got comfortable under the covers, talking the night away, exchanging small kisses and playful jabs before you fell asleep on his chest.

He looks back down at you, and you look so cute sleeping in one of his shirts, the little bit of drool pooling on his chest is adorable and he wishes his phone was closer so he could take a photo.

The incessant buzzing starts again and he lets out a small curse. 

Whoever is calling him must really need him. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your shampoo before he very slowly moves your sleeping body off him.

He grabs his phone off the nightstand before heading to the bathroom, not wanting to disturb your sleep with whatever this phone call is.

Finally looking down at the caller ID, he wishes he would have just thrown his phone out the window but nevertheless, he answers after letting out a big sigh. 

“Dad, what do you need?”

His father talks to him through the phone before Daichi has heard enough. He says one phrase to his dad before hanging up the phone and turning his phone off and slamming it on the counter.

“Drop it, I am not meeting with Hime.”

the blonde sitting on issei’s lap? that was me uwu

who wants a part 2? i couldnt finish the other half in time for the deadline🙏 please forgive me 

send me an ask to be added to my tag list

@matchamintmochi @unlimitedpastapass @eijirosriot @strawbub @thathoneybee3​

[probably-haven]

Hello!! After seeing what you wrote about xiaoven fics I went to see what things you usually write and omg, your archon Venti headcanons????? I am absolutely in love. So if it isn't annoying, could you talk about xiaoven or Venti or Xiao or whatever ship or character you like? I don't care what you are going to say, I just want to know more about your thoughts ^^

I- is this... bestie, this is essentially a free ramble pass- kerujsgheskdfug. Trust me when I say that in no way is this, and in no way will it ever be annoying in the slightest- i literally- lets just say rambling off thoughts is kind of my specialty, especially when provided a topic to branch off of because otherwise I'm just- really indecisive about it so- iujskdh yeah- 100% definitely down to talk about Venti, Xiao, and/or Xiaoven XD. Also, yes- it may have been awhile since i last posted one(cuz again, indecisive about which direction to take part 5), but the Archon War Era Venti headcanons are still without a doubt my favorite posts I've made. It's just such an interesting topic with such endless potential that so few people actually think about or consider or even realize is there, so i always just get really psyched whenever i see someone interact with them lol.

.... this ended up being a bit of a mess: warning in advance

Anyway! onto the actual content!

- You see the thing about Xiaoven is that there's a lot of different ways that it could end up working out, and just personally my favorite way of portraying Xiaoven in my mind is as an unlabeled relationship because if anyone in genshin would give off that vibe its these two. And a number of other reasons.

- Firstly, I heavily headcanon Venti as being an aroace polyplatonic or perhaps heavily demiromantic. However, regardless of this I just don't think that Venti is really the kind of person to worry about how he should label his feelings, thinking it's silly to try to put them in one box or the other, especially with feelings and emotions being as fluid as they are in general. Plus it fits his whole God of Freedom vibe. I just- dont think he's the biggest fan of labels or social categorization in general.

- And secondly on the hand of Xiao... his defense mechanisms are very much ingrained in his personality. It's probably hard enough for him to not go into fight or flight(the answer is fight) at the slightest affection at first, at the slightest feeling of vulnerability. Even further down the line, with his fierce dedication to Liyue, I cant help but get the vibe that the moment he recognized that he was falling for Venti he would begin avoiding him, not only to avoid distraction from his duty, but to avoid corrupting him or losing him in general like he has with like basically every other person he gets close with(even believing that the cycle had repeated once more when he first heard of Morax's death)... now imagine Venti tryna slap a label on their relationship and tell me Xiao would have a positive reaction.

- The thing with Xiaoven.... honestly, i feel like theres more ways that it can go wrong than it can go right, but if they do manage to make their relationship work out, it's just simply beautiful in all terms of the word.

- Lets talk about killing. - During the Archon War, both were forced to kill a large number of people and gods alike- Venti out of a need to remain alive to protect Mondstadt, it's freedom, and the nameless bard's legacy by extent- and Xiao out of servitude to the god that was once his master

..... actually- break here- ive talked a lot about Venti on this blog but I havent actually spoken about Xiao all that much- so i should probably do that a bit first... do note though that my characterization of Xiao is pretty flexible actually- this is just- the possible characterization of him that i tend to favor as being the most- uh- "realistically complex"

-

Theres a line I saw this one time in a certain story: "He is a trained weapon. That's what he is, was, and always will be. You cannot change that so stop trying." And i just- think its a really interesting concept- that applies pretty well to Xiao now that i actually think about it. - the concept behind it is this: After spending more than a vast majority of his life killing or otherwise in battle, it's become a part of who he is, a normalcy that after centuries and centuries would be near impossible to get rid of or reverse, and even if it was possible, with his karmic debt constantly eating away at him its unlikely he has enough time left for that to happen. - it sounds like a cruel thing to say about him- but in context it's actually pretty layered and i think about it a lot. It's not as much a "he's a killer lol, that his whole personality" its more of a "The centuries of trauma he experienced have conditioned him into a constantly alert and battle ready mindset while also shaping his dehumanizing inferior-in-worth-but-superior-in-capability view of himself that would have likely been necessary to get through those time, and at this point he's been under that conditioning for long enough that it's essentially ingrained itself in his personality."

- the main idea is- it's a part of who he is, that needs to be accepted as who he is because its not something that he can just up and change. It's not all he is of course but his constant battle mode, as though always waiting to be ambushed or to be granted a new target to eradicate.

a couple character story quotes:

-"His past of service under the evil god had rid Xiao of his innocence and gentleness. All that remained within him was the means to kill and the weight of his sins. The only way he could be of service to mortals was in combat." -"Xiao does not feel any hatred. Having lived for over two thousand years, no single karmic debt constitutes anything more than a fleeting memory. No grudge can last a thousand years; nor is any debt so great that it cannot be paid off in this time. Xiao has spent many long years alone. But his battles have never been in vain." -"where did Xiao have to return to? He was merely leaving the battlefield." -"since Xiao wages a constant war against dark forces powerful enough to devour Liyue in its entirety, any bystanders who witness him in the heat of battle are likely to end up as collateral damage." -"The war he fights can never be won, and will never come to an end." -"Because ultimately, the one with whom Xiao wrestles is himself."

i feel like at some point this very nearly did consume his whole personality, almost turning him into nothing more than a being of slaughter under Morax's control, devoid of any "humanity" at all, consumed and corrupted by his karmic debt like his fellow yakshas before him. - until he experienced a moment of clarity- a song in the wind, the peaceful melody of a dihua flute. - and pulled back from the border of something he wouldnt have been able to return from, there a was a shift in his mind- a concept grown unfamiliar enough with time that it took him a great time to identify what it was; a curiosity. Something that there was no place for on the battlefield, something that by all means should have been completely useless to Xiao, and yet he held onto that curiosity, slowly regaining over time, a sense of who he was and who he could choose to be with each song that the wind chose to carry towards him every once in a blue moon.

and eventually that curiousity turned to longing. Longing "for a day to come when he will wear the mask and dance — not to conquer demons, but to the tune of that flute amid a sea of flowers"

...... uh- heh- if you couldn’t tell already i have a tendency to make my characterizations/analyses of characters more serious that i probably should. 

to summarize: Xiao is constantly toeing the line between his ingrained nature and his humanity- almost as though still trying to decide how much of that humanity he deserves to have, how much he is allowed to have, and how much is safe to have.

^looking back after writing this, i think the best way to explain it is that this is the view that i keep in mind/the lense that i tend to most enjoy looking through and refering back to while examining and/or analyzing his character, actions, story, lines, and overall personality.

idk- i kinda got off track but i just think its a really interesting interpretation to think about because it has some really interesting implications ig- it’s not the full extent of how i view him of course, but i kinda got ahead of myself and its long enough as is so ill just elaborate as i go- Lol i actually have in progress playlists for both him and venti and just- vibes- i could ramble about the playlists alone for hours explaining everything... It’s probably a problem- uh- ill keep going now lol.

anyways! stepping off the angst path for a brief break! Brought to you by their lines in the snow: both waiting for it to get thick enough, Venti for the purpose of a snowball fight and Xiao for the purpose of a tasty and nutritious breakfast.

but its actually something of note that Xiao doesnt actually need to eat so anything he does eat is usually out of obligation or enjoyment- so like.... snow.... like i dont blame him, but of all things- an adeptus who refuses to eat basically anything but almond tofu looks at the freezing-cold-floor-water that yeeted itself from above and decided at some point- damn- that seems more edible than basically ever single actually edible thing ever.... im gonna eat it- like- im glad if eating snow makes him happy but- at the same time...

He probably convinces Venti to eat snow too though and Venti wouldnt even resist I mean he’s wind and has probably consumed worse things in his time so- 2 anemo cryptids with glowing tattoos sitting in Dragonspine monching snow in the dead of night is an amusing thought to me.

- kay, now back to more serious-toned thoughts

One of the things about the ship that i really like is the different contradicting parallels between them:

A lot of how i view Xiao’s character is someone formed largely by the things he cant control and who was forced to accept that accepted that and learned to thrive in it as much as he can.  Venti on the other hand is surrounded by things he cant control and is ever adapting to control as much as he can while embracing whatever he cant as being part of the unpredictability of the world, seeing beauty in it. 

both of them have lost people and do what they do to honor their memory: Xiao continues to do what the Yakshas once did And Venti chooses to do what his friend couldn’t

Xiao’s power coming from himself  and Venti’s from others And both seem to appear to use their power for their own gain while truly helping others behind the scenes

both have killed a lot of people during the archon war Xiao views it as another necessary event out of his control and Venti would likely view it as a tragedy he chose to enact himself

and this is where we meet out balance

Xiao- contrary to how i think a lot of people view him as thinking of himself as a monster- seems canonically to have accepted this as part of his duty, as long as those he killed are not mortals. I dont think he enjoys it no- but someone has to do it and he’s just accepted that its a part of his duty Venti on the other hand-

See the beauty of the ship- as someone with an angst-centric mind- is this- these are two of the most traumatized mfers in the game 

Xiao is by far the one who needs the most help and who can serve to benefit most from the ship- but he is nowhere near self aware enough to recognize that there’s anything wrong or unhealthy about his mindset in the slightest-

whereas you have the contrast with Venti who sorted through most of his trauma with the nameless bard alone during the archon war and while the result appears more healthy- is still really not- but he’s not self aware of that either because i mean- who’s going to tell him? nobody even knows. 

however- venti is aware enough to notice flaws in Xiao’s mindset and “Venti” enough to want to help them through it-

Xiao- while not aware enough to recognize the flaws in Venti’s mindset, can recognize where it contrasts with his own, and is blunt enough to point it out- and then it’s out there to be mulled over- 

they’re so similar and yet so different and a feel just conversing between the two of them, being in each others precense, just being exposed to two mindsets that are so very different could do both of them a whole lot of good.

GEEE THAT BIT OF RAMBLING HAD LITTLE TO NO DIRECTION AT ALL- LET ME-- LET ME MAKE THIS START MAKING SENSE- WITH... DYNAMICS OR SOMETHING

I don’t think Xiao needs to sleep really- and i dont think that sleeping would do anything except make him uneasy at first- he’d probably just get nightmares after all he’s been through- but with Venti he would soon learn that it doesn’t have to be that way, lulled into the first peaceful sleep he’s had in... as long as he can remember.

anywho back to not making sense cuz im fickle and i think most questions about ships are best displayed through character interactions so like- a possible exchange thats cliche but cliches exist for a reason

Xiao: Why do you try so hard to help me, it isn’t easy. I know that much Venti, with the most adoring expression: Because you’re worth it, obviously Xiao: But surely there are others more deserving of- Venti: No Xiao, everyone is just as deserving as the next person, you included Xiao: Then why me above others? Venti: ehe, cuz ur my warrior of course [O//////O oh shit, hes right] Xiao: My contract is with Morax alone [gay panic but in broody yaksha]

it’s kinda difficult cuz neither of them really address their feelings.  I mean Venti does but he does it very indirectly and its rare that he ever does it with like- genuine directness- even spilling his backstory was in the form of a song- and told in the third person- so a lot of their interactions would often have some deeper meaning, especially with Venti being the bard he is. 

I come up with a lot of- errant thoughts about Xiaoven- but this is making me realize that a true analysis of their ship is rather difficult because it just encompasses so many dynamics so its hard to settle on just one and not go rambling about who knows what bouncing from one end of the ship to the other-  Because you truly can and thats the beauty of it

within one moment you can be having a heartfelt conversation about the archon war the impact of lost friends and times past, and the next moment Venti is trying to forcefeed Xiao an apple while Xiao screams about disrespecting the adepti and its just- so lovely

so while they have picnics with nothing but apples, dandelion wine, and almond tofu they can sit down and talk about the dreams Xiao once devoured, and the dandelion wine and apple cider that the first Ragnvindir invented from the plants that never could have grown in Old Mond. The foods that tasted of familiarity, or of the grilled ticker fish Pervases always used to eat, foods that tasted of friends and frankly family that had since passed, glaze lilies and cecilias and qingxin flowers scattered in the surroundings and woven into Xiao’s neat braids and Venti’s now messy ones, rebraided by the steady and inexperienced hands of one unused to gentle action. 

and then of course Venti steals Xiao’s tofu once the mood becomes too grim and replaces it with a bottle of wine that Xiao refers to as “vile poison,” a remark that fatally wounds Venti as he collapses on the floor, proclaiming how he can only be healed by a Yaksha’s kiss. Xiao ignores this of course and simply takes back his tofu with a slight smile on his face, but as Venti persists he soundlessly places a kiss on his own palm before intertwining their fingers and pulling him back up from where he was dramatically sprawled on the floor, grumbling about how such action was “unbecoming of an archon.” A sign of affection only Xiao would ever know about. But Venti is literally wind and I hc his senses work differently anyways so he definitely knows- plus Xiao’s face is red as the blood of his enemies and the way he is pointedly not looking at Venti at all really speaks volumes anyways. 

 -Venti playing epic battle music whenever Xiao goes into fights in what looks like a ridiculously extra performance to anyone else but is actually doing wonders to keep Xiao’s karma at bay

-Venti preaches the practice of “kissing wounds better” and Xiao is unfamiliar with this medical treatment but views it as unnecessary regardless because adepti have accelerated healing, doesn’t mean he’s going to stop him though. 

-Messages whispered on the wind

-Venti’s 1000 year sleep- an accident, not a fun time for the yaksha, and not a fun time for Venti once he woke up. Venti is actually more afraid of restful sleep than Xiao is, hence the sleeping in trees thing, but when Xiao is there, he can sleep restfully with faith that Xiao wont let another millennia slip through his fingertips. 

- Xiao tends to make excuses when doing things that aren’t necessary to his duty, like in his birthday voice line “Have this, it’s a butterfly i made from leaves... Okay. Take it. It’s an adepti amulet -- it staves off evil” because at the current point in his progress it helps him to feel like he’s allowed to do these things. Not wanting to put him off from progress, Venti never comments on his excuse but never fails to whisper a quick reminder of how proud he is of how far Xiao had come.

- Xiao’s karma saddens Venti greatly- not only because of how it effects Xiao but also because its a reminder that as much as Venti tries to honor the memory of those he’s killed, there will always be those who resent him for it, and when he took the option of living away from them, he truly can’t blame them. - And when he gets too wrapped up in thoughts, whether around this topic or similar ones or otherwise, eventually, he’ll hear the sound of a flute on the wind. It’s not divine by any means, but as his own wind connects him to the source, he gets the sentiment all the same. “What impact does one individual’s remaining wrath have on the present. You have done much to help the living in the present” the unspoken idea that Xiao has included himself in that statement, because now, with Venti’s help he’s beginning to learn just how to experience living for himself. 

- Venti’s form and Xiao’s mask are off limit topics though because if either mentions it the other will counter with the opposite and the mood will turn immediately bitter at the idea that both know that what they’re doing is destructive but neither are willing to change

- Venti who has different tells for negative feelings than most people because as much as he likes to pretend it is- this form isnt his, and Xiao who is able to identify those

- many fanfics and headcanons have Venti recognizing when Xiao is uncomfortable and getting him out of those situations. I see that and I love it but i raise you: - Venti taking Xiao to Mondstadt, careful that he doesn’t get to the point that he’s uncomfortable. And nothing goes wrong exactly, but Xiao notices the the way Venti’s cape is blowing in the wind, the way he’s holding his weight, barely on his feet so much as floating on the wind, connected with the ground only for the sake of appearance, all the while he looks just as happy go lucky as ever. And without a word, he grabs his hand and teleports them both out of Mondstadt.  - turns out it was just a slight thing that reminded him of the archon war (cuz i will die on the hill of him having more tragic backstory than just Decarabian), and he of course gives a sincere if not flustered thanks to Xiao, because he’s really not used to people noticing. 

- Venti trying to vent sneakily through fictional stories and Xiao is just like “Didn’t that basically happen to you” and Venti is just like “<_< shit”

- Venti once said affectionally that he wished he had met Xiao sooner and Xiao immediately and seriously shot it down by saying “If you had, I would have been forced to kill you” and both of them now stay up at night wondering who would have won that fight, not sure which result would have hurt more. (because honestly I have no idea who would win in that fight and that terrifies me- I like to think it would have been one of those legends that end with “and the fight persists to this day” or something along those lines)

- “How long have you been together?” “Adepti have no need for-” “1000+ years T^T how dare you deny our love” “O///O our...? ...useless”

- its disney- let me explain- i have this- i have this headcanon inspired by watching too many animatics- - so venti has a human form that isnt his- which he would have had to get used to moving in- and he’s a bard- - uh- anyway- as a third degree black belt in mixed martial arts, i can speak as an authority on this(not really an authority since i havent gone since quarantine but lets pretend). We have a thing referred to as the big three(most things do), and those things are martial arts, gymnastics, and dance. The idea is that they reflect really well off of each other and the best in any one category are good in all three. Timing, balance, form, discipline, technique, hand-eye coordination, grace, ease of motion, they all play a part- anyway-

- Venti taking Xiao’s prowess in martial arts and acrobatics and teaching him how to dance, and as someone who’s extremely skilled in the first two, the third comes easy to him, almost naturally. And it’s delicate and beautiful and lovely and it isn’t hurting anyone. And Venti points all these things out and more and despite how much Xiao insists that he feels ridiculous he truly does enjoy it and it goes a long way towards helping him form more healthy views of himself and his worth.  - Verr Goldett walked in on him once and made a joke about performing at the inn. unfortunately Venti was there and agreed on Xiao’s behalf before he could protest and- and it wasn’t as bad as Xiao thought it would be... he still wouldn’t do it again though without reason, but with good enough reasoning he could probably be convinced. 

- anyways point is he likes dancing to Venti’s songs and i just think that’s really cute - just picture the idea that all the animatics you see actually have the potential to be canon- ugh

- venti tries holding something out of Xiao’s reach since he’s taller and Xiao just fucking teleports 

- both need their space but when they dont, all they have to do is speak the other’s name and they’ll be there.

- and because i just had to.... love languages

- lets start with Xiao- i don’t think he’d view acts of service or quailty time as a love language tbh, and he blunt but really bad with words so affirmation is out, leaving gift giving and physical touch. However, he seems to view most material things as meaningless so- - Xiao who’s love language is in his fleeting touches, something he’s only recently grown comfortable with because of Venti, and now is giving back, which he knows he doesn’t have to do, but that he want’s to, though he’ll still continue to make excuses for each one. “you were shivering” “The inn is high up, you could have fallen..... I said what I said, you’d question an adeptus?”

- and as easy as it is to say words of affirmation for Venti- he does that for everyone- i want to say his is actually acts of service - its the acts of service that let him see just how much Xiao has progressed afterall, from teaching him to dance, to playing another song on the flute, to supplying him with the almond tofu he seems to enjoy so much. Every little thing he does helps Xiao to grow and he couldn’t be happier about that. 

-

- of course most of my headcanons for the ship do take place latter into the relationship because- y’know the less serious unhealthy vibes allow for greater range of thought, but i do still love to think about the serious implications so i kinda hopped back and forth. So sorry about how messy it is btw, i kinda- got carried away- it kinda got some kind of structure near the end tho so- maybe it’s okay. anyway- back to... lol something, we’ll see where thought forests lead. 

[gch1995]

No one hates OUAT more than those of us in the fandom who actually watched it and/or followed it long enough to fully realize just how disappointingly awful, hopeless, and ridiculous the writing became in the piss poor excuse for canon the show devolved into the longer it went on, even though it was supposed to “be fun” and “give us hope.” At least all of its beautiful wasted potential became an outlet for far superior writing in our headcanons and fanfiction, though, no matter how shitty the actual show got.

I always feel so bad for newbies in the fandom who haven’t yet uncovered the horrific clusterfuck of bad writing this show ultimately devolved into. A part of me always feels like telling new fans to just spare themselves the pain, and to just quit watching after the Neverland arc. The majority of those of us in the OUAT fandom agree that the show’s writing ultimately devolved into a painfully biased, cheaply shocking, cheesy, wildly inconsistent, melodramatic, nonsensical, pandering, repetitive, and wildly ooc unsalvageable mess of bad writing that made us feel angry, betrayed, bored, and disgusted more often than not after that.

However, even after the show’s writing went completely off the rails beyond all salvaging, there were still those gold nuggets of wasted potential for characters, relationships, and storylines that could have and should have been amazing, if Kitsowitz and these writers actually had been able to be consistently competent and professional at their jobs. Particularly when looking back at the first two-and-a-half seasons of OUAT, I feel a great sense of disappointment at just how much beautiful and interesting potential they ultimately wasted in these characters and relationships in favor of blatantly biased, cheaply shocking, contrived, nonsensical, mutually toxic, wildly ooc, repetitive, and thus, character destroying magical soap opera melodrama.

There’s always this deep sense of disappointment in me over the amazing show that canon OUAT ultimately could have and should have been whenever I see all of those golden nuggets of tragically wasted potential Kitsowitz and these writers showed us in those moments when they were actually being competent show-runners and writers, particularly in S1-2A before they show got too distracted by the next big contrived magical thing to actually let the characters slow down, talk to each other, hang out with each other, and grow and react like in-character and relatable human beings. If only they were able to ultimately write and stick to a consistent, relatable, gradual, realistic, and organic course of character development that actually would have ultimately made these characters, happy endings, redemption arcs, and/or regression arcs actually feel well-earned and satisfying in the end.

Instead, they ended up erasing, minimizing, and/or outright romanticizing certain bad behaviors and choices of their characters at certain points and the negative consequences and/or effects they had in regards to those they hurt and/or victimized.

Instead, they ended up outright derailing most of their characters normally and/or consistently previously established complex, intelligent, and sympathetic characterizations and/or positive development at one point or another in order to rerail them over and over and over again more and more post S3 in increasingly abrupt, cheaply shocking, contrived, disappointing, flanderdized, horrifying, melodramatically toxic, and nonsensical ways that made them suddenly come across as uncharacteristically unsympathetic and stupid out of nowhere.

Instead, they created absurdities out of nowhere to inorganically force the characters to regress in ways that contradicted all previously established canon characterization, continuity, and previously established logic on the show.

Instead, they selectively bent, broke, and contradicted their own rules of magic with less and less fairness, rhyme, or reason as every season passed the first.

If only they had consistently and fairly stuck to their own rules and limitations of what magic could and couldn’t do. If only they treated their characters as complex and relatable human beings and equals with compelling, consistent, and realistic personalities, flaws, conflicts, regressions, redemptions, and resolutions that drove their stories consistently, gradually, organically, and realistically because of who they were and/or developed into as people, rather than because nonsensical asspulled twists and/or magical macguffins demanded that these characters suddenly become whatever they needed them to become a certain way to create cheap shock value, suspense, drama, and repetitive storytelling, regardless of all previously established characterization, continuity, development, and logic in their own canon.

Instead, they decided to cherry pick favorite characters and/or ships to frame as “redeemed” in the narrative, even though they may not have actually done anything to earn it and/or regressed without any negative consequences for doing so, just because Emma and the Charmings accepted them as “family.”

Instead, they ended up slapping increasingly biased, petty, meaningless, and shallow “hero” and “villain” labels on all of their characters, regardless of how objectively and needlessly harmful their choices, behaviors, and reactions may have been to others, in spite of being on the “right” side.

But we all ultimately sustained ourselves in the OUAT fandom by imagining just how amazing these characters, their relationships, and their storylines could have and should have been, trying to disregard the character assassinating bad writing in the piss poor excuse for canon that OUAT ultimately devolved into, taking Kitsowitz and these writers golden nuggets of tragically wasted potential for these characters, their relationships, and creating far superior works of art with those golden nuggests of wasted potential in canon with our headcanons and fan fiction.

OUAT isn’t a show that stuck with most of us because we were impressed by its writing in canon. In fact, most of us are fully aware that there were writing choices in the piss poor excuse of canon OUAT our favorite characters and relationships on the show that were inexcusably awful, biased, cheesy, cheaply shocking, gross, offensive, inconsistent, nonsensical, tone-deaf, wildly ooc, and/or repetitive at one point or another. Honestly, if the main character and/or relationship lasted past S3 in the main cast, then Kitsowitz and the writers destroyed your favorite character and/or ship with bad writing at one point or another.

After the writers unceremoniously killed off Bae/Neal, and resurrected Rumple from the show’s most consistently relatable, realistic, sympathetic, and well-earned two-and-a-half season redemption arc from S1-3A, it became clear thet they ran out of story to tell after wrapping up the Neverland arc, and had no idea where else they were supposed to go with Emma, Regina, Hook, Rumple, Belle, Snow, David, and even Henry’s individual characters or relationships anymore.

We know canon OUAT became a shitshow of inexcusably bad writing. We know it became horrifying and stupid. However, most of us didn’t actually remain in this fandom because we agreed with the writing on the show. We latched onto it so strongly because of its amazing main cast. We latched on to it so deeply because it showed us how to not completely fuck up amazing, relatable, and compelling individual characters, their relationships, and their storylines with biased, hypocritical, ableist, classist, homophobic, racist, sexist, petty, cheaply shocking, gross, wildly ooc, flanderdized, melodramatic, pandering, repetitive, and nonsensical lazy plot-driven writing. Granted, these problems were starting to show up in canon OUAT’s writing as early on as S1. However, after 3A, the show’s writing completely went off the rails for everyone in the remaining main cast that lasted past S3, and these characters and their relationships never fully recovered what made them at all coherent, compelling, magical, relatable, and enjoyable to watch and get invested in in canon from S1-S3, in spite of their obvious flaws.

Most of us have remained in the OUAT fandom because the show’s shitty writing choices and wasted potential inspired most of us to tell far better stories than Kitsowitz and their team of hacks ultimately did.

[mayansmcsblog]

the prank war has began

sooooo i saw this gif and instantly got an idea but as i wrote it, the idea completely changed and somehow it turned into this.

there is a ton of swearing😂

credit to @thedevilsmoonshine​​ for the gif!

thanks to @withmyteeth​ for helping me with some ideas of what to add in.

this is the first time I've wrote anything in years and the first time I'm ever publishing my work. sorry in advance for any spelling mistakes

A persistent ringing was what woke you up at 2am for the 3rd time this week. You already knew who it was, let's face it who else would be calling at 2am other than him? Opening your eyes you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling debating if you should let it ring out or answer

What if he’s hurt? No, that would have happened during the day not in the middle of the night Maybe he just needed someone to talk to? That was the likely option.

 You and bishop always had a ‘vibe’ as some people said. You were friends for a few months before he introduced you to the mc, of course it was a shock at first but after a month it slowly became your life. All the parties? you were there. Club events? You were there.

Overtime you and bishop had gotten closer, he would come over to your place all the time, announced or not.

he would come over in the dead of the night when his mind got too loud ,When he needed someone to talk to ,When he simply wanted the company of a friend that did not judge him for the things he did for the mc. He would come over any opportunity he got.

You could swear he was at your place more than he was his own Most of the time he would spend a few weeks at yours, only going back to his to get clothes.

Over the course of the last 6 months you and him had gotten a lot closer, he spent the night a lot, his stuff is all over the place but you two aren't dating , you didn't have any type of label. Why? You couldn't be sure. Most people assumed you two were dating but they were wrong. You two did everything normal couples would yet- you had no label. you were never his girlfriend and he was never your boyfriend.

Taking a deep breath you reached to your bedside table and grabbed your phone but as you could pick it up, it stopped ringing.

That’s not a bad thing right? Maybe he didn’t want to wake you up. Before you could set it back down you reserved a text, scrolling down your notification panel you read it;

📲: Bishop 🖤

You up?

Two words. That’s it just two short words.

Should you ignore it? Yeah, that's probably the best option. Did you want to ignore it? No

Another ping brought you out of your thoughts

📲:Bishop🖤

The guys are being children and I could either use some help over here or a way out😂please tell me you're awake and not just reading this from your notifications and watching Netflix again.

he knows you too well. Being a night owl you normally go to sleep around 3am, maybe 2am if you have work the next day. Normally you would just ignore bishop till the next morning but somehow he always knew when you ignored him and when you were actually sleeping.

Taking a look at your notifications again you saw you had a lot for snapchat, a  few from Coco, a few from Angel along with one single snap from Gilly.

Looks like the trio is having fun.

Opening bishop’s texts you finally reply;

📱: I’m awake just debating on if I should open all the snaps I have from the trio and reply to a seemingly annoyed jefe.

Almost immediately you got a response

📲:Bishop🖤

Ha-ha very funny. Come and sort your boys out, they are messing with that shitty ass car again, trying to do something with the engine

📱: my boys? You're their president, you sort them out. What makes you think they listen to me🤧?

📲: Bishop🖤

They actually like you😂they will listen

📱: keep telling yourself that, they only listen to me when I’m getting them food

📲:Bishop🖤

That counts as listening

📱: whatever

Locking your phone you got up out of bed knowing there was a slim chance you would go back to bed till the early hours now that you were awake. 

Putting on a pair of shorts and a shirt you got your phone and went to the kitchen, deciding to get on a bottle of water and find some shitty Netflix show you wouldn’t even pay attention to

Grabbing a bottle from the fridge you heard your phone vibrate on the counter. Pulling down the notification panel once again you saw it was a text from Ez

📲; smart ass😂📚

Please come and get these children, I can't deal with them anymore

Okay something is seriously going on here.

Face timing Ez you set the phone back on the counter, moving towards the window to open it and let the cool air flow thru the room

Within seconds he accepted and his voice came over the speakers

"Ayyy y/n where you at? Come get the children. Me and bishop are going crazy over here" you could hear a hint of playfulness in his voice 

Picking up your phone you saw he was sitting on the steps outside the club, his phone in his hand angled so you could just see the side of his head while he was looking at something in the distance. 

"I'm at home like all of you should be by now, leave the children alone to play. Are they hurting anyone?" you said as  you headed towards the front room and sat on the sofa

"Not yet"

You could hear cursing being thrown around by numerous people in the background along with the clacking on metal and rock music in the distance.

"Yet?" You questioned

"Yeah, I mean other than themselves" he laughed

"Of course"

There was a few beats of silence before you heard Coco shouting

"Boy Scout! Who’s that eh? You got you another girl?" By his tone you could tell he was definitely high

"No it's y/n dumbass" he responded, turning the phone so you could see Coco walking towards him.

"Ohhh damn I thought you was about to get some man" by now Coco had took over the whole screen "heyyyy y/n what you doinnnnn"

"I’m about to hang up on your dumbass"

"No, no, no don’t do that" taking the phone off Ez he stood up "that’s not nice is it"

You could hear Ez asking where he was going with his phone and be replied with a simple "shhhh" as he walked back to where he originally came from

"Want to see something funny?" He said. You weren't sure if that meant he was going to show you Angel tied to a chair again or Gilly attempting a backflip.

Both are amusing but it's doubtful it would happen three times....

"Did you tie Angel to a chair again? What did I tell you about playing nice hmm?" You put on the most sarcastic voice you could

"Ha funny and no...We couldn't find and ropes"

That made you laugh way more than it should have because you knew that Bishop had hid them in the meeting room and under Ez's trailor after the last time they guys got drunk and thought it was a good idea to put rope all over the place like an obstacle course

"Coco you're gonna kill someone at this rate”

"Hush ight? Jesus be quite ino want em to know your here"

"Okay?" Putting yourself on mute you could hear Angels voice in the background along with Gillys and bishops

"Listen," Angel said , slapping something metallic, clearly as high as Coco was and seemingly having one of his 'genius idea' moments

"OI dumbass listen to meeeee" he said again

"What?" Gilly responded along with a sound of something metal hitting the ground "dammit Angel you made me loose the fucking 10mm socket again"

The camera was still pointed at Coco’s shoulder as he walked over

"Boys, boys, boys" damn he sounded like a child "what would you say if I told you I could get y/n  to being us food"

You audible groaned as he suggested that, there was no way you was going to get them food this late at night.

You heard both Gilly and Angel say "what" then "tell her to get McDonalds" or "let’s get subway" by they were quickly cut off

"Oi children! Stop it, it's  2:30 in the morning, leave her alone '' bishops' voice was closer than you expected. He was probably sitting in the garage with the others observing what they are doing and making sure they don’t kill each other

You couldn’t help but unmute yourself

"Sorry Obispo but the children need their food" your tone was playful, kind of, half of you was saying it just to annoy him, the other half was wanting to see his reaction

"Gimme that phone" within seconds Coco was gone from the screen and Bishop was in the frame 

"So this is why you haven't replied to me hmm?" You couldn’t tell if he was serious or playful

You hadn't missed his text? He never responded to you right?

"Hold that thought" you pulled down the notification panel and saw he did text you.

2:15

📲:Bishop🖤

I’m kicking these guys out in a few minutes

2:20

📲: Bishop🖤

I’m giving them 3 more minutes till I kick them out.

2:23

📲: Bishop🖤

Can I come over if it's not too late after these children leave? "

"Oh, sorry I was busy talking to Ez and then being stolen by Coco" 

"Nah you were just ignoring me wasn’t you?" He responded

"No totally not"

"Sure I totally believe you" he laughed

"I think Ez might want his phone back"

"Wow, nice to see you like speaking to me"

"Well then why don't you call me instead? At least smart ass wanted to talk to me, even if it was about the children of the mc"

The line went silent for a moment. All you could hear was the guys cursing about finding the 10m socket and the sound of bishop walking.

"Okay, I’ll be back in like 20 minutes" with that the line went dead, he didn’t even give you time to respond

 Wow he deadass hung up on me, how mature.

Maybe it was time you opened those snaps. What else did you have to do?

Opening snap chat you saw there was a purple bubble next to Coco, a red bubble next to Angel and a blue bubble next to Gilly.

You opened Gilly's first

12:22~

"What time does McDonald’s close?"

Followed by

"Nvm its 24 hours isn’t it😂😂"

You quickly replied "dumbass" and moved onto Angel’s chat.

Opening the snap it was a picture of Coco, Gilly and creeper sitting opposite him, beers in hand, while seemingly talking along with the caption

"Come party with us"

Skipping past the snap you was presented with another one, this time a video where Coco was sitting on the roof of a car while Gilly was attempting to push it

"C’mon man it's not that hard" Coco said

"Yeah man come on" Angel said from behind the camera

"Shut up before I make you do this" Gilly responded

What the hell have these guys been up to all night?

The snaps just got worse from there. 

Coco’s was full of them doing random stuff, throwing things at each other and even them sitting on Ez trailer roof? How did they even get up there, and how did it not break?

One of them definitely stood out from the others. It seemed like someone else was filming on his phone while Coco was trying to rip off a car door by the handle but it snapped off, sending Coco across the garage and into the wall while Gilly, Ez and Angel laughed at him

His only response was a simple "okay you mother fucker this is war" followed by his practically running like a horse in battle towards the door kicking it resulting in a bent. Unfortunately that's where the snap ended.

Is this what they had been up to? No wonder bishop wanted out.

When the cascade of snaps finished you saw there was still a blue bubble next to Coco's name, clicking on it you could see it was a video around 3 minutes long. 

You saw part of it was what you had already seen. Coco trying to pull the door, being flung into a wall, the guys laughing along with Coco kicking the door once again except this time it didn’t end when he kicked the door.

"Bro you’re not doing it hard enough" Angel stated while moving Coco out of the way

"Look you gotta-" he kicked the base of the door "-start from the bottom-'' he kicked it again causing the bottom to cave in slightly "-see? It's easy"

"Shut up man I’m stronger than you let me do it" Coco pushed Angel out of the way

"No" Angel responded, pushing coco slightly

"Yes" Coco pushed back

"No" Angel pushed again

This went on for a few moments before Gilly set the camera down on some type of surface before walking over to them

"Yo I'm stronger then both of you let me do it"

Coco stopped pushing Angel and turned to Gilly "Nah man you will steal all the shit and run off again like last time"

"Shut up man"

All three of the men were too busy arguing to notice Ezekiel had come into the garage in search of something

"Why the fuck are you guys arguing?"

All of them spoke at the same time

"Coco is sayin he’s stronger than me"

"They are children!"

"Angels tryna be a smart ass"

"You guys are fucking stupid" Ez moved towards where the phone was but didn't pick it up, rather opening the draw of the desk that was below it and picking something up, as he pulled back you could see he was holding some keys.

"Move“ He pushed Angel out the way of the door and unlocked it, grabbing a duffle bag out of the back seat, handing it to Coco

"Here"

All of the guys stood in a state of shock. Coco was the first to speak

"Why the fuck didn’t you tell us there was keys!" He exclaimed

"Because watching you guys be idiots and is fun to see you struggle"

"I swear to God I’m going to say no on your patch vote" Gilly butted into the conversation.

Ez just laughed as he walked away, the video ended shortly after all three of them cussed.

Shaking your head you laughed, of course they are dumb enough not to look for keys.

You quickly texted Coco

"You guys are dumb as shirtttt, you’re lucky Ez is around to help your dumbass's. Did the door not want to play nice hmm? Did you put a dent in the wall again with your fat ass? What was so important in that bag?"

Checking the time you saw it was 2:45

Thank god it's a Saturday tomorrow.

Setting your phone on the coffee table you realized you never put the TV on when you sat down, you were obviously too distanced by FaceTime, meaning you were sitting in silence.

Was silence a bad thing? No

Was it somehow deafening? Yeah

Grabbing the remote you turned on the TV, quickly going to Netflix in an attempt to find something decent to watch.

Your watch list was full of horror movies and crime documentaries. Definitely not the best thing to watch on your own. There were a few suspense movies on there but none of them seemed to interest you.

Going to the movie section you passed almost every more option from horror to romance to action because nothing grabbed your attention or seemed interesting.

Going back to the home page you looked at the screen for a few minutes

Was it even worth putting something on? It was almost 3am after all.

Grabbing your phone you decided to scroll through Instagram.

After a few minutes bishop’s name appeared, taking over your screen with an incoming FaceTime.

Accepting the call you were immediately greeted with the site of his kutte, followed by him putting his helmet on. By the angle you could tell his phone was resting between his handlebars and the fuel tank.

"I take it you're still awake then" he wasn’t looking at the screen. Rather he was looking in the distance just above his phone

The background suddenly filled with the sound of bike engines. He seemed to say something but it was overpowered by bikes, so you didn't hear what he said. His bike wasn’t turned on yet because the phone wasn't vibrating.

Suddenly Bishop reached his arm out to someone just out of frame and you saw him lift upwards off the seat slightly, someone’s hand patted his shoulder blade.

By the look of the tattoo on the wrist you could tell it was Coco.

Looking away from your phone you looked back up at the TV. You could still hear engines coming from your phone but now it sounded like 3 of them.

Almost simultaneously they all revved before pulling off. The sound slowly faded out as they got further out the compound.

You were still looking at the TV, you decided to look at the top 10 of the day, maybe there was something good on there.

The Meg

Reading the description it actually seemed like a good movie. Putting it on you set the remote down and looked back at your phone

This time bishop wasn’t in the frame at all. Rather you could just see the length of his bike and the wall behind where it was parked.

Where did he go?

Your question was quickly answered when he picked up the phone.

By the sound of the wind you could tell he was jogging somewhere. The phone was at his side facing outwards, you could see him approaching the steps to the clubhouse. He quickly went up them and opened the door

"Prospect!" He shouted "make sure you lock up, I’m heading out"

You could hear Ez reply with a quick "okay" from somewhere in the back

He picked up his phone so you could see his face. unlike before, you took the time to actually take in his appearance 

His eyes looked tired, his beard was longer than it usually is, he looked...well, you couldn’t describe it. He just didn’t seem himself.

You were too busy looking at him to realize he asked you a question

"Y/n"

"What?"

"Did you not hear me?"

"Oh- no sorry I turned my volume down because of the bikes"

"Oh" he paused "I asked if your door was open"

You looked at the screen for a second

"What?"

He placed his phone back on the fuel tank and straddled his bike

"I said, is your door open. You know like your front door.....to your house" he repeated, grabbing his helmet, he must have taken it off while you were looking at the TV, once again he was fastening the buckle.

"No? Why?"

"Do you want to unlock it?" you could see him kick the stand of the bike up by the way his leg moved.

"Why?" You asked he looked at the screen for a few seconds before laughing at the way your face changed as you realized what he meant

"Obispo are you inviting yourself over once again?" You questioned

"Yep"

"What if I don't let you in?" You challenged. Of course you would let him in but sometimes it was fun to mess with him

"What if I climb through a window?" He said, pulling a cigarette out his pocket and lighting it

"Okay now that's just creepy" you laughed. He shook his head as he blew out the smoke from his lungs

"So? Can I come over or not?"

Looking around your front room you saw it was a little messy but you could easily clean it up within 5 minutes.

"Sure"

"See you in 20 querida" he winked as he started the bike before ending the call.

~

You finished cleaning the front room, kitchen and your bedroom up within 10 minutes

Checking the fridge you saw that there were only 4 beers left, taking a mental note to get more the next time you go shopping.

Sitting back on the sofa you realized you had missed around half of the movie.

Pointless watching it now

You knew by bishop coming over there was a good chance you two would be awake till 4am talking about random stuff and watching something on Netflix or playing some type of game.

You also knew he liked action movies so you went to that section in search of one that sounded entertaining 

The platform ~ that didn’t sound so bad right?

Watching the preview, you became interested and wanted to watch it, forget Bishop you can watch it on your own.

"The ones above, the ones below and the one before" the voice of a man came over your speakers, he sounded young but old simultaneously.

You had just got past the introduction when you heard the rumble of a bike in the distance. For a moment you wondered if it was off the TV but as it got louder you realized it was bishop.

Getting up from the sofa you walked towards the door.

You set your hand on the door handle for what seemed like hours as you waited for him to pull up outside. Did you normally meet him at the door? Nope. Most of the time he would invite himself over and just sit down on the sofa with you for hours.

Sometimes you two spoke the whole time he was over until you both went to bed, other times you would sit in a comfortable silence- just happy to me in one another's presence.

You heard the engine cut off just beyond the door. You counted to three before unlocking it, as you did you saw Bishop was parked on the curb, still sitting on his bike while setting the helmet on the handlebars. He was yet to notice you standing at the door.

Taking a cigarette out his pocket he turned towards the street, looking at the houses to see if your neighbor's were awake, you had no idea why he did it but every time he pulled up, whether it was in a car or on his bike he always seemed to look at the neighboring houses.

He lit the cigarette, back still turned to you as he looked down the street. Leaning against the door frame you looked him over you could see that his posture was slouched indicating he was tired, he still had one hand resting on the handlebars almost like he wasn't just looking down the street but also trying to crack his back. The other hand was on the cigarette in his mouth, even from the distance from the doorway to the curb where he parked. You could see his leg was bouncing and so was his hand slightly, now that definitely wasn't normal.

 As he exhaled the smoke he turned around towards your house, jumping slightly when he saw you standing at the door. He seemed to compose himself as he took the keys out of the bike and stood up, walking towards you, his head bowed slightly as he tossed the cigarette onto the food

“I hope you are going to pick that up” you said 

“I will” he looked up at you, he was just beyond the porch steps. His eyes looked tired, there were clearly bags underneath them. He was definitely tired- if you knew anything about him ,he probably hasn't slept for a few days, and if he did it was for a short time

“You look tired”

“So do you” he cracked a small smile, by now he was standing in front of you

“Maybe because someone woke me up at 2 in the morning then I had to deal with grown ass men asking me to bring them food then suddenly someone decided to invite themselves over?”

“In my defense i thought you were still awake and the children wasn't my fault” 

You laughed as you moved away from the door frame and towards the kitchen “just come i stupid before i lock you out”

“Ouch that's harsh” he put a hand over his heart “that insult really hurt” he walked threw the door and shut it behind him, hanging his kutte up on the coat hook in the hallway along with his jacket

“Stop being a wimp” 

You heard him move into the front room and sit on the couch.

“Want a beer?” you asked as you went in the fridge for another bottle of water

"Yeah- what's this?" He questioned

“What's what?”

”On the TV dumbass” 

Walking back into the front room you saw he had his hand behind his head, his phone was on the table along with his keys.

“Oh, the platform. It seemed interesting so I started watching and only someone distracted me” you said as you handed him the beer and sat on the sofa, leaving some space between you and him.

“What's it about?”

“Not too sure something along the lines of some type of prison system where the food is on a moving platform, I only just started it”

“Hmm” grabbing the remote he pressed play while sipping his beer.

You two sat in comfortable silence while watching the movie but every so often you would look over at bishop, partly to make sure he wasn't asleep and partly to see if he was okay.

Over the time span of 30 minutes you noticed he wasn't watching the movie, rather he was looking at the wall clearly spaced out somewhere in his own mind. He was sitting so his right elbow was on the arm rest and his right hand in his mustache, messing the hair lightly. He always did that when he was thinking about something. His other hand was resting in his lap holding the beer you gave him.

“Bishop?” you waited a few moments but he didn't respond “Bishop'' you repeated, still no reaction. Taking the beer from his hand you set it on the table, putting your hands on his cheeks you turned his face toward you “bishop”

“Hmm?” he finally looked at you. Removing your hands from his face you looked him in the eyes

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing” he said shaking his his head

“Don't lie to me” your tone came out harsher than you intended he raised his eyebrows at you

“sorry didn't mean to sound like i was being mean” you pulled away slightly with the intention of going back to where you originally sat but that idea was quickly thrown out the window when he grabbed your torso and practically picked you up, sitting you on his lap. He put his head in the space between your shoulder and neck while rubbing his hands down your back

“What's wrong Obispo?” you asked once again, putting your hand in his hair, playing with it slightly.

“I'm just stressed” his voice was muffled as he spoke into your shouder

“About?”

“Everything” he moved his head so he was looking up at you “the stuff with Marcus leaving, the mc as a whole with the guys turning against each other ,all the shit going on with other clubs. Everything is just a mess and it's stressing me out” he explained. You kept on hand playing with his hair while the other went to his cheek

“Can you do anything about it?” you asked, he cocked his head to the side slightly clearly not understanding what you meant ”can you do anything about that stuff?” he looked at you for a moment before shrugging his shoulders

you continued “Marcus made his own mind up, you can't do anything there. The mc always sorts itself out, members fight, it's normal, you of all people should know what.” you explained while using your thumb trace the lines across his face caused by the lack of sleep

“Yeah, i guess you're right” he leaned up and kissed you softly “I have to say, I'm a president of a fucking mc and yet your smarter then me”

“I'm not smarter than you, I just look at what's happening and think about in the moment, where as you” you poked his chest lightly “ seem to think its a good idea to overthink stuff and look at consequences a year in advance that will probably never happen” He hummed in response before putting his head back into your neck

“Can i ask you something?” you asked

“You just did”

“Very funny” you moved to get out of his lap but was quickie pulled back down

“What was the question?”

”What the hell was in the duffle bag? coco sent me the video them trying to get it and it seemed like they really wanted it”

“Oh” bishop almost immediately started laughing to the point his whole body shook and his head was thrown back.

“Tell me stoopid” you slapped his chest slightly, playing with his shirt

“Well you see- me and Ez thought it would be funny to lock it in a car that needed scraping while they were getting high and then tell them the doors didn't work to see how long it would take for them to it but Gilly ended up pushing it from the front by the fighting cage to the garage” he managed to get out

“That didn't answer my-”

“Just wait” he cut you off “neither me or Ez knew what was in it but those three are too stupid to just break a window so they were attempting to get it for a good 20 minutes before Ez opened the door and got it out” he explained still laughing slightly “turn out it was just full of junk food and snacks they brought to eat once they get hungry later ”

“You two are evil”

“No we was having fun” he laughed

“Evil”

Just as bishop was about the respond his phone started to ring, you moved out his lap and sat back on the couch while he get up and went out the back to answer it.

looking at the tv you realized the film wasn't interesting you at all. Grabbing you phone you saw you had a snap from coco and one from angel 

what did they do now?

opening the app you clicked on to yours and Angels chat only to find a simple text

“if coco send you a video, delete it”

what?

“why” you replied before swiping off the chat and going onto Coco's. inevitably you where present with a video and a chat 

“Pease, please watch this it will be the best favor you ever do for me 🙏🏽”

your curiosity got the better of you, clicking on the video you immediately recognized the place.it was Angels front room. Gilly was chuckling lowkey behind the camera while coco was next to the door on a stool with a bucket in his hands while laughing. The camera panned down to show Gilly holding a bag of flour, now you could only assume that the bucket was full of water 

surely this couldn't end good

within a few seconds the door opened and angel walked in, coco immediately reacted throwing the contents of the bucket on top of his head while Gilly threw the flour over him.

Angel immediately froze, his face going into a startled expression followed by on of anger. Shutting the door behind him he shook of the excess flour before locking the door.

Gilly and Coco where in hysterics as Angel turned towards Coco and lunged for him, coco had a quick reaction and ran towards the backdoor , only to find it locked 

“fuck” he cursed looking for ways to escape, looking at the kitchen window he seemed to weight out his chances. by now Angels attention had gone towards Gilly who was still stood in the same place laughing. Angel lunged for him, tackling him to the ground while coco grab the phone from Gillys hand and made a run for the kitchen.

There was a lot of laughing from Gilly and shuffling in the background along with Angel cussing him out , then there was a bunch of laughing from them both of them but you could make out Angel saying “you think that shits funny huh?” “watch me key your bike” “ I'm gonna get you back so hard man

suddenly the phone was tossed out the kitchen window, shortly after you could see coco's head and body slowly emerging from the kitchen window. after a few seconds he finally managed to crawl out. picking up the phone he began to jog down the front yard 

“ha bitchesss I'm freeeee!”he exclaimed “the one time being skinny pays off”

in the background you hear a door unlock followed by Angel shouting “run bitch cuz I'm fucking coming for you”

then the video cut off

you where sat on the sofa crying from laughing so hard you quickly saved the video and texted coco back

“that is the best thing I've seen in months😂”

just as you started to calm down you started to hear bishop laughing from outside the backdoor. almost imminently he walked threw the back door in hysterics 

“did you-did you see-” he could barely talk in-between laughing 

“did i see the video?” 

“yeah”

“yes i saw it” you laughed

taking his phone he turned it towards you, it was a FaceTime from angel covered in flour, his beard was a littler of loose flour and a clumpy mess of flour and water. you couldn't help by laugh at his serious expression

“not funny y/n” he said clearly angry. in the background you could hear Coco and Gilly laughing

“you watched the video didn't you” it wasn't a question rather a statement 

“yeah” you replied still laughing 

“fuck sakeeee” suddenly he cut the call of cause both you and bishop to laugh even harder

~~~~~~~~

so yh this was men to be a fluff with bishop but i got distracted and it just kind of turned into the start of a prank war between Coco, Angle and Gilly.

[inskz]

lucky charm - lee minho

pairing - lee minho x reader

genre - college!au, best friends to lovers, very cliche fluff (lucky girl starring lindsey lohan kinda vibes???)

words - 4k

note - this is just a cute little drabble i wrote while im still waiting for my covid test results to come back so that i can leave my room and see the sun again 🤪 pls be careful everybody take care of your health 💚 enjoy!!!

- - - - -

“You must be kidding me,” you sigh when you see Minho’s hand has turned into a fist, his rock crushing miserably your scissors. Once again, you lost at rock, paper, scissors. And once again, you’re the one that is going to wash your best friend’s dishes that have piled up in is tiny kitchen sink throughout the week.

“Fuck that. This is so unfair,” you grumble, throwing the dishtowel in Minho’s stupid yet perfectly chiseled face.

You make a beeline for his bed, which is actually only a few steps away from the kitchen. Being a broke college student definitely doesn’t allow him to rent a spacious studio, let alone a two-room apartment. You throw yourself headfirst onto his uncomfortable mattress, whose springs always poke your back at night.

“Life is so unfair,” your friend mocks you, dragging out every vowel of his sentence dramatically.

No doubt, you would be strangling him at that very moment if you weren’t so busy playing dead, hoping he would forget about your pitiful existence.

But there is no way mister Lee Minho would miss out on an opportunity to have his gross plates cleaned by someone else. Grabbing onto your ankle, he drags you out of bed until you plop down on the dirty carpeted floor (Minho has the unfortunate tendency to procrastinate vacuuming too). At this point, you are fake crying, throwing a literal tantrum, like a 6 years old child would.

“Life is unfair!” you yell, your feet kicking in the air in pure anger.

At least it is to you. You can’t remember the last time you’ve been lucky. The only instance you got remotely close to it was when you found a four-leaf clover last summer. Well, only if you disregard the fact you stepped into dog poop  on your way to picking it. Oh and that you were wearing brand new white Converse. 

On the other hand, it seems like the boy has the whole crew of the Olympus gods on his side. Not one day goes by without his guardian angel manifesting its presence. 

Minho has always been the lucky type. The type to get an extra nugget in his box of 10. To find 20 dollars bills on the ground. To win every single Instagram giveaway he participates to (and lord knows how much he likes participating to them). 

But how can you be mad at him when he always happily shares his food with you, invites you to the restaurant without you even asking, and gives you his prizes, pretending he doesn’t need them? You don’t believe him when he says he see no use in a panda onesie or a waterproof bluetooth speaker. Deep down, you know it’s his way to silently love you. 

But well, you can still blame him for occasionally taking advantage of your misfortune to make you do his dreaded house chores, just like right now. 

Everyone thinks you are a bizarre duo. Even you can’t fathom how in hell you two became best friends, considering how awfully your first encounter went three years ago. 

On orientation day, he asked you for the time, probably because his phone was dead (or maybe because he was dying to talk to you?)

Without hesitation, you lifted and rotated your wrist so that you could see your watch. Little did you remember; you never actually owned a watch and you were holding a fancy 7 dollars iced coffee, which, of course, did not have a lid on because plastic is bad for the environment (duh). 

Minho couldn’t help but burst out in hysterical laughter when the whole drink spilled on your jeans. For your defense, you didn’t sleep at all the night before  since you were terrified of being alone in your new dorm room the first few days (weird stuff happens all the time in dorms, okay?). If he had asked you for your name, you probably wouldn’t even have been able to tell him. 

But Minho thought you were the funniest person on campus, and he really needed a clown like you to entertain him throughout his endless college semesters. That’s what he told you anyways. Not that he thought you were the cutest human being he had ever seen. 

Why would he when you are the literal definition of a mess: always having toothpaste stains on your sweater, bags under your eyes, messy hair, tripping and falling, missing buses, breaking things, losing stuff. 

Most of the time, you just forget your keys and Minho lets you crash at his place since he hasn’t got any roommate and he isn’t used to sleeping alone, especially without his cats. It surely isn’t because he loves waking up next to a very groggy but adorable you every single morning, no.  

Minho manages to bring you back to the countertop despite your reluctance. Positioned behind you, his arms trapping your body to make sure you can’t run away from your duties, he dips your hands into the soapy water, and you can’t help but squirm at the touch of an unknown substance sticking to a plate that has probably been soaking here for a week. You despise doing the dishes and your friend knows it.

You hear him giggle in your ear while he is playing with your arms like you are some type of marionette, making you to take the sponge and squeeze dish soap onto it. 

You’ve never been the kind to like proximity nor seemed to be Minho, but for some reason, you always end up glued to each other. You hate public displays of attention and pet names a little less when it comes from him. Or maybe you don’t hate it at all and actually crave it every single minute that goes by.

Before he has the time to come up with the Machiavellian idea to soak your pajamas in dirty water (because you know he would inevitably have at some point), you yank his hands off of you and start scrubbing angrily the dirty cups. 

Minho stays behind you anyways, observing your every move, his chin propped up on your shoulder like a curious little bird. To be honest, his presence is kind of getting overwhelming. But whatever, it’s not like his slightest touch makes your heart warm up in comfort or that he smells like fresh linen drying out on the porch of a cottage house on a sunny Sunday morning or anything. 

“You missed a spot. Here” he murmurs teasingly, his lips almost touching your earlobe, while he points at the handle of his hideous ‘world’s greatest dad’ mug Jisung gifted him last christmas. 

You know he has noticed the way you shivered violently at the feeling of his breath tickling your skin because he starts snickering loudly. 

“I swear to god if you don’t shut up and go seat on the couch, I’ll slap you so hard with this spatula you’ll regret you were even born,” you say, turning around suddenly to menace him with the plastic utensil. 

Of course, he isn’t afraid one bit. Right now, you really wish you could make the smug, but oh so attractive, look on his face disappear. 

“Alright, ma’am” he laughs, holding up his hands in surrender. “I’ll let you do your thing”. He lets himself fall onto his dingy couch. 

You can hear him humming one of his favorite songs above the sound of the water running. It would probably be getting on your nerves if his voice wasn’t so pretty.  

“Chan’s sick, so we’re not going to the gym tomorrow night. Do you wanna eat tacos? El Huero has even better deals than usual” he asks you, scrolling mindlessly through his phone. 

“Aren’t the deals supposed to be on Tuesdays?” You frown and scrub a little harder the frying pan Minho has burnt the night before while trying to make chocolate chips pancakes for diner, because why eat savory food when you can have dessert for every meal, right? It is one of the few advantages of living without your parents you both truly enjoy. 

“Yeah, that’s what I said. Tomorrow,” he yawns, probably exhausted after what you put him through last night. You forced him to catch up on the entire season of Love Island because you desperately needed someone to bitch with, and what better partner than Lee Minho.  

You take a quick glance at him and see him stretching himself across the cushions like a cat. You always thought there was something feline about his features. While you’re drying the mugs with the dishtowel, your mind wanders uncontrollably, thinking about his piercing eyes, his delicate nose, the corners of his lips that curl up a little… 

All of the sudden, your hands freeze. Minho is too immersed in TikToks to notice the stupor on your face. “Wait. Today is… Monday?” you stutter. 

Alarmed by the sound of your voice, his eyes finally leave his phone’s screen to look up at you. “Yeah” he repeats slowly as if you are the dumbest person he has ever encountered. 

And you truly are. You are pretty sure your heart has stopped beating. Minho’s “world’s greatest dad” mug you’re holding slips between your fingers and comes crashing on the floor with a deafening sound. The pieces are now scattered all around you, making you unable to make out what’s written on it anymore. Not a big loss, if you ask. 

“Y/N, you know that’s my favorite mug!” he exclaims, leaping up from the couch. “I’m sure you did it on purpose,” he mutters while he’s trying to collect the small fragments, in vain. 

But you’re too shocked at this very moment to pay attention to the glare your friend is giving you. To be honest, Minho has only two moods: glaring at you or teasing you.  

“My interview,” you finally manage to say, and Minho’s eyes go wide as he realizes the critical situation you’re in. 

You check the time on the microwave: 10:45. In 30 minutes, you’re supposed to be on the other side of town, being interrogated by boring businessmen that are going to decide whether or not you’ll be accepted for a paid internship in one of the most reputable music label of the country. Basically, decide whether you’ll live a happy and fulfilling life, working in the sector you’ve always dreamed of or end up miserable with a boring office job and a massive college debt. 

“Holy shit,” Minho whispers. You can see a wave of panic washing across his face for a split second, but, as always, he manages to find his composure back immediately. 

He has never been the kind to lose his cool, except to scold you when you forget the names of his cats and their respective coats’ color (which you unfortunately often did forget). 

“What are you doing? Get dressed!” He tells you when he sees you’re still standing there dumbfounded in the kitchen, like the famous Robert Pattinson meme, wearing an oversize Kermit the frog shirt with a dozen holes in it and his favorite Adidas sweatpants you always stole from him.

“No, it’s too late. I can’t make it,” you mutter, your breath short. You’re paralyzed, as if there is a 20lbs rock sitting at the bottom of your stomach, pinning you to the ground. 

This isn’t bad luck, you think. This is karma. This is what you get for skipping classes to watch telereality shows in your bed with your best friend and not even realizing it isn’t the weekend anymore.

“Miss me with that bullshit.” He runs to his closet and rummages through his drawers, throwing every piece of clothing that’s on his way to find an appropriate outfit that would fit you. 

“You’re gonna go do this interview even if I have to drag you all the way there.” He pushes you into his bathroom since you still haven’t moved an inch. 

You manage to brush your teeth and your hair, fighting through the nauseous feeling that is building up in your tummy. 

When you come back to the living room, Minho has found dress pants and a sweater that might not look utterly ridiculous on you. He lets you change in a corner, while he runs around the room collecting all your essentials. 

“You’re coming?” you ask him when you see he is already wearing his puffer jacket.  

“You really think I’m gonna let you go all by yourself when you’re literally not even able to put your shoes on properly”. You are, indeed, struggling with your laces, as if your fingers are suddenly made out of butter. 

Minho ties them up for you and you literally feel like he’s your babysitter. You know you’re gonna hear about this for months – what are you saying- years! But all you can think about at the moment though, is the fact that sneakers are definitely not appropriate for an interview. 

He throws your warmest coat at you, grab his keys, and by some type of miracle, you’re both out to the door in less than 10 minutes. 

You try to call the elevator, but Minho grabs your arm and leads you to the staircase. His hand never leaving yours, he runs down the stairs and you have no choice but to follow him as fast as you can. 

You can’t count how many times you missed a step and fell at this particularly slippery spot, between the 5th and the 4th floor, but weirdly enough, it doesn’t happen today. 

When you finally reach the ground floor, you exit the complex and Minho hops on his old and rusty bike that he had attached to nearest tree the night before.

“There’s no way I’m riding behind you on this death machine,” you laugh nervously. The memory of that one time Minho convinced you to seat into his bicycle basket (as if you could even realistically fit in it) and you both fell seconds after he started to pedal is coming back to your mind.

Sure, it was after a long night of drinking, you were both tipsy and it was the only way to get you home since you had spent all your uber money at the bar, but still! You’re pretty sure the bruise on your butt hasn’t disappeared to this day.  

“Hurry up,” Minho groans, ignoring your complaint. You unwillingly seat on his flimsy pannier rack and wrap your arms around his torso. 

You haven’t even left, yet you’re already holding onto his puffer jacket for dear life. A giggle escapes your friend’s mouth (which you think is very inappropriate in such a desperate situation) before he lifts his feet off the ground and starts pedaling. 

You try to ignore the loud squeaking of the bicycle drive by shutting your eyes tighter and rehearsing your introduction you have prepared over and over in your head. No matter how hard you are trying, you can’t remember what you are supposed to say just after your age (which, as you can imagine, isn’t really far into your monologue). 

By the way the wind is lashing your face, you can tell Minho has picked up the speed. His breathing is getting louder, his heartbeat faster and you can’t help but think you’re probably way too heavy for him to bike you around like that. Maybe he shouldn’t skip his gym sessions with Chan so often. Or maybe you shouldn’t have eaten the leftover pancakes for breakfast after all.

You find the courage to open your eyelids and are pleased to see you’re already halfway there, probably because every single one of the traffic lights you encounter is green, and your friend is going surprisingly fast. Is luck finally starting to smile upon you? 

Your mad race comes to a halt when you reach the address of your interview. You hop off the bike and so does Minho who, by the way, is a panting mess. He’s barely able to catch his breath, strands of hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, but he’s beaming at you when he realizes you’re just on time. 

“Go” he gasps, pushing you in the direction of the building’s hall. 

You walk up to the glass door but as your hands are about to push it, you pull a 180. Your friend sighs loudly, already knowing what’s coming next. 

“Wait. No. I can’t do this. I’m not prepared” you tell him frantically. “I’m freaking out. I think I’m gonna pass out.” You are now walking in circles, mumbling incoherently. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Your heart is racing in your chest and your hands are getting clammy at the simple thought of failure. But guess what? You can’t fail if you don’t even try! One more good reason to just go back to bed and forget about your sad life for a good 8 hours, right? 

“Y/N, you’re the most talented person I know, you’re gonna do just fine” Minho catches you in his arm to stop your endless pacing. You would probably think this gesture is endearing if it wasn’t just meant to make sure you couldn’t run for your life.  

“No, I’m not. What if I throw up in front of everybody like that one time during the Romeo and Juliet musical?” You look up at him and his face is only inches away from yours. You’re sure you would be swooning at how beautiful he looks if you weren’t so terrified at this very moment.

“You were nine,” your best friend says, and you swear you have never heard him speak to you in such a sweet tone before. His voice is like honey and lavander but it doesn’t soothe you like it should. 

You manage to break free from his embrace to crouch down, in an attempt to slow down your breathing. If only you had data left, you could be watching those short relaxing videos on your phone. They always work. But no, you had to spent it all on online games, just one week into the month. You really are beyond help.  

“Y/N I know you’re scared, but if you miss out on this opportunity, you’re gonna regret it for the rest of your life.” Minho is lowering himself so that you can hear him, even though you’re curled up in a ball. 

“And I’m warning you, I won’t want to hear you complain about it,” he adds, this whole situation obviously starting to get on his nerves. 

If you were him, you would have probably left a long time ago. But this isn’t your best friend’s way of behaving. You know he would never abandon you no matter how annoying you could be (and you could be very annoying sometimes). After all, he is always the one holding your hair while you puke in the toilets when you had a couple too many drinks.

It takes all your willpower to stand up but there is no other way, you have to do it. You can hear the time ticking dangerously in your mind, as if your brain had turned into a clock.

“You’re right. Slap me,” you say, looking at him straight in the eyes, dead serious. 

“Wha -“

“Slap some sense into me. They do that in movies when people are panicking. It’s like throwing a bucket of cold water in someone’s face. But clearly we don’t have a bucket and we don’t have cold wa- “ you start blabbering. 

“What the fuck are you talking about? I’m not gonna slap you!” Your friend isn’t usually that horrified at the thought of beating your ass. In fact, he has felt the desire to rip your head off more than once, especially when you’d steal all the duvet at night, but at this moment he is just scared you might have actually lost your mind.  

“Just fucking do it Minho!” you scream, your hands clenching the front of his grey hoodie he always looks so divine in. 

Minho has never obeyed you, and this is not the day he is going to start. 

He puts both of his hands on the sides of your face and crashes his lips onto yours. 

You would be lying if you said you have never imagined the day your best friend would kiss you. It happens pretty much every single time you look at his cute pout a little too long. But one thing is certain, it isn’t like you pictured it to be at all.

You were convinced your heart would go so wild it would burst out of your chest and your head would spin so furiously you’d lose your balance. You thought your stomach would fill with butterflies to the brim and your whole body would be on fire.

But none of that is happening. On the contrary, every single muscle in your body relaxes under his touch. The way his soft mouth presses gently against yours makes you calmer, almost at peace amongst all this turmoil. 

Minho is kissing all your tension and stress away and you catch yourself letting a sigh of relief escape your parted lips.

As if you have kissed him already hundreds of times in your past life, Minho feels like home. He’s a safe haven you can always take refuge in during troubled times. Ever since the day you met, he has never left your side.

When he breaks away from the kiss, you notice your breath isn’t so ragged and your mind isn’t so foggy anymore. You’re serene. His cold hands are still cupping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks, and you feel like an idiot sandwich for asking him to slap you seconds before.

“That can work too, I guess…” you mutter.  

“You’re okay?” he asks, staring at you with the softest eyes you’ve ever seen.

You just nod, unable to say one more word, and sprint to the entrance, not wanting to make your interviewers wait any longer than they already have.

“Good luck!” You hear him yell just before the door closes behind you and you can’t help but grin from ear to ear.

- - - - - 

Thirty minutes later, you finally step out of the fancy lobby to find a very bored Minho leaning against a tree, patiently waiting for you.

“You’re still here?”

“Of course, I am,” he says, his mouth full of croissant. He gives you a large iced coffee he probably went buying to kill time. Your lips unconsciously curl up into a smile when you notice it comes from the same chain that the one you spilled on your lap on the day you first met him. 

“How did it go?” he asks you, sticking his buttery pastry into your mouth so that you can take a bite.

“Way better than I thought” you answer, right after you swallowed. You hate the way flakes would always get stuck between your teeth. But Minho is always there to warn you about it before anyone else notices, and even pick them for you if you can’t manage to, which, when you think about it, is kind of gross. 

There are two things the boy knows about you: you’re the greatest pessimist on earth and you’d rather die than admit you were wrong (especially if it meant he was right). So for you to even say it wasn’t that bad, means it went phenomenal. 

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ but I told you so.” He smiles so wide you can barely see his eyes anymore. You have to look away, otherwise you know you might become instantly blinded by love.

“Maybe I could use some more of your luck” you mumble, staring at your shoes and kicking the red leaves that were surrounding your feet on this sunny autumn morning. 

“Really? And what makes you think I’ll share it with you,” he teases you, leaning forward to incite you to look at him in the eyes. 

“That.”

Your hand finds the back of his neck and pulls him in, in order to close the space that is still left between your mouths.

At first, Minho stiffens, taken aback by your bold move. But soon enough, he caves into your touch. He kisses you back fervently, like he means it. 

His fingers entagle in your hair, his arm wraps around your waist and his chest presses against your body. You’re melting in his embrace, submerged by a wave of bliss which he alone seems to know the recipe. 

It feels new, yet so familiar. Like it was supposed to happen, like it was written in the stars. 

He tastes like croissant and Americano. Like fortune and fate. 

And you can’t help but think you’re the luckiest person on earth.

Who cares about winning the lottery when Lee Minho is your lucky charm? 

[theliterarywolf]

Anon Submitted

I’m sorry, I’m reeling a bit. The artist, got bullied, for making Greek Gods, from a game featuring said Gods, white. Greek Gods, who’re from a white culture, from a white religion, conceived by white people. It’s a game, which took “real” religious figures from a white culture. And people are basically accusing the artist of whitewashing. 

…Are these people serious?

Even if she used the design from the game, and even if the game had drawn them as actually non-white, which it doesn’t really look like, there simply shouldn’t have been an issue, since it’s literally Greek (WHITE) Gods, which she drew. You can’t really “Whitewash™” something that’s already white from its conception.

I don’t get it. This reminds me of this one youtube video I once watched about 3 years ago, which had the person talking about how most European religions, actually were stolen, and most of the Gods were actually dark skin, more specifically black. The vid was honestly a huge mess, of trying to explain how Europeans, had whitewashed their own religions, they had created in Europe, but also how they still stole it.

I think “Gaia/Terra”, the Earth Goddess, was one of them, and the argument was because the name means earth, she can’t be white.

Meanwhile my ass was sitting there like: “Your ass is fucking SLEEPING on all the different religions, and beliefs, dead or not, of Africa. How many different countries, cultures, and places, have their own Gods, or Goddesses, and all that it entails, like stories. And instead of looking at those, and actually authentic Gods, you’re arguing that some Euro Gods are actually black like you want.”

I can’t handle that level of stupidity, and I don’t want to either.

Hey, anon. Anon. C’mere. Come closer.

… Do you realize that, in your last paragraph there, you slammed the hammer on the head of why I despise current art trends of ‘Inter/PV’ or whatever they call it on Twitter now and mainstream media trends of ‘just take characters who actors don’t want to play anymore and make them black? 

*leans in and whispers* Because for as much as these same people will screech and rave about racism and promoting black excellence if you say anything, nothing screams ‘I have internalized racism’ moreso than eschewing black fiction, African faith systems, African history, and legitimate black European history than the ass-backwards notion of ‘well, if I don’t do my lazy race-swap art of Japanese media or other people’s faith-systems or historical figures and slap a label of ‘diversity’ on it, then no one would pay attention to my black and POC characters!’

Nothing screams ‘I have allowed white history and biased documentaries to convince me that in the entire diverse socio/ecological systems of the African content nothing is worth my time and engagement, so I have to piggyback off of others’ than what we currently see with these mindsets.

[sapnxps]

(WTL) Chapter One: Greg the Neighbor- Georgenotfound x Reader

If I knew that when I moved to London, I'd have two weird neighbors, I'd laugh in your face. Now I'm friends with an old cat lady. Now I'm enemies with my cute neighbor that's definitely not single, who also screams too much.

Even though he's a dick, why can't I stop thinking about him?

My parents told me I’d regret moving to London from the state before I left because I’d miss them and the US too much.

They were half right.

I’m sitting on a box messily labeled ‘kitchen’ in the hallway of my new apartment complex. I huff, wiping the sticky sweat from my forehead. The moving bill is almost 4 thousand dollars. If I knew moving would be this expensive, I wouldn’t have moved out from my parent’s house until I was 40. Sure, I moved a lot of my belongings across the Atlantic ocean, but 4 thousand dollars? Who do I look like, Jeff Bezos?

Today has been hectic, to say the least. Three of my boxes somehow drifted away to Spain. Don’t ask me how that happened, I don’t even know. I’ve been unpacking by myself all day. A box of my kitchenware got shattered upon arrival. I should’ve listened to my Mom on that one, she told me to just buy plates and glasses here instead of shipping them here. Big mistake I’m never making again. Finally, the biggest chunk of my problems: My apartment is full of boxes and I don’t feel like unpacking. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress for two days, maybe not, but I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. If one more thing goes wrong, I think I might lose it.

Begrudgingly, I lift myself up from the box I was sitting on. It’s a bit dented now, but the way it felt on my ass, it’s just pots and pans. I open the door, pulling this box into my apartment. I weakly push it into the kitchen. It collides with one of the boxes filled with shattered plates. The sound of the broken glass sliding across the box sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I need to make a note to properly dispose of that. Turning my head to look around my new home, I feel my brain's short circuit. All these boxes unpacked, I’ve barely made a dent. This is going to take for-fucking-ever. Moving is modern-day torture. Oh, that’s funny. Remember to tweet that later.

The next three hours of my life are taken up by filling up my kitchen cabinets and drawers with cutlery and various kitchen utensils. The counter was now less bare, housing my toaster and breadbox. My Tupperware containers sat in a special place in the far-right cabinet by the sink. It looked like this home was lived in, as long as you didn’t glance anywhere else besides the kitchen.

I soon after tackled the bathroom, which was the less intimidating room compared to the living room and bedroom. I got the shower curtain hung up, which made it look nice. The rug found its way to the floor, protecting my feet from the cold, cream tile. The shelves were now stocked with a few fluffy peach towels and soaps. Underneath the sink had cleaning supplies as well as spare toilet paper. Living alone meant having nobody to give you another roll if you finish the other one. Kinda sucks. I had a boyfriend during high school, and two years into college. I dreamed of living with him, we planned it all out. I’d finish college, we’d move to a city and rent out the tiniest apartment we could find. We’d live it out until eventually we made ends meet and the rest would be. Dreams cut short though, he cheated. It’s part of why I left in the first place. Needed a change of scenery, new people.

That’s where I am now. New people. Stuck on that part. Haven’t gotten a chance to meet any, which is oh so tragic. I can’t decide if I want to introduce myself to the neighbors or let them come to me? I’m stuck pondering on the thought until I hear a knock at the door. I wonder if my lost boxes have mysteriously arrived.

Opening the door, I’m greeted with an older woman, holding out a small cake into my space.

“Hi dear, I’m your neighbor to the right. Heard all the commotion, saw all the boxes. I had to see for myself the fresh meat in the complex,” She paused before lightly tapping my arm with her free hand. “Just teasing! It’s great to have another lady on this level. The young man to your left, handsome fella, never comes out much though. Hopefully, we can have a girl posse or something,” Her posh accent made her much different than me. Is it wrong to already feel isolated?

I grin at her, moving out of the way to invite her in. “Nice to meet you, feel free to come in. I apologize for all the boxes scattered around, moving has been proven to not be quite my talent,”

The woman smiles brightly at me, shock plastered on her face. “You’re American!”

“That I am,” I chuckle. She hands me the cake, which I gladly accept. My diet has consisted of soggy hash browns from the complex lobby. She makes her way to what is settled in the living room, politely setting herself on my suede blue couch across from the large wall in the room. I place the cake on my counter by the stove, making a mental note to grab a slice once the woman leaves.

The shock never leaves her aged face, “Oh goodness! How amazing. I have a foreigner as my neighbor. You’ll find London quite lovely. I know how it feels to be isolated and removed from what you’re used to, but I promise you’ll fit right in,” She says as I settle myself on the loveseat a bit away from the couch.

“Where are you from?” I ask. She obviously isn’t American.

She smiles, “Just a bit east of Surrey. South of London. Beautiful area, grew up on a small cottage,” The woman was glowing as she spoke of her hometown. She was obviously proud of where she grew up. Compared to my southern Arizona town, this place seemed like heaven. A cottage? Sign me up.

“Sounds lovely,” I speak truthfully.

“Welp,” The woman slaps her laps, a way of signaling it’s time to end the conversation. Despite only speaking for a small amount of time, she seems like someone I can come to if I ever have questions about London or the terminology that I hear around the city. I’ll need to remember that she’s the neighbor to the right. As she began to see herself out, I remembered the other neighbor she mentioned. The young man to the left. I believe she used the term ‘handsome fella’ to describe him. Once she was out in the hall, I felt the need to find out more information.

“Oh!” I shout, hanging myself out into the hallway. She pauses her steps, turning back to me. “By the way, who’s my other neighbor? The guy you were telling me about. Does he have a name?” I ask.

“Greg,” She nods, resuming her short walk back to her apartment.

Greg. Ugly name.

I completely forgot about the conversation by dinner time. As I was munching down on my cake, delicious by the way, I heard loud yelling from my right side. I wouldn’t even call it yelling, more like high-pitched screaming. Who was my neighbor over there again? Greg? Greg. He was causing a ruckus and a mere heart attack at that. He was screaming so loud I nearly jumped out of my skin the first time I heard it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s facing a very, very gruesome murder right now. Well, I guess I don’t know any better. I’m just wishing for the very best.

Another hour passes. The yelling never stops. It’s only 8, but my body is as awake as ever. I still have yet to get used to the new time zone. At times it was difficult, but I’m using it to my advantage now. I have some extra time to unpack and get my actual bed ready. My bed frame was put together professionally during lunch, so that was one thing checked off my list. The mattress I ordered was delivered yesterday. Now it was just the matter of putting the sheets on and preparing my duvet.

Fitted sheets fucking suck to put on a bed. I was currently struggling to put it on my nice mattress. It was edging close to 10 pm. The sky was dark, and I was stuck in some odd mixture of a starfish and the downward dog position. If this moment was a picture, it could be used for blackmail. The closer I got to finally getting the top right corner on my bed, the more stretched out I became. I was like one of those sticky hands you’d get in those toy dispensers at the grocery store. I was just about to get it, when another loud shriek could be heard. In shock, I slammed my head on the bed frame and lost grip of all four corners of the sheet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumbled underneath my breath.

Whatever. He probably has a greater reason to be screaming like this, right? Justified shouting, whatever you want to call it. My bedroom is closer to his apartment than the kitchen was. Is it nosey to try to figure out what he’s saying? I don’t want to be that type of neighbor. I’ll continue minding my business because I don’t want to find out some weird shit about Greg that I don’t want to know.

The screaming never stopped.

In fact, if anything, it got louder. And louder. And louder. Is it okay to call the cops here?

It’s midnight now. The next fucking day. And Greg is still screaming at the top of his lungs as if everyone else isn’t asleep. If I saw some normal citizen just trying to get some rest, I’d be fed up. Well, I’m still fed up. I’m also running on a messed-up sleep schedule, so it’s not like I was trying to sleep anyways. My bed is made now, and comfy as hell. I built a shelf to house some of my small decorations, with the entertainment of my noisy neighbor’s yells to accompany me. For some odd reason, it made me feel less lonely.

At about 2, I began to reject the company. I felt irritation grow in my chest as I heard the same high-pitched shrieks that I heard at 8. The annoyance that bubbled in me overtook my politeness. Before I knew it, I was up and in the hallway banging on his door. I didn’t have the time to care about my Daffy Duck pajamas sticking to my legs due to the heatwave hitting England right now. Before I even realize it, my fist is slamming on his door. I never knew I had the power to knock that hard, but my anger and blossoming resentment overpowered me. I continued banging until the door pulled away from its frame. Now I’m face to face with Greg.

Boy was he handsome.

I was met with a man, about 5 foot 9. His dark brown hair was disheveled. Strands of hair laid across his forehead messily. If he wasn’t screaming, I would’ve thought he was sleeping. He was wearing a fluorescent green hoodie with an odd smile plastered on the front. It was a bit large for his skinny frame, that’s unimportant though. His grey sweatpants were twisted on his legs. What the fuck was he doing? His face was delicately shaped. This jawline looks sharp yet fragile like it was constructed of the most fragile rose crystal I’d ever seen. His brown eyes reminded me of caramel, thick and way too easy to get lost in.

“Hi, uh Greg-” I start. I’m just realizing now how close I am to him. The scent of his spearmint gum floods my nostrils. It’s a bit powerful, crinkling my nose at the smell. It wasn’t gross, just very shocking.

“George,” He spat. That’s fucking embarrassing. I’m meeting him for the first time and I got his name wrong. I’m not taken aback for long though, because his attitude oozing from his simple correction was enough to disgust me. I’ve done nothing wrong to him, except maybe get his name wrong. Was my moving too much of a nuisance to him? Poor little British thing, he can deal with it.

I cringe, “Oh, um, sorry.”

He leans into the door frame, sweatshirt adjusting to the movement. Forget a tiny bit large, he was swimming in this thing. “Yeah, no problem. Can I help you or are you selling girl scout cookies at,” George checks his watch. “2 in the morning. If you are, I’m not interested, sorry ‘bout that,” His outfit makes me feel a lot less aware of mine. Despite his face being rather attractive, the outfit makes him look like he just rolled out of bed.

“Oh, yeah. I was wondering if you could lower the volume a bit, please. Or just stop screaming entirely, if possible. I don’t know if you have some weird shouting fetish, but I certainly don’t,” I chuckle. George, however, doesn’t chuckle. Actually, he looks rather unamused. If a human was an art museum, it would be George. Curling into a ball and falling into an endless void doesn’t sound too awful right now. I think I’ll add that to my itinerary. I’ll do it in my bed so I’m at least comfortable while I’m drowning in my own self-pity.

He grimaces, “Yeah. Sure.”

He’s blunt. Got it.

The second I turn my back to the door, it slams. Wow. What a cunt. Shaking the interaction off, I begin to feel the wear and tear of the day beginning to hit me. Moving all those boxes made my muscles ache. The solution to all my problems today seems to be going to bed. Not that I’m not okay with that, just funny. The day before I left for London, you’d think I was shocked by lightning. The electricity that was running through my veins was no match for any ADHD medicine the FDA had ever approved. Now, my body is beginning to fall victim to the earlier time zone. Not that it was a big deal, it was going to happen eventually. These next few days would just entail a difficult sleeping schedule. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.

I quickly find my way back to my own bedroom. The yelling was quieter, but I could still hear George through the thin walls. He was murmuring to someone softly. This apartment complex was all 1 bedroom apartments. He didn’t live alone. How lovely! I made a fool of myself to him, and he was most definitely telling his partner right now. Talk about dignity, am I right?

I scrolled through my phone for an hour, before the screaming returned to its original volume. Would it be overdramatic to say I felt my face go red with anger? I don’t think so. I think I handled the situation as politely as I could. Hell, I even cracked a joke so he could know I wasn’t that upset over the situation! If I knew he was going to resume his disruptive noises, I wouldn’t have been so nice or absolutely hilarious. Nobody that douchey gets my amazing humor. He didn’t even laugh! I hear another shout followed by a slam to a desk. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

Welp. Welcome to London!

[lookwhatilost]

i read the jennette mccurdy memoir today. sort of happy i got it off zlib because it’s 90-ish essays with large print and a lot of negative space between them. each essay ends on a page break and you’d be hard pressed to find one where 75% or more of the final page is negative space. and $27 can buy me 3 items at the grocery store in this economy – i’d rather have it for that. especially since it’s just below 300 pages and i still crushed it in around 4 cumulative hours. it’s not exactly the phenomenology of spirit lol. i know i read quickly, but, like... eh. it’s a nitpick and probably an editor’s decision.

i suppose i went into it expecting it to be more, like, cathartic than it was? mccurdy and i do share a lot of superficial similarities. abusive mom who has severely unchecked mental health issues, only to get so much worse about it when she gets handed a breast cancer dx, SE-ED patients, a vessel that only exists to be filled with idiot bitch mom’s broken dreams. we diverge a lot on the details though, and that’s really interesting – especially since both parties still used cultural maternal shit as their sword and shield alike.

i suppose personal difference of experience would be, for one thing, me having no mixed feelings to speak of with my mom & being absolutely terrified of her temper for as long as i remember. my earliest memory of her was when i was sitting on this windowsill that was big enough for me to relax on and she’d left a plastic cabinet full of documents on it. i was looking through the tabs and saw one that was labeled as “taxes”, but in my mom’s shit handwriting, looked like it said “toxic”. i ran into the other room where she was, throwing a fit about touching the Poison Folder. and her slapping me so hard i fell down for rummaging through her things. i remember later being very scared about her getting off the phone, because if i hummed too loudly while i was coloring or putting a puzzle together, i’d get screamed at. i’m not sure i could ever properly articulate the exact sound of that. shrill but deep. so, so loud. i’ve never heard that tone of voice come from anyone’s mouth before or since. sans literally the fucking exorcist. but not in person. it still seems so abstract and inhuman. how was it human in origin? how could someone harbor this for a seven-year-old? i don’t remember ever loving her. i remember tolerating her and locking myself in my room whenever i inadvertently stepped on her toes. pleading to whatever power that be, who’d listen, for my dad to come home. she never did this to me if my dad was around.

incidentally, her threat du jour was to remove my bedroom door from its hinges after my parents separated. this cunt is getting the beatrice horseman treatment when she starts losing her marbles. i swear to god lol.

i’m sure this entry in my psychological history served as kindling for my an-bp prognosis later. there are, in my reflection, plenty of things that ignited my perfect storm conditions for developing a severe restrictive eating disorder in my 20s. incidentally, the take that sums it up most neatly is one from christian bale when he went on an extreme diet for his role in the machinist. he mentioned that there was a placidness about it all. you sleep infrequently. your emotions are dulled. you kick you feet up and read in the wee hours. the background noise quiets. i also sort of hate it because sister christian over here has never come out publicly as an ed sufferer but seems to understand the conceit of anorexia better than any doctor i’ve been to. oh my god. 

pivoting back to jennette, i get that this shit is really, really difficult to manage. family ties make you kind of beholden to that person until they croak. and even then, you have to shuffle through the mess. my idiot mom and the stink she riled up about her literally “stage zero” breast cancer. didn’t even know this was a thing until she decided to play deathbed for years. but there’s guilt that you’re actually the one being unreasonable. and abusive moms sun themselves in that. i’m a mom, ergo, i’m a saint. nobody knows how hard it is to be a mom. hash tag mom life.

i’m glad jennette’s mom died too, at least. as for me *skyler white voice* i’m just waiting for the cancer to come back.

[kaysayshey]

off paper || e. kirishima

This is a work inspired by a struggle that a lot of those suffering with mental illness experience, particularly those with depression and bipolar disorder; however, it can be applied to a lot of mood-altering medications that cause sexual dysfunction. While medication is a life changing and stabilizing aspect of many lives, it doesn't come without its cons. I think Kirishima would be incredibly understanding in this situation. Please keep in mind that bipolar disorder presents in many ways. There is no one-size-fits-all in mental health treatment or in its subsequent treatment. I wanted to write a bit about the side effects of SSRI medications.

Songs that I listened to while writing include:

Serendipity by BTS' Jimin

Bumper Cars by Alex and Sierra

That Kind of Love by MAX

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, NSFW (no smut, however this work contains sexual topics), mention of prescription drugs, bipolar disorder, minors DNI.

On paper, Kirishima Eijirou was perfect. An impressive sidekick working underneath Fatgum, his cheery disposition more than capable of reassuring even the most terrified of civilians. A hard-hitting, defensive quirk paired with determination unlike anything you'd ever seen. Easy-going enough to work with the difficult heroes - and by difficult, everyone meant Dynamight. Intelligent, reliable, and just the right amount of competitive.

Off paper, he was even better. Hell, the moment he'd asked you out, you'd almost done a double-take. Was he sure? Kirishima could date, well, anyone. However, you'd blurted out 'yes' before your brain had time to catch up, even more surprised at the gorgeous pink that graced the tips of his ears.

And the date went wonderfully. Were you expecting anything different? He was a magnet, and you were willing to be the refrigerator he stuck to - at least, for as long as he wanted. How he managed to remember what flavor of milk tea and boba you preferred, following it up with a quick delivery while working twelves at the agency, was beyond you. Good morning texts wishing you an easy day of your own hero work, good night texts hoping that your dreams were "sweeter than you." The moment a bouquet of roses was sent to your office, you had to admit it.

You were embarrassingly attracted to Kirishima Eijirou.

Not that he minded, no. If anything, he returned the feeling tenfold. After the first date came a string of others before finally labeling it as a relationship. Movie nights, walks through the park, chaste kisses interspersed by giggles as you both laughed at whatever came to mind. The quick meetings between your lips turned into full-on sessions that left your knees weak. Being with Kirishima was easy in a way that nothing else had been.

But let's face it. Working as a full-time hero with bipolar disorder made life, well, tough. A pharmaceutical cocktail and therapy helped, turning what was the disaster of your life into a manageable mess. Episodes were few and far between, the prickling anxiety was quelled by coping techniques and medication when necessary. The days spent in a daze of your own "self-medicating" were long gone, thank whatever higher power was out there. No, life was on the upswing for you in pretty much every aspect of the phrase.

Except for your sex life.

And no, that wasn't to say that Kirishima was doing anything wrong. To be quite honest, he was doing every just right. Kissing the places you loved most, calloused hands lingering deliciously over your skin. A voice like honey whispering in your ear, beautiful moans of how gorgeous you were, how he absolutely adored you. Saying that it left you with weak, knocking knees was an understatement. He was an emotional hurricane, sending butterflies through your stomach as he showered you with praise and carefully placed lips.

Other than a complete lack of climaxing, it was amazing.

You knew this was a possibility once you had started taking medications. A loss of libido was one thing, but being unable to finish was starting to wear on you. Before you could stop yourself, you were doing the unthinkable: faking orgasms.

After all, who wants to spend close to an hour between someone's thighs just to be met with frustrated sighs and potentially awkward conversations? No, Kirishima didn't need to spend so much time on your pleasure, not when there was a high probability that you wouldn't finish at all. As long as the moans weren't straight out of a low-budget porno overly exaggerated, you figured you'd get away with it.

Getting away with it turned out to be the least of your issues. The struggle was real. Outside of the sweetest lovemaking with Kirishima, you desperately tried every trick in the book to reach an orgasm on your own. Something. Anything. You were beginning to feel pent-up, needy. The money spent on toys was starting to reach an uncomfortably high number. Time was wasted and followed up by flopping onto the bed in frustration. No amount of lube, porn, or fantasy was helping. Once you hit the hour mark, you basically gave up.

And you were now pacing the hallways of your apartment, irrational tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Why did it matter? Orgasming was not the end all, be all of life. But the memory of before the medications, the euphoric bliss that would force your back from the mattress, that memory reared its head more often than you cared to admit. God damn it, you just wanted to feel the shudders, the rush of pleasure surging through your body, insatiable heat quenched. And you wanted to stop lying to him. The tears rimming your lash line made their arrival known, long tracks staining your cheeks.

This is, of course, when Kirishima decides to knock on your door. After all, you had planned to have a comfortable night in, a delightful line up of rom-coms at your disposal. Movies that you now wanted to throw out the nearest window. Why, why did you have to try again? He deserved so much more than a broken partner, a partner who would never be able to match him. Someone who could crash at the slightest struggle, who broke when their insecurities were brought to life.

Another set of knocks. Time to face the music.

As you gently opened the door, the drop in Kirishima's face was visible as he took in your state. Where a bright grin had been settled now featured lips drawn into a tight, worried line. After all, you did everything in your power to keep him in the dark in regards to your mental illness. Not necessarily your smartest move, in retrospect. Hindsight, you know?

The moment the door clicked behind him, Kirishima was gathering you in his arms, a large hand gently stroking the back of your head. A kiss to your temple, his forehead pressing against your hairline. Deep breaths weren't helping you at this point. Because regardless of how frustrated you were, Kirishima was safety, the warmth of his embrace a haven for you to let out the sobs that were wracking through your body.

And as the tears fell, darkening his gray tee shirt, Kirishima ran his hands up and down your back, the comforting heat of his body providing temporary relief. After moments of crying, you pressed your head against his chest, eyes glued to the linoleum floor beneath you.

A thick finger and thumb tenderly met your chin, slowly lifting your face to meet his eyes. Those usually warm red irises were dark with worry, the pad of his thumb running circles over and over against your skin. Another reminder of just how good he was. No man had ever made you feel as desired or important as Kirishima.

"Baby, what happened?" he murmured, still caressing your face so gingerly that it brought the threat of more tears.

"It's nothing, nothing important," came your quick response, avoiding any lingering eye contact. It wasn't that important. Sexual gratification came second to emotional connection, and you had that firmly in your grasp with Eijirou. Why would you risk losing someone like that?

His eyebrow narrowed at your words, and he kept your face cradled in his hands. "Please tell me, baby. I want to help."

God, that expression of pure concern. Like you were everything to him, like your hurt was his hurt. It was in that moment you knew: you couldn't keep lying to him. Whether it meant he'd leave for someone else, someone perfectly, indescribably normal; that didn't matter. If anyone deserved a picture-perfect romance, it was Kirishima.

Eijirou, I-" Your voice broke from the nerves, unable to hold his unflinching gaze. How could someone be so earnest? He nodded, those same reassuring circles urging you to speak.

"I think you deserve someone better."

He looked like you'd honest to goodness slapped him. So many emotions flashed over his usually cheerful face that it scared you. Oh, god, this wasn't what you wanted to do, but how could you not? No one wanted someone like you. Once he knew, he'd leave. Better to push him away first and just let it end now before-

"What are you talking about? Baby. I don't want anyone else. I want you." His words came out stammered, tripping over his tongue and falling into the otherwise quiet apartment. Kirishima shook his head slowly, searching your face for some form of reassurance that this wasn't what you wanted. That you didn't want him.

"I don't know why. I just, I'm too much. You'll end up getting frustrated with me and I just, I just can't take that kind of heartbreak."

"Too much? You're never too much, what are you talking about?"

The words fell before you could stop them, faster than should be discernible to the human ear. But if there was anything Eijirou was, it was attentive.

"My medicine is driving me crazy, and I know without it I'll go over the edge again. But I want to feel normal, Eiji. I can't handle feeling like I'm not normal." And it was true. Sex was so innately human, and knowing that there was a chance that you'd never be able to gain that ultimate satisfaction was driving you mad. Was this just an overreaction from a brain exhausted from constantly fighting itself, or was this a logical, albeit emotionally charged, reaction?

"Your medicine?"

There it was. What you wanted to avoid mentioning. Sure, it wasn't fair to keep it from him. But let's be honest, you'd been expecting this to end after the first few months. And now? Now you were shaking in his arms, knowing this confession would be the end of the dreamy love you'd been experiencing.

"My medicine for uh... for my, um. I have bipolar disorder. It's why I can't work on Thursdays, too. I have to go to therapy. I know I should've told you from the beginning but I just, you know, I really, really like you, and I don't-"

One finger met your lips followed by soothing shushes from his own. As if the world's weight had been lifted from his capable shoulders, Kirishima let out a heaving sigh of relief. The arm around your waist pulled you closer, his large hand splaying comfortably against your back.

"I'm not going anywhere. I just want you to be okay. What can I do for you?"

And that left you tearfully admitting it all. Longing for the physicality that would bring you closer together, the bliss of coming undone at your partner's hands. Disgust when you listened to your friends' bragging of delicious, gratifying one-night stands. Aching heat desperate to be relieved by your man only to be left at the edge, the warmth still tingling through your body. How you felt caught halfway between "normal" and "crazy" even with the drugs. And Kirishima nodded, hanging on every word.

"I'm glad you told me," he began, slowly trailing his fingertips up and down your back. "If I had known, I would've worked ten times harder. Will you let me make you feel good, honey? Please?"

How did those few sentences send you into another fit of tears? Clutching the lightweight fabric of his shirt and apologizing for the damp stains, you nuzzled against his chest in embarrassment. But he continued his motions, adept fingers working at your tense muscles.

That night, he gave you everything you wanted and more, eager to please you in a way he never had. Eyes focused, sweet nothings spilling from his lips, tender hands and featherlight kisses. Teasing and romance and dedication over hours, something you'd never experienced before.

On paper, Kirishima was perfect. Off paper, he was even more. And he fulfilled his promise to you, "I love you" slipping from his lips when you finally reached your euphoria.

"I love you too, Eijirou."

"I'll always love you more."

[yeochikin]

cupcake. | c. san

a/n: thank you so much anon for requesting! contrary to the mingi e2l fic, this one is a tad shorter and maybe less angst??? also i’m sorry if it didn’t exceed your expectations anon though i hope you enjoyed reading this! do ignore mistakes as this has not been proofread! ✨💖

“you can't just fucking copy and paste the whole wikipedia page!” you hissed over at the male who seemed unfazed by your protests after taking a look at his part of the assignment you were partnered up with, picking at his nails boredly.

of all people in the class, your lecturer just had to pair you up with choi san.

choi fucking san.

what comes to mind whenever his name is mentioned? if anyone had heard the question, the answers would be similar.

he's the athlete, the top player in the field, the football team’s hope and pride. he is choi san who has the whole college smitten over him as soon as he entered the fields, and scream out his name whenever he grabbed the ball and made a run for it to the opponent's goal, ignoring the opposing team’s defense and strikers coming up to tackle him down to steal the ball. 

not only that, he excelled in his studies, managing to be at the top of your class after every test your class would hold. a lot of people in your college wished that they had the ability to be able to balance their studies and sports at the same time. you would be lying if you denied that you didn’t wish to know his secret in time management as well because, let’s be honest, sometimes you would procrastinate your assignments and had to rush through finishing them once the deadline was near.

to anyone else in the college, choi san is everyone else's dream guy. with a single piercing gaze or a smirk being sent in their way, they are bound to stutter all over the place or would even return the smirk with a wink or flirty advances, only to have him shut them down just as soon as they tried. it was safe to say that everyone wanted to be or be with, choi san.

only if he would get his head out of his ass. 

you can't help but to roll your eyes at his lack of response after you ranted at how he just slapped on wikipedia's history of how theatres started in the first place before you groaned and slammed your head on the table, not even wincing from the loud thump against the wooden furniture. You wondered if he genuinely had no idea of how to do this assignment or he was just being petty.

you would bet a whole pizza it was the latter without a heartbeat.

“why did i ever get partnered up with you?”

“the same question is in my mind, cupcake.” san spoke nonchalantly, now resting his cheek against his knuckles as he stared at the mess of hair on the table in front of him.

“call me cupcake one more time and i'll stab you with a plastic spoon.”

“sure, cupcake. very scary of you.” you merely glared at san, who was looking at you with a glint of mischief swirling in his dark irises while the corners of his lips threatened to curl in the annoyed gaze you sent him.

you don't know how you and san started to hate each other. you barely ever interacted with him at all. though you might have an idea why. you had received the highest mark in your  test one time, much to your joy. you would have to admit, it was satisfying to feel the smugness in san be replaced with shock once he had heard about it. while your classmates congratulated you as the class had come to an end, san glared holes in the back of your head, labelling you as his rival instantly.

now, whenever you crossed his path, be it in the hallways or just literally everywhere on the campus grounds, he would send you a dirty look or two. at first, you felt conscious from the way he stared at you, thinking if there was something in your face or hair, or maybe your clothes? your best friend, yunho, would reassure you that there was nothing wrong with you and to not mind him as such. 

easier said than done. especially when the two of you have the same class together. your annoyance grew from the way san would sit behind you and purposely kick your seat, feigning innocence when you asked what was his problem. not only that, he would also lay pranks on you, like the old whoopie cushion thing so the whole class would look at you. or how he would even throw paper balls aimed at your head while class was in session. he would even purposely put his leg out while you weren't looking to make you trip in your steps, laughing with his friends afterwards and calling you ‘miss klutz’. you were lucky that yunho was there to catch you by the arm or you would've landed on your face.

it is when you finally snapped that you literally dragged him back into class as the other students had filed out, leaving the both of you alone. 

“what the hell is your problem with me?” you asked, trying to remain unaffected at the way his hard eyes stared down at you. 

san feigned confusion. he might be the college’s football star, but he sure as hell sucked at acting. 

“i don't know what you're talking about.” he answered plainly. 

“oh? then what about the kicking on my seat? the pranks you laid? what are you, 5?” you ranted, eyebrows all furrowed, the apples of your cheeks were tinted with a faint shade of pink from the rising temperature of your body due to the anger slowly pouring out of you. clearly you didn’t want to waste your time in college dealing with such childish acts.

but the boy merely stared at your face for a few seconds once you were done, only then suddenly laughing and rubbed a hand across his face.

“something about you just irritates me to the core.” he said, causing you to feel the slight sting of his venom laced tone in your chest, swallowing thickly as you could feel the anger in you rising.

with a shove of his hands into his pockets, san smirked down at you and leaned his face close to yours with you backing away slightly from the sudden close proximity between the two of you. 

“y/n l/n, you irritate me.” 

those were his last words before he walked off, deliberately bumping his shoulder against yours, leaving you in the now empty classroom with fists tightly clenched to your sides and jaw clenched.

‘the feeling is mutual, choi san.’ was the last thing in your head before you blinked the angry tears away, gathering your things and quickly headed out to your next class.

and after that incident, it was no surprise that everyone felt the tension between the two of you. especially when the two of you decided to beat each other in who would do better in class, one of you would send smug smiles whenever the other had received a lower score than the other. And when your college had its annual football games every year, you would instead scream another player’s name while the others would cheer san’s name.

sometimes, one of your classes would even have an impromptu debate. that only fueled the fire between the two of you. instead of facts and refutes being argued, it would always end up with the two of you sending bickers back and forth, up to the point of being kicked out of class by your lecturer.

one of your poor lecturers must’ve had enough of the both of you not resolving whatever grudge the two of you are holding against one another that when he announced the two of you were paired up, both san and you felt like the world suddenly stopped spinning. with wide eyes, you turned to look at the boy, who was no doubt already glaring at you with his tongue poking his inner cheek.

“well, fuck you too, san.” you hissed underneath your breath, yelping as yunho nudged your side with his elbow, pouting at the way he shook his head.

“if you get kicked out one more time, i'm not gonna lend you my notes.” he said, turning his head to pay attention to the lecturer afterwards.

“jung yunho!” 

so, here you are. stuck with choi san until the two of you are finished with the assignment. 

the first few days of having to work on this project was only filled with the two of you sending insults to one another back and forth instead of actually working on the assignment. by the fourth day, however, you had expected san to comment on your hair or even your clothes once you arrived in the library. as much as you wanted to retaliate, you instead had to sit him down just to say that the days spent arguing with each other could be used to work on your assignment, and the two of you didn’t have that much time as it was due in five more days. though reluctant, the male released a low sigh and agreed to finally get things started. 

but of course, his pettiness didn’t stop there. Hence, the reason why you are ranting to him.

“san, i’m serious, we really need to get this started.” you pinched the bridge of your nose. 

“and did i not have a head start on this assignment?” said male retaliated, crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

“you are unbelievable.” 

“why thank you, cupcake.”

“fuck off.” you groaned and slumped against your seat. 

‘this is going anywhere at all.’ you thought, a hand coming up to card your digits through your hair before you heard the clicking of keys of a keyboard from a certain raven haired male in front of you. 

you had to lift your head to see what he was up to now. to your surprise, san was rapidly typing up something into his laptop, eyes all focused and teeth sometimes chewing on the soft muscle of his lower lip. 

“stop gawking at me, cupcake.” he said suddenly, now casting his gaze away from the laptop’s monitor to your face, effectively making you look away, and pretended to focus on your laptop, busying yourself by focusing on your part of the assignment. much to his amusement.

taking the brief opportunity, san had his eyes on you. Something about you was intriguing to him. he had always seen you as a rival in the classes you shared, wanting to beat you in any scores. he won’t even forget the amount of times he would see you in one of his games, though you weren’t looking at him with the same excitement in your eyes as the other spectators. you were.. Intriguing. 

so much, that it bothered him day and night. wondering how your reactions were always so interesting every time he pulled on your leg. he can’t get your damn face out of his head to the point he just grew irritated at it. thus, taking it out on you by doing petty things. 

“stop gawking at me, san.” your voice reached his ears and managed to make him snap back into reality, rolling his eyes before looking back down at his laptop. 

“whatever.” he grumbled.

and for the first time, silence hung over the two of you. the only sounds present were the clicking of keyboards, the occasional doors opening and being closed by the students either entering or leaving the library, the quiet laughs from another group of students in another table a few feet away from yours while the both of you were slowly trapped into your own worlds.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

a low groan left san’s lips as he stretched his arms out back, letting out a yawn in the process to make the drowsiness he accumulated from having to work on the assignment go away, sighing as the his tense muscles loosened up from the hours of staying hunched in front of his laptop. dark pools of chocolate stared out the window, and judging by the sky had turned from a clear blue to a now orange and crimson with a few specks of pink here and there, it was already evening.

a soft snore made its way into his ears, causing the male to look over at you. It seems you had fallen asleep while working from the way your hands were somehow still on the laptop’s keyboard yet your head was rested on your left arm. some of the strands of your hair had blanketed your cheeks as your eyelids were closed shut, twitching ever so slightly. for once, your face looked as if it was at ease, a huge contrast from your daily scowls and clenched jaw every time the two of you see each other in the hallways or class. 

it was when you let out a light groan that managed to make san snap out of his daze, blinking a few times as he caught himself staring at your sleeping figure. clearing his throat to hide the growing heat blooming over his cheeks, tugging the collar of his shirt slightly to let the breeze from the library’s air conditioner cool off the sudden warmth he felt creeping up his neck. he had made the conclusion that the two of you were done for the day.

the screeching noise from the legs of the chair dragging against the floor was enough to jolt you awake, immediately lifting your head, though your eyes were squinted due to heaviness of sleep still evident on your eyelids. 

“good morning to you too, cupcake.” san mused, shoving his laptop into his bag. 

ah, there it was. the look of distaste has appeared yet again. san couldn’t help but to snicker inwardly at the sight.

“i said don’t call me that. what time is it anyway?” you yawned, then stretching your arms out in front of you to get rid of the sore feeling on your lower back and shoulder blades.

“time for us to go is what it is.” san answered plainly, smirking at the way you sent him a glare. 

“unless, you wanna sleep in the library, cupcake.” he added.

seeing his point, your lips formed into a defeated pout as you started to gather your things, double checking to make sure you saved your work in your laptop. pushing the chair in, you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder. All you need right now is to lie down in your bed after a good shower.

“i’ll see you tomorrow. you better not copy a whole wikipedia page again, san.” you said, walking past him. 

you were a few steps away from the library’s main door until you heard san calling out your name, making you freeze momentarily in place. confused, you turned around to see san rubbing the back of his neck.

“i..” he started. 

your eyebrows furrowed, puzzled to see why he was acting this way. you patiently waited for him to say something, expecting him to send something snarky at your way. suddenly, he shook his head and waved his hand dismissively.

“never mind. don’t be late tomorrow, cupcake.” he said.

scoffing, you looked at him disbelief before shaking your head, turning around to finally leave the library.

meanwhile, san stood in the middle of the library and took a breath in before slowly letting it go, lips pursing out as he did so. his eyebrows furrowed, seemingly feeling a tad odd as to why his heart was beating so fast. The familiar warm feeling was felt in his chest as well as the image of you sleeping had popped into his mind.

with a shake of his head, san quickly made his way out of the library. 

‘i have a lot more things to worry about.’ he thought.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

it has been a few days after that and much to your surprise, san hadn’t been making comments at your clothes or hair or rather, everything about you. even yunho had asked if things are in good terms now, you and san. but you could care less, all you wanted was to finally present the project the two of you had finally finished just yesterday. although it was odd, you were actually grateful that the two of you seemed to have calmed down. yet you had to think at how long this will actually last. 

you’re giving him three days at most before he starts his petty arguments with you again.

you failed to notice the one sitting next to you, thinking that it was only yunho who had finally arrived in class. that was until you received a text from a certain tall peachy haired friend of yours.

‘hey, i can’t make it to class today. i guess it’s your turn to lend me notes this time :p’ the text said.

with furrowed brows, you read the text over and over again. though the more you read it, the more you were confused. what was he talking about? yunho would never miss a class. plus, he’s literally right there next to you. lifting your head up, you decided to confront supposedly tall friend.

“yunho, what did you mean by this te-” your words died in your throat. instead, a sharp gasp was emitted from your lips. 

next to you, san looked at you with a raised brow, amusement painted over the features of his face. 

“cat got your tongue, cupcake?” 

oh yeah, definitely. 

how could someone not be surprised at the way he was acting now? of course if two people hated each other they would have sat at a distance from each other, just like how san would sit near the window, behind you, or even at the back row, just anywhere and not literally right next to you. 

“any reason what you are doing here?” you asked, to which san rolled his eyes at you.

“you seem to forget that we take this class together, cupcake. plus, we needed to present today, remember?” he flatly said, now taking out his laptop as the other students filled the room.

you weren’t surprised to see the confused stares being sent at your way. honestly, you could be one of them too, wondering what the hell was going on. 

“i’m pretty sure there are plenty of seats around?” you mumbled, taking your eyes off of him to take out your own notebook and prepared your stationary for the class.

“and? it’s not like i would burn while sitting next to you.” he retaliated while trying to hide the growing smirk on his lips.

“unless you’re secretly a mage and could burn me anytime soon.” san added, eyes not taking off of his laptop screen to check if everything was in check before going up front to do the presentation.

“i wish i could.” was the last thing you said before the lecturer walked in, and class was in session. 

the both of you were supposed to focus in class but sometimes, you can’t help but to catch san’s gaze on you, him quickly averting his gaze away from you to listen to the first couple of groups present their work until it was finally the time the both of you were up. 

honestly, you weren’t surprised with just how fluidly san explained every little details of your projects from the definition to the history, to the objectives, and even the cause and effects. you, on the other hand, would answer the questions being thrown in between your presentation by either the lecturer or from your classmates. 

san would have to give all the credit to you at how calmly you responded to some of the most obvious questions as well. knowing him, his sharp tongue would have sent them a snarky response or two.

before you know it, the both of you finished your presentation.

“that was wonderful!” your lecturer praised, clapping his hands while both you and san bowed your heads simultaneously. 

“i knew that both of you could work together, look at you finally getting along!” he laughed.

you and san looked at each other then at the lecturer, smiling awkwardly over at him. clearing his throat, san emitted a strained laugh while you just rubbed your arm. the both of you looked so awkward that it was almost painful to the eyes. 

“we sure are…” you muttered, making your way back to your seat once the two of you were allowed to go back to your seats.

despite all of that had happened though, you felt like a huge weight has been lifted off of your shoulders. with the days of non stop bickering with choi san, the constant erasing and retyping up a few paragraphs, along with the all nighters being held… it's safe to say that you are finally free. for now, that is.

since the professor of your final class of the day had cancelled it, you had planned to just go straight home, considering that you were free for the whole afternoon anyway, and catch up on that much needed sleep that you had lacked the past week. And the fact that the next day is a weekend as well? You weren’t surprised if you slept until sunday. so as soon as the lecturer had wrapped things up for the day, you started to gather your things.

“cupcake, can i talk to you for a second?” san spoke up, making you halt your movements in packing the things up.

at first, you found the nickname to be utterly cheesy and a tad embarrassing. you had tried to make san stop calling you that, even if it meant for you to send a sharp glare at his way whenever he called you that. you had slowly grown accustomed to the name and dare say, started to like the nickname. as much as you hated to admit, you also thought that it sounded cute. 

“what do you want, san?” 

once again, it felt as if you were back on that certain day while at the library. san rubbed the back of his nape sheepishly and looked down at the floor, before taking a deep breath in, exhaling through his nose then looking up at you.

“care to have lunch with me?” he offered.

you could only stare at him, dumbfounded at his sudden offer. after a few seconds, you chuckled and scratched the back of your ear, while san scrunched his eyebrows. 

“i'm sorry, i thought i heard you wrong. i thought i heard you asking if i wanted to have lunch with you?” 

“that's what i just said?” 

your jaw went slack as you stared at him with wide eyes, resembling a deer caught in headlights. your eyes searched his face as if to look for any hints of him just kidding and go back to bickering with you over the smallest things.

but it never came.

instead, he genuinely looks confused. 

“and for what? are you gonna poison my food?” you eyed him in a skeptical manner, eyes narrowed. san snorted and shifted his weight on one foot as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“had i wanted to poison you, i would have done it a while ago.” he mused.

okay, is this really san? the boy who had laid pranks on you? the boy who wanted to make everything in class with you a competition? the one who made the both of you kicked out of the classroom? the one-

“cupcake? i'm not gonna hurt you, damn.” san reassured, rolling his eyes as he sensed the still unsure expression on your face.

“i'll explain when we get lunch, mm? now, come on.” 

before you could even protest, san grabbed your arm and pulled you out of the classroom, much to the curious stares being sent your way by your classmates.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“this place looks cute. How did you find it?” you asked once you settled down in your seat, san sitting across from you.

the two of you ended up in a small cafe just near your college. you were actually surprised that you hadn’t come across this place from years of being in college. though with how it was surrounded by other tall buildings in the area, you thought that it would be understandable how you didn’t see the place in the first place. yet, you weren’t complaining. with how it was hidden among the large buildings, it wasn’t crowded and you liked it. however, you didn’t expect san to have known this place.

san leaned against the table, elbows both resting on top of the faux marble with a shrug of his shoulders, and then he smiled. you silently took the short chance to admire the way his usual sharp gaze looked so… tender with the way he smiled, some sort of fiery yet passion had glazed over them. you recently noticed how he had an eyebrow slit as well, not even going to lie to yourself at how he managed to pull that look. 

“i recently knew about this place a few days ago on the way home after football practice.” he simply answered, glancing out the windows that seemed to almost reach the floor.

of course, the aesthetically pleasing cafe was not enough to keep your mind from wandering off. something was still bugging you on the way here. mimicking the way he rested his elbows on the table, you leaned a little closer to him and called out his name, making sure you had san’s attention.

“is there a specific reason why you suddenly wanna have lunch with me?” you asked, the usual sharpness of your voice whenever you bickered with the male was replaced with a soft, yet genuine curiosity laced in your tone as you spoke.

san, realising the real reason he had brought you here in the first place, sent you a little smile, albeit awkwardly.

“well, you know how the college’s football team would have a game every year, no?” he started, not really sure as to how to really break it to you.

“i mean, obviously. you guys have it every year, and have yet to have one this year.” you said, now resting your chin on the palm of your hand.

“which is really soon.” he added.

“how soon?”

“next week on wednesday? damn, i knew you weren’t into our matches but i didn’t it was to the point you would forget the dates.” he laughed, shaking his head.

“you gotta remember that i was also busy burying myself researching about our topic.” you deadpanned at him. 

the both of you looked up as an elderly lady came to your table with a tray in her hands filled with your orders, mumbling a low ‘thank you’ as soon as she walked away. swirling your straw around in your milkshake, you took a small sip out of it, humming in approval as soon as the sweetness from the drink washed over your tastebuds. 

“anyways, what about the game?” you asked, taking another sip from your milkshake.

“will you be coming?” 

that was enough to make you choke onto your drink, causing you to choke as san quickly handed you a napkin with wide eyes to which you gratefully took and wiped the corner of your lips and chin, looking down at your clothes in case some of the droplets landed on them. 

“you okay there, cupcake?” he asked, concerned but still amused to see your reaction.

“i.. you do know that i barely even know how football works.” you started with a slight cough in your sentence.

“so? i’m sure like half of the college doesn’t even know how it works.” he replied with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, taking a small piece of his chocolate cupcake, promptly eating it once he lifted the fork up to his lips. 

“and why are you asking me whether i will come or not?” 

you were genuinely confused at this point. you barely even know how football works, all you know is that someone just had to bring the ball to the opponent’s goal and… touchdown? yeah, that’s pretty much it.

“well.. It’s either a yes or a no question. you can either come or not, your choice” was san’s response.

his gaze was on the little piece of the cupcake he had on his fork, but instead of eating it, he poked it against the surface of the plate. he didn’t have the courage to actually voice out his reason, san knew he had a bit of a difficulty when it comes to voicing his feelings. especially if it involved some type of apology. 

you could only stare at him in silence. so many thoughts suddenly swarmed in your mind at his offer. what happened to the san who always started arguments with you, and who is this quiet boy sitting in front of you poking his cupcake? you decided to shrug the thoughts away,

“i’ll think about it.” you mumbled.

silence started to fill in between the both of you, both eyes focused on either your drinks, your food, or the scenery out the window. the longer the both of you were in, the more you were feeling fidgety in your seat. as if wanting to fill it, you parted your lips to start a random topic.

“y/n.”

the way san suddenly called your name made you stop yourself, caught off guard from the way he had called your name. usually it would be the usual nickname. when your eyes met with his own, you tilted your head slightly to the side as if urging him to continue whatever he was about to say. you couldn’t help but to notice the slight flicker of conflict happening in his eyes along with the way san’s lips opened and closed, looking like a fish out of water, as he contemplated his words. as if to reassure him that he could take his time, you sent him a gentle smile. 

but what happened after that made san freeze in place.

your hand, although a bit unsure, reached out to grab his. switching his gaze from your hand in his to your eyes, he could feel the growing warmth spreading all over his chest yet again. before he could ask what you were doing, you beat him to it.

“take your time in collecting your thoughts, i’m ready to listen.” you whispered.

it was another side of yours he hadn’t seen before. well, towards him, that is. san would always be greeted with your sharp tongue and the irritated tone of your voice whenever the both of you were caught in the middle of your heated arguments. but this time… you sounded so.. gentle? san wasn’t sure but all he knew is that your words managed to comfort him. 

with a faint nod of his head, his eyelids fluttered shut as he took in a few deep breaths to calm his nerves, hand still holding onto yours. once ready, he faced you yet again.

“do you… really hate me?” he asked. 

the question surprised you. 

yes, yes i do hate you. yes, i hate how you make everything a competition whenever we have class together. i hate how you would smugly act like you weren’t the one who kicked my chair. i hate how you have to act like a total smartass and make me look dumb whenever we have our debates. 

you wanted to say those words but.. somehow, you couldn’t. from the last few times of working the project with him, you had come to the realisation that all of it was childish, that all of it was merely petty. is it really hate? or was it just pure annoyance? 

you swallowed thickly as you subconsciously gave san’s hand a gentle squeeze, to which made the male look down at your intertwined hands. 

“i’m gonna have to know the same thing.” you said underneath your breath. 

the words that left your lips made san shake his head, calling out your name softly so that you could look at him. 

“i… never hated you. i guess i just felt.. challenged?” he explained, grimacing at his choice of words.

“if you meant by the one time i beat your score back then i don't think it's val-” 

“no, god, no!” san cut you off immediately with a shake of his head. straightening up in his seat, he had decided that it was time to get this over with.

“i guess… i guess i just thought that you were interesting to me. where you would be so unbothered by everything around you, the only concern you had were about your studies.” san explained softly, and you listening to his explanation intently.

“and from the way you talk about things so animatedly towards yunho, believe me, i heard about the stories you told to him when i was sitting behind you.” he chuckled at the way your ears turned pink, playfully glaring at him.

“i can't help but to feel intrigued but the more i wanted to shove those feelings away, the more it started to bother me. the more it bothered me, the more i… grew angry.” he said sheepishly as he saw the way your eyes somehow brightened up upon finally registering the words in your head and realising something.

“and i'm guessing you took the anger out on me?” you asked, to which san hung his head low with a small guilty nod of his head.

you couldn't help but sigh. true, there was a lot to process on. with how he had treated you before, surely, you would have yelled at him right in the face for doing so. you could even dump your milkshake on top of his head to get a taste of his own medicine from how he embarrassed you from his pranks. 

but… but you just can't.

“as much as i wanna punch you for making my whole years of college a living hell,” you spoke, san flinching his shoulders as he caught his lower lip in between his teeth, preparing himself for whatever has to come. 

“i acknowledge your intentions.” you added. 

“however, that doesn't mean i condone your actions, choi san.” 

san nodded his head quickly at your words. he won't lie, he had never thought that the short period of time working on the project with you was enough to reevaluate his actions towards you. he had remembered the time where one of his friends on his team, mingi, explained that it was no use trying to take his frustrations out on you by picking up the pettiest arguments instead of talking things through. yet, he was stubborn.

if he was being honest, san was grateful that the lecturer had assigned both of you as partners for the project. had he not, god knows how long san would have taken to actually speak about this with you.

the squeeze on his hand managed to gain his attention, his piercing gaze softening up at the sight of your warm smile. 

“i want you to promise me something, san.” you spoke once again, him tilting his head to urge you to say whatever it is.

“i want you to promise me that we won't fight anymore. it will take time for me to completely forgive you yet that doesn't mean i will pass an opportunity to start over.” you said, face all serious yet your eyes held the same gentleness to them.

san could only stay silent. not because he was contemplating your words but rather, surprised that you wanted to actually start over with him. the warmth in his chest only now expanding and surging throughout his whole body, while the palpitations of his heart increased. he's relieved. he's happy. and.. he wants to start over again. with his cheshire cat smile, san nodded his head. 

“i promise.”

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“and aurora team has won the game!” the speaker announced in the remaining few seconds of the match.

that alone was enough to make the whole crowd go wild. some screaming, some waving their hands frantically in the air. the other side, some held disappointed looks while most consoled the losing football team. In the field, players shook their hands while praising each team for playing well. 

placing his hands on his hips, san tried to catch his breath from the intense match earlier before taking off his helmet and shook his head, his raven strands were a tad damp from the sweat. his eyes were looking around for you, though he swore he had seen your face right in the front row as they were preparing for the game earlier on but you weren’t there? maybe it was his imagination

feeling a slight weight on his shoulder, san looked at the owner. wooyoung, who was the one patting his shoulder, sent him his usual bright grin, promptly patting san’s ass. the latter wasn’t feeling uncomfortable from it, knowing how it was his best friend’s way of being affectionate.

“good game out there, san.” he laughed, slinging his arm around san’s shoulder as they walked.

“yeah, you too, wooyoung! your defenses have improved.” san praised the other boy who let out a light chortle. 

“gotta be on a par with my best friend, ya know?” wooyoung joked, letting san’s shoulders go so that the both of them could freshen up.

it was when san finally got out of the locker room that he saw a figure he didn’t expect to see. pushing yourself off of the wall you were leaning against, you approached san, his eyes focusing on some kind of a small box with a neatly tied bow stuck on the lid. though you had a little scowl on your face, your eyes looked to the side to hide the growing crimson blooming over the apples of your cheeks.

“you played well today so here. consider it as a treat for you.” you mumbled, effectively making san’s eyes to widen ever so slightly, yet he decided to tease you a little more. 

“you never fail to surprise me with your unpredictable self, cupcake.” he chuckled, taking the both into his hands. it was rather light weighted, he was almost convinced that it didn’t have anything in it but with the slight rattle from the inside, there was something inside.

“can i open this?” he asked, you nodding your head. 

your eyes watched him slowly untying the little bow you had made yourself before he slowly opened the lid, anxiously waiting to see his reaction upon seeing the little gift you had given him. a gasp resonated around the both of you as san’s eyes widened at the sight. 

reaching into the box, he lifted up the little bracelet decorated with black and purple beads, seemingly handmade. he couldn’t help but to notice the little cupcake charm dangling off the bracelet along with his initials.

“i thought that cupcake would remind you of me just how a mountain reminded me of you.” you said.

only now did san realise the bracelet around your wrist, only the beads were in your favourite colours with your initials on them instead. He also didn’t fail to notice the little mountain charm dangling on it as well. 

“i’m sorry if it’s not much but i really hope you i-”

your words were suddenly caught in your throat as you were engulfed into a tight hug. the familiar scent of san’s cologne wafted into your nose and filled your senses, slowly making you intoxicated and wanting more. slowly, your arms encircled themselves around san’s torso, feeling him hold you closer against him and felt a slight pressure brushing against your ear. 

“thank you, cupcake. i love it, a lot.” he whispered.

those words were enough to make your lips stretch out into a wide grin as you buried your face against his shoulder, thankful that he couldn’t see the pinkness blooming over your cheeks. 

“should we celebrate your victory at the cafe, san?” you mumbled, almost muffled with how your face was pressed against his shoulder.

laughing lightly, he pulled away ever so slightly, just enough to have a look of your face and nodded his head. before the two of you started to walk, san held out the box and asked if you could put the bracelet on him, claiming it was much more special to have the maker putting it on instead of him. of course, you couldn’t resist. especially not when he looked at you with those puppy eyes of his.

once it was on, you watched as the male happily shook his hand gently and watched with an awed expression at the way the little charm moved. content, he sent his bright grin and held out his arm for you to take, which you happily took as the both of you started to make your way to the cafe

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

“hey san, your girl’s here!” wooyoung’s loud voice as soon as he saw you making your way to the sidelines of the field made san stop his stretches, all sweaty from the amount of times he practiced for the day. 

“wow, she brought food too?!” mingi’s deep voice boomed, getting up from the grass and jog up towards you, san trailing behind.

“hey guys! I brought food since i know you guys must’ve been starving from practice.” you laughed as soon as yeosang made his way near wooyoung, no doubt wondering if you had brought any chicken with you. 

soon, the rest of the team had sat down in a small circle eating the food that you had brought for them. some of them were still discussing their strategies and forms when on the field in order to improve their mistakes, while some are just relaxing and talking about random topics. it was when you felt two arms wrapping themselves around your waist made you look up, seeing the bright smile of your boyfriend, san. 

true to his words, san kept his promise in starting over with you. the next few days after the incident in the cafe were a bit awkward, san constantly apologizing if he had said the wrong thing to you, though you had to reassure him every time that it was alright. you knew that it took some time getting used to so you were incredibly patient with him. your classmates, especially yunho, were glad the two of you had finally made up from the grudge against one another. it took you a while, but san managed to warm up to you, even interacting with yunho as well.

the rest of the time was spent hanging out at the cafe after classes, making it your and san’s favourite place to go to. the days of hanging out turned to weeks, and to months. it was the sixth month that things took a whole new turn, a good turn.

“what’s all this, san?” you had asked, noting all the decorations had adorned the small cafe, 

from what you remember, the cafe didn’t really hold any special occasions, as the elderly lady had said. san merely led you further inside the cafe, his hand on your lower back as he gently led you to the back, effectively making your eyes widened in awe from the sight.

there, polaroids of either you or san or even both you in them decorated the walls and hung on the little strings. balloons were floating in the air as in the middle of it all was a small table with a tray of your favourite flavoured cupcakes. turning around to face san, you were about to ask what the occasion was. Yet your words suddenly disappeared.

san, stood in front of you with a single red rose in hand, his lips holding a fond smile with eyes looking down at you in an adored manner. 

“y/n l/n, my cupcake..” he started, you softly giggling from the nickname. of course, he just had to throw that name in.

“i know that i have been a total ass to you during the first time. but i wanted to thank you for giving me a second chance to start over, and fix all of the problems we had.” your expression softens before you feel san grazing your cheekbone with his knuckles, making your stomach flutter at his gaze. 

“you were always patient with me, still are. you weren’t afraid to call me out on the shit i did. you’re always there to cheer for me in every match i have, even if you still don’t know how football works.” the raven haired boy couldn’t help but to laugh at the playful glare you sent towards his way before continuing what he really wanted to say.

“but along the way of our friendship... “ his voice trailed off, suddenly feeling his nerves racking up his mind. 

as if sensing him tense up, you grabbed san’s hand. just as you did the first time to console him. the gentle reassuring look in your eyes managed to soothed san’s feelings, the nervousness slowly dissipating.

“all i’m trying to say is, i wanna try us, cupcake.” he finally managed to say, nervous eyes looking into your own soft ones. 

his words were enough to make the smile on your lips stretch into a huge jovial beam. without a word, your arms wrapped around his neck, much to san’s shock. quickly gathering himself, san instantly engulfed you into his own embrace and buried his nose into your hair, lips brushing against your crown.

he didn’t need an answer, but he already knew what it was.

“what’s in that pretty mind of yours, cupcake?” san whispered into your ear, sending chills down your spine as he did so.

turning around in his arms, your own arms wounded around his waist, reaching a hand up to move some of the stray strands of raven locks covering his eyes. “hm, about us?”

the response was enough to make san raise an inquisitive brow, “oh?”

“it’s a surprise that at first we were at each other’s throats and suddenly, look at us.” san merely chuckled and leaned down just enough so he could bump the tip of his nose against your own.

“hey, lovebirds! hurry up or we’ll finish your food too!” wooyoung yelled, making the both of you look at him, realising how the whole team was looking at your way.

“you better not!”

and with that, the both of you walked towards the group hand in hand, the little cupcake and mountain charms dangling on the bracelets around your wrists.