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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years ago

Text

Ch. 2

Shigaraki Birthday Celebration! 18+ MINORS DNI

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, brief male masturbation, tags will be added for smut in the next two parts

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: In which studying is done, unwilling connections are made, and Tomura thinks about the way you smell a totally normal amount.

AO3 mirror

Taglist: @dillybuggg (just shoot me an ask if you want to be tagged!

Tomura hadn’t stopped staring at his phone since he left the apartment. It was second nature by now—head down at a nearly ninety degree angle, hoodie pulled up to hide hair he hadn’t bothered to comb in weeks, and phone out, held just far enough away that he could see the pavement behind the screen.

He’d found that people tended to naturally avoid him this way and he didn’t have to risk accidentally making eye contact. It was still a bit nerve wracking to venture into buildings he didn’t expressly have to for classes, so he was still hesitant to make the voyage from his apartment to the library. But he’d made the mistake of mentioning plans to his roommate and the bastard wouldn’t leave him alone about it afterwards until he was practically shoved out with the door locked behind him.

He was half tempted to make up some excuse last minute and go hide out at the only cafe on campus he could tolerate, but Tomura knew he was just delaying the inevitable. Biting the bullet now would help to not prolong his suffering.

Your text thread glared up at him in stark white on blue as he pushed past a crowd of students by the library entrance and flashed his ID to the attendant.

Group Project Bitch:

— hey I got us a room on the third floor, all the way in the back

—text me when you’re here I’ll wave you in, it’s kinda hard to find T-T

sounds good—

He shot off a quick text to you that he was hoping on the elevator. The other two guys in the lift may have given him a dirty look for only going up to the third floor, but Tomura sure as hell wasn’t going to risk the physical exertion of stares when just the thought being stuck in a small room alone with you for god knows how long already had him sweating.

When he stepped out, you were leaned against one of the 90s-green shelves, scrolling aimlessly through your phone. He panicked momentarily, thinking he’d have to get your attention cause just walking up without saying anything would be weird right?

He wasn’t sure.

He didn’t do shit like this.

Thankfully, you looked up at the chime of the lift and waved him over. His red sneakers squeaked as they scuffed the linoleum floors and he already regretted choosing his tighter fitting pair of sweats. The tapered legs that hugged his ankles and thin calves rubbed against his skin and stung the raw patches.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” you said softly and he nodded, following as you began to weave through the stacks. “Sorry it was short notice, graduation’s coming up so I'm swamped with meetings.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t have anything going on.”

He cringed internally at the way his voice cracked, trying to keep the usual rasp to a minimum. His roommate said it was from the innumerable hours he spent shouting at his monitor or on discord, which was probably true but to you he was sure he just sounded like a fucking teenager.

“Cool, I’ve been set up for awhile so feel free to move some stuff,” you talked a bit louder now that you’d both stepped into the study room and shut the door.

Tomura looked around. You’d snagged one of the nicer ones at least, with the big monitors he could cast his screen onto and those comfy chairs he liked but could never beat anyone too on the lower floors.

You were right, there was shit all over the big table at the center of the room. Notes and printed out readings with highlights galore and sticky notes littering the pages were scattered all over. What a show off. You probably tossed all this stuff out so he’d think you were actually intelligent or some shit.

Kicking a pile off of the nearest plush armchair, Tomura took a seat and pulled his laptop out. There was a jack in the middle of the table and you plugged yours in to cast onto the big monitor.

You made a fucking power point for him.

This couldn’t be real.

“So I know I ran some stuff by you in class but essentially I was thinking we make like a simple Twine type thing using the rhetorical argument Swift is making…”

You started rambling again and Tomura almost immediately tuned you out. His eyes drifted between the rough outline you were flicking through on the board and the laptop you had your nose buried in.

It was covered in stickers, pretty obviously stereotypical for someone as obsessed with being ‘cool’ as you clearly were. But as he scanned through the various old meme phrases and aesthetic shit, he caught a couple of game references he recognized and a panel cutout from one of his favorite manga.

He almost fell into your trap for a moment, feeling a rush at the prospect of someone—much less a chick—being into his main hyperfixations.

But it was quickly crushed under everything his years trolling subreddits had taught him. People like you didn’t actually have interests beyond the attention and dick it got them. Plus that manga was pretty popular anyway, you probably didn’t even read it, just thought the line was funny or made you sound quirky. That had to be why you felt the need to drop it in your first texts.

“What do you think?” you asked, making good on your new habit of startling the hell out of him.

Tomura blinked, gaze instinctively turning to you but the blatant way you stared made his mouth turn to sand paper, so he looked resolutely back at the color-coded bullet points on the screen.

“Look’s fine,” he mumbled.

The more he glanced over it, the more it actually did look fine. A bit more than fine, really, which pissed him off even more. The little choose-your-own debate style story was not a terrible way to make fucking Whatever Swift interesting and it kinda looked like you’d bothered to google some simple coding which gave him a better idea of what you were looking for.

It was...good.

And that so fucking annoying.

Well, he wasn’t sure if annoying was the right word for it, but the proposal coupled with your apparent lack of disgust at working with him made his face hot and that only ever happened otherwise when his roommate left the dishes out for weeks or when some newb on his server fucked up their raids.

Then, you had the audacity to plop down in the chair next to him and—

“You can tell me to fuck off if you want,” you began, shuffling in the chair to cross your legs on the cushion, “but I was hoping you’d be willing to show me how you do some of the coding stuff? I tried on my own, but I have literally no clue what I’m doing.”

He could smell you again, like the whole fucking health and beauty aisle at the grocery store. When he turned his head a bit to look at you around the curtain of his hair, you were crooked—back against the armrest and facing him.

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, sounding a bit less rude than he would have liked to.

You just fucking stared right at him though, didn’t wrinkle your nose at how greasy his roots were or how he was wearing the same hoodies as yesterday.

“I’ve always been interested in it, but my program is kinda stressful and I don’t have much free time so I never learned,” you offered and for once Tomura found he didn’t feel his skin crawl under your unwavering gaze.

The dry, cracked area around his eyes burned though as sweat beaded on his forehead and he quickly wiped at his face with a loose sweatshirt sleeve. The garment hung off his shoulders, bought a size too big that he never ended up growing into.

“What’s your major?”

He found the words slipped easily from him. It was the quintessential question you asked of anyone in college when you met, but he’d never been interested in the answer before.

You babbled a bit about your specific area of study and your voice was surprisingly not as infuriating as he remembered it being before. It was softer, he thought, than when you were soapboxing in class about the sexist implications of old as fuck poetry—it had a less grating quality and was almost pleasing to the ear.

Or Tomura would have said that if he thought you deserved the compliment.

But, obviously you didn’t.

So he didn’t.

He just pretended to care about what you were saying and didn’t hang onto every word at all. Actually he was more enraptured in the way your lips moved when you talked. You used your hands a lot too, but his eyes were ensnared on the way your mouth quirked and dipped, at the occasional flash of your tongue between strong teeth. When he leaned in a bit, he could smell your breath too: fruity gum and the remnants of whatever you were always drinking in that loud as fuck cup. He wondered now what exactly it was, so he could buy it and get a better idea of what you mouth might taste—

Nope.

No, see this was exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be thinking about. How were you doing this to him? What a fucking slut.

Tomura steeled his nerves as you started explaining the extracurriculars you did on the side.

“My roommate freshman year actually started a gaming club and so I’ve gotten more into that over the years,” you explained, pointing at the stickers on your laptop case.

“Are you talking about The League?”

“Yeah, I didn’t know if you’d heard of it,” you shrugged.

He knew of the gaming club on campus. He’d thought about joining when he enrolled but the allure of anonymity online gaming provided was too strong. Plus his discord server didn’t have annoying weekly meetings.

The thought of you, up late and illuminated by the blue light of a tv screen, tucked away in one of the basement rooms in the media building was...strange. It also prompted an array of new images—you in those fucking cat ear headsets, seated in his lap as he trashed you in Mario Kart which was even stranger.

Tomura had to physically shake his head to dislodge the thought.

“Uh, we should probably work on this right?” he cringed at the way his voice cracked compared to your own, smooth tone.

You should narrate those fucking sleepy time mediation things. His roommate used to hide wireless speakers in his room and blast those when Tomura stayed up too late. It was annoying as shit then, but if it was you talking, he probably wouldn’t have minded so much.

Or no, no he would definitely mind.

Yes. It would have been worse if anything.

“Oh shit, you right. It’s been like two hours.”

He glanced down at his laptop and saw that it had, indeed, been two hours since he got there. He’d willingly spoken to you for two goddamn hours. It felt like no time had passed at all, but the sun was definitely setting, the overhead fluorescent bulbs taking over as the main light source in the room.

Weird.

So you settled back in your chair, typing away like you always did, but the sound wasn’t nearly as frustrating as before. Occasionally, you’d glance over his shoulder and ask questions about what he was working on, but mostly the two of you settled into a comfortable silence.

This pattern continued for the next few weeks. As the weather warmed, you began to show a bit more skin. He never worked up the nerve to comment on the thick expanse of bare thigh that tapered off nicely into your calf, or the curve of your arms not hidden behind knit sweaters—hell even your fucking shoulders were hard not to look at.

Maybe all those high school dress codes weren’t actually so full of shit after all. Cause he was definitely distracted by the way your neck swooped into the exposed skin of your shoulder and down your back on more than one occasion.

Did all girls know that? Was it some kind of massive conspiracy to crumble the patriarchy or some crap to go flashing bare shoulders everywhere?

Regardless if you really were trying to hypnotize him into liking you, Tomura stayed resolutely in his monochrome, long sleeved attire, and if you noticed the behavior you never said a word.

Never said a word about his allergy ridden skin, peeling lips or scarred throat. Never commented on his terrible posture or said his eyes were creepy. Even when he’d occasionally toss a negative remark your way, you never retaliated maliciously. Just brushed him off with a jovial ‘don’t be a dick’ and a playful, but hard slap to his chest or the back of his head.

The two of you always met in the same, secluded room on the third floor. You’d talk with him in class sometimes or shoot him texts about random bits of inspiration or a late night game memes, but for the most part, your conversations were confined to that room. He found he preferred the study room ‘you’ best. You weren’t as stiff. There was more of a solidity to you, like he’d seen when you told off that Kai bastard.

It...grew on him.

He was irrationally anxious that there would be a time when you couldn’t secure this particular room—with it’s big monitor and comfy chairs and less annoying ‘you’—but he’d been reassured after your third work session.

Someone had knocked softly at the thick, wooden door and a head of wild, bright pink hair peaked around the crack.

“Sup bro,” the intruder quipped, as they stepped fully into the room.

“Hey, Spinner,” you mumbled back, looking up momentarily from the essay portion of your presentation before going back to typing.

Spinner had seemed to notice him at that point and offered a small wave in his direction. “Oh hey, sorry, thought you were alone,” he said quickly.

“Nah, this is Tomura,” you said, glancing up again and jerking your thumb in his direction.

Tomura nodded and tugged at his hoodie strings to stop from scratching under the newcomer’s gaze. He’d gotten used to you, but other people still made him a bit nervous.

“Nice to meet you,” Spinner had a nice smile, bright and flashy when he spoke. He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, looking around the room. “You got the nice one, huh. How’d you manage that?” he asked.

“Yeah,” you half closed your laptop and stretched a bit. “Jin was working the front desk, so I’ve just been bribing him with vending machine snacks.”

“He hasn’t gotten himself fired yet?” Spinner laughed incredulously, but not unkindly.

“Surprisingly not, but he’s completely corrupt now,” you were picking at the cuticle of your thumb and Tomura fixated on the way the skin split off at the nail. Just like his. “A couple packs of chips and a Monster and I get the most bitchin study room whenever I want.”

“Damn,” Spinner chuckled again and Tomura really wished that he’d leave already. He was beginning to feel himself fading into the upholstery as the conversation left him in the dust. The divergence of your attention away from him or the project was even more annoying that you were. “Well, are you coming to The League meeting tonight? We’re busting out a Smash tournament.”

“That’s tonight?” you asked, eyes perking up but sliding subtly in Tomura’s direction. “Sorry, I think Tomura and I are gonna be working on this project for a while longer and I’m kinda burnt out. But next time, yeah?”

Spinner rolled his eyes but nodded and kicked off the wall. “That’s not very sexy of you,” he chided and waved a hand in parting. “Gonna work yourself directly into the fucking grave.”

“Jokes on you, I welcome death.”

You buried yourself in the screen again and Tomura actually felt a bit grateful for you ending the conversation before he got too painfully awkward.

But Spinner stopped before he left, looking Tomura up and down from the frayed strings of his black hoodie to the tips of his worn red sneakers.

“Nice to meet you, man,” he said with a wide grin. “Feel free to tag along next time if you want, we always need more players.”

The door clicked softly shut behind him and Tomura relaxed back into the silence.

He did end up tagging along—though he spent most of the time hanging off your heels like a lost puppy—to the next meeting of your gaming club and the one after that. Frustratingly enough, he learned that your interests did also extend into skills as you almost bested him in a few rounds Smash. Your profile, lit only by the flashing screen lights, was even more striking outside of his imagined imitations.

So much so that it found its way into his head late at night when he was too tired to log onto his server. So much so that it had his cock growing firm and tenting his grey sweats without even the visual aid of his go to porn clips. So much so that sometimes, he felt inclined to do something about the throbbing between his legs. So much so that he thought about the way you picked the skin by your fingers. How it looked like his. How your hand might feel like his but softer. Smoother around the edges. With your sweet voice whispering in his ear, making him whine and pant and spill white ropes of release onto his stomach.

But it was only because you were hot.

And you were practically begging for him to jack off to the thought of you with those outfits and liking all the shit he liked and noticing when he shrunk away from conversations or including him in them when he started to feel that awful sense of fading into the background.

Yeah.

Everybody jerks it sometimes to their group project partners if their ass is nice enough.

Right?

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki imagines #bnha fanfiction #college au #bee.writes

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catzula · 4 years ago

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Focus (on me)

Request (by anon): Congratulations on 400 followers! Can I get Oikawa with 34 from your prompt list? As fluffly as possibe and maybe lil suggestive please :)) THANK YOU!

A/N: Of course, and thank you sm for participating in the event! This was so much fun to write ngl since I’m in love with this dude, like I can’t even explain. I hope you like this!

Warnings: one curse word, is it suggestive? jelaous Oikawa beware / first time I wrote something this short, it’s 1.3k

Synopsis: Your boyfriend isn’t very happy about you spending so much time on a school project with this guy, and he is determined to get your attention somehow

( [F/N] stands for friend/name! )

You didn't know why your teachers were suddenly obsessed with making break-out rooms or group projects, but it was getting frustrating at this point.

You had at least two projects from almost every subject, and you never even found the idea amusing or rational. Group projects were time-consuming, annoying, and especially hard for socially anxious people.

You were at least glad that you were paired with someone you knew this time, unlike your past two experiences of being paired with people you only knew by name and nothing else. So it might've been true that you were a little more enthusiastic about working with [F/N] since you always liked him a bit more than you did others.

You both got along perfectly, had much in common, and you often found yourself bursting into laughter at something he said, laughing till your stomach ached.

Of course, none of this went missing from your boyfriend, Oikawa.

At first, he was also glad you finally got to do a project with someone you liked. He laughed when you laughed, watching you with a warm gaze as he sat in the corner of the room till you finished the project or said it was enough for the day so you could go cuddle watch a movie with your boyfriend after.

But then he noticed your meetings started to get longer and longer, well aware of how you often swayed from work and had a conversation instead. And when you weren't on a zoom meeting with him, Oikawa found you texting each other. Of course, it was nothing serious, harmless, friendly texts and memes (he had to admit the guy had taste... the memes were hilarious), and it was mostly about school or how you were doing. And even though knowing all that couldn't stop him from getting jealous, he couldn't simply go and tell you he was jealous, could he?

So he decided to solve this his way.

"Hey babe," Oikawa entered your room, his voice loud and the word 'babe' emphasized so the guy could hear clearly. "Oh, hey, Tooru." You answered back. You were sitting on your bed as you took notes to the notebook next to you. The guy was also doing the same on the other side of the screen.

Even though you didn't greet him back with 'babe' like he hoped you would, he was still grateful for the smile you offered him. "Are you still working on the project? The one about that book you read? What was its name again... Brother's something?"

"Brother's Karamazov." The guy corrected Oikawa, causing him to make a face as he wrinkled his nose in distaste. "Yeah, that." Oikawa muttered as he settled beside you on the bed.

"Tooru? Did something happen?" You couldn't help but finally ask when he stood quiet and watched you and your friend work, pouting or huffing whenever he talked.

"No? Does something needs to happen when I visit my girlfriend?" Your boyfriend protested (once again emphasizing the girlfriend part), taking your free hand between his larger ones as he played with your fingers. "Well, no, but I've never seen you so interested in my projects." You told him with a giggle, smiling softly when he started to draw hearts on your hand with his fingers.

"Well, maybe not your projects, but I'm interested in you." He muttered to you with that look that sent shivers down your spine. "Tooru!" You told him with widened eyes, your gaze flicking to your screen in embarrassment.

"What are you doing?" You hissed between your teeth when he leaned even more towards you, causing your friend to fake a cough in awkwardness. "I'm just showing what's mine." Your boyfriend growled back, only then making you realize what this sudden possessive behavior was.

"Tooru?" You snickered, not able to suppress your mischievous smile, "are you, perhaps, jelaous?"

"Do I look jealous?" He asked, but the angry look in his eyes had already answered for him. "I'm sure he got it." You whispered, "Just let us do the project, 'kay?"

Even though a pout formed on your boyfriend's lips to your answer, he still shook his head and retracted a bit further away from you, not, however, dropping your hand.

"Um, where were we again?" You asked embarrassedly, since, even though you acted like it didn't, your boyfriend had affected you a lot. "We were talking about (...)"

"Oh, yeah. So as an argument to that, we could say-" You hitched a breath in when you felt something soft and warm on the tip of your fingers, something that oddly reminded you of Tooru's lips. You sent a glance at him, only to meet with his dark brown eyes, looking at you sneakily despite the innocent smile on his lips your fingers were tracing, and knowing damn well what he was doing.

"What?" He asked innocently. "You should concentrate, baby."

You cleared your throat, "Y-yeah, um, as I said, we can argue about how in Dimitri's trial, Foyodor... Um, I- I mean-" You gritted your teeth at the soft lips tracing your fingers, leaving trails of kisses on your palm and wrist, climbing it's way up.

This was torture. Pure torture, how you didn't know where the next kiss was going to be, how slow and soft he was kissing you, how you needed to focus but couldn't, and that was exactly what Tooru wanted.

"Tooru!" You whined, turning your microphone off, when his lips climbed up your arm, getting closer and closer to your neck. "What? I'm not doing anything!" He protested. "And you should be focusing." He emphasized the word focus.

Yes, focus. Focus on me. Oikawa thought as he smiled slyly and kept climbing your arm with kisses that drew you mad.

"Hey, Y/N- are you okay? You sound a little... flustered. We can do this later, too." Your friend told you, of course, Oikawa purposefully stood out of the frame, so your friend only saw you.

"Yeah, Y/N, are you okay?" Oikawa asked, looking at you from underneath his lashes, his lips now almost on your shoulder.

"I'm- I'm okay, let's continue." You gritted your teeth as you turned your microphone on, hoping Oikawa would stop before he moved even further since if he even moved an inch, your friend would be able to see him and his mischievous smile, something Oikawa had wanted from the start.

You held your breath when Oikawa's lips traced your shoulder, making you shudder under his touch, his now a few shades darker eyes locked on your computer screen, at your friend who was watching him with widened eyes and a red face.

"I- um, this is probably not a right time, so maybe we should postpone..." your friend muttered, making the lips that were now on your neck thug upwards.

"I'm- you're right, I'm sorry about this- hey!" You warned your boyfriend when he bit the soft skin of your neck, but you heard him giggle in answer.

"I'm gonna get back at you for this, asshole." You told him just before his lips closed on yours and made you gasp under his touch. Eyes automatically closing and arms wrapping his neck as you pulled him closer, you had already forgotten your friend's presence, melting into the kiss. But Oikawa was more than aware of him watching you with widened eyes, and even though he loved to see the defeated look in his eyes, this cute, flustered face of yours was only for him to see.

So without breaking your lips apart, Oikawa averted his eyes to the screen, a snicker making him smile into the kiss as he clicked the red button, finally able to give you his full attention.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x you #oikawa imagine #oikawa tooru x reader #hq oikawa #oikawa fluff #oikawa x reader #haikyuu oikawa #oikawa x you #hq x reader #hq x y/n #hq x you #haikyu x y/n #haikyu x you #haikyuu x self insert #haikyuu x y/n

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smolchildlevy · 4 years ago

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A Day Off

Karasuno x F!Reader

(Not including the side characters sorry.)

Warnings: suggestive, fluff, language

A/N: This is part 4, and I still have so much in mind I- Well anyway, this is another long one.

It was just another regular, boring day in school. Doing projects and so much work. It was tiring to say the least.

It’s a Friday. The team is supposed to have a Saturday practice.

You’re in your last class, 8 minutes before the dismissal bell sounds. Everyone is chatting and on their phones.

You get a notification. “I wonder who it is” you think to yourself.

You decide to check it.

-1 Message from Captain ✨-

“Oh, it’s Daichi”

Captain ✨: Y/N, can you head to the gym early? You don’t have to, but I asked everyone to since I have an announcement.

Y/N: I’ll try. My teacher likes me so I’m sure she’ll let me go if I tell her why.

Captain ✨: Good! See you in a few :)

Y/N: See ya! 😊

-Captain ✨ and Y/N are offline-

As you thought, your teacher was more than happy to let you go a little early.

You head to the gym once again, curious as to what Daichi has to say. On your way, you spot Asahi, who was buying water from a vending machine.

Walking up next to him, you say, “Asahi! Do you wanna walk together?”

“AH- oh. It’s just you Y/N..sorry.” He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “But yeah, I’d love to.”

“Great! Let’s go see what Daichi wanted us for.”

Side by side you proceeded to walk to the gym, chatting along the way.

Opening the door, you notice everyone’s there. “Maybe it’s a practice match with another team later?”

The both of you head to the group.

“Okay! Now that everyone’s here I have an exciting announcement to tell you.” Daichi declared.

“What is it Captain?” Asahi questions.

“Coach told us we have a break day tomorrow! So, Suga and I decided to go to the beach in Tokyo.”

“YAY!!!” Hinata, Noya, and Tanaka exclaimed.

“Tch.” Tsukishima hissed.

“Sounds fun, but I can’t go.” Kiyoko smiled.

“Awww ok. But yay! Beach day!” You grinned.

After a while of discussing the plans for tomorrow, Daichi tells everyone to pack up clothing and everything else they needed.

~~TimeSkip~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

7:00 am

It’s the day of the trip. After a long night of deciding what to bring, you hop off your bed and put everything in a [insert favorite color] bag.

Then, you get ready— getting dressed, brushing your teeth.

You had put on an nice outfit. (Pick one of these ^ ^)

Walking over to the meeting point (the front of Karasuno), you put on some music in the headphones you were wearing, humming to the song.

As you approach, you hear two voices shouting.

“I GOT HERE FIRST!!”

“NO I DID BOKE!”

You identify the voices as Hinata and Kageyama.

“SHUT IT, BOTH OF YOU!” You hear Suga yell.

They see you approaching and immediately calm down. Then the automatically blush at how cute your outfit looks on you.

“THE PRINCESS HAS APPEARED!” Noya declares.

“Hey!” You sang.

They all say hello to you. Right after that, the bus arrives.

“Y/N, Can I sit next to you?” Suga asks.

“Sure! As long as I can sit next to the window!”

“Mhm! Let’s go.”

“HEY NO FAIRRR!” Hinata complains.

The rest of the boys glare at Sugawara. But he just looks back and smirks.

“Lucky bastard...” Tsukishima mutters.

Both you and Suga sit in the back of the bus together.

On the way, you and Suga watch memes on his phone (with headphones) and laugh at them.

~~~~~~~TimeSkip of a few hours (sorry-)~~~~~~~~~~

10 am

“Everyone get up, we’re here.” Daichi exclaims.

One by one, you all get off the bus.

“Where do we put our things?” You question.

“Oh, the coaches booked us rooms in a hotel. The problem is that it’s three per room with one having four, so we have to decide who goes where.” Suga points out.

“Oooh. Well why don’t we write our names down on paper and mix them?”

“Good idea! I have a notepad in my bag so we can use that.” Suga offers.

He takes it out and writes everyone’s names on small pieces of paper. Then, he puts it in a small empty pocket on the side of his bag.

“Y/N, why don’t you draw three to see who are the first roommates?” He asks.

“Ok.”

You pull out the pieces in sets of three. Daichi writes down each room and who is in it.

Here’s the groups:

(Yes I wrote them myself but I accidentally forgot Suga lol)

“YEA! I GET TANAKABRO!” Noya approved.

“Why do I have to get Saltyshima?!” Hinata murmurs.

“Oh god, this is gonna be chaotic..” Kageyama grumbles.

“Yay! I get Captain, Asahi, and Suga!” You squeal.

Daichi, Asahi, and Suga mentally congratulate themselves for getting this opportunity.

For a second, you thought it was funny that you get a room with the third years.

“Okay, now that it’s been settled, let’s go check in and set our things in our rooms.” Daichi ordered.

You all head to the hotel and check yourselves in.

“After we get settled, get changed into your swimming outfits and we will meet in the front of the building.” Suga advises.

Walking with the third years, you go into your room. After opening the door, you notice something.

“Uhh there’s only three beds.” You say, also noting they are queen sized.

“W-what?-“ Asahi stiffens.

“Coach didn’t tell us that-“ Suga defended himself.

“I guess two of us could lay next to each other.” You shrugged.

“I suppose.” Daichi sighs.

“Daichi I’ll lay with you since you’re the closest to me right now!”

“O-okay then, if you’re alright with it.”

“Dang..” Suga says under his breath.

Once talking it out, you decided to lay with Daichi. But since it’s a queen bed, you wouldn’t be that close so even though the other two were bothered by it, it wasn’t that bad.

—After putting your things down—

“Y/N, do you mind if Suga, Asahi and I go first? It’s so we can make sure everything is in order after we change.”

“Sure! I’ll remind everyone to bring sunscreen and stuff.”

One after the other, they get changed in swim trunks and a shirt and walk out to check on the others to see if they’re doing alright.

Then, you go and change into your swimming things.

Choose one below:

When you were done changing, you put on some clothes over it. (You would take it off when getting in the water.)

You get a text from the group chat saying they were all going to the front.

Smiling to yourself, you walk down to where they said to go.

~~~~TimeSkip to when you get to the beach~~~~~~~

12 pm.

“Ok! Go put down your stuff and you’re free to go!” Daichi affirmed.

“Yes!” Everyone replies.

Everyone goes off on their own, some immediately running for the water.

“Hey Suga, I’m gonna go to the bathroom to put on sunscreen since I forgot. I’ll be right back.” You mentioned.

“Be careful.” He tells you before going to the water.

You skip your way to the closest bathroom near the beach.

Grabbing your sunscreen, you put it on while making sure it’s in every right place. Then, you take off the clothes over your swim suit and put it in the small bag you were carrying.

“Heyy.. where’s Y/N?” Hinata asked Suga, upset that he doesn’t see you.

“She went to the restroom to put on sunscreen. She’ll be back in a second.”

“Dumbass forgot to put it on.” Tsukishima commented, with Yamaguchi snickering in the background.

“Language.” Daichi warns.

After finishing what you were doing, you happily walk back.

“Sorry I had to go for a sec guys!” You apologize.

“It’s alright Y/N-“ Asahi says, suddenly tensing up and becoming flushed.

“What’s wrong Asahi?” Noya questions loudly, then he looks where he was looking. “Oh.”

The rest look away from what they were doing, and look at Noya and Asahi before looking at you.

Just then, their faces become just as red. (Noya, Tanaka and Kageyama even have nosebleeds I-)

“Y-you look nice Y/N!” Yamaguchi spoke up.

Everyone nods.

“Thank you!” You grin while getting in the water as well, a faint blush on you since you’re around several shirtless men.

The day goes really well. Everyone, even Tsukishima, had fun.

3:30 pm.

Now that everyone has gotten tired, you all decided to go back to the hotel.

“I wanna go to a restaurant! My treat of course.” You gushed.

“You don’t have to-“ Suga tries to say, before you but him off.

“I insist! Come onnnn”

“Ok, sure. Let’s do it at around 5:45 pm.”

“YESSS,” Hinata and Noya exclaim.

When you get back, you watch TikToks on your phone and vibe until the time you go to eat.

After eating at the restaurant, they all thank you as they head back to their rooms.

Today was a great day.

Ahhh this took me forever sorry (￣∀￣)

I enjoyed writing this part though

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu!! x reader #suga x y/n #daichi x reader #haikyuu #hinata x reader #hq x reader #noya x reader #x reader #asahi x reader #karasuno x reader fluff #karasuno x reader #ahhh #fluff #tsukishima x y/n #yamaguchi x y/n #kageyama x reader

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wastelandcth · 4 years ago

Text

empathy - cth

summary: a wedding date with best friend!calum leads to new discoveries.

anon requested: maybe a lil wedding date imagine with best friend calum to your cousin’s wedding or somethin 🥺🥺 and possibly the cheesy best friends to lovers trope!!

author’s notes: this one was fun to write, i haven’t done anything outside of the doves for a few weeks so it was a nice break! also, the origin story to the empathy hoodie, what more could you want?

masterlist || request

Calum was always down for a good time. That was one of the main reasons why you two had managed to become so close in your friendship. Whether it was spontaneous sleepovers with wine and crappy movies or going to the beach on a cloudy day to see if it would rain, Calum was always one text away. You were grateful for that, because moving to Los Angeles on your own had been such a scary and new adventure and you met Calum your first week there. It was almost like some magical force had blessed you with him because you two instantly clicked and you found yourself wanting to learn more about the guy with brown eyes who had spilled his oat milk next to you at the grocery store.

It was even more of a blessing now, when your mother had called you a few weeks before your cousin's wedding to inform you that you needed to bring a date to the big day. Normally, that wouldn't have been an issue, but since you'd recently broken up with your partner of a few months and dating in LA was just an obstacle course not ready to be dealt with. So when you texted Calum two weeks before the wedding begging him to accompany you as your date, you almost cried in relief when he asked when you'd need him to pick you up.

The drive to the northern part of California had been eventful. Calum had decided that leaving a day early would give you enough time to explore some of the small towns along the Pacific Coast Highway. That day was filled with karaoke while watching the ocean waves pass by the car, eating way too many french fries, and laughing over memes and tiktoks. It felt carefree, the anxiety over the fact your family was about to meet one of your best friends soon gone as the sunset lit up the sky with pinks and oranges. Calum had stopped at a motel with pink walls that seemed to blend into the sky, the car coming to a stop in front of the lobby as you sat waiting for him to come back with a key.

You were watching him from the glass doors, chuckling as he smiled at something the receptionist had told him. He was wearing his favorite hoodie, a green one that you'd embroidered for him one day while you were both spending the spring day together. He'd been having a hard time writing at home so he asked if it was okay to go over and try to find inspiration there. You'd been working on a present for your sister's birthday present, an embroidery of her dog, when Calum had shown up. He'd sat down next to you while you both quietly worked on your own projects, the warmth from his body making you lean into him without even realizing it. It wasn't long before you had convinced him to take off the plain green hoodie he was wearing and let you embroider something on it.

"What are you thinking of doing?" he asked you, a smile on his face as he watched you pull the fabric tight on the hoop.

"Empathy,' you nodded, "Reminds me of you."

The warm feeling that settled in your stomach that day was something you hadn't felt before when you had been around Calum. It felt like when you had laid in the sunny grass a few months back when Calum had promised to show you around the city for the best spots to find peace and quiet. It was warm and safe and everything you'd never had before.

"We should get some dinner," Calum mumbled as he got back into the car, taking you out of the warm memories, "I saw a few places down the street that looked promising, maybe we could check them out?"

"Yeah, of course." you mumbled and nodded, trying to forget the warmth in your chest.

The wedding ceremony had come and gone, vows and tears shed from both sides of the family. Calum had clapped and grinned down at you as the groom and bride walked down the aisle, squeezing the side of your waist as he led you out after everyone started to walk towards the reception. Meeting your family had been less eventful than you had imagined, everyone seeming to take to Calum almost as easily as you had. Your mother had proceeded to tell him how much she had appreciated that you had a friend in LA and your father had talked with him about the latest news to come out of the soccer world once Calum had informed him that he also tried to keep up with league news.

After dinner, which had mostly been your parents chatting with Calum while your sister snuck in teasing glances when Calum's hand found a place on your thigh. The warm feeling hadn't gone away since the day in the motel. The harder you tried to push it away, the more you noticed it. At dinner, whenever Calum's eyes met yours, you couldn't help but blush and lose track of whatever story you had been telling. During the ceremony, his hand had been in yours, the warmth of his body keeping you calm as you noticed the usually bounce of your nervous leg calmed down.

"Do you want dance?" Calum whispered in your ear at one point, everyone else who had been sitting at the table had left, leaving just the two of you alone. His hand was still on your thigh, squeezing the exposed skin gently as he raised an eyebrow at you.

"Y-yeah, dancing sounds fun." you whispered and cleared your throat as you stood up with him, leading him over to the dance floor.

Calum's arms were the best place on Earth, that's all you knew as you both danced the night away, your bodies pressing against one another as the songs slowed down and more and more people left. Your eyes met Calum, a smile adorning his face as he sang along to whatever song was playing, your mind was too busy trying not to blush as you leaned your forehead against his. A second passed between you two, both too afraid for things to change but both too eager to let anymore time pass, before your lips met one another. A sigh left Calum, making you eager to press your lips to him again when you felt the strong arms around your waist pull you closer.

The moon was still high in the sky when you both walked out of the ballroom, Calum's hand wrapped around your waist as you both made your way back up to the room somewhere on the fifth floor. Your head was laying on his shoulder, a shiver running through you as you stepped into the room and were met with a gust of chilly air. You slipped off your dress in the bathroom, letting the silky material pool at your feet, and changed into whatever pajamas you'd managed to grab from your bag before you had rushed into the bathroom to give yourself time to think about what had happened that night. Calum was sitting on the edge of bed, his curls a mess as he looked up at you. The green hoodie sat next to him, his bottom lip stuck between his teeth as you watched the gears in his brain turn.

"You seemed like you were cold, I thought you would want to wear it to sleep." Calum mumbled after a few seconds of silence, his fingers fiddling with the loose thread of his sweatpants.

You nodded, taking the hoodie and slipping it over yourself, Calum's scent engulfing you as the green hoodie brought the same warmth you'd been feeling for the past two days. Calum's hands found their place on your waist again, pulling you closer into his embrace, and it wasn't long before you were on his lap. Your hands rested on his shoulders as you both looked at one another, something unspoken passing between the two of you before your lips met and Calum leaned back onto the bed with you in his arms.

taglist: @hoodhoran @finelliine @moonlightcriess @dinosaursandsocks @mxgyver @calpops @karajaynetoday @notlukehemmo @calumrose @devilatmydoor @lyss-xo @lowkeyflop

#calum hood blurbs #calum hood imagines #calum hood fics #calum hood x reader #5sos fics #5sos imagines #5sos blurbs #5sos x reader #gemma writes #calum hood #5sos #5 seconds of summer

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astringofmadhousefloozies · 4 years ago

Text

Magicam Live

Vil’s guest is a pest. Contains coarse language, people being catty bitches, and more telling than showing.

You want more, check my Twisted Wonderland Fanfiction tag. If you liked it, let me know!

~*~*~*~

Transcript of Last Week's Magicam Live From *schoenheit_official

Vil: Hello my dearest fans! As promised, I will be showing off my newest capsule makeup collection, to be released this Monday exclusively at Feathersweep Cosmetics. However, due to high demand, instead of simply demonstrating on myself, I thought I would show that anyone could be half as beautiful as me with these!

[He holds a hand out to the side.]

V: Please welcome my fellow student at Night's Raven College, Yuu.

Yuu: Yo.

[A girl with short, dark hair and tired eyes sits down beside him. Spotty and plump, with a notable double chin. She's notably underdressed, compared to Vil.]

Y: I am she. I'm *donegotisekaid, if you haven't seen yet. Full of genuine memes from another universe, as well as me figuring this place out, and pictures of my not-cat.

V: She's simply been begging me for a makeover!

Y: He asked me if I'd do it, actually.

[Vil stops and takes a deep breath, clearly irritated.]

V: Yes, well. You've prepared?

Y: I scrubbed my face real good and managed to leave most of my pimples alone, if that's what you mean.

[Vil sighs]

V: As much as you're capable of, clearly. We'll start with the primer.

Y: [with a smile] Didn't you already give me one on how to act in this?

[Vil pinched the bridge of his nose, regret pouring from every cell in his body.]

V: Just lie back and be quiet until I'm done with you.

[Yuu looks at the camera, but says nothing. There's an audible snicker from behind the camera.]

[There are a few quiet minutes where Vil prepares her face, before selecting a foundation.]

V: So, is there a reason you don't wear makeup? You could look quite nice with it.

Y: Few reasons. It's a lot of effort, and I tire easily. I don't really like the feel of it on my face, and I tend to touch my face a lot anyways, so it doesn't last. It's a lot of money, and I break out very easily.

V: I can see that. Don't you use face wash?

Y: You should have seen me when I did use it! Much worse.

V: Ugh. I'll give you something later. And none of these have a good tone for you.

Y: Just pick the closest! I'll end up wrecking it by a few hours from now anyways.

[Vil rolled his eyes.]

V: Rook, any questions from the chat?

[A familiar accented voice from offscreen]

Rook: *stellargems wants to know how Yuu found herself at NRC.

Y: Transdimensional bullshit. I'm here until we figure out how I can get home. It's not bad, I don't miss it much.

V: Yuu even has her own dorm so she doesn't have to bother anyone.

Y: Not that it stops me.

V: [sotto voce] Don't we all know.

Y: If they kept you in a building with four usable rooms total and no electricity, you'd be out and about too. At least the ghosts there are really nice and help me out.

V: Do you kiss these ones too, or was that a one time thing?

Y: If I hadn't kissed her we'd be down a student and you and half the people I hang out with would be paralyzed, so don't make fun.

[Vil stops to regard the camera.]

V: To clarify, there was an incident with a ghost princess causing a lot of trouble at the school a few months ago. Yuu decided to kiss her to fix everything, because she's both stupid and deeply strange.

Y: It was really fun until I started dying.

V: All her blood was on the outside. It was disgusting.

Y: It did work though!

V: Keep telling yourself that, you didn't kiss the one you really wanted to.

[Yuu gives him the finger, and Vil shoves her hand down.]

R: *vilpleasefathermychildren asks-

[Yuu sputters with laughter. Vil just winks at the camera with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.]

R: They want to know if there'll be a coupon code for the new release.

V: There will! It'll be released via the official fanclub email Sunday night.

Y: It'll be a whole three percent off and you have to pay to access it.

V: Stop that.

Y: [sweetly] No.

Rook: *getterbackback wants to know what your shirt says?

Y: Yeah, hold on.

[She stands and pulls the shirt out to be seen better. It says in large letters, I'M CUTE AND I BITE]

Y: You can do one yourself if you take a dark shirt, tape the parts you want covered, and scorch the area around it with diluted bleach. I've done a few of these, a few designs more than once.

V: Destroyed them?

Y: Nah, Lil wants at least one of every one I do.

V: [to the camera] That would be our fellow student Lilia Vanrouge, from Diasomnia.

Y: He's pretty great. He's *elderbatbrat if you want to look him up.

V: Sit back down so I can figure out which blush to use.

Y: Pinks and corals work best for my skin tone.

V: I thought you didn't wear makeup?

Y: Why do you think I know wearing it tires me out? It's not something I ever did a lot because of the effort.

Y: Except for highlighter. it's basically sparkles and it's light, so I like that.

V: You remember that, but not your proper name?

Y: Ain't life grand.

R: I'm getting several questions about that. Would you care to elabourate for the chat?

Y: Yeah. I don't remember a lot about where I'm from. Culturally? Lots. What I like? What I don't like? Everything. Names and places specific to who I was? No. And don't ask me to think about it too hard, I get the worst fucking headache and I stop seeing right.

V: You've never seen right in your life.

Y: Oh, fuck off, Vil.

[Vil stops blushing one cheek to point.]

V: Stop that.

[Yuu responds by biting at his finger with an audible click when her teeth meet, laughing hysterically as Vil pulls back in shock.]

V: !!! Dreadful little monster!

Y: Yeah, but you're the one who thought you'd get more views if I was here.

R: We indeed just surged another 20,000 views and counting! Excellent work, Yuu.

Y: Thank you, Rook.

[Vil looks ready to explode.]

Y: I won't bite again, that was just too easy. Please continue, I do want to see what magic you can do.

V: This is regular makeup.

Y: Metaphorically, you jackass.

R: *rosemassacre wants to know if you're always like this.

V: She's always this horrible.

Y: Vil first saw me and called me a dumpy little potato. I told him it's because I'm great all ways and everyone wants a taste, and slapped my ass at him. He's been obsessed with me ever since.

V: I am not obsessed with you.

R: You go into a rage over her at least once a week.

V: She can't go a week without being a pest.

Y: I went three after you kicked me out of the movie club.

V: You can't just project violence on the walls of Pomfiore because I said we weren't going to watch it!

Y: Vil, it was The Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2, and it is art.

V: A man gets sawed in half in the first ten minutes.

Y: To an absolutely bangin' soundtrack. Oh that reminds me. Ad time, hold on.

[She wiggles a little before puting on her best customer service face.]

Y: If you want to access media that is quite literally from another world, please go to MonstroMedia dot com and sign up! There's ebooks, movies, tv, music, and more. Much of it is horror, sci-fi and fantasy, as it's from my person collection of media brought with me on my laptop and backup drives. You can use the code SHOENHEITSAYSWHAT for the first month free!

[She put her hand up and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial tone.]

Y: I completely understand piracy, but I'd appreciate if you paid because this is the only way I get spending money, and I can only bat my eyes at these boys so much before they expect something in return for gifts.

V: How'd Ashengrotto talk you into that one?

Y: He was going to make me start paying for all the food I eat if I didn't.

R: *waterwitchesbetgitches says, and I quote, "so like if ur the only gal at NRC how many boyfs you have"

Y: So many. At least twenty. Even more if there were girls here.

V: That is a gross exaggeration. She has maybe three, if we're being very generous on the definition.

Y: [points] And he's mad he's not one of them.

V: [squinting] You are absolutely dreadful and I can't understand how you're so popular.

Y: I like you too, Vil.

[Vil pauses, visibly taken aback.]

V: ... Thank you.

V: You know you're going to have paparazzi on your tail now, right?

Y: Aw, shit.

R: *insertmagicamhandlehere wants to know what's on your neck.

V: An antique chain with an attached charm specially made for me by Soleil Atelier.

R: I believe that was for Yuu.

[Yuu snickers, as Vil looks for himself. When her collar is pulled down, it fully reveals a vicious set of hickeys with visible toothmarks.]

V: Eww.

Y: You should see the other guy.

V: Eww!

[Vil takes a moment to recover, while Yuu laughs.]

Y: That could be a second part! Everyone needs that tutorial. "Bruise Coverup How-to by Vil Shoenheit: For when you just can't keep them off of you."

[Vil mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like "nerds shouldn't be allowed to fuck"]

Y: Then where would your fans be?

V: At least there's only setting spray after this and then you can leave.

Y: Won't you get bored without me here?

R: One last question! *shroudstreaming has asked... well, there's a lengthy keysmash and an all-caps "why".

Y: Ah. Hi, babe!

Y: Hey, everyone go follow him, he's a total fucking babe and he refuses to take my word for it, no matter what I do to him-

[Vil sprays setting spray directly in her face, leading to Yuu coughing.]

V: No taste at all, and gross to boot.

Y: Asshole.

[Vil offers a mirror]

V: No. Miracle worker.

[Yuu looks... well, the same, but with an even, well made-up face.]

Y: ... Aww. You remembered I like sparkles.

V: Less likely to scrub it off if you actually like it.

[Yuu's admiring herself for a few moments in silence, with Vil watching, quite pleased.]

Y: Hey, can I do you next?

V: Absolutely not.

Y: Ask the chat.

V: No.

R: Chat says yes.

V: [With a visible eye roll] Ugh, fine.

Y: Aight. Take your shirt off.

V: What.

[Yuu brings up a case and flips it open. Inside is a magazine with a gory cover, and various things like fake blood and liquid latex.]

Y: Alright kiddies. You wanna learn how to slit a man's throat?

[Vil gets up and walks away without another word.]

Y: You said I could! Get back here!

[Yuu follows. Rook emerges from behind the camera.]

R: That's it for tonight, ma belles. Next time.

[Magicam Live ends, but not before audible yelling and scuffling, quickly cut off.]

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland fanfiction #vil schoenheit

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missinghan · 5 years ago

Text

give it a chance ⤖ lee minho

❖ genre : college au; roommates au; friends to lovers au

❖ word count : 9,6k.

❖ warning : explicit language, slightly suggestive & mentions of alcohol

❖ summary : you convinced yourself to attend a party in order to prevent Lee Minho from doing stupid things; however it’s not so stupid anymore when your roommate said he needed to tell you something important.

❖ a/n : the continuation of what if we is dedicated to @chaninfused, so *clears throat* this is where I hereby declare that she deserves more than what the entire universe can possibly give her; oh hi furat, this is why I’ve been so cryptic all this time. I know this isn’t much but I want to thank you for tolerating me and letting me be mean to you even though we only started talking for a few months; you’re an incredibly great friend and an amazing writer, don’t ever forget that 🖤

one.

It’s been almost a week since Jisung last talked to Minho (albeit texts and FaceTime) and he wakes up to his best friend roaming around his crusty kitchen, struggling to find a bottle of honey. Seungmin’s mom has been constantly sending them thirty packets of rib soup per week. And Minho thinks the sight of Han Jisung slurping on nothing but distorted rice with pork ribs while stressing over his paper for seven days straight is more tragic than his non-existent love life.

“It’s like you’re trying to turn us into gym rats,” Hyunjin snickers lazily, flinging his bangs away from his face. “You even brought us Tupperwares, are you really expecting us not to order tacos impulsively on study nights?” He’s a little dubious about stuff like this because he can feel the actual horror of only eating chicken breast and string beans just by seeing Chan cooking them up.

Seungmin chucks a piece of lettuce towards his direction, “Don’t you have anything else to do other than complaining?” He knows that when Jisung and Hyunjin decide to order food on study nights, they’re gonna do anything but study.

“Uhm, I actually do,” he replies nonchalantly. “I’m going through Minho’s phone.”

Jisung takes a seat next to him by the counter, propping his head onto his hands, “What’s the point? There’s nothing but cat photos and cat memes...and also Y/N as his background.”

“That angle is hideous, by the way,” Hyunjin comments like the true photography geek he is, which is completely ignored by Minho because he’s too cranky to start a fight at ten in the morning. “But it’s kinda cute for you to do that, so I’m gonna turn a blind eye.”

Jisung asks out of the blue, “Who’s going to BamBam’s party this Sunday? Well, besides the other two-thirds of 3RACHA.”

“I have a midterm on Monday, dumbass,” Seungmin mumbles while washing his vegetables at the sink.

“And I’m sleeping over at Lix’s for a project,” Hyunjin informs him lamely, having no intention to attend another single frat party. At least not BamBam’s frat parties—that guy has the weirdest friends; a chick was so drunk that she thought Hyunjin was her boyfriend and almost tried to make out with him on the dance floor.

Jisung secretly hates going to parties without his friends- no, actually, he never goes to parties without people from his social circle because he dreads the whole introduction part that requires formalities and inevitable awkwardness. But it’s not like that with Minho, ten minutes into their very first conversation and he feels like he’s known him for years.

In short, he will die if Minho doesn’t come to the party. Chan can only chat with him for so long until his DJ duty occurs and Changbin’s probably gonna be too busy doing keg stands to care about his antisocial friend.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Minho gives in while chopping up the chicken breasts and this prompts Jisung to clap happily like a seal for the next twenty seconds as he skips over to the fridge to fetch a water bottle. “But we’re gonna need a ride, I’m not taking my motorbike for some crackhead to puke on it. Ask Chan later when you crash at his place.”

Jisung tosses his head back to take a peek at the clock hanging by the bookshelf, and it reads 10:07 AM. He really should be getting for his class at eleven because traffic sucks but he’s not feeling like sitting through two hours of Park ranting about marketing strategies. “Can’t Y/N just drive us? I don’t think she’d let anyone else take you home when you’re not sober,” he ponders, earning a nod of agreement from both of his roommates.

Just when Minho opens his mouth to brush it off, he stops himself to process the information again and holds back a ‘you’re right’ because he hates letting people know that they’re not wrong. He wouldn’t let anyone drive you home when you’re drunk either. “Her car’s with her dad right now,” he tries to sound casual when three pairs of curious eyes are glued onto his back. “I, uh, sorta had it run into a tree last week.”

“You what? How are you still alive?” Hyunjin’s jaw is on the floor and Seungmin accidentally dumps too much vinegar into his salad while Jisung’s choking on the iced cold water, coughing furiously after into the sleeve of his hoodie. Guess Chan’s gonna have to drive them both. After all, he can never say ‘no’ to J.One.

Minho murmurs, “A dude rear-ended me, fucking idiot.” He finishes marinating the chicken breasts and arranges them nicely onto a tray with aluminum foil on top, pushing it into the preheated oven. “And basically she’s never letting me touch her car again,” he sighs while staring into midair dreamily, flashbacking to last Friday when you immediately Ubered yourself all the way from campus to downtown after picking up his call. All he got was thirty seconds of affection; you made sure that he’s not hurt and the rest was just a monstrous tantrum. He ended up sleeping on the couch that night.

“My my, you two are just like an old married couple,” Hyunjin chuckles lightheartedly and shakes his head, scrolling through the series of texts in amusement, “What even is this? I swear your conversation consists of 60% ‘when are you going home?’, 40% ‘your lunch is here’ and 20% terrible cat memes.”

“We’re roommates,” Minho drags the word through gritted teeth, holding back all the murderous thoughts inside his head because he feels like Hyunjin’s just asking for a death wish. It’s too early for this.

Unexpectedly, Seungmin decides he’s in a pretty good mood today since he aced his OChem pop quiz yesterday; meaning, he’s gonna stick his nose into his friend’s business whenever there’s a chance. “Don’t you guys share a bed too?” he pretends to play dumb only to receive a kick in the shin from the older boy.

“We’re also broke,” Minho cranes his neck tiredly, washing the dirty knife under the tap. “Besides, the heater in the living room sucks.”

“You both even smell the same, it’s getting kinda creepy. Please don’t tell me you guys also share showers to have a light water bill,” Jisung makes a gagging noise and Minho thinks he’s already said too much. His grip on the knife tightens for a split second before letting it drop into the sink. He doesn’t trust himself with anything sharp the moment Hyunjin started this unwanted conversation. He also regrets stealing Changbin’s meal prep recipes to feed his trash friends.

Minho questions callously, “We just use the same shampoo and shower gel, what’s the big deal?” His hands go for the box of oatmeal that Felix left here last time in the cabinet full of random food. He doesn’t get why Seungmin would buy so much groceries like he’s in a pandemic knowing damn well that his idiotic roommates can’t cook for shit.

Hyunjin purses his lips, trying to prove his point, “Don’t you think that it’s weird? You don’t do those things with us.”

“Because none of you would fucking house me when I was on the verge of being homeless!”

“And why is she yelling at you through texts anyway? Bro, there’s like ten missed calls here with at least a hundred ‘where are you?’. Why is she terrorizing you this early in the morning?” Minho immediately snaps out of his semi-angry trance, chest heaving up and down.

“Oh shit,” he facepalms himself. “I promised to pick her up at ten from class, what time is it again?”

“You’re fifteen minutes late, my friend,” Jisung supplies unhelpfully. “It’ll take another ten to arrive at campus, without traffic that is. You’re so dead. D-E-A-D.” It feels weird to hear something correct coming out of Jisung’s mouth (twice in a row) and now Minho wishes he could just whack his friend unconscious on the floor with the new set of microphones that Chan gave him last year for Secret Santa.

“Oh, I left your rice sitting at ‘warm’, by the way,” Minho makes a grab for his biker jacket and helmet on the counter before fleeing out of the apartment with his sneakers half-way tucked in. It’s not even been thirty minutes since they’ve seen each other for the past week and Jisung’s already choked on water, not once, but twice because of Lee Minho. Sometimes he wonders if the universe is telling him that he needs new friends.

two.

“Your boyfriend is late.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss at Yeji while staring at Minho’s contact on your phone anxiously. There’s no reason for you to be; worst-case scenario, you can just take the 0325 home and lock him outside for the night so that he’ll have no choice but to endure Chan’s embarrassing sleeping habits. He wouldn’t even notice either way because he’d be too busy swearing in his sleep to be annoyed.

Yeji puts her hair up into a ponytail after stretching her limbs tiredly. She only has one class today and no choice but to stay on campus for her shift at the café before lunch break. Too bad Woojin can’t cover her today because of midterms. “I’m only speaking facts,” she tells you with a yawn and notices the slight pout on your face. “Hey, don’t be sad just because your stupid boyfriend can’t pick you up. I can call Chaeryeong if you need a ride here and there, she wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not fucking sad!”

“Y/N, you look more depressed than Ryujin when she got a B+ in calc.” That’s irrelevant, Shin Ryujin already has a GPA booster after signing up for Kim’s stats class, one B+ won’t make it any less sparkly.

You only let out a prolonged sigh after checking your phone for the tenth time in the past half an hour. He isn’t picking up any of your calls, your messages probably can’t even reach him and now you’re sitting at M.I.A Cafe with a cup of plain water after standing outside at the front gate for so long like an idiot. An idiot, who’s hopelessly in love with her roommate- wait what?

Listen, you already know that this is going to happen. It’s awfully inevitable and it’s getting harder and harder as the days pass by because summer is almost here. Meaning, Minho’s gonna move out soon, according to the contract.

Are you sad about that?

Yeah, kinda.

The more you think about it the more you regret your decision that day to let him stay with you. Because now you don’t think you’d be able to sleep without him next to you, hogging the blanket all to himself; you get angsty when he’s not home even if he’s just at dance practice; you’re definitely getting way too used to sharing an earphone with him while you both are dreading your assignments silently at the kitchen counter. And now you’re getting nervous just because he’s thirty minutes late. He’s never late, not even to your Monday Movie Night where you both can pig out and binge-watch the Avatar: The Last Airbender series until you’re sick of it.

Maybe you’re relying on him too much. Hypothetically speaking, it’s not his fault for the damage of your car but you’re just making excuses to be with him. You even set him as your emergency contact. It’s kinda tedious to be your roommate, you realize. All of those things aren’t mandatory and he can simply mind his own business without having to feel obligated because of the ‘roommates’ label yet he’d still choose you, over everything else. Perhaps he’s dealing with his own first world problems and forgot to leave you a message this time.

Yeji inquires breezily, wiping a cup dry with a towel, ��Also, are you going to BamBam’s party this weekend?”

“For me to carry your ass home after getting shitfaced and sit through another two-hour lecture from Lia? I’ll pass thank you very much.”

She indicates with a quirk of her perfectly dark brow, “What if I tell you that Minho’s gonna be there?” Now she sounds like she’s the one who’s crushing on Lee Minho and not you. Never knew that your friends can be this creepy but the more you learn… “Jisung just told me he found a plus one aka Mister Celebrity to attend that frat party with, you wouldn’t have the heart to let me be the loner right?” she pouts with her nose scrunched and it reminds you too much of Light Fury so you look away, knowing that you wouldn’t stand a goddamn chance if she kept this up.

“How is that my problem?” you merely roll your eyes, slightly annoyed. “And also, isn’t Jisung supposed to have his marketing class now?”

Yeji doesn’t give a damn about what on Earth Han Jisung is doing with his life so she just brushes your question off. “Would you let Minho drink irresponsibly?”

You nod without hesitation, though it feels wrong coming out of your mouth, “He can do whatever he wants...as long as my carpet remains clean after his hangover.”

“Would you let me drink irresponsibly?”

“The same goes for you,” you tell her monotonously. “And I only picked you up because Lia sounded like she was hyperventilating when you attended that one law brat’s birthday party. Na Jaemin, wasn’t it? Hate that guy, by the way.”

Yeji thinks it’s time for you to open up even more and not despise people that much. Having Lee Minho as your roommate is already a huge step-up but it’s not like there have been any modifications to your routine except the fact that another human being is simply enduring your bitchy ass of a loner. She wants you to be really out there, just not messing with shit like doing keg stands because Seo Changbin is a terrible influence. Woojin once had to drop his shift at the sushi place to drive Jeongin home because Changbin left him hanging on the beanbag chair for a game of beer pong. Jeongin has never gone to another single party since.

“You hate literally everyone!” Yeji’s getting impatient, you can feel it.

“Are you telling me it’s my fault that people are shitty?” you bark, massaging the sides of your temple tiredly. You wish you could just drop the entirety of your current presentation to Yeji because your brain cells are already evaporating one by one into thin air.

She barks back, merely sneering, “C’mon! Y/N, it’s not like you ever have plans for the weekend.”

“But I’m having midterms on Monday, I didn’t spend my time on those notes for nothing.”

She shakes her head at you almost in disapproval. Sure, you’re a coward for backing out on this because BamBam’s no stranger to you. That Thai kid has been hanging out with Chan since middle school and he always offers to buy you coffee whenever you happen to drop by as they’re working on a project together. He’s a nice guy, but you don’t know him that well. Something in your gut is telling you that he has weird friends (he totally does). And you’re not about to overdrink only to blurt out an awful confession to Minho while being surrounded by a bunch of crackheads that aren’t in your social sphere.

“I heard kids are vapi-” Yeji stops herself, thinking she should just give up, and get ready for the next batch of sleep-deprived customers coming in at lunch break before Jeongin chucks an avocado at her direction for chit-chatting too much about your gigantic crush on Minho. “Nevermind, it’s not like you’d care anyway, have fun with reviewing I guess.” And with that, she leaves you alone with the cup of plain water to dump the used coffee grounds in the trash.

It takes you at least ten seconds to comprehend what she just said. And you’ve come up with a new yet very last-minute decision: screw midterm because you’re making sure that Lee Minho’s going home in one piece.

Very timely, your phone buzzes on the wooden counter.

[10:38 AM]

lino | hey you still on campus?

three.

The blush scattered across your cheekbones just grows ten shades darker when you see Minho at the front gate leaning against his black Kawasaki; disheveled hair, hands stuffed inside his pockets, occasional puffs of smoke escaping his lips, and unbothered gaze. You’ve never told him this, you’re not telling him this now, and you’re never gonna tell him; but he looks stupidly good in that biker jacket. Again, you don’t get how someone can look this good early in the morning.

“What are you doing here?” you murmur grimly, approaching him from behind. It feels like he’s doing this to your heart on purpose, without even trying. And those girls over there are making you very uncomfortable by eyeing your roommate up and down like he’s an expensive piece of steak with a gold leaf sticking to it.

Minho turns sideways and flashes you a smile; your little heart just did a perfect cartwheel because of that, it can only take so much. “Sorry, I kinda lost track of time, but I still promised to pick you up, didn’t I?” he says casually as your face morphs into a deep frown because you’re basically confused. The only problem is: you don’t even know why you’re confused. There’s this fluttering feeling at the pit of your stomach and now you feel as though someone just gives you a blow to the head when Minho looks straight into your eyes, brows slightly knitted together.

This is not healthy.

“You didn’t answer my calls or my texts.”

Minho thinks you look cuter than usual when you’re silently fuming because you’re not the type to lash out on people. But it’s not so cute anymore when you threatened to flush his AirPods down the toilet that one time when he spilled ketchup on your carpet. He just hopes he doesn’t end up sleeping on the couch tonight like last time.

“I put my phone on silent, as always,” he reminds you of how much of a pain in the ass it is to receive a call-back or a simple reply from him.

You make a face, “Whatever, didn’t I tell you not to make a scene? Have you seen those chicks back there? They’re watching me as if I’m sabotaging their dreams of eating you alive.” Well, you can’t exactly blame your roommate for having girls gushing over him wherever he goes because...it’s his fault for looking like a snack all the time.

Minho quickly detects how you’re not overly fond of his admirers and needless to say, he’s fairly amused. “Then let them,” he puts an arm over your shoulders and pulls you flushed against him, ruffling your hair. Moments later, you’re already hearing scandalous gasps along with hushed whispers going through your eardrums like a never-ending train. It’s really setting your nerves on fire.

“Don’t you think that this is weird?”

“What?” Now it’s Minho who’s confused here.

You slightly push him away and avert your gaze elsewhere to avoid eye contact. “We’re roommates, right?” you mumble, slightly unsure about...all of this.

“Hmm, what about it?”

“Well, I don’t know…” you fiddle with the hem of your jacket and sigh. “What if people keep getting the wrong idea about us?” You sound somewhat regretful as if your decision of taking him in as your roommate was a mistake, as if you feel like it’s better off if he wasn’t in your life at all, as if the past month was completely meaningless. Since when did things become this complicated? It started with a harmless one-month contract and now Minho’s not sure of what he should do next. But that’s not it, is it? Maybe he’s just overthinking too much.

He looks hesitant for a moment there, very not-Lee-Minho of him. “We’re still cool right?” Minho tilts his head to the side, the afternoon sunlight slips through fluffs of white clouds and brings the constellations in his warm brown eyes to life. Though he looks like a scolded child, you can’t help but want to put this moment into a frame and simply cherish it for the rest of your life.

“Beats me,” you breathe out, silently hating yourself for not being able to get angry at him. It’s harder than you thought, really, and it doesn’t help when his eyes keep doing that thing to your poor little heart. “Make me pasta and we’re good,” you end up chuckling when Minho’s expression turns a solid three hundred and sixty at the offer.

“That’s not a very smart move for a business major, your loss,” he replies with a goofy smile, tossing the helmet that he got you yesterday in your direction. And if you pay attention enough, you can almost see Minho exhaling out of relief. But you’re too busy staring at the ground to douse yourself in your own giddiness to notice. “Oh crap, I think I left my wallet at Hyunjin’s,” he tells you after swinging a leg over on his shiny vehicle.

You narrow your eyes at him, “You don’t need your wallet to make me pasta now do you?”

“By the way, are you going to BamBam’s party?”

“Only if you’re going,” you scratch the bridge of your nose with your ring finger, a little embarrassed to admit that he’s the only reason why you’re ditching midterms.

Minho’s hearty laugh fills your eardrums, shit-eating grin and all. “If it makes you feel better, Chan’s driving us,” he voices without looking at you, but your chest still swells either way.

You fucking hate how you have the softest spot for him.

four.

You’re already regretting this although you’ve only been sitting in Chan’s back seats for less than twenty minutes. Crankiness takes over your body as a result of reviewing for the whole afternoon, your eyelids are getting droopy, and your head seems to be all too big for your neck at this rate. More reasons for you to not drink tonight.

“Ugh, why am I even here?” you groan, and Jisung scrunches his nose, slightly alarmed because you’re not usually this loud unless you’re high on caffeine.

Minho tells you in the most lighthearted way possible, “Because you love me.��

You wish you could just put his head through a wall because everything and anything coming out of his mouth are never healthy for your mind, or heart. “Uhm, no I don’t.”

“But you did confess your love to me,” he singsongs as if he just hit a jackpot with his lottery ticket, angling his head to toss you a wink. “I have receipts, ma’am. They’re right here, in my heart.” Minho’s never seen you so giddy before so he recorded everything, but he’s not planning on putting himself on a chopping block by telling you that.

You shove his arm and purse your lips, flaming cheeks but the car’s too dark for him to see it. “I was sick, asshole, I talk shit more when I have a fever than when I’m drunk,” you defend yourself helplessly, not enjoying the fact that he had to bring it up when you’re in a confined space with Seo Changbin and Han Jisung.

“Minho doesn’t like it when Y/N raises her voice.” Great, now he’s talking in third person.

“What are you even? Four?”

He winks at you, “Baby me, baby.”

“Oh my god shut the fuck up and get away from me!”

“You’ll never get rid of me, baby.” Eventually, you give up because you’re too mentally exhausted and there’s still a long night ahead of you. You’re not wasting your energy in pointless arguments with him because you both yell at each other on a daily basis anyway.

“Maybe he’ll zip it if you tell him that you love him,” Jisung suggests innocently with a not-so-innocent look on his face. He’s already acting dumb when he’s this fucking sober so you’re not looking forward to two hours later when vodka’s practically replaced his own blood.

“I’d rather chew off my own foot.” Changbin snorts involuntarily at your stiff remark, Chan mutters a small ‘ouch’ while Jisung’s too busy laughing his ass off. And a demeaning silence descends after that.

Minho’s right next to you, oddly unresponsive to the situation, his head leaning against your shoulder as he gazes dejectedly out the window. You don’t see how stormy his eyes are. He also misses his motorcycle tremendously because Chan’s the safest (slowest) driver to ever exist. No joke, if he keeps going at the pace of thirty miles per hour then you should just skip the party and watch a movie while getting drunk at his place altogether.

“Can you go any fucking slower?”

“Excuse me?” Chan laughs in disbelief, he’s a little offended because he personally thinks he’s a good driver, maybe a little bit too obedient when it comes to the law. Hey, at least you know you’re in good hands. “I’m not trying to get us all killed before BamBam could poison one of you guys.”

Jisung purses his lips as he’s reminded of the last party where he ran into that Thai dude. He gave him a plastic cup, telling him that it’s merely a harmless fruity vodka only for Jisung to get kicked out by an Uber driver after throwing up in the back seats. Turns out, the lemons and oranges in the cocktail were relatively spoilt.

“I’m gonna die from boredom before we could even get into a car accident,” Minho informs him unconstructively, staring at some random notifications from Instagram of people commenting on his cats’ photos, text messages from his mom and swipes them all away. Mostly to chuckle to himself like a moron because of his lock screen. Yes, your stupid face is still on there after three weeks and you don’t know if you should be crying or laughing.

Chan narrows his eyes at the rear-view mirror, “It seems like you’re entertaining yourself just fine by looking at Y/N’s face.”

“This photo does make me laugh because it’s priceless,” the younger boy states without turning his head to look at you. “But still, bored.”

The car grows silent again soon after because Chan’s already been stressed out enough from traffic since clearly, people can’t drive to save their own lives. But it’s not like your friends can keep their mouths shut for the rest of the trip anyway.

“Boreddd,” Minho voices randomly while a J.One’s song is blasting through the speaker. It’s a terribly soft song and it doesn’t help when Minho feels like he can downright sleep through an earthquake, potentially falling into an enormous crack on the Earth’s surface and still being able to nap like there’s no tomorrow. He’s just glad that Jisung grew out of ‘Wow’ and embraces his awkward self through his own music. It’s..sentimental but what’s a J.One song without that element?

Changbin looks up from his phone for half a second, wholly uninterested. “Then shut up and sleep,” he says expressionlessly. Very timely, his most recent track comes up next on the playlist and he starts rapping along with it. Minho thinks he can really use a good eye shut as SpearB is performing live right behind him because Changbin can only stay sober like this for so long until he gets his hands on one of BamBam’s sketchy-looking concoctions.

You’re starting to get bored too at this rate because usually, during times like this when the car is filled with nothing but music and everyone (except for the driver) feels like they’re falling into a food coma, a certain idiot will—

“Y/N, don’t you have a midterm on Monday?” Ah, there it is.

Jisung bends himself forward and drapes an arm over the leather seat, scrunching his nose at the sight of Minho sleeping soundly against your shoulder. He’s still bitter about the fact that Minho refuses to drive anyone other than you with his motorcycle for some reason. Exclusive things are always so annoying.

You exhale deeply because Jisung reminds you of that one kid who always asks questions that stress the hell out of the teachers back in high school. Would it kill for him to just shut up once in a while?

“I do, and I haven’t got a wink of sleep since yesterday afternoon,” you tell him rather lazily, shifting when Minho snuggles himself closer to you, his hair tickling your jawline. You pray he doesn’t know how fast your heart is beating. “A little alcohol might spare me a night of crying myself to sleep.”

Jisung lets his bottom lip stuck out like he’s a fucking five-year-old not allowed to get his favorite ice-cream flavor. “Aww, you should have asked Minho for cuddles then, pretty sure he’d be more than happy to—,” he remarks sarcastically and you wish you could just throw him in the middle of an intersection. He’s lucky because Minho’s a heavy sleeper or he would have been knocked senseless or something. The last thing Chan needs is being forced to pull over for having wild animals wrestle the shit out of each other in his vehicle.

“Hey, fuck off,” you snarl at him, knowing you should have chosen the passenger seat instead. That way, you wouldn’t be fuming inside because you can’t physically strangle Han Jisung to his imminent death. He has already tattooed that image into the back of your brain and you swear you’ve never heard a creepier chuckle from your friend.

Jisung notices the coral tint on your cheeks and sneers, leaning back against his seat. “Yeah right, as if you’re actually gonna get drunk,” he says snarkily. “You’re just gonna be there to prevent Lee Minho from making bad decisions.”

“I decided to come because Yeji wanted me-“

“Yeji who? In what world will you have time for her when you’re too busy staring at Minho like a total creep? Wanna bet ten bucks?”

That’s bullshit because Lee Minho is already your entire world.

Chan butts in, “Make that fifty.”

Changbin raises his hand, “I’d bet my Tesla.” Your friends really spelled out ‘a bunch of fucking clowns’ in bold, gigantic capital letters and you’re this close to facepalm yourself against Chan’s steering wheel. This is why you don’t go to parties with them that often because you’re stuck with cleanup duties with Seungmin until these crackheads grow out of their amateur drinking habits.

“You’re just jealous because he would rather call you an Uber than give you a lift himself,” you say pointedly and Jisung lets out the loudest, most scandalous gasp. So dramatic.

“You,” he jabs a finger at you, eyes wide in accusation. “Need a nap.”

You laugh dryly, ignoring the urge to snap a picture of his flabbergasted expression and turn it into a new meme for your group chat. “You don’t say, Han, you don’t say.”

And Changbin rolls his eyes over the moon, vividly picturing where this disastrous conversation is gonna go. Basically, he wants you to get shitfaced as soon as you step foot into BamBam’s house so he’ll have a sappy, drunk confession video to toss on Twitter tonight because Woojin just posted a picture of him with a drumstick dipped inside a glass of what looks like a watered-down Margarita. He’s highly concerned since there hasn’t been anything juicy on his feed other than his friends creeping people out with their questionable content.

“If you two don’t end up getting drunk and kiss, I’m gonna be pissed,” Changbin says casually as if it’s just an afterthought. This prompts you to chuck your phone in his direction—you can care less about your screen protector at this point if it means stopping him from taunting you further.

He asserts like a snake, “Hey, remember that time where you tripped over Kkami and totally crushed Minho under your weight?”

“I blame gravity for that.”

“But Albert Einstein said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love.”

“Who cares about Albert Einstein?!” you whisper-shout harshly, cautiously eyeing Minho’s sleeping figure. He scrunches his nose and murmurs something that you can’t quite hear before turning over to face you completely. His arms unexpectedly slip underneath yours like second nature. He furrows his eyebrows occasionally, other times he’d be grinning like an idiot and his lips are slightly agape, full eyelashes framing his eyes beautifully. Sometimes you wonder how weird his dreams are whenever you caught him talking (and cursing) in his slumber.

Changbin wants to pry aloud when you start staring at Minho for too long; he might as well be tossed on the freeway at this point before exasperation squeezes the little amount of oxygen left out of his chest. This is worse than Hyunjin’s terrible rom coms. He props his head onto his hand in boredom as Chan pulls over and turns off the engine. “Hey we’re here, why not wake your prince up with a kiss—”

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” you threaten.

Now there are two distasteful tattoos at the back of your head. And you will not hesitate for a heartbeat sacrificing the entirety of your bank account to get them removed. To get Lee Minho removed from your mind.

If only it were that easy.

“Mhmm,” the figure beside you lets out a low grunt and hugs your arm closer instinctively. His warmth seeps through the fabric of your denim jacket and sets your heart on fire. You’re ready to flick his forehead any second now to interrupt his slumber but before you could even do anything, Seo Changbin aggressively opens the door and you widen your eyes in horror. Where the fuck did he get a megaphone? And what for?

“Bitch wake up! Those drinks aren’t gonna finish themselves!”

It’d be a miracle if you ended up finding him alive by dawn.

five.

“Y/N you ass, give it back!

“No, we’ve only been here for three hours and this is your fifth cup already,” you tell her in a mildly serious tone before dumping her cup of whatever the fuck of a yellow substance that Ryujin gave her ten minutes ago into the sink.

Yeji plops herself onto the sofa in the living room after you drag her out of the kitchen where people are making out on the marble counter. Glad to see nothing’s changed...idiots. “God, you’re such a party pooper, I shouldn’t have told you to come,” she complains in between small hiccups, alcohol tinting her cheeks beet red.

“I’m here to save your ass and this is how you’re repaying me?” Your question didn’t come out as coherent and threatening as you imagined and every single cell inside your body is shaking for no specific reason.

Your friend narrows her eyes down into a mere glare like a detective in those crimes shows that you spend way too much time on and you’re debating whether you should be laughing or pissing yourself. She fucking knows that you’re lying. She fucking knows the sole reason for you to be here. “Give me a break, it’s not like you’re doing anything besides staring at your boyfriend from afar,” Yeji scoffs dejectedly.

“God forbids ‘Lee Minho’ and ‘my boyfriend’ go in the same sentence,” you grit, subconsciously averting your gaze around the living room to spot your roommate. All he’s been doing is being held back by Chan when he tried to murder Changbin once, catching up with his old friends from high school and hanging out with some of his classmates, ranting about how much he dreads Kim’s eight AM, gushing with Hyunjin over some senior’s choreography set. By the looks of it, Jisung must have handed him at least seven of those red party cups from the bar—thanks to BamBam who keeps restocking them every hour.

Yeji chuckles creepily when the alcohol finally hits her hard, you think you just got chills by the way that she’s leaning closer. “Of course not,” she hiccups into your ear, words slurred, “Lee Minho’s not my boyfriend, he’s your boyfriend.” You look at her in the eye, and mentally regret your life choices. How insufferable.

“I mean, seriously,” she slams her body back onto the couch and groans; you can’t tell if it’s out of frustration or the cushion is too soft for her back. “It’s like you’re living the life of the main protagonist in a Harry Styles fanfiction! Do you know how many girls and boys would kill to live in the same apartment as that?” Her index finger is pointed directly at the person you’ve been watching and avoiding all night, across the room with a dart in his hand as he stands in front of the dartboard.

“Were you aiming for the board or were you plotting to kill me? Because I can’t tell! I-can’t-fucking-tell!” Changbin shouts over the music and you momentarily cringe at the crack in his voice; it’s never a college party without one of your friends riling each other up over the dumbest things. And also, who thinks it’s a good idea to lend an unstable Lee Minho a sharp object of any kind?

You look away as heat flares through your nostrils when Minho accidentally glances at you after laughing at some corny joke that Chan made. He’s more than mildly hammered right now, you suppose, because, well, Chan can only make people laugh when they’re exceptionally drunk.

A stupid question then slips out of your lips. “With what?” It sounds like you only have one brain cell and are perpetually dumb. It makes you feel even dumber when there’s nothing but a can of Coke inside your body.

“A hottie who dances, cooks, has a good sense of humor, lowkey a genius, highkey a tsundere, shares a name with a famous actor. Far more handsome than the actor himself, if I dare.” Yeji has no hesitation whatsoever naming every reason as to why people on campus shamelessly throw themselves at your roommate on a daily basis. And now your head grows ten times fuzzier, floating mundanely in the clouds above. Basically, you feel like you’re drunk—except your confidence isn’t sky high enough to do something stupid—which makes no absolute sense.

The silver-haired girl next to you puts an arm around your neck and giggles, you’re highly perturbed that her vocal cords are gonna give in tomorrow when she convinces you through FaceTime that you should be extra careful with your notes since she won’t be showing up to class. “Oh! And he has three cats, right? Cat people are said to be more intuitive and thoughtful, that’s a bonus,” Yeji asserts and your jaw is on the floor at this rate. She doesn’t even spare him a second glance during lunch break and she already knows this much?

No wonder Minho never talked about his cats with Felix and Seungmin again.

“I bet you read that off a Buzzfeed article.”

“Doesn’t necessarily mean it’s wrong!”

You inhale and exhale deeply, linking your fingers together, “Yeah, but that’s all people will ever see.”

“Well, what else can they like about him?”

“I don’t know,” you say bluntly, but the rouge on your cheeks is anything but ‘blunt’. “They don’t see how stuck-up he is, how he loves hogging the blanket all to himself, how he secretly stocks up a stash of trashy snacks. They don’t see the way his eyes sparkle when he looks into their eyes during a conversation because he’s actually a very attentive listener.”

Yeji pats your back without turning her head, slightly amused, “I think you meant how he looks into your eyes during a conversation.”

Your eyes scan the room one more time to find Minho hugging his stomach from laughing too much, there are actual tears in his eyes because Changbin just lost a bet and apparently he has to belly flop himself into the pool as a punishment. You haven’t seen him this happy in a while, even when he’s potentially dying from a really bad stomachache but it still puts your heart at ease knowing he’s having fun tonight.

Needless to say, he always knocks the breath right out of your lungs without much effort. Even when he’s ditched the leather jacket and ripped jeans, you still think no one looks better than him in a large t-shirt and sweatpants.

“But I don’t get it,” Yeji looks over at you this time, real carefully because your tone just grows firmer and more serious. “How can he just stand there, laugh...and look so beautiful?”

“I told you—”

“Yeah that’s exactly what I need to hear right now, Yeji,” you facepalm almost immediately, highly disappointed in yourself.

Jisung’s getting his ten dollars on Monday when you surprise him with two slices of cheesecake from his favorite dessert place. Changbin can keep his Tesla and Chan...Chan isn’t getting anything.

You push yourself off the blue velvet couch and groan, you’re getting sore quickly because the cushions are far too soft. “Let me get some fresh air, I feel like I’m gonna to lose my mind,” you tell your friend but you doubt that she caught it since the music is all too loud for students to communicate properly. Maybe that’s one of the reasons why fistfights during parties are a thing.

“Uhm, wait,” Yeji tugs onto your sleeve and jerks her head towards the direction of Minho. “I’m sorry but what the hell does your boyfriend want now?”

“Huh where—“

Like..three feet away. Or a whole lot closer.

“Why didn’t you answer my texts?” And you find Minho standing in front of you with his arms crossed stubbornly, eyebrows knitted together and tinted pink cheeks. He looks a little pissed off, and you don’t think you’re both on the same page here.

When you give him a ‘what do you mean’ look, your roommate feels the need to unlock his phone and jab his index finger against his poor crusty screen as he shows you at least fifty messages that he’s been spamming in the last half an hour. This reminds you of the yellow Post-It note that Minho violently smacked onto your fridge the very night when he first moved in.

‘I hereby fucking declare that if we did end up going to the same party (doubt btw), we would keep our phones with us 25/8 so one can save the other’s ass from stupid decisions— lee minho’ he wrote. Minho knows all too well the only ass that needs to be saved is his. And you’ve thought about taking the note down several times but you don’t think you’d have the heart to.

“Oh,” your head draws a blank canvas and you look for your phone in your pocket. But then, “I left my phone in Chan’s car.”

Minho rolls his eyes at you and decides that he’s too impatient to wait for Chan to sober up and remember where he left his keys. “Whatever,” he manages to crack a small smile, one that shines through the dimmed LED light on the ceiling and makes your heart stuck in your throat. “Let’s get out of here, I have something to tell you.”

“Hey hey hey,” Yeji tries to get up from the couch but her limbs are too wobbly. “You can’t just tap out all of a sudden and steal her from me like that. Don’t even think for a minute you second rate—”

“Yeah, no, she’s mine.”

You’re downright baffled. But you’re not sure if it’s because of what he said ten seconds ago and your heart is going haywire, your brain cells are giving in on you or it’s because he’s tugging you by the wrist and piloting you through the impending chaos of sloppy college students.

You’re not sure if you want to know. You’re not sure if you’re ready.

six.

Fall arrives sooner than you thought and it almost makes you miss summer. Though you didn’t really have anything exciting besides an internship that refrained you from living on YouTube for too long.

The evening is oddly cold, but you’ve never had a problem with the tips of your fingers growing chilly. It’s different tonight—it’s the kind of coldness that slips through your flesh and into your bones, coming in contact with the thumping force of your heart, causing it to shiver. There’s nothing to do but keep your gaze straight forward, your feet moving on their own with the one and only goal of heading home. Clouds with the murky color of wet ashes pass by, and the ground as its dank reflection—a reminder of how humanity is ruining the planet.

The streets are so quiet and tranquil; you’re afraid that Minho might be able to hear your heartbeat. Now you’re pointing a finger at society in accusation because it’s the weekend yet no elder couples are taking their night strolls, no middle-aged ladies in fluffy jackets are walking their spoiled teacups dogs and no wasted college students are roaming the streets with ‘trouble’ spelled out on their forehead. Really, you’d rather stare at people in a creepy way and zone out than constantly thinking about Lee Minho when he’s right beside you.

This is terribly suffocating and you don’t think if you can keep this up in the next thirty minutes until both of you get home and melt into the comfort of your bed.

“Sober up, Mister Celebrity, that’s too much fun for tonight.” Minho winces slightly when you press a can of cold green tea against his cheeks as he’s about to doze off on the wooden bench next to the vending machine. While he’s taking a swig, you feel a silent obligation to take a seat but your eyes are determinedly fixed on the curb.

The bench suddenly feels far too big and the night breeze is far too cold for Minho’s liking, so he shifts his body closer, fingers brushing over yours and sending electricity down your spine. “What do you mean?” he scoffs, finding it hard to not look at you so his gaze is temporarily glued onto the can of green tea in his palms. “Tonight was nothing compared to Jisung’s birthday.” He can still feel the remaining warmth from your hands, it makes him wonder how it’d feel to actually hold them.

“Ugh, god,” you shake your head in disbelief, internally cringing. “Don’t even remind me.”

You still don’t know what Hyunjin fed him that day to the point he couldn’t remember what happened. All hell broke loose Felix posted a video of him pretending to be a stupid ostrich and trying to do a mating dance towards Jisung on Twitter. No one dares to talk about that scarred video since. Now that he’s reminded you of it, you wish you didn’t own brain cells in the first place. This is why the internet is scary.

“What is it that you wanted to tell me anyway?”

Minho stops for a second at your question and places his beverage down on the bench. He stares distantly at the space ahead as if he’s fighting with himself inside his own head, seriously contemplating something. It’s come to your attention that this isn’t very like his usual self. Minho never hesitates for a second when he has something in mind. Even when he knows that you might rip his head off.

He exhales deeply, turns his head, and makes direct eye contact with you for what seems like an eternity. His eyes are as wide open and honest as a child’s, they possess something so much more the longer you stare at them. A warmth, safety. Your heart is gonna combust if he doesn’t get this over with soon.

Then, “I think I forgot to put yeast in the batter.” Wait what?

“Minho!” you punch his arm, earning a low grunt from the blond-haired boy. “Don’t fucking scare me like that!” He’s looking at you as though your eyes are turning red with rage and smoke is coming out of your ears, scared for his own life but truthfully, you’re just relieved. Surprisingly.

“Wait, so you’re not mad?” he asks you with a wide-eyed expression, trying way too hard to keep a straight face. “Aren’t we supposed to bring homemade bread for the get together at the nursing home tomorrow?”

“Old people still enjoy Bingo for some reason, they can have that instead of bread.” His mouth forms a small ‘o’ as he scoots closer to you and you can tell that he reeks off alcohol, which is making you a little dizzy. When your gaze falls elsewhere but Lee Minho, you attempt to appear casual, “But if you wanna bake so badly, I can still pull an all-nighter and start over with you.” That was doable, but you could have done better—should have sounded like you didn’t really care.

Minho flings his bangs away from his face and tosses his head back, chuckling breathlessly. “Don’t you have a midterm to stress over instead of me? I don’t want you to pick out every single strand of hair on your head after baking with me.” He finally said something nice once in a while, you sorta appreciate it. “It’d be embarrassing when my parents FaceTime me and see you as bald as my great grandfather.” Nevermind, he’s still the same old jerk.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, you’ll be moving out in two weeks, either way, right?” Your tone sounds sad and grim all of a sudden; it really dampens the atmosphere because Minho is now looking at you with concern laced in his brown eyes. “Look, I get that it’s bothersome to be my roommate so there’s no need to feel bad. I’ll be fine going back to my old life where my feet don’t get cold in the middle of the night because no one would be there to hog the blanket anymore.”

Minho feels the need to clear things up here. “I never said anything about moving out,” he grabs you by the shoulders and hopes you could just look at him when he’s being serious for once. “Y/N, who even said anything about moving out? Was it the landlord?”

“No,“ you say, still not willing to face him directly. You’re such a coward.

“If so, why would I move out? Did I do something wrong? Did I piss you off or something?”

You’re trying so hard not to snap at this point. “No!”

“Then why can’t you just fucking look at me?!”

“You’re still drunk, let me buy you another—“

Minho shakes you forcefully, hoping to knock some common sense into that brain of yours. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not drunk!” he cries helplessly, not caring about the fact that he’s waking up every cat possible in the neighborhood. “Just- just look at me, will you?”

You stubbornly keep your eyes anywhere but him. “Why would I look at your stupid face?”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/N. You’re not usually like this.”

Every single cell inside your body quivers simultaneously when he says so—good god, no, he’s testing you. Minho knows something’s off. Now to think about it again, you’d rather let him dirty your carpet than being put on trial like this.

“You wanna know why I’m acting like this? It’s because of you! You’re making me nervous! It’s your fault for making me feel this way!”

“What?” he blurts, eyes blinking numerous times in disbelief. “What did I ever do to you?”

“God, Minho, you can’t possibly be this dense. Tell me, that you’ve never, not even once, seen me turning beet red when you simply look at me in the eye. Or when you’re just sitting there, laughing your ass off about something stupid. It makes my heart flutter, okay? You make my heart flutter. Do you know how much of an effect you can have on me? You don’t go around juggling with others’ feelings like that,” your voice grows smaller and smaller towards the end until there’s nothing but an oddly comfortable silene floating midair. A sense of relief washes over you; you unknowingly exhale.

Minho stares at you in awe for a moment there, until he also speaks up for himself. “Maybe you should take your own advice,” he almost snickers, and this causes you to peel your gaze away from a random bush to gawk at his response. “You’re telling me to not go around juggling with others’ feelings? If anything, you’re the one who keeps messing with my heart. What am I supposed to do? Not get drunk so that I won’t be able to get away for doing dumb things?”

“What dumb things?”

“I don’t know, kiss you?”

“Fuck, you can’t get away with it this time now, can you?”

You’re already regretting this and there’s no turning back. Because when Minho subconsciously runs his tongue over his bottom lips, you’re already fighting the rouge spreading on your cheekbones. He shortens the distance between your heads until your lips are practically a breath away from his. Impatient, you grab a fistful of his shirt to smash your lips against his. Minho stays frozen for a nanosecond, taken aback by your boldness before pulling you closer by the waist. You’re hesitant at first, but he guides you through it, telling you that it’s okay by embracing you more tightly. Dear god, Minho’s kissing you and the world just falls away. It’s slow, comforting in ways that words can never be. He slackens his jaw to deepen the kiss, smiling into it when giddiness bubbles up inside his stomach.

The world still feels like it’s spinning when he parts away, an alcoholic taste mixed with the green tea ghosts your lips, and your face grows ten times hotter. Even in this cracked darkness, Minho sees you blush hard and is fully aware that his cheeks are mirroring yours—he doesn’t even bother to convince himself that it’s from the alcohol, because it isn’t.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Minho questions though his breath is still a bit shaky from the kiss. He really didn’t lie when he said that he could never stop bothering you.

You can’t help but smile at him brightly; this causes his heartbeat to spike inside his chest. “Well, do I have to?” He shakes his head and stares down at your hands until he musters up every strand of courage left to finally intertwine them with his own. Fits like a glove.

“Come on, let’s go home,” he tells you softly, eyes crinkling into a pretty crescent moon shape. But you stop him right there when he attempts to stand up and wordlessly lean your forehead against his. Minho understands that you simply need a moment so you both hover right there, simply melting into each other’s touch. But what you say next just makes the ignited passion inside his heart flare-up. He’s at a loss for words, utterly speechless.

“I am home.”

“Welcome home then, Y/N,” Minho whispers.

Everything feels like a dream that you’d never want to wake up from. His hands are clasped on either side of your face, resting just below the lobes of your ears. His thumbs gently caress your cheeks so that you won’t drift away, your breaths mingling. Never before has your own name made your heart flutter. But you guess it’s only because Minho said it. You do know that it’s not an afterthought, nor out of impulse. It’s a promise, for whatever’s coming your way on this path, he’s never gonna leave you behind. And the moment he feels that thing beating inside his chest is in sync with yours, he slowly leans in again.

Albert Einstein once said you can’t blame gravity for falling in love. And you have every right to argue with him in the afterlife because you’ve confirmed that Minho is your gravity. Gravity keeps you grounded, always get a hold of you so that you won’t ever have to wander off too far away. It’s there for you but it doesn’t have to act like it cares. Minho’s kinda like that too—he picked you up every time you said you’re good walking home, he only stocked up the stash of candies to secretly feed your midnight cravings. They only differ so much where his heartbeat for you is loud, undaunted and he loves you fearlessly; nothing shall meddle with his feelings for you as long as the way your eyes light up when they meet his doesn’t change.

Before you met Minho, you didn’t know that it was possible to just look at someone and smile for no reason. The way his lips curl up when he smiles, his sarcastic remarks, his kindhearted nature though he’s awfully good at hiding it. That’s what people do when they’re in love, they say—to fawn over the littlest things but they’re what makes you fall so hard for him. But as time passes by, you’ve learned that it’s actually quite nice to be in love with someone. Because then, you get to spend your time and effort on their happiness as well, not just your own. In exchange, that person is capable of bringing colors to your dull world, tearing down your walls, and showing you just how beautiful life can be. Surely, Minho might not stay by your side forever in this crazy game of Monopoly but you’d risk it all for him even if the sky comes crashing and the universe turns upside down.

After all, you can’t love alone.

#stayshub #skzwritersclub #stray kids lee know #stray kids scenarios #lee know imagines #stray kids imagines #lee know scenarios #stray kids minho #minho roommate au #minho college au #lino fic #lee minho #lee know #college au #roommate au

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remys-lucky-franc · 4 years ago

Text

I’m Bringing Sexy Back (To Regency England) - Immortal Heart Society

So this happened because I referred to new series IHS’s baddie Lord Montague as ‘Lord Timberlake’ due to the coiffuring similarities and it made @aquagirl1978 LOL and she made me this:

See how alike they look though?! I’m not crazy.

Literally no one in the world wants this fic, and it’s just stupid, but I had a giggle writing it, so 😆 Also, I genuinely know nothing about JT, if any of you are superfans and I’m way off, it’s just a bit of fun, no ill intent or offence meant 💕

Also it’s just in time for all the good old memes... (At the end if anyone needs a ref point)

Word Count ~3500 (yeah, I’ve gone off)

[MORE] [[MORE]]

In the grandiose but soulless marble bathroom of the Boston penthouse, Justin squeezed his eyes tight-shut, splashing his face with frigid water. He inhaled sharply as the moisture hit his skin, opening his eyes and staring intently at the reflection mirrored back at him. It had been quite a night so far. He’d been courted by ‘The Society’ for a couple of months now and on receiving their latest invite, he had finally acquiesced. Over the course of the evening he’d exchanged pleasantries and mingled with a fusion of intriguing individuals - all very different, very separate people, but all who clearly had gotten the memo: convince him to join. Justin suspected before he arrived, from the exclusive address on the invite alone, the sort of members The Society would have on its roster and he wasn’t surprised - even if most of them were no more than masked silhouettes. Initially when he had exited the elevator and caught sight of all those shaded faces, Justin’s heart stuttered: had he inadvertently accepted an invite to some sort of sexy party? How would he explain this one? ‘Hey Honey - funny story...’ But it didn’t take long to deduce that the disguises were all part of the prestige and served as identity protection rather than a conduit to anyone having any real sort of fun.

The mixer itself had been entertaining enough, but the hushed secrets shared in the drawing room were what had piqued his interested and saw him hiding in the restroom searching his own soul for answers. He’d been trading anecdotes with a handful of members before he was interrupter by a well dressed blonde and ushered through a side door, where he was greeted with a firm handshake by one of the top men within the society (apparently), Richard - Something. Initially Justin had smiled but internally rolled his eyes as he considered how these shady types only ever give out their first names - and how that felt particularly unfair when everyone here knew fine well what his surname was... Richard was perfectly charming and charismatic - in the same faux-caring, calculating way politicians are as they try to snare floating voters. His smile was bright and his words were warm, but his eyes were a stark contrast. The Society’s hoi-polloi were obviously deemed to have played their part in warming him up and now Richard was here to give him the hard-sell: and sell he did.

And at first, it sounded relatively normal. At first. Until Richard started with tall tales of how society members held all of the power in the world through power stones. Initially Justin got to his feet and scoffed - weren’t crystals just for spa days and hippies? This had to be a set up. He scanned the room looking for any clue of a hidden camera, Ashton Kutcher’s sneakers showing from behind a curtain perhaps - but nothing. It all sounded truly ridiculous, but as Richard stood, laying a firm hand on Justin’s shoulder, directing him towards a plush chair, pouring him two fingers of whisky, something held him; fascinated him. Stopped him from barging straight out of the room. Justin observed in silence as Richard thumbed through various documents, showing him photographs, pulling up search data online... Explaining. Convincing. Persuading. Justin didn’t trust the suave smarmy suit as far as he could throw him, but the more Richard divulged of the spiderweb of societal involvement in major global events and current affairs, the more sense it made... And in spite of himself, Justin started to succumb to this strange reality. Every word out of Clever Dick’s mouth was revelational, peeling away one layer after another, after another, until Justin’s mind was blown; his brain hurt the same way it did the first time he watched Inception. He couldn’t bend his mind around why Richard was telling him all this, or why a collective more powerful than The Walt Disney Company would want a musician to join their ranks? Richard shrugged coolly as he continued to play for Justin’s buy in, simply smiling and saying that, as a big pop star, it would be quid pro quo - a very mutually beneficial arrangement. The society had access to the best labels, the best A&R departments, they could get Justin as much airplay, fame and publicity as he wanted.

Justin couldn’t deny it sounded appealing - but what did they want in return? So far it was all ‘quid’ and no ‘quo’. He had to ask. Even the easy, practiced grin on Richard’s face couldn’t offset the glint of ice in his dark eyes and menace in his voice that chilled Justin’s blood.

“Justin, come! Everyone knows that music is what shapes the youth of today! The influence wielded by artists, the loyalty inspired by them, their marketability, it’s simply insurmountable! Think about it, dear boy? If The Society control the music, they control the populace.”

Justin cleared his throat as he sized himself up, readjusting his skinny black tie and squaring his shoulders. Richard must be insane. The Society’s logic was fatally flawed: they couldn’t seriously think that it was possible control the entire world’s population through having a singer in their ranks? It was infeasible. Impossible. But what they were offering him in exchange? Now, that was a very attractive proposition indeed. If he agreed to join, and got all of that out of it, it would be worth it? The Society would surely realise at some point that they couldn’t rule the world through the power of song? Yes, the power of a one-line harmony had already been proven by McDonald’s to sell a shit-tonne of burgers - and while it was a pretty convincing argument, selling fast-food to hungry people was one thing - but full-scale global domination?? That was something else entirely. But if he could ride along on their coat-tails and reap all the benefits until they realised just how crazy that idea had been in the first place...

—- two years later —-

Cash carded his hand through his dark hair, exasperated as he listened to Alana’s latest report, “You all understand that Timberlake is completely out of control, yes?”

Emilio grunted flatly as his head fell into his crossed arms on the table like a five year old ready to play heads-down-thumbs-up, “Yeeeeees.”

Cash bristled further as he looked to Rafe and Kiran for their input, both simply nodding back at him as though to say, ‘yes, we know.’

Alana looked down at her phone, worrying her full bottom lip between her teeth, “It’s worse than you think though, Cash.”

He was instantly on his feet staring at her, Rafe and Kiran leaned forward and Emilio raised one weary brow from his slumped pose, concern evident on all their faces.

Kiran was first to speak, “Alana how can it be worse? Richard’s vanished off the face of the earth. Justin’s last billboard count had him go multi-platinum - again, and his lyrics are becoming...”

Rafe offered flatly, “Odd.” He stood, cracked his neck from side to side and headed towards the small stove, absentmindedly filling a saucepan with water and a packet of instant noodles.

Cash shook his head at Rafe then turned back to glower at the rest of the Inner Circle, “Thank you all for the recap. It’s bleak, we know. Alana?”

Green eyes fixed the room as Alana cleared her throat and mouthed, “One hundred and ninety-four.”

Dumbfounded silence filled the room; jaws hung slack. Until Kiran broke the spell, a spluttering cough turning into an uncomfortable laugh, “One hundred and ninety-four what? Because I know you definitely can’t mean stones. We know the exactly location of over fifty percent of them? They’re safe?”

Rafe, back at the table with his ramen by now, paled as Alana shook her head at a loss for words, red curls bouncing around her shoulders, “How is that possible?”

Alana threw her hands in the air, confessing “I honestly don’t know. But he has ones that we knew the location of, and more besides.”

Cash paced the room, clearly agitated as he cursed and barked,

“That’s every stone in existence, except ours and one other.”

Alana puffed out her cheeks before huffing out the breath sharply, “Correct. He has the lot, excepts ours - and the Garnet.”

Emilio’s hand slid under his shirt, a double-check to be sure his Alexandrite remained firmly on the chain hidden beneath the dark fabric, fiddling with it like a child with a comfort blanket as he spoke, “I- I just don’t understand. How? How did he get so many without us knowing?”

Rafe shrugged as he shovelled a spoonful of noodles into his mouth and chewed thoroughly before answering, “Richard’s protege. His pet project. Nothing surprises me when he’s involved. Everything he touches gets tarnished.”

Alana sighed sadly, “Justin seemed like such a sweet guy when he first joined. I really liked him. I thought he could have been part of our Inner Circle someday.”

Rafe shot her a rueful smile before looking down into the noodles, “Same. He changed. Fast.” Coiling his fork in a thick helping, he swung them into his mouth without ceremony.

Cash pinched the bridge of his nose, stopping pacing for long enough to stare and snap at Rafe,

“What is it with you and those blasted ramen noodles??”

Rafe shook his head silently as though to say, ‘I don’t know’: he wasn’t entirely sure why, but every time someone mentioned Timberlake, he couldn’t stop himself from carb-loading. All he wanted a big bowl of ramen in his belly and he couldn’t think about anything else until he was full of noodley-goodness. He’d eaten more instant ramen in the past couple of years than he did during college, and that was saying something.

Kiran cut through the atmosphere between the two men, venturing, “So how are we going to shut him down?”

—-

Richard had been missing for months, and although all trails had gone cold and no one was one hundred percent clear on what had happened to him, there was very strong suspicion within the group of five that Justin had something to do with it. How else had he managed to acquire almost every power stone in existence? He must have dispensed of Richard and taken them for himself - there really didn’t seem, to be any other explanation. The Inner Circle had been aware that Richard was hoarding stones, but his haul had escalated significantly and quickly with Justin by his side - at the Circle’s last count maybe six to eight months ago, Richard only had sixty-five stones in his custody. The dirty duo had been busy.

Emilio shuddered solemnly as he thought about what must have happened to the rightful owners of those stones. He was at the tower with the Inner Circle, minus Cash. Cash would arrive soon, bringing Justin to the table with him. Creating a rouse of support, and then double-crossing him to recover the power stones had been deemed the only feasible plan. Emilio watched the rest of the group: Rafe stirring at a saucepan at the small kitchen set up, Kiran flipping aimlessly though a fashion magazine and Alana tapping at her cellphone. They were all feeling nervous about this, the stakes had never been so high. He scrubbed his brow as he ran through the various scenarios of what could possibly happen with Cash and Justin arrived.

He didn’t have long to wait as the door opened and laughter reverberated around the room. Cash was manoeuvring Timberlake expertly, and Justin seemed to be lapping up everything he said. A round of smiles and handshakes later everyone sat around the table, eyes expectantly on Cash.

“Justin, firstly, thank you for joining the group here today. As you know, with Richard... Let’s say, elsewhere. I’ve been standing in as the ‘interim leader’. And I’ll be frank, Justin, I always thought it would be for me, but it’s not. And it takes a lot for me to admit that. I can do the decision-making, the negotiations, but what I cannot abide is dealing with attitudes and egos all day long.”

Rafe chortled, “He thinks he should be the only one allowed an attitude and an ego!”

Justin grinned and visibly relaxed within the larger group.

Clearing his throat irately, Cash gestured towards Rafe, “Exactly what I’m talking about. Justin, my calling doesn’t lie in leading The Society. I am more interested in having a less ’public facing position’ shall we say, where I can really put my true talents to use. And that’s why I invited you to sit with us today, Justin.’

Timberlake nodded enthusiastically, “ I see.”

Cash stood, wearing a trail in the carpet as he walked back and forth,

“What are your goals, Justin? We understand you must be distraught about Richard’s disappearance, you two seemed close. Do you have aspirations for The Society’s Leadership? We’ve been observing you for some time, and feel that we could all benefit each other within this little group, everyone here wants to progress and wants ‘more’. And we feel like you may have some ideas that could help us all to achieve just that.”

Justin leaned back in his chair observing the group sat around the table. Of course he knew what his goals were. He’d never really considered leadership of The Society until recently - his mind had been consumed with his plan for ultimate pop domination over the past two years. And he’d progressed so far that it was within his grasp - and that was when he and Richard had begun to clash. Badly. Richard’s vision was so- So limited. He couldn’t see Justin’s potential past being a Society tool used to control the public. Justin knew his worth, he was more than a tool for Richard to implement as he saw fit. He felt the anger bubble inside him as he recalled the final fight with Richard. They could have controlled the entire world together: why couldn’t Richard have seen that? Why couldn’t he have got on board with Justin’s plans? As he sized up the twelve eyes watching him, he thought about the dozens of power stones locked securely in the safe in his apartment: these people could see his strength. His power. His star ascending. He leaned forward, his decision made,

“I have acquired many power stones and my plan is, to use our time-travelling abilities to go back in time and wipe other pop stars from existence, so that I am the single biggest pop star in the world today. Then with my influence, The Society will control everything. We, friends, will control the world.”

Alana and Kiran eyeballed each other as the men nodded at Justin.

Kiran interjected,

“There’s no doubt that The Society would benefit from that sort of influence, but what about all of the damage that would be done to culture and humanity without artists?”

Justin looked confused as he stared at her, “But they’d still have me?”

Kiran chewed the statement over before asking, “And who are you going after? Are we talking about Elvis? The Beatles? Frank Sinatra?”

Justin waved a hand as though he’d practiced this very conversation in the mirror a hundred times, “No, no. Only today’s artists. I can’t disrupt anyone who directly or indirectly influenced my career. Butterfly Effect and all.”

The Inner Circle nodded sagely as Justin continued, “And when my plan is complete, who, I ask you, will be the biggest pop star in the world??”

Alana glanced up grimacing, “I don’t know Justin, I mean Lady Gaga is pretty huge? Iconic, even.”

Emilio shook his head, “Right now, Ariana Grande’s the biggest artist in the world, I read it somewhere.”

Justin fixed them both with an affronted stare, “But think about it, if none of them ever existed... Then who would be the biggest pop star in the world?”

Alana and Emilio exchanged a world-weary glance as Justin cackled, “Guess what? It’s gonna be me.”

Rafe scrunched his nose, confused, speaking through a mouthful of ramen, “May? What? Are the Emmy’s not always in September?”

Cash shotshim a withering glance before grinning at Justin, “You’ve thought a lot about his haven’t you?”

Justin, visibly flattered, shrugged off Cash’s praise, “Just a little.”

Cash leaned towards Justin conspiratorially, “So tell us, what more do you need to make your dreams a reality, and how could we, as a group, facilitate that?”

—-

Over the next few weeks the Inner Circle had planned for two consecutive missions. One intricate scheme with Justin, that involved him travelling back over two hundred years to Regency England to secure the Garnet power stone from a Lady Foxworthy. And their own private secondary mission that involved luring Justin back to Regency England where there was no power stone to be found.

When the day to venture back in time arrived, Justin paraded around the tower preening in the mirror at his era-appropriate garb. Kiran had stitched it to perfection, a beautifully embroidered waistcoat over his cravat, fitted cream pants and a midnight blue, velvet long-tailed coat that really made his eyes pop. Rafe let out a low whistle, winking at Justin’s reflection in the mirror, “Looking sharp! Nice work Kiran.” This look was a definitely a step up from double denim!

Kiran moved around Justin turning him, dusting down his shoulders, “Oh hold up, you have a thread. Let me just get that for you. Can’t have you looking less than perfect!” She reached for her scissors and touched the back of his jacket whilst swiftly clipping a tuft of hair from the back of his head.

The corners of Cash’s mouth quirked upwards at her almost imperceptibly as he spoke, “Very elegant, good Sir. You look quite the part.”

Justin gave Cash a delighted twirl to show off his new threads before performing a low, sweeping bow - completely unaware of his missing locks - speaking in a haughty-sounding English accent, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Tarkhan, I am Lord Timberlake.”

Alana had to swig at a cup of water to stop herself from bursting into peals of laughter, it was like the only English person he’d ever heard speak before was Queen Elizabeth herself! Cash raised an eyebrow in her direction before addressing Justin, “You’re definitely comfortable travelling back alone, because it would only take Alana here a few minutes to change into something suitable and accompany you?”

Justin waved a hand dismissing the suggestion, quite honestly he didn’t want anyone cramping his style. It wasn’t Justin’s first time in Regency England - when he and Richard had travelled there previously he’d had a ball. He had exactly eight hours to get there, get the Garnet, have some fun in a previous era and get back - and then. Then a whole new era would begin. His era... Leader of the most powerful Society in the world and the biggest pop star in history. Justin grinned as he stepped forward, placing his hands around the ornate pocket watch and beginning the arcane chant to begin his voyage through time. The rest of the Inner Circle joined the chant, turning back the clocks within the tower as Justin’s world started to blur at the edges, drifting backwards through two hundred years of history.

After Justin was gone, a series of stealthy grins were exchanged around the group. Emilio breathed a sigh of relief, “We did it.”

Kiran tossed the little velvet bag with Justin’s hair inside to Cash - their insurance policy, should he need to be dealt with ‘more permanently’ at a later date. Today’s plan didn’t involve the singer being turned into a surprised-looking statue, just giving him an extended stay in Regency England instead... The garnet wasn’t there - in fact, there were no stones left there. It was common knowledge within the Inner Circle where the garnet was: firmly on the finger of Richard’s blissfully unaware and estranged daughter - passed down by his long-missing wife. A point that Timberlake was sadly remiss of: they all had banked on Richard never disclosing a topic so sore as his failure as a father out of pure pride and vanity - and they’d been correct...

Now there was nothing more to do than wind all the clocks back to the correct time, then sit and wait until Justin would try to get back.

—-

Seven and three-quarter hours later, the group within the tower saw a blurry portal loom in the corner of the room. Suddenly alert, they listened intently as Justin’s voice crackled through,

“Rafe, Cash, guys! Are you there? Help me! I can’t... I can’t get back! Alana?? The ritual, it’s not working, I’m not fading back through??”

Cash drawled as he examined his fingernails, looking thoroughly bored,

“Ah, so our little ritual worked then. Good to know.”

The passage through time became narrower and narrow as a sickening realisation suckerpunched Justin, panic rising like bile in his throat, “You... You did this on purpose!! You screwed me over!! You bastards!!!!”

As the portal flickered and shrunk to no more than a pinhole, echoes of the roars of their names reverberated around the room, until the gap sealed itself trapping Lord Timberlake in Regency England for ever more. Silence settled over the tower for a few moments, until Rafe glanced up at the rest of the group thorough his sweeping fringe, a smirk slowly stretching from ear to ear as he shrugs,

“Cry me a river...”

#immortal heart society #lovestruck

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