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#but I don’t. like what else can I change. I’ve already got the pronouns

cameronspecial · 5 months

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hey lovely!! i’ve been thinking about rafe spoiling angel and taking her to those cute little stores with all of the cute plushies and stuff. idk, but i absolutely love your work, and i literally giggle and kick my feet when i see that you’ve written more 😛

ilysm pookieeee 😋😋

Let Me Spoil You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

A/N: Thank you so much. It makes me giddy that you enjoy my work!

Masterlist

Y/N had just found out that she got into her top-choice Master’s Program and Rafe couldn’t be more proud of her. She’s been working so hard, so he wants to reward her for her accomplishments. “Rafe, why are we at the mall? You know I mostly shop at outlet stores,” she complains. Rafe brings her to his side, “I know, but why don’t you let me spoil you, Angel?” She exhales and bobs her head. “Fine, but not more than a hundred dollars,” she limits. She really does love it when he pampers her, but she needs to set some boundaries or else he’ll buy the whole mall. He shakes his head, “One thousand.”

“Two-fifty.”

“Five hundred.”

“Fine, except I get to buy dinner.”

Rafe is satisfied with the offer and holds his hand out for her. He doesn’t want her to feel guilty about him always spending money on her. The first stop on their tour is the bookstore. He purposefully picked this mall because of the big indie bookstore inside. This is probably where she’ll spend most of her money. She has been browsing the science section of the store for about ten minutes now and has already picked out a few books. Rafe wants her to choose whatever she wants; however, he has a small request. He resets his chin on her shoulder, “Could you throw in some spicy romance books? I like proving to you that I am the ultimate book boyfriend.” Y/N giggles, remembering what happened when he caught her reading Icebreaker. She takes his hand and heads over to the romance section. She browses the books for a few minutes and picks one out. She examines the back, proceeding to add the whole series into the basket. “What’s the book about?” he asks because he is intrigued by the fact that she wants to buy all four books. She smiles at her, “The first one is a grump x sunshine book. She is a photographer and he is rich and her brother’s best friend. I’ve seen it on Bookstagram.”

He follows her further down, “That sounds interesting. I can’t wait to see where it has us having sex next.” Shy about his words, Y/N turns her head away and continues to look at the books. They spend about forty minutes in the bookstore before moving on to Miniso. Y/N stares at the wall of stuffed animals in front of her. She knows she wants one, but can’t decide which to choose. “Okay, so there are four possible ones that I want. The penguin, the cat, the bear, or the banana. Which one do you think, Rafe?” she consults. Rafe doesn’t use words to reply; instead, he goes to each one she points out and puts it inside the bag. He adds an elephant in just because he thinks she’ll find it cute. “Rafe, that’s too many. Where am I going to put them?” she reasons, trying to reach into the bag to return some of the plushies.

He holds his hand out to stop her, “It’s still within your budget. We can put them in the frat storage if there isn’t space in my room and when we find a house in the summer, we just have to make sure there is enough room for them.” “Okay, I guess we can do that. Come on. I want to buy you some things too,” she tells him. They pay for the toys and she drags him to J. Crew. “You don’t have to use the money on me. It’s supposed to be for you.” She turns to him with a grin, “I know. This is for me too. You are going to do a fashion show for me.” Rafe isn’t one to like going shopping, but he will find joy in it if Y/N enjoys it.

Y/N sits on the little stool Rafe got a sales associate to bring over, waiting for him to come out of the changing room. The door opens and he comes out wearing the teal and white-stripped button-up shirt with the tanned chinos that she picked for him. He does his best to catwalk towards her and spins around for her to take in the full look. “What do we think?” he questions. She gives him a thumbs up, “Rafe, you look so good. We are definitely getting those.” He nods his head before going back to the changing room to try on the next outfit. He comes out in black shorts and a light blue polo, which compliments his eyes. He mocks taking a golf swing, “This is the perfect outfit for golfing. We are going to have to get you a matching one.”

“I don’t golf, Rafe. You know that.”

“I do, but don’t you think it would be fun to have a matching outfit? I can teach you how to play.”

“Fine, it would be cool. We can go next week. Now, go finish trying on the rest of the clothes.”

He gives her a mock solute. After trying on the other outfits, they get her a matching outfit to Rafe’s and then go pay. They head to his car, having spent five hundred dollars in almost three hours. It’s a new record for them honestly. Rafe opens the passenger side door for her and she slides into the seat with a thank you. He puts the shopping bags in the trunk, making his way to the diver’s side. “Did you have a good day?” he postulates. His eyes land on her beaming mouth and she holds his chin in between her fingers. Her head moves up and down, “I had the best day. Thank you for spoiling me, Rafe.” She gives him a sweet kiss. “I will always shower my angel with gifts. Now, where are you treating me to dinner?” “Let’s get sushi!” she announces, pointing her finger in forward. He chuckles at how adorable she is and starts the car, driving in the direction of her favourite sushi restaurant.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

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calirph · 2 months

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𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐄𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒, 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐄𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

All sentences have been taken from different literally, and media sources regarding childhood friends with feelings, former lovers, the one that never got away and the fear of a new love. You can change names, pronouns, locations and more as you see fit.

Can you forget about me?

No. Not if I live to be a hundred.

Then don’t ask me to do what you can’t.

Know that you are a beautiful woman with a beautiful soul and someday you will meet someone amazing, if you haven’t already. Someone that’s going to adore you as much as I always did.

But there will never be anyone else for me. You're it.

It’s us. It always has been.

Why do you speak like we won’t meet again for such a long time?

I don’t think you remember me as well as I remember us.

I never thought of a future without you.

Over the years, we have all seen their love grow. From playmates to sweethearts to bride and groom.

A lot has changed since the days when I used to throw mud in your face... but not everything's changed.

The red string of fate bound us together even then.

Why are old lovers able to become friends? Two reasons. They never truly loved each other, or they love each other still.

You're gone and you left me. My heart has dissipated.

I don't want to forget what we had. Ever.

I thought I was over him.

I realized I’m in love. It's always been right in front of me.

I tried to hate you, to forgive you, all just to forget you, but I'm only capable of loving you.

The more I try to erase you, the deeper you sink in.

I wanted you in my life from the beginning, Mal. Any way I could have you.

I’ve always liked you, from the first moment I saw you.

Don't let happiness slip through your fingers because of old angers and mistakes.

Why would I care what I look like when I’m constantly next to you?

I knew I wasn’t capable of falling in love unless you walked back into my life.

I let you go once. You’re crazy if you think I’m doing that again.

I always knew it was horses that would bring you back.

You’re always thinking about me, even when you’re frowning.

I’m thinking what a fool you are.

You rule my every thought. Even then. I was lying to myself.

You do deserve to dance, wear pretty dresses, and eat fine foods. You are worth celebrating.

When we're in here, when we're together like this, forget about everyone else.

I fancy you, Lauren, more now than ever.

I want you exactly as we've been before and so much more on top of that, too.

You… you’re everything I look for too.

Don’t ask me to give it all up unless that’s really what you want, because I could do it for you.

Forget San Carlo for just one second and tell me what you feel.

I can’t give you up, Lucy. I’m addicted to you, and I’m not strong enough to give you up.

I couldn’t risk someone seeing. The woods have eyes.

There was love in my heart for a boy once before, and it was a love that consumed my entire being.

There. Let the gods of friendship and common sense strike him dead.

There's something to said about smaller bed - you're forced to stay close to me. Where you belong.

There was a moment when we were young where I thought we would be married by now.

Not hard to get at all. Just hard to keep.

I'm trying to be good here, Karlie. But you're making it damn hard to resist.

What would you have me do to prove it?

You're my past, my present, and my future.

Say yes. Open your eyes, see that it's me, and say yes.

Why did you kiss me?

There's nothing to say.

Why are you looking at me like that?

You shouldn’t touch me.

We can't keep going on like this.

Back then, I always hoped. . .you know.

#meme #roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #◟ ⋆ memes › roleplay sources.#childhood lovers meme #former lovers meme

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thepixelelf · 1 year

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Bluff and Nonsense - she/her ver.

genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au pairing: female reader x hoshi words: 17.0k (01:08) warnings: cursing, alcohol notes (orig, 2020): "so the title is fluffy and this was a title fic, but then it ran away on me. I really like this one so... yeah. Enjoy!” update, 2023: this is the she/her version of Bluff and Nonsense. other than the pronouns, nothing else has been changed. you can find the original they/them version here, and the he/him version here

“Soonyoung? Yeah I know him, you should too. He’s on the uni’s dance crew, and ever since he joined them, their popularity’s skyrocketed. I’ve met him a few times, great guy — got a tendency to run his mouth but hey, no one’s perfect. He’s smart anyways, probably knows how to deal with the consequences, right?”

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Kwon Soonyoung is a man of many talents. He’s the guy who could fit a whole orange in his mouth in fourth grade, the guy who always knew how to make the social studies teacher talk about his divorce instead of the world wars, and the guy who brought a live pigeon to school with no one questioning him whatsoever. He’s also the head choreographer of the university’s dance crew — you barely knew there was a dance crew until he showed up with his hand-drawn posters — as well as a totally well-rounded fine arts major. C’mon, who takes a chemistry course in the fine arts? Kwon Soonyoung, apparently.

Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.

Which is why, when asked if he likes anyone, Soonyoung says your name instead of simply saying “no” (a much better option in hindsight). He actually likes a girl on his dance crew. Cute, funny, has those eyes you can just get lost in — lord knows Soonyoung has. But, at this relatively quiet party, with half the guests crowded on Seungcheol’s couch and the other half on the disgusting carpeted floor of his apartment, Soonyoung can’t admit his real crush because she’s sitting just a few feet away.

It wouldn’t be such a bad lie if you weren’t also sitting a few feet away.

You’re on your phone when he says your name in his heartbeat-induced panic, but you look up at the sound of it, as does Seungkwan, who was reading something on your phone from the beanbag chair you’re both sitting in.

A chorus of low, teasing ‘ooh’s rises throughout the room, almost like it’s eighth grade again and Soonyoung just got called down to the office. Except now, he might actually be in trouble. He gets a few claps on the back from his friends close enough to reach, commending him on his bravado even though he doesn’t deserve it. Really, the whole situation only dawns on Soonyoung after 6.8 seconds, which is a bit too long considering he made the situation in the first place. Blood rushes to his cheeks, not because of the alcohol in his red cup he’s yet to drink, but because you’re looking right at him, and he has no idea what to do.

Soonyoung doesn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d almost say he doesn’t know you at all.

You’re Seungkwan’s friend from one of his classes — computing science, if Soonyoung remembers correctly, but he’s not totally confident. The only reason you came tonight is because of Seungkwan. You don’t know anyone else.

With a tilt of your head, your face scrunches with question, and you look to Seungkwan for help. You know Soonyoung said your name, but you missed hearing the context. It looks like Seungkwan missed it too, seeing as the conversation you two have only makes your brow furrow more as the room chatter picks back up. Everyone else is already over Soonyoung’s sudden confession when Jeonghan starts talking about something else.

Except Soonyoung’s friends, of course. That would be too easy.

Mingyu turns to him with a stupid smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his upperclassman and the light beer he’s been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Soonyoung with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. “You didn’t tell me you like her,” he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.

“Yeah...” Soonyoung doesn’t know why he doesn’t just retract his confession, it’s not like Mingyu is close to you or anything, he’d understand. But then again, he’s bad at lying, and the girl he likes is still sitting on the couch. He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s sort of a recent thing.”

Mingyu’s smile only widens at Soonyoung’s response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. “Soonie’s in looove~!”

And Soonyoung doesn’t know what to say. Nothing like this has ever happened to him before, not exactly like this, anyways. So he just looks down, scratches the back of his neck again, looks at one of his dance crew friends when she calls his name.

He doesn’t dare glance your way for the rest of the night.

Turns out you do know someone else other than Seungkwan, because once most of the guests have cleared out, leaving only half the boys to clean up, Seokmin approaches Soonyoung as he scrubs the sink of whatever that weird green stuff is.

He asks how Soonyoung knows you and says off-handedly that he’s never even seen the two of you talk. (Which is right.) He says these things shouldn’t be joked about, that you’re a person with feelings, and Soonyoung should leave you alone if he’s just doing this for comedy’s sake.

Soonyoung thinks he’s never seen Seokmin so serious.

It’s probably fine. You haven’t said anything good or bad, and other than the occasional tease from his friends, no one has taken anything too far. Maybe you’ll forget about it tomorrow. Maybe he’ll forget about it tomorrow, and it will all be okay.

Besides, it’s not like he actually likes you. And his real secret is still safe and sound.

•

Of Soonyoung’s many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.

It’s not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, it’s that he can’t stand upsetting anyone. He’s a people-pleaser by nature, that’s just how it is.

So he doesn’t say no when you ask him out for coffee.

And he smiles at you when you try to make conversation, even though it’s awkward and hesitant despite having a mutual friend like Seungkwan. It’s not so bad, he thinks. You’re trying, at least, and when you ask him about his interests, you actually listen, which isn’t common when he tends to over-explain his love for dance and performance. He has a coffee in his hand too, so that’s a plus.

You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.

•

There are a few more coffee dates after that. It’s nothing official, and Soonyoung is hesitant to call the meetups “dates” because he’s not interested in dating you. But it’s a little late for that.

You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he can’t bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.

Something about the way you two talk is nice, at least. Soonyoung can’t quite put his finger on it, and he tells himself that’s what’s drawing him back every time, not the guilt he feels sunken in his ribcage whenever you smile his way. It’s not that deep, he repeats to himself whenever you wave to him on campus, making him feel obligated to walk you to class. It’s not that deep.

He’s in the library one day when he spots you at one of the tables, books open and spread out as you scribble down notes, a pair of earbuds dangling from your ears. You haven’t seen him, so he doesn’t try to approach, just ducks back behind the bookshelf he’s been exploring. His hand is on a book he might like when a voice stops him.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Minghao leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Soonyoung looks around, but of course he’s talking to him. They’re the only ones in the row.

“Um, how do you want me to answer that?” he asks, unsure of exactly what Minghao’s talking about. Yeah, he knows he’s a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.

Minghao rolls his eyes. “I know you like Sehee. You haven't stopped laughing like an idiot at her bad jokes." He nods his chin outwards, gesturing over Soonyoung's shoulder and through the bookshelves towards where you're sitting. "What are you doing messing with Seungkwan's friend?"

It’s not too surprising that Minghao knows — he’s an intuitive guy, but Soonyoung is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, “Does anyone else know?”

“If you mean dumb and dumber, then no.” Minghao jerks his head to swing his dark bangs out of his eyes. Everyone keeps telling him to just cut his hair shorter, but he refuses for the aesthetic, or something. “Chan is way too focused on dancing to notice your dumbassery, and Jun is about as observant as a fishcake when it comes to feelings.”

Soonyoung’s shoulders fall in relief, though he didn’t even realize they’d tensed up.

“But that’s not the problem here. Why are you playing around with her if you’re into Sehee?”

“I’m not—” Soonyoung pauses, thoughts deliberate, “—I’m not playing around, okay? I just... I don’t know. You were all looking at me, and I couldn’t just say Sehee's name, she was right there!”

Minghao cocks an eyebrow at that. “But you could say hers?”

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

Soonyoung groans quietly — he’s still in a library after all. He covers his face with both hands, not wanting to look at Minghao nor have Minghao look at him. For a second, it’s blissful, awkward silence, which Soonyoung would take over Minghao’s scolding any day. But of course, no haven lasts forever.

“You’re gonna have to tell her,” Minghao says, and he’s probably right. No, he is right, Soonyoung just doesn’t want him to be.

“I can’t do that! I said I like her— twice!”

“Twice?”

“Twice!”

Minghao only drops his head for a second, scoffing at the whole situation. Soonyoung wishes he could do that too, just laugh it off because it’s someone else’s problem.

“Well, you’re going to have to say something sooner or later.” Meeting his eyes, Soonyoung realizes Minghao might actually be worried. About you, or him, or something else, he’s not sure, but the subtle fold of Minghao’s eyelids tells Soonyoung this is about more than just calling out idiocy. “And I think sooner will hurt less.”

Soonyoung knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it.

Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minghao’s hands are on Soonyoung’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him out of the row of bookshelves and straight towards your table.

“You can do it, Soonyoung, just rip the band-aid while you still can,” he whispers in Soonyoung’s ear right before one last push at his back.

Soonyoung stumbles a bit, but once he regains his footing, Minghao’s already gone and you’ve already noticed the ruckus. You pull one earbud out with a bright smile. It’s so jovial that Soonyoung almost forgets why he’s here.

“Hi Soonyoung, I didn’t see you come in,” you say, and there’s no way you’re this energized just from studying in a library.

“Uh... hi.”

“You’ve actually got the perfect timing.” Waving to him, you gesture for him to sit next to you, and he does. You pull out some sort of planner, opening it to a few months from now. “I wanted to ask when exactly your showcase is? Seungkwan’s no help at all because he only cares about his concerts and stuff. Honestly, there aren’t that many...”

You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.

Soonyoung picks later.

•

“So when are you gonna ask her out?”

Jihoon stands in front of the stove, watching his hot water simmer, a bag of dry ramen in one hand and long cooking chopsticks in the other. It’s Soonyoung’s turn to make dinner tonight, but since he says he isn’t hungry, Jihoon’s scrounging it out himself.

Soonyoung, on the other hand, sits at their tiny dinner table, his forehead pressed to the cool surface, arms hanging limp at his sides. He mumbles something of a response, but it’s nothing more than a questioning grunt, if anything.

“Oh, you know.” Even when Jihoon says your name, Soonyoung stays still. “Only the girl you’ve been on several “dates” with ever since you confessed to her at Seungcheol’s party. When are you gonna ask her on a real date?”

Tired, Soonyoung groans. “When the time is right, I guess.”

•

You work on campus. It’s some part-time job you don’t care about enough to even complain over, despite the fact that you have to deal with annoying university kids every day. Soonyoung finds this out when he has coffee with Minghao in one of the buildings he doesn’t normally frequent, and only goes to today since Minghao has a class nearby in the next hour.

The coffee isn’t great, and it’s too expensive, but Soonyoung drinks it anyways. He much prefers the coffee from the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.

He hears your voice first, words indiscernible with distance and overshadowed by a much louder, angrier one, but still. Minghao sees you first, though, and he points past Soonyoung to the student printing center, where you’re standing behind the counter and arguing with some guy. You don’t seem too riled, but Soonyoung can tell you want to be anywhere but there, especially when the angry guy’s voice keeps getting louder and louder.

Soonyoung’s feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You haven’t seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesn’t. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.

“Listen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I can’t print this for you.”

The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Soonyoung isn’t really listening.

“No, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really don’t think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.”

And that’s when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Soonyoung grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, “What are you, her boyfriend or something?”

Now, in a perfect story, this would be the first time Soonyoung meets you. Or maybe you’ve been close friends for a while. And this would be when Soonyoung says that, yes, he is your boyfriend, and he would save the day. Except you’d be all “why would you do that?” which would result in you both having to fake date to keep that guy off your back. In this perfect story, there would be no Sehee to like and no Minghao to judge, just you and Soonyoung fake dating. Eventually, you’d both catch real feelings instead of fake ones, and then boom, happily ever after.

But this isn’t a perfect story.

Soonyoung still says yes, and the guy still backs off. In reality though, because Soonyoung never thinks before he lies, you momentarily duck behind the counter and bring a hand up to your face to cover your ever-brightening smile. In reality, Sehee still exists at the forefront of his mind every dance practice, even though you’re the one he just promptly claimed to be the boyfriend of. In reality, Minghao watches from a little ways away, sipping his coffee and shaking his head in what can only be called disappointment.

Soonyoung’s never been good at lying. One would think he’d stop by now.

•

So, it’s official.

You’ve put a heart next to his contact name. He’s put one next to yours — red, because he doesn’t know your favourite colour. Seungkwan’s done the whole if you break my friend’s heart I break you spiel and Soonyoung finally realizes he’s in too deep.

It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.

Soonyoung feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.

You pluck up the courage one day to hold his hand, and he can't pull away because the lies tying him to you are too strong. The small bluffs he's spun have weaved themselves into a net he's tangled himself in.

His dance crew congratulates him when Jun spills the news. It's all mundane, really — dating in university isn't all that uncommon. Mostly, Soonyoung gets casual "you go, dude" comments or the like, but then Sehee says nothing. She smiles, and it has to be one of the most tragically beautiful things Soonyoung's ever seen. His heart fractures, just a little, and he doesn't know if he'll ever be able to fix it.

He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.

Chan complains that Soonyoung's too harsh that day.

•

Jihoon likes you.

Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Soonyoung's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.

"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with her around," Jihoon says once you leave for the night.

Soonyoung has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.

•

He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Soonyoung has gotten really, really good.

His smile looks genuine. It has to — he shows it to Minghao, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.

He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the male leads do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.

He hates how easy it is.

Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Seungkwan's friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Soonyoung's new girlfriend, you're now a new teasing target besides Chan. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.

You say you don't mind — that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.

Minghao keeps his distance, saying he doesn't want to get himself involved. He's still the only one to know the truth, and his judging stare only grows worse as the days pass. Soonyoung wants so badly to make it go away, but he knows the only way to do that would be to tell you the truth, and he's just not ready.

Soonyoung's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.

Sometimes life makes its own plans.

"My shift got moved to tomorrow," you tell him when he picks you up from class, one hand in his and the other in your pocket. He knows it means something, but he doesn't know what. Your lips purse into a line as you stare at your shoes. “I was thinking... could I come watch your dance practice? If that’s okay?”

Now, Soonyoung loves dancing. He loves dance. He loves to dance. Performing sends an unparalleled thrill rushing through his veins like the solar system hurtling through the universe, and it’s something he’s never felt doing anything else. Dancing with others is a beautiful connection, an emission of silent truths communicated through the body. Practice, however, is the dirty version of dance. It has to be built up first — polished. Which is why Soonyoung says what he says. He doesn’t even think it over.

“No.”

It’s what he says every time someone asks. He doesn’t invite people to practices — never has. Even after his prompt refusal, he doesn’t register his mistake until the light in your eyes wavers. It doesn't disappear — just ripples. Comes back weaker than before.

"Oh," you say. The word should sound dejected but it doesn't. There's a smile at your lips, and Soonyoung can't help but think it looks kind of like his. "That's— that's okay! I was just — I don't know, I guess I just thought... I wanted to..."

Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.

"I'll be going home then. I've got an assignment due soon anyways, so..." You pull your hand from his grip and, from where you two were walking toward the fine arts building, turn the opposite way. Your dorm is on the other side of campus. "See you tomorrow, Soonyoung. Have fun at practice."

Something about your smile haunts him.

It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that — insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.

For an awful moment, he's hopeful. Maybe this will be the trigger. Maybe you'll end this tonight — whatever "this" is that Soonyoung has with you. Maybe he won't have to tell any harsh truths at all.

He turns and walks to practice.

The routine feels lighter tonight, though Soonyoung can’t pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, it’s not. The rhythm is off. He’s not landing when he should be.

His crew notices, especially Chan, who complains that Soonyoung’s too much of a cocksure choreographer to be making repeated mistakes like this. They tell him maybe everyone should take a break. He agrees, but only because he’s frustrated — and he shouldn’t channel his anger into dance. Not this one, at least.

Everyone spreads throughout the studios to the edges, where they lean their body weight on the walls and slide down, water bottles in hand. The room reeks of sweat and feet, but Soonyoung’s used to it by now. He guzzles down half of his water in one go and pulls out his phone.

[❤] Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to react all... cold? Seungkwan told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no

[❤] If I’m ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?

Of course you’d be understanding. Soonyoung wouldn’t be that lucky.

He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.

Across the studio, Minghao clears his throat, raising an eyebrow at Soonyoung when he opens his eyes to look at him. It only takes two reluctant nods for Minghao to understand the source of Soonyoung’s groans, and he does nothing to react but look away. Soonyoung thinks that’s almost worse than the judging eyes. At least at that point Minghao thought he was something other than a lost cause.

He doesn’t text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.

•

How much longer is he going to let this go on?

Soonyoung wonders that to himself as he sits, returned to Seungcheol's apartment for another one of his "getties" as people are so apt to call them. He's never understood the difference between a getty and a party, and he's always been too stubborn to ask, knowing he'd be mercilessly made fun of for not knowing something apparently all university students knew.

This one isn't so different from the last. More or less the same crowd, the same atmosphere as the night goes on. Only this time, when everyone's settled down in what can hardly be called a circle, Soonyoung's on the couch, sunken into the too-old cushions with an arm wrapped around your shoulders. You're far from your last claimed spot with Seungkwan on that ratty old beanbag chair, sitting comfortably under Soonyoung's arm with a plastic cup of whatever Jeonghan concocted for you — which you've yet to drink much of.

Sehee sits across from you both while she laughs at something Wonwoo says. You laugh too, but Soonyoung barely notices, eyes glued to the girl they've been stuck on since she joined his dance crew over a year ago. He wants to tell her how beautiful she is when she smiles, even under the light of Seungcheol's dingy apartment, but he can't. He wants to tell her how he's felt for months, but you're next to him. He wants to have a fucking drink but all he has in his cup is fucking iced green tea because he knows if he drinks he'll fuck up again.

Just like last time.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.

He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Soonyoung hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.

"I'm fine."

But he's not fine.

He doesn't participate in much conversation — only speaks when spoken to, and even then with few words. You seem to become tense next to him, but he does nothing to try and fix it. Just tonight, he's going to let himself be tired.

Three times, you offer to leave, and all three he refuses. You give up eventually, though he can tell you know something's off. God, if he were drunk, he wouldn't even have to think about you for a whole night.

Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Soonyoung. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.

What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?

You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.

"Hmm..." You let your chin fall into your palm with a smile. It's real. Too real. "I like his resolve," you finally say. "If he wants to do something, he does it." With a loud exhale through your nose, you tilt your head, still meeting his eyes with your own. Soonyoung's mouth slightly parts, slack with something he can't name. "I could learn a thing or two from him."

The room bristles with your answer, various response piping up around. Soonyoung sort of registers Chan saying, "That's cute. I wanna vomit," but he's too busy thinking about you, about how you've come to like something about him as deep as that when all he's done is pretend to even like you at all.

And even when his mind swims with that, Sehee asks again.

"Then Soonyoung, what do you like about her?"

It sort of hurts. Soonyoung's not afraid to admit to himself that hearing Sehee ask what he likes about you sends pain straight through his ears to his heart. There's an awkward pause and everyone's looking at him expectantly and, god, he wishes he stole your drink when he had the chance.

"I..." His throat goes dry. His lips part, but there aren't any words to slip past them. "I, um..." He looks to you, and your eyes speak volumes. Everyone else in this room has a sort of... hungry look. They want to know Soonyoung's answer for one reason or another, maybe to tease with or to ridicule or even wish for themselves. But you, your eyes meet his and he knows you're not expecting anything. That hurts too. He doesn't know why. But even then, he can't think of the words. Any words. He steals a glance at Sehee, whose expression is curious, doe eyes slightly giddy from alcohol. She's pretty.

"I like her laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever she laughs, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see her laugh again'."

Your eyes move to the plastic cup you've got gripped between two hands in your lap, and Seungkwan points out your flustered state to the entire room despite the fact everyone can see it as long as they've got working eyes. You purse your lips together to contain a smile, but it doesn't work. Even Soonyoung can see that.

He needs a drink.

Having to go to the bathroom is a lousy excuse, and Soonyoung knows it, but he whispers that in your ear anyways and retracts his arm from your shoulder before escaping. He does go to the bathroom, a small thing with a shower and no bath, but all he does in there is stare at himself in the mirror. And when that becomes too much, his feet.

Someone else eventually has to use the bathroom for its actual purpose, so he opens it to the banging fist outside and slides past the person back into the hallway. He pauses before walking all the way back. You're caught up in some other conversation now, laughing and dramatically waving your hands as you deny some crazy embarrassing story Seungkwan's trying to spill about you. Seems you've already integrated yourself with his friends more than he thought.

Since your attention is occupied, Soonyoung instead ducks into the half-kitchen — not necessarily out of sight, but no one's really paying attention anyways. He knows he shouldn't take any chances, but he really, really wants to let go. He's been wearing a facade ever since he said your name that night.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

Minghao's voice has Soonyoung jerking up and banging his head on the door of the open fridge he was rummaging through. He winces in pain, kneading his fingers into his scalp as if that will do anything.

"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.

"I dunno." Minghao shrugs, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret, I guess."

He takes the yet unopened bottle from Soonyoung's hands, reaching beyond him to put it back in place. There's no point in fighting against him since he's undeniably right, but Soonyoung grumbles anyways. His eyes glance every few seconds to you on the couch. If you happen to hear anything...

Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.

"You have to end it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just—" Soonyoung takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt her."

"So you're just going to date her based on false pretenses because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Voice laced with sharpness, Minghao places his palms flat on the counter.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

A second passes. Minghao's brow furrows.

"And quite frankly," Soonyoung continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."

He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minghao's fingers around his elbow stop him.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minghao warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And her in the process."

"We'll see about that."

Soonyoung has acted on impulse before. It happened with the pigeon, it happened with your name, and it's happening right now. Nothing is compelling him other than the absolute need to prove Minghao wrong, and even then, he doesn't know why.

He sits back down next to you, his spot saved by some miracle considering the surrounding company. The look on your face is happy, jovial. You must be having a right old time. His nerves strike with a feeling he's never quite experienced before.

When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.

"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.

Impulse is a scary thing. Soonyoung hates it almost as much as lying.

He leans in, crashing his lips on yours with his eyes half closed. His lips move and yours don't. Soonyoung can't even be sure you've closed your eyes, but at this very moment, he doesn't care. All he knows is he's angry and Minghao is watching.

This isn’t your first kiss — he knows because you’ve talked to him about this very topic. This is, however, to your understanding, the first “real” relationship you’ve ever been in. You told him yourself that you don’t really count that past kiss as your first, that you felt a bit... violated when it happened.

Soonyoung thinks this isn’t all too different.

He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.

•

You show up to movie night. Apparently Jihoon invited you — explained it like this:

“You won’t have to be so clingy with me if she’s here.”

At first, Soonyoung thinks Jihoon just wants to drop their roommate movie nights because he’s always complained about them, but Jihoon sticks around during Anastasia; sings along with you during Once Upon a December despite the fact that neither of you really know the words. He sits right in front of you two on the couch, cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of popcorn in his lap, that of which he only offers to you twice and Soonyoung once.

Whatever. You’re a better cuddler than Jihoon anyway.

Somehow it doesn’t feel forced when you lean your head on Soonyoung’s shoulder, or when he wraps his arm around your waist to get comfortable. He blames it on how tired he is, how he always gets on movie night after a week of classes and practices and too much work for one person to handle. Jihoon complains all the time that he’s too touchy when tired.

You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been about a month now.

Soonyoung doesn’t kiss you again after the first time. Doesn’t stop you, either, but you’re more of an on-the-cheek kind of person. He thinks you think he wants to take this slow, even though he initiated the first big step (as convoluted as it was). He lets you think what you want.

Nasty business, it is.

Cleaning a bowl that once held popcorn. All the grease that sticks to the side because Jihoon likes to use too much butter. All the grains of salt that get underneath Soonyoung’s fingernails. He’s washing, Jihoon’s drying. It’s an arrangement of sorts.

You’ve already left for the night, gone back to your dorm since it’s only a five minute walk or so through campus. Jihoon insisted on Soonyoung escorting you, but you only smiled sweetly and refused. Maybe Soonyoung should’ve argued harder against you. He didn’t though. That’s why he’s scrubbing a bit too harshly now — he doesn’t like messing up.

Seems that’s all he’s good for lately.

“You’re unhappy.”

Soonyoung stops scrubbing. The only noise in the whole apartment is the slow gurgle of the sink because even with a plug, such an old thing just lets the hot water seep away as the seconds go by. Jihoon’s gaze is on the pan he’s drying, but Soonyoung knows his heart is in the question. It always is.

“I’m not,” he tries to deny, but it’s difficult to fool a person like Jihoon. (Especially since Soonyoung can’t even convince himself.)

The non-stick pan from yesterday’s dinner clangs against an older one when Jihoon puts it away. He looks at Soonyoung, but by then he’s turned back to washing the popcorn bowl, so their eyes don’t end up meeting.

“I’ve known you since tenth grade. You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Soonyoung finds it hard to read Jihoon’s feelings most of the time. He didn’t realize he was such an open book the other way around.

Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. “I’m just... stressed.”

“About?”

Minghao already knows; already thinks lowly of Soonyoung for it. If Jihoon knew... Soonyoung doesn’t know if he can take that.

So he lies. Again.

“Just the dance showcase.”

It isn’t a whole lie, not really, but he can’t call it the truth either.

Jihoon takes the bowl from Soonyoung’s grasp and rinses it under the tap. Since that’s the last dish, Soonyoung is stuck with nothing for his hands to do. They rest on the edge of the sink, but his fingers ache for a task.

Jihoon, the friend that he is, says, “That’s not for three months, though. I’m sure you’ll be perfect by then.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do.” Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. “Everything will work out.”

“...Okay.”

•

Soonyoung measures time in terms of you now.

When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.

It’s all a very elaborate calculation — how much time he’s spent on you versus how much time he should spend on you. No relationship is quite like this one, he thinks, and it’s quite the romantic notion out of context. The fact remains, every interaction he has with you only pulls him further and deeper into his lie.

Soonyoung’s time moves a bit slower now.

Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesn’t want it to.

•

You tell him you might be in love with him.

He says he might be in love with you.

He’s never hated lying more.

•

Jihoon is cleaning out the fridge when the buzzer goes off, so since he’s close by, he picks up the old corded phone attached to the wall. From his spot on the couch, Soonyoung looks up from his phone to see Jihoon cover the receiver and mouth your name. Jihoon makes some sort of gesture with his hands, and somehow Soonyoung understands that as, were you expecting her?

His eyes widen as it settles in that no, he’s not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.

Jihoon buzzes you in, hangs up, and immediately moves from the fridge to the coffee table, throwing the laundry he was planning on folding back in the plastic hamper and shoving the pile in Soonyoung’s lap.

“Take care of this,” he says. “I’ll clear up the kitchen.”

Right. Can’t have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.

Soonyoung reacts quickly, standing from his spot on the couch with the laundry basket in hand. He dashes to his room, where he plans to stuff the laundry in his closet and save that problem for later, but once he gets there, he realizes his room is even worse. There are dirty clothes dispersed all over his bed and old coffee cups littering his desk. Scrambling to shove the new laundry in his closet, the dirty clothes in the now empty hamper, and gather all the paper cups in his arms, Soonyoung’s breath starts to catch.

When he emerges from his room with two armfuls of garbage, he finds you at the door with Jihoon, your face hidden in his shoulder and your arms wrapped tight around his waist. Jihoon’s arms are up, almost like he’s being held at gunpoint, and his eyes widen even further when he catches sight of Soonyoung.

“Uhh... it’s for you.”

Soonyoung can hear your quiet hiccups even though they’re muffled in Jihoon’s shirt. He can’t bear it when people cry.

Yeah, maybe he’s been pretending to like you for a long time now, but he’s not a monster.

Right?

He likes you as a person. As a friend. And there’s no way he’s letting his friend go through pain like this.

Soonyoung swiftly discards his trash into the garbage bin and approaches you and Jihoon. At the commotion, you lift your head from Jihoon’s shoulder, eyes all red and puffy. Your lips press together, emotions nearly bursting at the seams, but they finally break out when Soonyoung opens his arms wide.

“C’mere.”

You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay — he knows you’re not.

Jihoon stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Soonyoung clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be — um. Mhm. Yup.”

He escapes to his room.

Soonyoung squishes his cheek to your temple as you both stay there. You’re shaking, and his arms squeeze tighter. If only he could make it stop. He doesn’t know what to say or do to make you feel better.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, though quiet and hesitant.

You shake your head, mumbling something he can’t quite make out. He pulls back a bit, just enough to see your face and gently cup your cheeks in his palms. His thumbs rub at your cheeks, smoothing any stray tears across your skin.

“What’s that?”

“Just...” Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. “Could you please just hold me?”

And he does.

Decidedly, his bed is much more comfortable than standing in the living room, so he sways, rocking side to side with small steps that force you to walk backwards. His smile, though, is reassuring, and you follow his guidance without much complaint. He sits you down on his bed, thankful that he cleaned up beforehand, and slowly leans you down so you’re both on your sides, facing each other. Pulling you closer, he lets you rest your head on his chest. Your hand lies flat on top of him, but eventually your fingers curl, clutching a bit of Soonyoung’s shirt between them. Silent tears fall from your eyes to his chest, but he doesn’t care.

His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.

It’s quiet.

Funny. Soonyoung used to dislike silence with you — always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.

Soonyoung doesn’t know how much time passes. His eyes stick to his bedroom ceiling as he holds you close, thoughts on everything and nothing all at once. Are you asleep? Your tears stopped some time ago.

His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about it?”

He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesn’t really work. “Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re not.”

You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your face is still looks wrecked from tears gone by, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.

“Thank you,” comes past your lips in a whisper. Then, after a moment of waiting, you say, “It’s just that... I... this — ugh.” You hide your face in his shirt again. “This is so embarrassing. I don’t even know why I got so worked up.”

Soonyoung doesn’t respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.

“This guy I used to know — I thought I’d never see him again, but he showed up today. Ran into him when I was walking back from the convenience store.” You bite the inside of your lip. “I haven’t thought about him in a long time, but, I don’t know, I guess seeing him just brought all these memories back all at once.”

“Bad ones?”

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Sure, you could say that.”

The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like you’re trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you don’t have to. Soonyoung is here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?”

Soonyoung hums. Of course he remembers.

“Back in high school, I used to have this friend. Sammy. She was — god, she was beautiful. And kind, and smart, and just... amazing. I miss her a lot. She’s abroad now, travelling the world with her sister. I think she’s in Peru now.” You chuckle at the mention of your old friend, but soon your smile twists into a frown. “This guy... I don’t like saying his name, but he liked Sammy. Everyone did, I don’t blame him for that, honestly. He was pretty popular back then — one of those sports boys, you know? Thinking about it now, he could’ve easily gotten with Sammy if he hadn’t been so conniving.”

“Conniving?”

“Yeah, he was... I don’t know how he got the idea in his head, but he came to me first. He kept hanging out with me, taking me on these... dates? But they weren’t really dates, all we did was talk about Sammy — what she liked, what she didn’t like. I knew he was using me, but I just... let him, I guess. Maybe back then I was just so caught up in being needed that I didn’t really mind being used.”

Soonyoung hugs you tighter.

“I guess he felt sorry, maybe? Right before he went to go ask Sammy out, he just... laid one on me. It was stupid. Like a pity kiss for my service or whatever. I wasn’t in love with the guy or anything, but it felt so... degrading. Like all I deserved was some action from a conventionally good-looking guy."

Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.

“I don’t know, it just — it just made me feel so...”

You take a breath. Exhale.

“...worthless.”

Soonyoung doesn’t fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Soonyoung’s a million times better.

“You’re not worthless,” he says — because he knows it’s true.

“I know.” You readjust yourself curled around him, wiping away the tears which haven’t fallen. “I mean, I know now.” Sighing, you wrap your arm around his waist, somehow pulling him closer than he already was. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you. For letting me be me.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re such a dork!”

Your laugh is nice. Soonyoung hopes to hear it again soon.

“You know,” you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. “Normally I would’ve gone to Seungkwan with my problems, but tonight...”

“Tonight?”

“You make me feel safe, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

His eyes close. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “That, and if I told Seungkwan, he would’ve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.”

“Why can I see that?”

“Because it’s true.”

You stay the night.

•

With a group of friends as big as Soonyoung’s, it’s about once every blue moon that the boys find a time that works for everyone, especially coming up on finals season. They all have their own worries around this time: the dance showcase, the big play, last-minute assessments, and — of course — finals.

So when they’re all free for barbecue one night, everyone’s ecstatic. Reservations are made, gratuities are calculated, and the group chat blows up every few hours with various changes to plans. (Mostly from Mingyu, who’s eager to show off his grilling skills.)

But of course, university is university, and it’s inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Soonyoung.

The dance showcase creeps up a bit faster than anyone likes, and now Soonyoung’s professor is forcing him to choreograph an entire song for some freshmen only a month before the whole thing goes onstage.

First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?

And second of all, doesn’t his professor realize Soonyoung has a life? He’s got other dances to work on, other classes to study for, friends to have barbecue with. How is he supposed to cram an entire choreography — not the mention the time it’ll take to teach the freshmen — into his already hectic lifestyle?

But Soonyoung is a people-pleaser. He doesn’t say no.

Instead, he regretfully messages the group chat, saying he can’t hang out tonight in favour of attempting to choreograph at least a quarter of the song in one sitting. He gets the usual whining, but they all know they can’t change his mind, so it fades out fast.

What he doesn’t expect is for them to invite you instead.

“It’s a thirteen person reservation,” Seungcheol reasons. “Besides, she’s basically one of us by now.”

Soonyoung can’t exactly argue with that.

So, you go to the restaurant with them while Soonyoung heads to the studio. Minghao picks you up along with Vernon and Chan, which sends an anxious bit of worry down Soonyoung’s spine, but he does nothing about it. If Minghao wanted to tell you, he would’ve by now.

You send him a good luck text.

[🍥] Don’t let those kids work you into the ground!

He stares at your words for a bit, distracted from finding the song he’s supposed to use. Your contact name is different now — one of those naruto fishcakes because of that time you took him out for ramen. That night had been full of laughter and loud, borderline obnoxious slurping, ending with the beautiful finale of Soonyoung throwing a fishcake straight into your open mouth.

You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.

Soonyoung finally opens his music app and finds the song the freshmen requested (a rather boring one, if you ask him) which he sets to max volume. He doesn’t bother plugging his phone into the speaker system, not when he’s the only one in the studio.

Maybe he can do this.

•

“The trick is to add eggs and use less water,” you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.

Jihoon snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. “Are you sure the trick isn’t to just not be Soonyoung?”

“Hey!” Soonyoung pauses his own eating just to pout. “My waffles are good!”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

Both you and Jihoon laugh at Soonyoung’s expense, only further accentuating the pout on his face. You and Jihoon are too alike in that aspect. Well, actually, Soonyoung knows you’d never laugh at him, but he still can’t be sure about Jihoon. One time, back in high school, Soonyoung tripped over (what he thought was) a dead bird, and Jihoon laughed for hours — though Soonyoung always exaggerates the story into him laughing for days.

You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. There’s flour dusted on your arms, but you don’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got a little...” You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.

He knows. Soonyoung can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.

He smiles wide. “I’m saving it for later.”

“Hmm...”

You say nothing, just smile as you lean in, kissing the corner of his lips. It’s quick, chaste, and barely a real kiss, but Soonyoung’s heart bounces in his chest. He’s never been kissed like that before.

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.

“Gross. You guys made me lose my appetite,” Jihoon says. He keeps eating.

•

With eyes drooping shut every few seconds, Soonyoung decides it’s time to call it quits on the chemistry homework. It’s nearly one in the morning, anyways. He flips his textbooks shut and gathers up all his notes, putting them all in a haphazard pile that he’ll worry about in the morning. Swivelling in his chair, his eyes land on you.

Oh. He forgot you’re here.

You’re snuggled up on top of his covers, one arm wrapped around the pillow your head should be on, eyes closed as even, slow breaths come past your slightly parted lips. One of his hoodies is draped over your legs like a blanket. He wonders why you didn’t just get under the covers.

Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadn’t some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.

He feels a bit guilty as he brushes his teeth and washes his face, but not too bad since you only have afternoon classes tomorrow. Maybe he can treat you to something in the morning to make up for it.

After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.

Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like you’re holding something invisible.

His hand would fit perfectly.

The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.

You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Soonyoung’s hand.

He closes his eyes.

•

The moves aren’t working.

The moves aren’t working and the music isn’t working and the dance isn’t working and nothing is working.

Soonyoung groans in frustration, almost screaming with his fingers threaded through his damp hair as he messes up yet another landing. He’s drenched in sweat, and it’s only been so many hours since the rest of the crew left for the night, not that he’s kept track.

It’s less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Chan is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.

That freshmen choreography is already over and done with — Soonyoung’s made it, he’s taught it to those over-eager nuisances, and if they need anything more, that’s on them. They’re no longer his responsibility.

That’s not what has him in such a state right now.

His solo — the one he’s been planning for the entire semester — it just doesn’t... feel right. He’s been slaving over it for days now, reworking the steps, figuring out what to take out and what to replace. But the more he fixes it, the more it feels wrong.

He can’t get the steps right. He can’t get anything right.

What is wrong with him?

He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jump—

He falls.

The music goes on.

Soonyoung slams his fist onto the softwood floor, cursing at his ineptitude. He stays like that for a moment, eyes screwed shut and fists clenched so tight his nails dig into his palms. The song ends, only to restart again, but Soonyoung barely notices.

Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.

Again.

He falls.

He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.

His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.

Mind blank, he sits there, legs stretched out in front of him as he hunches over, eyes closed to the world around. His breaths come out shaky and uneven, but even though every moment sitting still feels like eternity, his lungs fail to calm.

Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Soonyoung thinks it’s Jun coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t look up.

The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.

“Soonyoung?”

Your voice is clear — like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole — and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Soonyoung’s ears.

He looks up to see you standing a good length away, almost like you’re scared to approach. You’re wearing pyjamas, a thick sweater pulled over your shoulders and fuzzy socks donning your feet. Something bulges from the pocket of your sweater.

“What are you...”

“Minghao called me.”

In the back of his mind, a small part of Soonyoung wonders exactly when you and Minghao have gotten close enough to call each other, but the thought doesn’t stay for long. It can’t, really, not when you’re in front of him.

When Soonyoung says nothing more, you take another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.

His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.

“Everything.”

Your eyes soften, a small smile tugging at your lips. It’s not one of those pitiful smiles, he can tell, but it’s not fake, either. You bring your hands together in front of you, fiddling with the tips of your fingers as your eyes move from them to his gaze again. “I’m coming over. Is that okay?”

He nods.

First, you find his phone and turn down the music until it’s gone. You sit right behind him, legs spread on either side of his body, and you wrap your arms around his waist, pressing flush to his back and resting your cheek between his shoulder blades. He squirms a bit.

“I’m all sweaty,” he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah, you are.”

He stops resisting. It’s much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he can’t complain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” This time it’s your turn to ask.

“...Just hold me?”

And you do.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.

That’s when the dam breaks.

Hot, fat tears roll from Soonyoung’s eyes down his cheeks as sobs rack through his chest. The vibrations shake him and you all at once, but your hold never falters. He can’t see anything, only a blur of what should be his legs and your arms wrapped around his stomach. His hands go to clutch at your arms, desperate to hold onto something; to not let him sink.

It’s ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.

This is what it’s like.

Eventually, his desperate hands find yours, his arms crossed so his right is over your right, his left over your left. His fingers roam over the smooth backs of your hands until they reach your fingers and interlock. The palms of your hands are warm compared to his fingertips.

You’ve locked onto his body language by now — you’re fluent, so you know to continue pressing reassuring, slow kisses into his skin. You know to whisper little words that should mean nothing, but coming from your lips, mean everything.

He’s going to be okay.

For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.

You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.

His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Soonyoung almost whines until he feels its return.

“Look,” you whisper.

It itches to open his eyes, but when he does, he sees what’s in your hand, right in front of him. A small stuffed tiger sits in your palm, positioned anatomically incorrect like a teddy bear, a velvet heart between its paws. Stitched white letters read:

Go get ‘em, tiger!

You chuckle lightly, repositioning yourself so your chin hooks over his shoulder. “Cheesy, I know. I was going to give this to you the day of the showcase, but I think you could use it right about now.”

Gingerly, Soonyoung lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.

His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, “Thank you.”

Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. “Anything for you.”

Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Soonyoung’s ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fuzzy fabric of the tiger plush.

“Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

You press your lips to the crook of his shoulder, voice muffled in the fabric of his shirt. “I won’t force you to stop practicing. I know this is important to you.” Soonyoung feels your breath fan over his skin. “But I also want you to rest — you shouldn’t overwork yourself.”

One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.

“Whaddya say we do, hm?” You tilt your head, and Soonyoung thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. “Do you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?”

“Just...” He swallows what’s left in his dry mouth. “Just once more.”

You smile. “Okay.”

As you get up, you run your hands up to Soonyoung’s shoulder and down to his hand, where you playfully pretend to pull him up with you. He laughs, hiding his face behind the tiger plush for a second before he stands, tugging your hands as he does so you fall into him when he rights himself. Both your hands are squeezed between him and you, while his unoccupied arm finds its way to your side.

Another smile tugs at your lips at the proximity. You shift your hands up so they wrap over his shoulders, linking behind his head. Leaning closer, your eyes gleam under the fluorescent lights. To the sound of silence, you sway together, waltzing in the dead of night.

“I’ll be outside, okay?”

Soonyoung’s expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. “Why?”

“Well,” you say. “I know how you feel about audiences during practice.”

Something about your smile right now makes Soonyoung feel so undeniably safe. You understand him. Never once have you questioned him over why he doesn’t invite you to practices, never once did you pressure him to change that.

“Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Hmm, do I?”

Do you?

“Stay.”

And you do.

•

Here’s the thing about dance showcases:

They’re big, they’re flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and they’re over in one night.

Soonyoung stands in the wings, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth, hopefully not loud enough for anyone to hear. He watches as the group performing before his solo finishes up their dance, though he knows there is at least a minute before he’ll have to go on.

A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Sehee’s smiling face.

“Nervous?” she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.

She’s all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.

“You have no idea,” Soonyoung jokes, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Sehee tilts her head; blinks a few times. “You’ll do amazing. You always do.”

For what it’s worth, Soonyoung hasn’t forgotten his attraction. Sehee’s words soothe him to some extent, pump him up, even. It’s slightly terrifying — how much she still affects him even now.

You’re in the audience tonight, third row from the front, somewhere in the middle. Your seat is between Seungkwan’s and Jihoon’s, whereas all the other boys came (almost) too late and had to find seats elsewhere.

The music ends, applause erupts, and Soonyoung knows it’s his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.

Something Soonyoung has almost always known: stage lights are blinding. If they’re set up right, anyone onstage will have a damn hard time seeing anyone in the audience. He can’t see you — couldn’t during his previous performance with the crew, either. The only reason he knows you’re there is the million assuring texts you sent him before you had to turn off your phone for the show.

But he knows you’re there. He knows you’re watching.

Soonyoung stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where he’s practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.

He wouldn’t call it an escape. Soonyoung doesn’t use dance to get away, it’s not like that. This world he creates with dance — this other space where nothing exists except him and the music and the floor and the feeling — he chooses to go there. Euphoria, he thinks it might be called. Euphoric.

The space takes him. He lets it.

And then it’s over.

Soonyoung’s breath leaves him in bursts, his shoulders heaving despite how hard he fights to keep them still in his final pose. His back faces the audience, his right arm stretched out and up, fingers curling around nothing. Stars dance before his eyes — which he fails to catch with his outstretched hand.

He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but it’s nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows it’s simply his imagination — his recollection.

I like your dance, you’d said that night. I’m no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I don’t know. I wish I had the words. It’s like... a little box.

A little box?

You’ve got a little box in your hand. Brown, maybe the size of your palm. You open it and there’s no bottom, no sides, no shape, just an expanse of universe in blues and pinks and purples and whatever colours we don’t know exist. You look inside and reach your hand in, somehow fitting in the tiny yet infinite space. Your fingers brush through starlight like strands of silk, like the rays are minnows you’ve met during a summer dip. Like that. A little box.

I thought you said you didn’t have the words?

I don’t. Not enough.

Soonyoung vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniors’ finale.

At some point, the lights are back on. Not the stage lights, but the harsh fluorescents once the audience has fully filtered out into the lobby. Most of them will leave, but the family and friends of performers are sure to stay, waiting there to congratulate and fawn over the dancers as soon as they’re let go for the night. Somewhere in his mind, Soonyoung knows his friends are outside waiting for him — him, Jun, Minghao, and Chan.

Roses are passed around. He’s never seen a blue rose before, but some dancers walk around with them as they change out of costume and gather their things. He points out a yellow rose from the bunch presented to him, but it turns out to be a bouquet for him specifically, and he takes the whole thing with his jaw slightly hanging. Everything’s a bit... slow. Soonyoung feels like he’s wading through water.

He hasn’t changed yet, simply standing in his costume as he watches people go back and forth. Other performers move from dressing room to dressing room, cleaning up what they have to while simultaneously patting each other’s backs. Techs go around making sure everything’s in order, nothing lost or forgotten. They put away the MC’s microphones and bother the dancers for not taking proper care of props even though it’s only been one night.

Another tap on his shoulder; it’s Sehee again.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two — for the most part.

She turns almost too abruptly, causing Soonyoung to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.

“This is really hard for me to say,” she starts. “But I have to get it out.”

Soonyoung nods, maybe saying something close to a confirmation, but he can’t really tell. He’s a little lightheaded. Sehee has changed out of her leather, instead now in a pair of grey sweatpants and a simple t-shirt. That’s the thing about Sehee, though, she has that unnamed sort of... effortless beauty. Even with her stage makeup wiped off, she glows.

“This might be one of the last times I ever work with you, you know? Next year, my parents are making me quit dancing so I can focus on my major. It sucks, yeah, but they’re right. I need to focus if I want to succeed. You know that too, don’t you? The need to succeed?” She takes a breath; laughs bitterly. “Sorry, I’m getting off track... I just — I wanted to tell you this because if I don’t tonight, I might never get the chance again.”

Maybe Soonyoung has dreamed of this moment. He can’t be sure, not yet, so he lets her continue.

“I like you, Soonyoung. I have for a while. But things happened, and you got together with...” her voice trails off. “And you seemed happy, after a while. I thought maybe I could just keep it hidden but, I don’t know, I think I need to tell you, to get closure because I'm not sure if I can go on without at least—”

Choices. Soonyoung — and everyone else in the world — has only made it through life with decisions. He’s made good ones. Bad ones. He’s had regrets and he’s had none. This, though, this choice is intensely apparent.

Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.

He kisses her.

God, this is what he wanted, right? What he’s wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Sehee’s eyes; her smile; her lips.

And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.

The hand holding his bouquet drops to his side as the other goes to cup Sehee’s cheek. Faintly, the sound of paper fluttering to the ground reaches his ears, but nothing can distract him from this moment.

Until, of course, it ends.

Sehee pulls away. “We can’t— I don’t—”

Someone clears their throat.

Soonyoung turns, finding Minghao standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.

And you.

You’re standing next to Minghao, obviously shocked — over being seen or what you’ve seen, Soonyoung doesn’t know. Hands fisted and held close to your chest, your eyes widen as they meet Soonyoung’s.

It’s not so dramatic as the movies.

Soonyoung stares at you, tongue unmoving with nothing to say. You stare back, almost frozen, until Minghao gently takes you by your shoulders, forcing you to turn and leave the way you must’ve come. Nothing happens in the time it takes. Soonyoung simply watches.

He’s never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minghao whispers in your ear.

There’s something you should know.

Sehee mutters, “Sorry,” and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Soonyoung knows all of this is on him.

He stands alone in that corner of the stage, the only noise being the hum of fluorescent lights and the distant sound of the last stragglers in the dressing rooms. His hands clench, and the brown paper of the bouquet crumples. He looks at it then, at the yellow roses and baby’s breath, at the beige note that’s fallen to the floor.

Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.

Congratulations Soonyoung!! I know how hard you’ve worked for this night, which is why I ordered these to be delivered. Joshua told me yellow roses represent happiness, or something. Pretty, right? You deserve every happiness, so I decided to start with flowers. Tonight may be over, but who knows, maybe we’ll find happiness in tomorrow, too.

It’s stupid. It’s not a love letter. It’s laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.

Time moves heavily as Soonyoung turns to the backstage door. He’s the only one left now, his station in the second boy’s dressing room is messy, unlike everyone else’s. His reflection stares back at him while he sits in front of the mirror, motions halved in speed as he wipes off his eye makeup.

It’s over.

When was the last time he thought about how it would end?

He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t.

He leaves your bouquet on the counter.

His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Soonyoung has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minghao isn’t there. Nor are you.

Jihoon isn’t around, either, but Soonyoung remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesn’t really matter now, not compared to this.

When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?

Seungkwan stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course he’s mad. You’re his friend.

The silence consumes Soonyoung as he nearly shrivels under his friends’ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.

“Where’s Minghao?” he asks.

Seungkwan lurches forward, but both Seungcheol and Wonwoo bring up their arms to hold him back.

“Where’s Minghao? Where’s Minghao?” he seethes. He jabs an accusatory finger in Soonyoung’s face. “You just kissed some girl and broke my best friend’s heart and you’re asking about Minghao?!”

So they don’t know. Not really.

Soonyoung endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.

No answers are really given.

The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when you’ve done wrong. That’s also the worst thing about having best friends.

Seungkwan would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Soonyoung is reacting — how his face and expression is slack and dull.

Joshua holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.

“Minghao left with her a while ago.” The look on his face is one of pity. Soonyoung hates it.

He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.

“Wait! I’m not done—!” Seungkwan struggles against Wonwoo and Seungcheol, but he’s no match.

Soonyoung doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what happens next.

He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.

The night breeze hits him with more force than it should, making his eyes go dry and his lips tremble. Outside, everything is almost too loud. There’s traffic on all sides, surrounding the lot of the theatre; the sound of humming engines and honking horns assaults his senses.

He walks — though it feels like wandering — to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.

You’re there.

A mirage, he thinks at first, but you’re really there, sitting on one of those concrete barriers, legs outstretched and ankles crossed. You have your head lowered as you sit, hands braced on the cold concrete.

His held breath escapes him, and you look up.

“You’re here,” you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“I...”

“It’s a lie, right?” Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “You wouldn’t— I’m not— I’m not that naive, am I?”

Soonyoung’s lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.

“...I see.”

You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.

“God, it felt so real. I thought— I guess I don’t know what I thought, huh?” A shiver runs through you. “Was any of it real?” you ask the ground.

Soonyoung longs to answer. That’s the thing, though.

He doesn’t know.

Can any of it be real?

You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Soonyoung’s mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.

“Guess not.”

You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you don’t meet his eyes.

Soonyoung’s heart beats in a way he knows isn’t natural. Guilt seeps through every orifice. “You’re not... you’re not yelling at me. You’re not crying — you’re not angry,” he stumbles through. “Why?”

It’s then that when you meet his eyes, he notices the dried tracks lining your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.

“I’m just disappointed in myself, Soonyoung,” you say. “I’m the one who fell for it so easily. I’m the one that was tricked. I’m the one who—” a breath “—who loved someone that didn’t love me back.” You step closer, arms limp at your side. “Once I get home, sure, I’ll cry my eyes out. Is that what you want to hear? I’ll curse myself for being so... so stupid.”

“It’s not your fault—”

“No, it’s not. This is not my fault. All I did was believe the words you said to me. All I did was hand myself to you on a silver platter.” Unshed tears brim at your eyelids, but it seems you refuse to let them fall. “But you know the worst part, Soonyoung?”

Everything?

“The worst part is I can’t yell at you. I’m not angry because I fell in love with someone who doesn’t love me back and it hurts and I can’t bring myself to hate you despite being told you’ve never thought about me the way I think about you.”

A breathy gasp escapes you, and you turn on a dime, the sight of your back an icy reminder to Soonyoung of what he’s yet to learn. You take a deep breath to gather yourself, shoulders rising and falling.

“I’ll be going now. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Soonyoung doesn’t move from his spot when you walk away, or when you get into Minghao’s car, which pulls away after a moment of sitting there in its parking spot. His feet are stuck in stiff mud, unable to shift, even.

Perhaps he stands there for too long. It’s not until he’s staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.

•

He hasn’t heard from you in a few days. He hasn’t heard from anyone in just as long.

Jihoon already knew (not everything, but enough) by the time Soonyoung rolled out of bed the day after. He hasn’t said anything about it, but Soonyoung can tell this silence isn’t the same as usual. They rarely eat meals together anymore. Last movie night, Jihoon didn’t even pretend to be busy, instead saying he simply wasn’t in the mood.

Seungkwan hasn’t left your side ever since... that happened. If Soonyoung happens to see you on campus, which is almost never, he backs out of approaching you because of the sheer force that is Seungkwan’s glare. Besides, he wouldn’t know what to say even if he did find the courage to face you.

Classes go by in blurs. Not quickly, like scenery past a car window, but so slow that once Soonyoung leaves, he remembers nothing but hours upon hours of staring at his empty notebook, even if the lecture was only fifty minutes long. Days are kind of like that too.

•

Sehee apologizes. She shouldn’t, but she does.

Soonyoung didn’t really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.

But when Sehee chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that she’s not that kind of girl, Soonyoung regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.

•

please let me explain

I’m sorry

it’s been a while, but still

I’m sorry

[🍥] Explain what?

[🍥] ...

[🍥] Soonyoung?

sorry I just

I wasn’t expecting you to answer

[🍥] Maybe I shouldn’t have

wait

I’m sorry

[🍥] So I’ve heard

I just want you to know why what happened, happened

[🍥] But I already know why

it’s not that simple

[🍥] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sehee was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage

[🍥] ...

[🍥] No answer, huh?

[🍥] So it really is that simple

please wait

I’m just trying to figure myself out

[🍥] Let me help you

[🍥] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you won’t have to carry this around for the rest of your life

[🍥] I know this isn’t some romcom. I know you’re not here to get me back

[🍥] So just let it go

[🍥] Let’s just forget about this. About what happened

what if I can’t

[🍥] I don’t know

[🍥] Figure it out, I guess

[🍥] But do it on your own

•

Soonyoung doesn’t measure his time anymore.

He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.

When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?

He doesn’t know.

•

[Minghao] You should tell everyone else

why

[Minghao] Would you rather they think you’re a cheater or just an idiot?

I don’t know

[Minghao] I think they deserve an explanation

[Minghao] Want me to do it for you?

does it even matter anymore

[Minghao] It’s your choice

[Minghao] You just have to make it

then tell them

I don’t care

[Minghao] Are you sure?

tell them

•

These days, Soonyoung stays late at the studio. No one really practices there anymore, not since the showcase finished and finals have rolled around. Actually, Soonyoung should be studying too, but he can’t find the motivation. He thinks it might be the guilt.

You were right. He doesn’t want to carry this around.

The thing is, despite spending entire evenings in the studio, he can’t remember anything as he walks home. It must be hours spent in there, and yet, when he walks out, he can’t recall a thing. Like he was never there at all.

Where does the time go?

With his luck, the elevator is broken when he returns to the apartment building, so he has to take the stairs. Normally that wouldn’t be a big deal, but after hours of mindless, sloppy dancing, he’s much too tired. He fumbles with his keys when he tries to open the door, and he rests his forehead on the cool wood for a moment, sighing before he tries again.

The door creaks open. Though it’s late, the lights are still on, which Soonyoung frowns at when he realizes. Lately, Jihoon is never up when Soonyoung comes home. But there he is, sitting at the table right next to the kitchen with his eyes on his hands and his feet tucked under the chair.

Soonyoung freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon looks up from his fingers and meets Soonyoung’s gaze.

“Minghao called me today,” he says.

Soonyoung gulps, but doesn’t respond — doesn’t know how to.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first, you know.” His voice is slow, croaky; tired. “But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it. I don’t know how I didn’t see it from the start.”

Slowly, Soonyoung slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. “So now you know. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“I just have a question.”

Soonyoung pauses, halfway through the apartment and only a few meters from his bedroom door. He turns to face Jihoon, sighing through his nose and digging his palm into his eye sockets. “Fine,” he concedes. “What?”

“If you never loved — never liked her, why are you acting like this now?”

“Acting like what?”

“Like a dead man walking.”

Soonyoung scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Jihoon’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didn’t. I used her because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sehee, too—” Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Excuse me?”

Jihoon rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but Soonyoung’s eyes train to the sight. “It’s only the guilt?”

“What else would it be?”

This time, it’s Jihoon who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. “Do me a favour,” he says without looking up.

“Look, I already—”

“Just do what I say.”

Soonyoung groans, but he knows he can’t argue with Jihoon and win — not now at least. He rubs his eyes, shoulders rising and falling as he takes in a deep breath. Mumbling under his breath, he says, “Fine.”

Jihoon stands from his chair, and in such stagnant silence, the sound of the legs squeaking on the floor is profound. He points to the middle of the apartment, the large bit of floor-space that’s too big to be considered part of the kitchen but too small to house any furniture.

“Stand right there.”

“...What?”

Without answering, Jihoon simply points at the floor again, and Soonyoung can only groan in defiance as he moves to stand in that spot. Grabbing a throw pillow from the couch, Jihoon steps a few feet away, facing Soonyoung with the pillow held in one hand at his side. He seems to consider something for a moment.

Soonyoung has never been unable to read Jihoon this much, so he asks, “What is this all about—”

Jihoon screams. Not a high-pitched screech, but a guttural battle cry, and Soonyoung’s eyes widen. Faster than he can comprehend, Jihoon runs towards him and tackles him to the ground. Soonyoung’s legs crumble as he falls, and he feels the throw pillow pressing onto his face.

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.

“Jihoon!” he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. “What the fuck are you—!”

“You fucking idiot! You don’t know shit!”

“I know that!” Soonyoung thrashes to get the pillow off, but Jihoon is way stronger than he looks.

“You miss her you fucking buffoon! You’re all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!”

The pillows squishes further down, and while Soonyoung can still breathe, it’s far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows it’s useless.

“What?!”

“Scream into the pillow! You’re mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!”

“I—”

“Scream!”

And he does. He lets out a loud bellow that’s nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Jihoon — so that maybe he’ll finally get off.

But it feels good.

No, not good, really. It feels awful. Everything feels awful. Yet, something about screaming makes him want to do it again. He yells once more into the pillow, the sound muffled in the fabric and yet intensely remarkable. He screams and he screams and he screams until he can’t scream anymore and his voice is raw and there’s no more sound aside from the fractured gasps of his sobs. Tears soak into rough fabric, and he doesn’t even notice that Jihoon isn’t holding the pillow anymore — he’s pressing it to his face himself. His body shakes under Jihoon. Soonyoung feels pathetic, but he can’t stop.

He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.

This is what it’s like.

Quietly, Jihoon maneuvers himself so he sits by Soonyoung’s head. He slowly lifts a corner of the pillow and peeks at Soonyoung’s red face. “So,” he whispers, voice soft and full of care. “What are you going to do now?”

Soonyoung wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s never felt less sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

•

That night, Soonyoung cleans his room. He doesn’t reorganize or anything, just picks discarded clothes up off the ground and throws them in a hamper, spreads his blankets so his bed actually looks bed-like, and takes his overflowing garbage bin out to the door, where he’ll take it out tomorrow morning. As he stretches his arm between his bed and the wall, his fingers close around the sweater he’s trying to reach and... something else. When he brings his hand back up, a small tiger plush stares back at him.

Go get ‘em, tiger!

He stares at the words for a moment, sitting up on his bed and leaning his back against the wall. The plush feels frail in his hands, almost like the velvet heart held in the tiger’s paws could crumble at any moment. Maybe it will.

Soonyoung settles down above the covers that night, and the tiger sits on his other pillow.

The one that still smells like you.

•

He cries. (For the second time since you left.)

•

After everything that’s happened, one would think it would take a miracle to fix what’s been broken. Soonyoung thinks it will take more than that, but still; he’s no miracle worker. He thinks it will take magic to just see you again.

Turns out, it takes a coffee.

Jihoon forces Soonyoung to join him in visiting one of the campus cafes. He doesn’t think about it too much, just believes Jihoon’s trying to keep him alive with a little kick of caffeine. That thought is pushed away when Jihoon blocks him from sitting at the little table, pointing instead across the space to the student printing center.

You’re talking to a customer at the front counter, forearms rested on the white faux marble. A smile is on your lips as you say whatever it is you’re saying to the girl, and Soonyoung finds it almost impossible to tear his eyes away. But he does. He scans the rest of the building for a second. Seungkwan is nowhere to be seen, and neither is Minghao.

He turns to Jihoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“She told the bodyguards to back off,” Jihoon explains without needing to be asked. “It’s been a few days.” He nods his chin towards you. “Go on. Talk to her.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, gulping down the words he can’t yet think of. “I don’t... I’m not... ready.”

“If you back out now, you’re going to keep backing out until it’s too late.”

Jihoon’s eyes blaze with an unfitting determination for such a setting. He looks stupid, like some self-made, all-knowing relationship guru who likes the coke he’s gripping too much. Still, he’s right.

Soonyoung licks his dry lips and looks at you again. You’ve sat down, relaxed after having helped that customer and now conversing with one of the other students working there. He misses the way you looked when you were happy — when you were happy with him.

What will it take to see that again?

What will it take to hold you again?

His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Soonyoung can’t help but feel like the bad guy.

You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, and he doesn’t know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.

“Hi, what can I do for you today?”

If Soonyoung had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... it’s effective, but it hurts.

“Can...” He hesitates and curses himself for it. “Can we talk?”

“About printing, yes. About anything else? I really would rather we didn’t,” you say under your breath. It’s hushed, and you don’t shy away when Soonyoung leans closer to hear. That has to mean something, doesn’t it?

“But there’s something I need to say.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore apologies, Soonyoung.”

“It’s not that,” he argues.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “It’s not an apology?”

“No— I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing, but— but that’s not what I—”

“Soonyoung.”

He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.

Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?

“I don’t know if you know this, but seeing you makes me hate myself.” By now, your coworker has walked to the back, probably to respect your privacy. Your voice almost cracks. “I’ve felt worthless before, but Soonyoung, do you even realize what that — what you did to me?”

He barely breathes before saying, “What if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?” A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. “What if I said I love you?”

“Soonyoung,” you say after a second.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

•

[🍥] Give me a reason to give you a chance

this is real right?

[🍥] It’s not a dream if that’s what you’re asking

all of a sudden??

[🍥] Minghao and Jihoon said I should

[🍥] And I think I should too

[🍥] But it’s hard

[🍥] What you said yesterday... I don’t know if I can believe it just yet

will you meet me?

I want to see you

[🍥] Can you give me some time?

yes

all the time you need

but will you?

will you meet me?

[🍥] I don’t want to

[🍥] But then again, I do

[🍥] Just give me some time

•

A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.

Soonyoung stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.

It’s only been two days.

Jihoon thinks he’s crazy, though he hasn’t said it out loud — Soonyoung can tell.

He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe he’s fine with being crazy.

At some point, Jihoon barges into his room and takes away Soonyoung’s phone, snatching it straight out of his hands like the little thief he is. He keeps it out of reach despite being shorter, preaching bullshit like, “You need to calm down and act like a normal person!”

Fine, whatever.

Soonyoung goes out for some air. And instant ramen.

There’s a twenty-four hour convenience store right on the edge of campus, manned by a single tired university student that everyone is aware of, yet no one really seems to know his name. It’s one of those spots where time doesn’t exist; maybe names don’t, either.

Compared to the blackness of night, the blanch white convenience store sticks out like a sore thumb, especially with all the bright posters and fluorescent tube-lights. Soonyoung feels just as out of place with no people around just outside the store, but really, it’s to be expected at a time like two in the morning.

He’s right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.

Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.

You’re in casual clothes again, a thick sweater and presumably pyjama pants. This version of you comes with good memories — for some reason he likes it more than he cares to admit. Maybe he liked that you could share a more vulnerable side to him, and he to you in return. Although, you’ve shown this side to even the unnamed convenience store guy.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his reverie.

“Soonyoung,” you say, and it’s softer than before. Maybe your voice is lighter from the fact that it’s two in the morning, maybe just because you’re tired, but a small part of Soonyoung wishes that it’s something else — that you sound softer because you’ve missed him too.

He hopes it isn’t just hope.

He says your name, the sound beautiful and battered on his tongue. A small smile passes your lips, so fast that he almost misses it, but he doesn’t. That’s one thing he knows about you: how much you care. Even if someone hurts you, you always take the time to hear them out. You give them chances. Soonyoung should thank his lucky stars that you’ve done the same for him.

“Hi.”

You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.

“Is it time?” he asks.

“It can be.” The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out like a breath. “Please.”

“Then that’s what we’ll make it.”

You gesture to the ground, where the curb meets the asphalt, but Soonyoung is still a little shocked that he’s even met you here in the first place, so he watches, dazed, as you sit down on the curb before joining in. He stays silent as you pull out an ice cream cup and hand it to him. He stays silent as you procure a second one and peel open the plastic lid, digging into it with the wooden stick spoon-wannabe that comes with the package. He stays silent as you look at him, the wooden stick hanging from your mouth.

“So,” you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. “I hear you’re in love with me.”

The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“You think you are?”

“I’ve never loved someone like this before,” he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. “I can only think.”

“I guess so.”

“But—” he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes “—I’m thinking really, really hard.”

You laugh too; his heart blooms.

“Is that so?” you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“I think I can do it.”

“You think?”

“I think really hard.”

Soonyoung might be in love with every part of you, even if he never realized. Your laugh, your smile, your tells, your habits. He wishes he knew sooner, that this laugh could’ve been his forever long before now.

You scrape the last drops of ice cream out of the paper cup and leave the stick in your mouth, a bit chewed up. Your shoes tap against the asphalt, the rhythm something that draws both his and your eyes.

“You know...” you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. “You know you hurt me, right? You know this won’t be easy?”

“None of what we had was easy.”

A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. “Speak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.” You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. “Say it again, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm... maybe it’ll take a few more times.”

“I’m—”

“But not tonight,” you say. “Tonight...”

Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.

“...just hold me?”

And he does.

Bonus (gn) epilogue: Fluff and Context Bonus (gn) blurbs: [a fate of my choosing][pick a struggle]

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maislovebot · 9 months

Text

Top 10 bsd characters oral scenarios: Saigiku Jouno

Here’s the Jouno chapter! This one’s one of my personal favorites I’ve made:)

Contains: afab reader, no pronouns, silly sub Jouno, reader switches between being mean and nice, mainly nice tho, 69, reader calls him ‘Sai’, kinda brat taming but not really, implied orgasm denial

You sighed at Jouno, showing visible disappointment. “You’re being awfully bratty.” Jouno glanced up at you from his spot on the bed, and crossed his arms.

“Well I’m not that used to this. You’d normally be crying and begging by now.”

You shook your head, “well, you agreed to this. Any last minute thoughts?” Was he really just not the experimental type?

Jouno shook his head rather violently, “no, of course not. I’m just not used to this.”

“Don’t worry, we can go at your pace.” You comforted him.

At this moment in time, Jouno and you had decided to switch things up, typically, Jouno would be unlawfully mean to you in bed, but you were choosing to put him in his place. It honestly took a lot of convincing, but he seems strangely on board with the whole thing. Almost like he’s enjoying it more than you are.

It was honestly quite cute, seeing Jouno, the most intimidating member of the Hunting Dogs acting like some petty brat instead of a man who could honestly end anyone if he so pleased.

That still didn’t change the fact that his attitude was making things insanely difficult. He was borderline refusing everything, even though he knew he was going to be the one getting the most out of this in the end. You were originally planning on just pleasing him the entire time, but perhaps a change in pace is in order? Maybe that’ll get him to help him learn to stop being a brat.

You could tell he was nervous, you could tell he was scared to be in a vulnerable position, and you decided that above all else he should be comfortable.

“Here, Sai.” You said in a tone of voice that was much softer than before. You brought your forehead down to his, straddling him in the process.

“You can trust me. Do you think you can trust me?” You questioned, looking at him. You had noticed his hair was slightly disheveled, and you could tell his breathing was a little labored.

“Of course, this is just really new.”

“I know, and I want to help you get more comfortable. Do you have any requests? Maybe we could start out with something you’re more used to.”

Jouno nodded, and reached down to grab your hips, urging you to move yourself up.

“Ah.” You could tell what he was implying, and moved yourself up. You were already undressed from the waist down, only sitting in your shirt at this point, so you were already ready.

You chucked a little, and Jouno hummed in confusion.

“You know, I was considering doing this earlier to shut you up, but I guess you beat me to it.”

Jouno sighed playfully, and had finally pulled you up all the way, so you were now hovering above his face.

He would never confess to this, but he loved when you sat on his face more than anything, he struggled to put it into words, but he truly loved how you practically enveloped his senses, how he could taste you so miraculously, and smell your arousal just as much. It got him going. That’s why he picked this position to help him relax, he simply loved it so much. It could effortlessly get him to stop worrying.

He grabbed your thighs even tighter, his nails digging into them and brought you down to his awaiting mouth. He playfully brought his tongue out of his mouth, licking and kissing your outer lips, licking up your precum, denying any attention towards your clit. You knew what he was doing. He seemed to have forgotten that things were on your terms this time around, so you moved your hand back and gave a light slap to his inner thigh, making him wince a little.

“You should know better than that by now. Don’t forget who’s in char—ge h-here..” you were trying to sound like an enforcer, but you ended up losing your bite as Jouno finally gave a small kitten lick to your clit. It felt good. Really good. You ground into his face just a little, desperate for him to do it again, but he wouldn’t budge, and though you couldn’t see his face, knowing him, he was probably smiling with that cocky face of his. Not knowing what to do, you decided to give him something that would egg him on. You reached your hand out and teased the tip of his dick with your finger, spreading the precum that was there along his slit. He instantly bucked his hips up, crying out a little. Then, to get him to do what you wanted, you simply pulled away.

“Keep going and I’ll keep going too. Maybe I’ll even give you head.” He nodded as much as he could from under you, and licked your clit, before moving his lips around the bud and sucking on it.

You bucked your hips and attempted to regain your composure enough to speak, although it was difficult considering how wonderfully he was treating you.

“Good— ah— good job.”

Jouno kept vigorously sucking at your clit, and you decided to give him what he wanted. You jerked him off just a little bit more, moving your hand a little at a time. Still keeping him on edge. Wanting more. You were simultaneously grinding into his face, chasing your climax when he moved his fingers up to your hole and prodded at your entrance briefly before pushing two of his fingers inside, with that you jerked your hips a bit, and that was what made you decide to reward him.

You moved your face down towards his length, licking the tip before bringing your mouth around it, hollowing your cheeks. This made Jouno jump a little, and buck his hips again. You struggled to keep him in your mouth as he continued sucking on your clit, considering how badly you were trembling, but you managed.

He moved his lips and instead licked a stripe along your pussy before diving his tongue into your hole, making you jerk yourself down onto him. You ended up letting go of his cock for a split second, before remembering what you had promised and bringing yourself back down. In order to help more, you ran what you couldn’t take in your mouth with your hands, practically caressing him, which made him cry out and whine. As he kept eating you out like he was starved, you could feel a familiar warmth pooling in your lower stomach, giving a coil type of sensation.

“I—I’m clo—se..!” You tried to whine out, removing your mouth from him momentarily. Jouno hummed, implying he was close as well.

You licked along his tip just one more time, before he came undone, and trembled as a result. His cum was dripping down his own dick, with small amounts landing on your cheeks. You brought a hand up and moved it from your cheeks to your mouth, moving yourself back up, putting more weight on him again.

“You can do it.. come on..” you said, grinding yourself down on his face even more. You finally came all over his face, crying out just one last time, twitching a little. You looked up and saw Jouno bucking his hips again, and before you knew it he came yet again, and you laughed, lifting yourself off of his face.

“Did you really come again ?” Jouno moved his pointer finger over your lips as you laid down on top of him.

“ Don’t mention it. I was already sensitive, and, and..”

“ And what ?” You questioned.

Jouno shook his head.

“..and you cumming all over my face was super hot..”

You audibly laughed, and nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“Are you ready now, Sai?” You questioned.

Jouno sighed, “I think so.”

“Well that’s not very convincing.” You teased.

“ Yes . I’m ready.”

You hopped off of him, and smiled. “Perfect!”

Jouno sat up and you straddled him.

“I think it’s pretty naughty that you came twice, yeah? So why don’t you let me tease you for a minute, till you learn your lesson?”

Jouno tensed. This was going to be a long, long night.

Wc - 1.3k

I’m not sure when the next chapter will be done, but I’m writing a minimum of 0.5k words a day so expect some Fyodor filth soon!

#bungou stray dogs #bsd x reader #jouno x reader #jouno saigiku #jouno x you #jouno smut #jouno saigiku x reader #saigiku jouno x reader #bsd smut #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs smut

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kaciidubs · 5 months

Text

Decorating Mishaps | 8 Days of SKZcember

Prompt: "there is tinsel. everywhere." [laughing] "i think you got more of it on yourself than the tree"

❣ Summary: Later is better than never, at the sacrifice of your shared sanity. ❣ ❣ Word Count: 1k ❣ Warnings: Fluff, slight humor, Minho and Reader are the epitome of last minute, Doongie and Dori are adorable menaces ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Minho is referred to as Min, Honey, Reader is referred to as Kitten, unedited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ SKZcember 2023

Putting up the Christmas tree two days before Christmas could’ve been seen as either the greatest test of mental fortitude, or the richest example of what procrastination and busy schedules leads to.

You genuinely hoped it was the former as you fluffed out the bare branches of your tree, breaking a light sweat as you tried working as quickly and efficiently as possible with the artificial branches that seemed to prefer sticking with their clump than fanning out like a normal branch would.

“Gold and black? Blue and silver?”

“We did both of those already, Min,” you sighed softly, wincing as a branch stuck your finger, “maybe we can switch up the colors? Make new pairings?”

“White and your fake gold?”

“Rose gold.”

“I see no difference.”

Dropping your hands from the tree, you turned to him with a pout set on your lips, “Minho! I’m serious, we need to figure something out or else we’re going to be opening presents under an empty tree.”

“I don’t see a problem with that - it’s less for the babies to get into.” Even if his expression was as firm as a stone, you could tell from the glint in his eye that he didn’t truly mean what he said - even if Soonie, Doongie, and Dori managed to sneak their way near the tree, it never stopped you both from putting it up and decorating every year.

This year, however, the tree remained tucked away in the spare room of your apartment, waiting patiently for the weekend you both promised you’d take the time to put it up. Eventually, the weekend passed by a day due to an unexpected schedule for Minho, then another day due to you staying late at work, and another, and another, until the 23rd day of December came rolling around and your promises of “doing it later” turned into “oh god, the tree”.

Minho rummaged through the storage bin of decorations, moving around pouches of bulbs until he pulled out two, “Red and gold?”

Pursing your lips, you glanced at the two organized pouches before looking at the tree, attempting to visualize the potential decoration scheme using the two colors; warm and traditional, simple yet extravagant. “Do we have-”

“-a matching tree skirt, extra decorations, and a star? Yes.”

“Let’s do it.”

You both would soon find out that picking the decorations was the least of your concerns - the real battle coming from putting them on the tree in the most effective, yet fastest way possible.

“That’s too much red on that side, Kitten.”

“Min, it only looks like that because you haven’t come around to add in the gold!”

“Because I’ve been moving around your ornaments to-”

“Soonie, no, no, stay away from the ornament bin, it’s not meant for you!” Blindly hooking the red ornament in your hand, you abandoned your side of the tree to scoop the orange and white cat away from the plastic bin. “You know it’s Christmas, bubby, that bin hasn’t changed.”

Minho huffed out a tired chuckle, “He knows what he likes.”

“Yeah, well,” placing a kiss to the top of his furry head, you set him down on the couch, “he needs to like staying away from the decor.” Just as you were about to get back to your bulb duty, a flicker of movement caught your eye, followed by the growing sound of rustling. “Min?”

Catching the noise as soon as you did, he turned around to see Doongie and Dori blatantly enjoying themselves in a pile of tinsel that he planned on stuffing within the empty space of the tree.

“Doongie! Dori! Get out of the tinsel!”

You watched as he rushed toward the cats, bending down to gather the decoration away from them, though they refused to let go without a fight; seeing it as a game of “latch onto the sparkly tassels” while Minho tried his best to get the tinsel into his arms.

“I didn’t raise you two like this, what are you doing? Ah- Stop trying- Stop grabbing it! Doongie- Dori!”

In the process, the two cats managed to tear some of the tinsel from the line, spreading it in small shreds along the floor while the rest stuck itself to his shirt with no intention of falling off.

Your hysterical laughter filled the living room as you watched the struggle between father and children, letting the madness go on for a bit longer until you decided to save your usually composed boyfriend; slipping into the kitchen and returning with a cat snack packet. The minute you crinkled the foil before tearing open the pouch, Doongie and Dori paused before flocking to you, noses high in the air with innocent meows following suit.

“You two are such menaces, you know that?” You cooed softly, pushing the chicken based snack up to the opening, “I thought you’d at least let us finish putting the bulbs up before you got needy.”

Doongie simply regarded you with a soft meow, Dori getting his share of the treat before baking down to lick away whenever he missed around his own mouth.

Glancing up, your breath caught in a barely contained laugh as Minho stood in the aftermath of the battle.

“There’s tinsel… everywhere.” And he was right, shreds of the foiled ribbon stuck from the bottom of his shirt, down - the carpet not faring any better with shavings shining around, while what remained of the attacked portion dangled lifelessly from his arms.

“Oh, honey… There’s more of it on you than there is on the tree, that’s for sure.” Shooting him a sympathetic smile, though you couldn't stop the giggles bubbling past your lips, you nodded your head toward the cats still sharing the small snack in front of you, “We can finish putting everything on the tree, then I’ll help you clean up, okay?”

Nodding slowly, Minho walked toward the decoration bin and unceremoniously dumped the rest of the tinsel in the container, “No more tinsel for decorating - never again.”

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz fluff #stray kids fluff #lee minho fluff #lee know fluff #lee minho x reader #lee know x reader

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sanjisprincesswifey · 6 months

Note

Hello!!! Would you mind writing a secret Santa piece with Sanji or Law or Robin? Preferred pronouns: she/her. Have an amazing day/night! (Oh and I absolutely ADORE your Sanji content!!)

hi there!! thank you so, so much for enjoying my content; it's a pleasure to have you here :)

you've received robin + kissing in the snow!

❆ : a little angsty, slight enies lobby spoilers, slightly suggestive, no gender specified, 500+ words.

the railing of the thousand sunny creaks when your body weight is pushed up against it. you weren’t one to mooch a cigarette off of sanji, but after the battle, you just endured you figured what harm could it do that cp-9 hadn’t already?

the bitter taste coats your tongue, allowing the smoke to remain inside before it disappears into the chilly, winter air.

ugh, you don’t know why sanji likes these things so much.

“those things can kill you, you know,” robin’s sweet voice calls from behind.

you chuckle, taking another drag with an obnoxious eye roll. “i bet you don’t tell sanji that,” you joke.

she shrugs, “don’t really care if he does it, just you.” her eyes follow your lips as they pucker for another inhale, soon tugging into a smirk as she inches closer to you.

the atmospheric chill grows, small snowflakes landing around you two and in your hair. she plucks one from your head, “gotta make a wish now,” she smiles, holding out the crystal for you to see.

she offers you a second to think about it, but as her piercing blue eyes glance over your figure, you realize you don’t really need it.

to humor her, you blow the flake anyway, watching as it flies out to sea with the waves.

“so, what did you wish for?” she inquires, leaning her shoulders up against yours as she rests her head in her palms. the natural warmth of her body shields you from the drastic temperature change, calming the anxiety that resided in you from the fight earlier in the day.

“can’t tell you or else it won’t come true,” you tease, earning a light-hearted snicker from her. “but i already got my wish.”

robin reaches out to grab your hand, interlacing your fingers together. your thumb rubs the back of her hand, bringing yours up against her lips to place a delicate kiss.

“i was really worried about you, you know,” you admit, putting out the cigarette on the metal railing with your free hand. her eyes soften, long, deft fingers drawing circles beneath her as she toys with the inner part of her cheek with her teeth.

a tear slips down her cheek, but a smile remains on her face. “i know i’ve said thank you so many times already, but is there anything else i can do to show my gratitude?”

before you can give an honest answer, her hands have found your face and she’s pushing her lips into yours. you grasp at her arms, squeezing at the skin as you brush her hair back.

heat swallows your body, rising from between your thighs, to your cheeks, to the tips of your ears as you return her affection.

the rushed, hurried nature of her lips is an extension of the passion that resides within her. the fervor of her hands as they roam over your shoulders and down your back have shivers rippling across your skin.

it takes everything in you not to whine when she pulls apart from you, rushed breath centimeters from yours. “missed me that much?” you tease.

she wraps her arms around your waist, tugging you tighter to her body. “just glad to be back.”

likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)

#nico robin #nico robin x reader #one piece #one piece x reader

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catboybiologist · 10 months

Text

I'm trans! Here's a way-too-long ramble on my internal thoughts on that!

My other posts on this:

https://www.tumblr.com/catboybiologist/725852054829023232/im-going-to-document-some-things-about-my?source=share

https://www.tumblr.com/catboybiologist/725851397783011328/the-short-answer-is-no-but-im-gonna-have-a?source=share

So yay I’m trans! Which like, is neither unexpected nor abnormal for the community I’ve fostered here, so I’m guessing most of y’all’s reactions is just a “hey cool”. But, you see the online side of me, not the irl side, so there’s still a lot of thoughts to sort out on my end. So I’m dumping a lot of thoughts here to sort all that out. And hoooly shit, it got very long, and I still feel like I have more to say… but yeah. If you wanna hear some perspectives on my relation to gender, transness, and femboy culture, read on!

I guess the best way I can think to style this is as an interview with an imaginary third person, sooo…. Bold text is questions I can imagine people having LOL

So what’s my own personal relationship with the term femboy, catboy, and gendered terminology in general? Is the name of your accounts gonna change?

Short answer, no. I like the name CatboyBiologist. “Catboy” itself is a term that is completely untethered from gender at this point to me. Tbqh, the “cat” part feels more wrong than the boy part- as time goes on, I’ve generally ditched the cat ears for most of my outfits as I take them a bit more seriously. Maybe that’ll change when my transition actually starts, but for now, CatboyBiologist stays, and the femboy related language stays in all of my own past posts (keyword, past- more on that in a bit).

I’m not gonna be updating my approach to pronouns. Any pronouns do just fine, I’m sending a vibe into the world and pronouns are my feedback as to what other people interpret that vibe is. Default to they/them if you don’t know what to do with that.

I will be updating my pinned post to link all of these posts, but mostly copy/paste the information from before. That might take a moment cuz I’m lazy, tbh.

And let’s get something else out of the way.

I’m not socially transitioning yet, and probably won’t for a while.

Which, I think leads to a lot of follow up:

Well, why not?

I present fully male and masculine on a day to day basis, and look the part too. Part of it is just this looks insecurity. The mask stays on in my pictures for a reason. Beyond just facial hair (which grows aggressively on me and always shows some shadow), my face looks pretty masculine overall. It takes time to look the way I do in my posts. I wanna give my face and body some time to change so I can look more femme in more casual ways before I present it to the world.

Beyond that, I’m also just worried about being “accepted” as femme straight off the bat. Implicitly, I know this will be easier if I already have some small amounts of physical feminization down my belt.

There’s two main environments that worry me: family, and professionally. Family is a weird hot mess grey area that is too personal to talk about here, but the professional atmosphere is certainly going to be a bit… weird. I live in an accepting geographic region, and around people who are very outspokenly trans supportive…. But most of whom are cishet and simply don’t have a lot of experience seeing or working around trans people. I’m more afraid of being seen as “trans first, biologist second” as far as my career is concerned, than I am about outright transphobia. I know this will never fully go away, and given that I’m 6’2”, I’ll probably never “fully” pass- but I’d at least like people to implicitly read my as femme on a gut level before I start changing how I present that way. One thing my irl femboy experience has shown me is that, even if people can “clock” you intellectually, the way their gut instinct reads you affects whether they treat you as masc or femme. I hope that makes sense on some level. Of course its always going to be an awkward shift, but I hope some time on HRT will make it less awkward.

I’ve come out to one person that doesn’t know about this online persona, or the depths of my queerness. They straight up told me they were shocked. They were incredibly supportive, but they told me they didn’t see it coming at all. And they already knew that I “crossdressed occasionally”. So that’s kinda what I’m working with here.

Essentially, I’m not actually truly “transitioning” in a real sense yet. More than that, I feel like I’m getting the ball rolling. If there’s anything I learned in my research, it’s that HRT takes a while, much longer than anyone expects (suppressing my rant about how the media cherrypicks people in early transition for trans representation and the effect that has on public perception). Two years is often cited as the “end” point, but based on both scientific and anecdotal accounts, that is wildly untrue and variable. I also know that the first changes onset quickly (skin and mood, most notably), but that overall body shape changes sometimes take a VERY long time to start and progress. So to be quite honest, I barely feel like I’m transitioning yet, I’m just laying groundwork for the future.

So yeah. I’m gonna be boymoding for a bit. Possibly a year or more. Even for the people who know, I’ve still asked them to address me as he/him or they/them, and use my masculine name for now (haven’t even really decided on a femme name yet, although I have ideas [open to suggestions as well]).

Wait, so why address it online at all?

Put simply, honesty. I’m displaying a lot of selfies and experimentation with my look here, and I want to make it abundantly clear what I’m doing to have an effect on that. People have asked me if I’m on HRT in comments before, and like, I’m not gonna lie about that. Might as well also make a shitpost, a data gathering post, and a too-long ramble about it as well (which you’re reading now!).

There are a LOT of body image issues in femboy spaces (and trans spaces too!), often among very young people. While I have no issue with people on HRT continuing to call themselves a femboy (more on that in a bit), I do think transparency on that matter is helpful for those body image issues.

So to make it abundantly clear: all of my selfies and pictures that I’m labeling and tagging as “femboy” are pre-HRT. In the future, everything I tag with “trans” is post-HRT. I still got 1-2 weeks before actually starting, and I’m still going to use the femboy tag for any outfits I post during that time. The moment an estradiol pill hits my mouth, though, new pics will use trans tags.

Posts that relate to discussion of the interplay of the communities, and how I view myself within them, I’ll tag with both.

Which leads to another follow up question. This one isn’t about me specifically, but it’s my hot take about a certain brand of trans discourse I’ve seen around (mostly on reddit tbh):

Why would someone who knows they’re mtf trans willingly call themselves a femboy and/or request people to “misgender” them?

So this is actually gonna be striking a nerve with me, and I know I’m gonna kinda be strawmanning here by arguing against the ghost of reddit comments past. I’m not gonna try to dig any of them up in the internet archive, but they are sentiments I’ve seen multiple times.

I’ve seen this question almost word for word in the comments of trans subreddits multiple times. Imma be blunt, and it’s maybe gonna sound a little mean. If this thought is going through your head, you’re likely way more sensitive and particular about labels than most people. And that’s okay! Ask people to address you how you want, you deserve that respect! But the real answer to this question is that many people simply don’t mind being called whatever label is most useful or familiar to themselves in various contexts.

The moment that it becomes completely unacceptable is when someone does actually change their pronouns, name, presentation, etc, and people still address them as “male” or “femboy”. That is completely the fuck out of line, and if you don’t agree, fuck off.

Why does this strike a little bit of a nerve with me? Well, the “conclusion” I saw reached in these trans spaces multiple times when the subject was brought up was annoying as hell. That conclusion was that the only or primary reason that people labeled themselves a femboy, even while on HRT… was to sell their onlyfans. My fucking god, seriously? This is just conservative rhetoric. Luckily, on tumblr, it seems that people are a lot more accepting towards people using whatever language they like to describe themselves, which I’ve enjoyed a lot.

I’ve also had a lot of hate towards “fencesitting” directed at me on reddit, from trans people, for calling myself a femboy. I can’t remember it verbatim, but I very distinctly recall getting a DM that went something like “I fucking hate femboys, just transition already. You’re making us (transfemmes) look bad.” So yeah. Bit of a sore spot.

Yadda yadda yadda the personal journey shit

If I can be real for a moment…. In an ideal world, I would still want to be a part time femboy. Even moreso than the sheer utility of it all (eg, enjoy cis male privilege when I want, but still get treated more femme in certain contexts), it feels almost more profound to fuck with gender norms without sitting on one side of the gender line or another. But I can’t really ignore what I’ve described as my “mental resting state”- a baseline crackle of dysphoria that fills the space in my head when there’s nothing else to fill it. It’s easily distracted, but its always there, and I can’t imagine living my life that way anymore.

I’ve pretty much known I was trans since I was about 12, and had a realization that puberty was just starting to hit me, and I hated it. I suppressed it deeply, for many, many reasons that I don’t think I want to share here. But it made a lot of other mental health struggles in my life a lot worse, even if I didn’t consciously acknowledge that’s what was happening. By the time I was willing to consciously acknowledge it, I realized that my dysphoria wasn’t so bad as to dive in right away. But, I made moves to stabilize my life overall, which have been massively beneficial to me in other ways as well.

During the pandemic, I found myself living alone for the first time ever. So during the pandemic, in one last ditch effort to try to convince myself I wasn’t trans, I delved into femboy aesthetics to try and “just be a feminine man”.

That failed.

So yeah, here I am. I have a wonderful queer community both irl and online, a meagre but stable income, health insurance that has great coverage for trans care, and accepting people around me in my life. It’s long overdue. Maybe I’ll beat myself up for waiting so long and masculinizing so much as a result, but I don’t think I really could have done it any other way.

This all said, I don’t actually really consider myself a woman yet. I’m sure many of you are aware of two different ways transfemmes view themselves(and trans people in general, but using a transfemme perspective here):

-Some view themselves as having always been girls or women, but took some time to realize it and make their body more comfortable for themselves with that information.

-Others view themselves as boys or men who made efforts to become women later.

I fall strongly in the second line of thinking for myself. For my own personal experiences, even though I have felt dysphoria for a long time, I don’t really think I’m “actually” a woman yet. I don’t know what my identity as a woman looks like yet. But I deeply want to discover and create who that person is, and there’s no way to do that without transitioning.

B but… BASIC BIOLOGY!!!!!

How many biology degrees do you have? I got a BS and an MS, and I’m working on my PhD. I’m sure you’ve brought a similar level of expertise to this discussion.

But seriously, I could genuinely write an entire fucking essay about how studying biology has influenced my views on this subject, but honestly, that’s an entirely different topic. But tl;dr is that bioessentialism is brainrot, and if someone tries to use essentialist language to “justify” someone’s transness (or gender in general)… well, I think they’re wrong. Plain and simple. We don’t say someone isn’t “really able to see” if they put glasses in front of their eyes.

I’m stopping myself before I write more here, because this warrants another post or even a fucking video essay, to be quite honest. But yeah. Biology based.

Conclusion?

Uhhhh… in conclusion, I’m not particular about language or pronouns you use for me, I’m making posts about it anyways to ensure honesty associated with my selfies, if you’re transphobic jump of the tallest bridge you can find. I think that about covers it.

#femboy #transitioning #trans #transgender #mtf #cross dressing

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birinboom · 6 months

Text

Kirishima Beats No Nut November

Kirishima Eijirou x AFAB Reader

Word count: 2,852 words

Warnings/tags: Adult characters, AFAB reader (no pronouns used), swearing, established relationship, pet names (babe), vanilla smut

A/N: This is based on a series of asks on @willowser’s blog talking about who would (or more like who wouldn’t) make it through No Nut November.

Also, this is the first smut fic I’ve ever posted so don’t expect great things.

18+ FIC, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Smut specific tags and fic under the cut

Smut specific tags: PWP (porn with some miniscule semblance of a plot), biting/marking, oral sex (fem receiving), vaginal fingering, overstimulation, unprotected sex

“You guys want to do the ‘No Nut November’ challenge this year?”

The room fell silent. Eijirou was already excited at the word ‘challenge’. He turned his gaze to Hanta, as did everybody else. Hanta, however, kept his eyes on his phone, scrolling through an article.

Shouto was the first who spoke. “We can’t eat nuts throughout all of November?”

Next to him, Izuku’s face was so red it almost seemed like he was steaming. “That’s not what it means, Shouto-kun,” he whispered.

His words went unheard as Hanta drowned him out, frowning at Shouto’s question. “Dude, no, it’s talking about not busting a nut.”

“So no cracking our own nuts? Are pre-cracked nuts allowed then?”

A collective sigh swept through the room.

“You seriously never heard the term ‘busting a nut’ before?” Katsuki drawled. When Shouto shook his head, Katsuki scoffed, mumbling something about Shouto being a sheltered princess.

Denki, however, beamed at Shouto, ready with an explanation. “It’s a euphemism for ejaculation. Y’know, cumming.”

“Ah,” Shouto replied, falling silent once again.

Denki turned back to Hanta. “So no nutting for all of November. Does that mean no masturbation? No sex?”

Hanta shrugged. “I guess you can do both without nutting if you plan on edging yourself all month. But once you nut, you’re out of the challenge.”

“What about wet dreams? Do they count?”

Hanta stayed silent for a moment, looking through the article on his phone. Then he turned his attention back to Denki. “The rules say you get one, then you’re out.”

“Aw, only one?” Denki whined. “If I can’t nut through all November, I don’t think one will be enough.”

Hanta grinned widely at the blonde. “If you don’t make it through, then you can’t participate in ‘Destroy your Dick December’!”

Denki lit up. “What’s that??”

Eijirou stopped paying attention to the conversation, instead focusing on the challenge ahead. No orgasms for 30 days didn’t sound too hard. Surely he had the resolve to get through it.

“I’m in!” he said, interrupting Hanta and Denki’s discussion about ‘Destroy your Dick December’.

And once Eijirou was in, hyping everybody else up, the rest of the group decided to partake too.

“You seriously agreed to that?”

Eijirou’s smile started to waver. “C’mon, it’s just one month.”

You rolled your eyes. “Just one month? Ei, you barely make it three days unless you're sick or exhausted from work.”

“I know, babe, but I can do this!” Grabbing you by the waist, he pulled you closer, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “At least… as long as you don’t try to seduce me before December.”

You sighed, raising your hands to run your fingers through his hair. “You guys are so stupid. Fine. I won’t make it harder for you, but I’m not participating!”

Eijirou giggled. “I think it’s gonna be plenty hard without your help, babe. But it’ll make it all the more gratifying once I get to fuck you again.”

The first couple of days went by with little effort. Nothing really changed in Eijirou’s life, he spent his free evenings cuddling with you on the couch, he slept with you in his arms, he got ready in the mornings next to you. He could still kiss you without any issue. He was so sure that he had this challenge in the bag.

But as the month progressed, things got more and more difficult. He often found his mind straying from his goal when you were close by, his sanity slowly slipping. The outline of your breasts visible through your clothes, the curve of your ass when you bent forward to pick something off the floor, your shirt riding up and showing your stomach when you stretched. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. Showering with you became torture. He could barely stand being in the bathroom at the same time, the outline of your naked body taunting him. One particularly cold day had your nipples perking, clearly showing through your shirt. Eijirou’s gaze was only torn away when you rubbed your arms, blocking out his view. He needed a cold shower after that. But he was still too stubborn to give up.

Kissing you slowly became painful. Once he passed the middle of the month, he could barely peck you on the lips without feeling his resolve beginning to crack. He began pretending to fall asleep on the couch in the evenings just to have a valid reason to stay away from your shared bed; just to keep his hands away from your soft, sleep-warm skin. He was sure that if he went to sleep next to you, his iron will would crumble come morning when you’d inevitably roll over and throw your arms around him, pressing your body flush against his under the covers. The soft sighs you let out while waking up always turned him on. He yearned to hear them again. But he couldn’t give up. Not yet.

He was so close; only 12 more days to go.

One night towards the end of November, he came home unexpectedly early. The soft whimpers that reached his ears made him pause. He knew those sounds. They had him throbbing with need already. And he wasn’t sure that he’d be strong enough to resist.

His feet began moving on their own, leading him towards the bedroom. And there you lay among the sheets, underwear discarded to one side, your pussy on full display as you played with your clit with a toy. The custom-made one, he realized with a jolt, a replica of his own cock. And judging from the sheen on it, you’d already been fucking yourself for a while.

He stood rooted to the spot, unable to look away, hands clenched around either side of the door frame to keep them from moving as his cock throbbed, straining against his pants, begging to be touched. His nostrils flared, your tantalizing scent thick in the air. He swallowed dryly when your moans became louder and more insistent as you neared your climax.

“Fuck-- Ei!” you whimpered as you came, pussy clenching around nothing.

Crack

Eijirou was torn out of his need by the sudden noise. Turning his head, he saw five finger-shaped marks around the door frame where he’d been clenching it hard enough to break the wood.

“Ei!” he heard you say, surprise heavy in your voice. “What are you doing home so early?!”

He turned back to you, jaw clenching with dismay when he saw you drawing your legs up towards your chest, hiding your sex with your crossed ankles. You were grabbling for the sheets with both hands, trying to cover yourself underneath them.

He didn’t want you to feel like you had to hide your nakedness from him. Not now, not ever. But he knew well that his own idiotic stubbornness had been the cause of this.

“I’m sorry,” he forced out between gritted teeth, turning to move back to the living room.

“Ei, wait!”

He heard you moving after him, stumbling as you pulled the sheets around you. Keeping his back to you, he turned every time you tried to move around him.

“Why are you mad at me, Ei? I didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Mad? I’m not--” He let out an exasperated groan, a noise he felt like he’d been holding in for weeks. Sinking onto the couch, he scrubbed at his face. “I’m not mad at you, babe. I’m so fuckin’ frustrated with myself. I should never have agreed to this stupid-ass challenge! I’m so fucking miserable that I can’t touch you without feeling like I’m about to lose it. And then I come home to the best fuckin’ display I’ve ever seen and I CAN’T JOIN BECAUSE OF THIS STUPID CHALLENGE!!”

Finally, he looked up at you, angry tears brimming at his waterline. “I miss you, babe. ‘S not even the sex as much as the intimacy. I miss kissing you, a-and touching you. I miss sleeping next to you. I miss feeling normal around you.”

You grinned at him. “So you don’t miss the sex? You’re fine with us not banging ever again?”

“Fucking NO I’m not!” Eijirou reached out, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his lap, molding himself around you as much as possible. “Please don’t joke about that,” he whispered against your neck. “I’ve had a stomach ache since, like, November 5th or something from constant blue balls. I want you so bad it feels like I’m about to combust, but I can’t.”

Pressing a continuous string of kisses to your temple, he apologized, over and over again, for joining No Nut November, and for hurting both you and himself in the process.

“Never again,” he promised. “I’m never doing such a stupid thing again! I love you so much, babe. I’ll make it up to you come December.”

On the last day of November, Eijirou spent most of the day watching the desk clock in his home office like a hawk. His brain was buzzing with counting down the seconds until midnight. With only half an hour left, he wandered aimlessly into your bedroom, desperate to find something to occupy his mind with. He thought he’d have more time before you finished your bath. But he’d miscalculated. And so he came upon you, fully nude as you searched through your dresser for something to wear for bed.

He broke.

Moving up behind you without fully realizing what he was doing, he let his hands caress your waist, your skin just as soft and warm and supple underneath his fingers as he’d imagined. His lips met your shoulder, and he slowly worked his way up, pausing for a moment to pay extra attention to the junction between your shoulder and neck to nip at your skin, letting his tongue slip over the marks his teeth left behind. One hand moved over your stomach, arm wrapping around you to pull you closer, his other hand moving up to cup your breast, thumb caressing your nipple. The groan you let out had him already teetering on the edge.

“Can’t wait any longer,” he whispered.

You turned in his grip, but as he leaned in to kiss you, you raised one hand, pressing your palm against his mouth to hold him back.

“Ei, wait! You’re so close, you can’t fail now!”

He grinned against your palm. “I don’t plan on failing. But just because I can’t cum until after midnight, doesn’t mean that I can’t make you cum either.”

Lifting one of his own hands, he placed it over yours, pressing it closer to kiss your palm. Then he gently pulled your hand away to kiss your wrist.

“Please, babe,” he mumbled, pressing another kiss to your skin, “I can’t wait to taste you again.”

You watched him silently for a moment, eyes half lidded and mouth open in a pant. Eijirou stuck his tongue out, letting the tip run over the sensitive skin on your wrist. A warm tingle crept up his spine when he felt you shiver.

“Fuck--” you sighed. “Fine, yes!!”

Releasing your wrist, Eijirou brought both hands up to cup your cheeks, kissing you desperately. Pressing his tongue into your mouth, he wound it around yours. Pulling away, he kissed an urgent trail over your jaw and down your neck, only to return to your lips again.

His hands moved downwards, caressing your waist for a brief moment before they continued down. Breaking the kiss, he grabbed you by the thighs, lifting you enough to allow you to wrap your legs around his hips. He carried you to the bed, crawling over it on his knees until he reached the middle, then gently lowered you, his lips never once leaving your skin.

Frantically pulling his clothes off in as few movements as possible, he returned to you, kissing a trail down between your breasts, pausing for a moment to just inhale the scent of your skin. He couldn’t believe how much he’d missed the feeling of your skin against his own. His teeth caught the skin on the curve of one breast. Pressing his lips to the mark, he then sucked a bruise into your skin.

Moving up, he swirled his tongue around your nipple, relishing in the sight and sound of you writhing beneath him. He wanted to drown in the sounds of your moans, but… not yet.

Flicking the bud with his tongue, he then closed his mouth around it, sucking softly.

He let his lips slide down your stomach until he hovered over your pussy, the heady scent making him dizzy with need.

“Fuck I missed this!” he groaned, finally lowering his head to swirl his tongue around your clit, slipping two fingers into you. Slowly, he built you up, feeling your fingers tug at his hair, your thighs shaking as you neared your climax. Pushing you over the edge, he relished in how tightly you clenched around his fingers when you came.

“Shit, Ei, that--”

“One more,” he interrupted, nipping at your inner thigh. “Gimme one more, babe!”

Eijirou had no idea how long he spent nestled between your thighs, switching between slowly lapping and sucking on your clit, occasionally dipping down to press his tongue into your pussy. He only resurfaced when you started pulling insistently on his hair.

“Stop, Ei, please! No more!” you whimpered.

He licked his lips, savoring the last of your taste before he sat up, shooting a quick glance to the clock on his nightstand. 01:23 December 1st.

Merry fucking Christmas to me he thought as he lifted your legs onto his shoulders. Pressing a kiss to your ankle, he lined himself up, gently pressing the head of his cock against your opening.

“Ready, babe?”

When you nodded, he began pushing in, forcing himself to go slow. He’d almost forgotten how good you felt, how warm and soft you were, how tightly you gripped him.

“Dunno how long I can -nnhg!- can hold on, babe,” he groaned, “it feels too good, you’re so good to me!”

He kept babbling praise as he thrust shallowly, already close to his climax. Pausing for a moment to shift his position to be closer to you, he began losing control, thrusting harder, deeper, lost in the sensation of your warm embrace.

“Fuck, babe, I-- I can’t-- Fuck!!”

Hips stuttering, he spilled inside of you, trying his best to not collapse at the relief. His head sank down on the pillow next to yours, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“I love you, babe. I love you so much.”

Winding your arms around his neck, you pulled him closer. “I love you too, Eijirou.”

He relaxed, pressing slow, gentle kisses to any patch of skin he could reach, enjoying the feel of your fingers gliding through his hair, scratching at his scalp.

Post-nut clarity finally lifting the fog in his mind, he realized that he’d undressed so quickly that he still had one sock half on his foot. The realization made him smile into your neck.

You wiggled in his hold, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I didn’t think you’d be able to manage taking it this slow.”

He chucked weakly. “I wanted to savor it.”

Lifting himself off you, he pressed yet another kiss to your lips, muffling your groan as he slid out of you. Then he reached out to grab some tissues from the box on your nightstand and sat up, ready to wipe you down.

But seeing one month’s worth of cum leaking out between your swollen lips had him hard and throbbing again.

He grinned at you. “On your stomach, babe. Ass in the air.”

“Already?” you groaned before complying.

Eijirou leaned in to kiss your ass cheek before sinking his teeth into it. “‘M not even close to done. I plan on going all night to make up for lost time.”

“None of you made it??”

Eijirou felt warm, hands balling into fists, his cheeks flushing with exasperation. The lack of sleep from the night before was finally starting to bother him.

“No one, not a single one of you made it through the month??”

His words were met with shrugs, with eyerolls and crossed arms, with averted gazes. The mood was so tense he felt like he could slice through it with his quirk.

“It was too much,” Izuku finally whispered.

“It was stupid, ‘s what it was,” Katsuki added. “Never wanted to do the fuckin’ thing anyway.”

Denki grinned. “But that’s how you failed, Kacchan, you did the fucking-thing anyway.”

“Guys,” Eijirou said, ignoring the smoke rising from Katsuki’s fists, “we were meant to do this together. It was meant to be a challenge!” When no one replied, he added, “Couldn’t you at least have told me that you were out? Then I coulda bailed too instead of suffering from blue balls for thirty fucking days!” As a chorus of mumbled apologies rose into the air, Eijirou thought to himself that he was NEVER doing something like No Nut November again.

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated! If you like, you can check out my other works here. Love, Birin 💖

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero acedamia #swearing #smut #vanilla smut #afab!reader #adult characters #aged up characters #established relationship #kirishima #eijirou #eijiro #x reader #x you #drabble #drabbles

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rpstartersinc · 1 year

Text

* 𝐇𝐁𝐎'𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒 / 𝐄𝐏 𝟑, 𝟒 & 𝟓.

feel free to change pronouns / wording!

“ want your jacket back? ”

“ never been in the woods. more bugs than i thought. ”

“ i don’t want your sorries. ”

“ i wasn’t gonna say i’m sorry. ”

“ nobody made you go along with this plan. ”

“ don’t blame me for something that isn’t my fault. ”

“ what are you looking out for? ”

“ is it something lame, like you fell down the stairs or something? ”

“ someone shot at me and missed. ”

“ i gotta grab some stuff i stashed. ”

“ you ask a lot of goddamn questions. ”

“ i had a friend who knew everything about this game. ”

“ there’s this one character named mileena who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth and then she swallows you whole and barfs out your bones! ”

“ ah, getting funnier. ”

“ dude, you got to go up in the sky! ”

“ so everything came crashing down in one day? ”

“ if you have to get bit to be infected, then who bit the first person? ”

“ there’s stuff up there you shouldn’t see. ”

“ well now i have to see. ”

“ whatever it was, think it’s gone. ”

“ dead people can’t be infected. ”

“ it doesn’t get old. ”

“ i’m not infected! ”

“ why did you take that long to answer? ”

“ i thought about lying for some reason, but the reason didn’t come. ”

“ i’m letting you go, so go. ”

“ if i feed you, then every bum you talk to about it is gonna show up here looking for a free lunch. ”

“ you already know i’m bad at lying. ”

“ everything tastes good when you’re starving. ”

“ i know i don’t seem like the type. ”

“ would you stop!? ”

“ paying attention to things, it’s how we show love. ”

“ there are no friends to be had. ”

“ i’ve actually been talking to a nice woman on the radio. ”

“ aren’t i the lucky one? ”

“ i got something to show you. ”

“ i like you older. older means we’re still here. ”

“ i was never afraid before you showed up. ”

“ took most of the night. i’m exhausted. ”

“ i’ve had more good days with you than with anyone else. ”

“ i should be furious. ”

“ you hear anything, you see anything, yell. ”

“ so they’re dead? ”

“ i used to hate the world, and i was happy when everyone died. but i was wrong, because there was one person worth saving. ”

“ we have a job to do, and god help any motherfuckers who stand in our way. ”

“ we can just keep our histories to ourselves. ”

“ you do what i say when i say it. ”

“ they have hot water! i’m taking a shower, and then you’re showering, because seriously - pffff. ”

“ well don’t you look pretty. ”

“ it’s like a spaceship. ”

“ gas breaks down over time, this stuff’s almost water. ”

“ it doesn’t matter how much you push the envelope, it’ll still be stationary. ”

“ what did the mermaid wear to her math class? an algae bra. ”

“ i stayed up all night wondering where the sun went, and then it dawned on me. ”

“ this make you all nostalgic? ”

“ hold your horses, i wanna see what all the fuss is about. ”

“ why are all these pages stuck together? ”

“ can we start a fire? i’m freezing. ”

“ no one’s gonna find us. ”

“ if you don’t think there’s hope for the world, why bother going on? ”

“ i’m not even tired. ”

“ i’m all turned around. ”

“ this is my second day in a fucking car, man! ”

“ you’re not hurt? ”

“ you don’t come out until i say, okay? ”

“ my mom isn’t far, if you could get me to her. ”

“ you can have it. ”

“ you don’t have to! ”

“ i can’t fit through. ”

“ i was alone. ”

“ you were wronged, and i’m sorry. ”

“ they put a gun to my head! ”

“ have i satisfied the necessary conditions for you to talk? ”

“ you think i won’t do it? ”

“ i didn’t hear that guy coming. ”

“ you’re just a kid. ”

“ i know what it’s like, the first time that you hurt someone like that. ”

“ i’m not good at this. ”

“ you shouldn’t have had to, and i’m sorry. ”

“ it wasn’t my first time. ”

“ you put it in your pack, you’ll shoot your damn ass off. ”

“ we’ll get through this. ”

“ let’s just handle what we have to handle. we can deal with this after. ”

“ where would you be without me, huh? ”

“ how did you know it was an ambush? ”

“ i’ve been on both sides. ”

“ we did what we needed to survive. ”

“ did you kill innocent people? ”

“ i don’t want someone sneaking up on us while we’re sleeping. ”

“ i don’t wanna talk about it. ”

“ so it gets easier when you get older? ”

“ did you know diarrhoea is hereditary? yeah, it runs in your jeans. ”

“ you laughed, motherfucker! ”

“ look at me, not at that. ”

“ i used to be so scared of these people. ”

“ did it make you feel safe? ”

“ how does it make you feel now? ”

“ i swear, i’ve told you everything i know. ”

“ he won’t be talking. ”

“ why go to the trouble? you can kill yourself right here. ”

“ do i look scared? ”

“ i’ve been watching them, i know their patterns. ”

“ we don’t wanna hurt you, we wanna help you. ”

“ if i lower my gun, we didn’t hurt you, so you don’t hurt us, right? ”

“ that’s a weird fucking tone, man. ”

“ that’s just the way he sounds, he has an asshole voice. ”

“ i’m gonna trust you. ”

“ you know what happens when you do that to people? the moment they get a chance, they do it right back to you. ”

“ never killed anyone. ”

“ pointing an unloaded gun at you was the closest i’ve ever come to being violent. ”

“ that’s my dicey-as-fuck plan. ”

“ your dad’s kind of a pessimist. ”

“ he’s not my dad. ”

“ i’m not her dad. ”

“ endure and survive. ”

“ i wasn’t exactly telling you the truth, before. ”

“ i am the bad guy because i did a bad guy thing. ”

“ we’re not doing so good. ”

“ have you been back to the room you grew up in? ”

“ he would be horrified by the things i’ve done. ”

“ this is what happens when you fuck with fate. ”

“ are you ever scared? ”

“ i’m scared all the time. ”

“ i’m scared of ending up alone. ”

“ if you turn into a monster, is it still you inside? ”

“ stay awake with me. ”

“ gimme the gun. ”

“ what did i do? ”

#( sentence. )#sentence meme #sentence starters #rp meme #rp starters #tlou #the last of us hbo #tv series #apocalyptic #horror

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crazyk-imagine · 2 years

Text

Gossip

Pairing: Sirius Black/ Fem!reader (she/ them pronouns)

Characters: Marlene McKinnon, Lily Evans, fem!reader, James Potter, Remus Lupin, Sirius Black

Warnings: James is a child, fun girl talk, the boys try to listen but fail, Remus is a slut for gossip, Sirius is a simp for reader (don’t ask where he got the glasses so quickly), James is secretly jelly of the new “it couple” but still happy the two of you are together

Word Count: 1,032

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

You, Marlene, and Lily decided to take a break from schoolwork. It was going pretty well actually, talking about random things until Marlene decided to move onto a slightly more interesting subject… "Doesn't Sirius have a nice butt."

"I think James has a better one," Lily adds, zoning out not completely paying attention to what she was saying.

You and Marlene scoff, "of course you would."

The red head girl shrugs, "what can I say those glasses reel me in."

You nod, “I guess I can see it.”

If only you knew who was eavesdropping right outside the door.

A boy with shoulder length hair, leans onto his friend’s shoulder, whispering, "I need glasses."

"Sirius. No," Remus shakes his head.

"Sirius yes." Said boy removes the invisible cloak from him and runs off.

“It doesn’t surprise us that you would say that,” Marlene adds.

You snicker behind your hand.

Lily shakes her head, glancing over at you. “I don’t know why you’re laughing over there. Don’t act like you’re not over the moon for a certain member of the infamous Black family.”

You stare at her, mouth agape. “How did you know?”

James and Remus heads snap towards one another, their eyes wide, and mouth agape.

“Did you-”

“No. Did you-”

“No, why else would I ask you?” Remus gives him a deadpan look.

James shrugs, “I don’t know. I just- don’t be mean. I am a sensitive person.”

“I… don’t doubt that.”

“Why are you so mean?”

“Shut up.”

The two let out a semi quiet oof.

“What the hell, Sirius?” James asks, yanking the hood off his head.

The man in question chuckles, “floating head.” Sirius shakes his head, “no, not the time. Anyway, I was looking for you guys. Why’d you move?”

James scoffs, “we didn’t move. You ran into us.”

“I don’t think I did.”

“Yes, you did!”

Remus chucks the invisible cloak off him and James. “Would you two shut it! You wanted to listen to the girls talking. I didn’t but now I’m invested so if you two could just shut up that’d be great.”

The troublesome duo struggle to give a response, their mouths agape and start fiddling with their glasses.

“They’re standing behind me, aren’t they?”

The three of you nod, “yep.”

You pat his shoulder.

The werewolf steps to the side with his head down.

“You three are not slick, you know,” Marlene says.

You step through the doorway, “I agree with her- Sirius?”

He turns to look at you, “hmm?”

“Why do you- when did you get glasses?”

He scoffs, “oh these old things,” he fiddles with his glasses. “I- uh- I’ve always had them?”

“No,” you shake your head, “no, you definitely haven’t had them. Ever. Why do you- oh.”

“Oh?” He repeats.

“You were listening to our conversation, weren’t you?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“I am not and I’m so offended that you would say such a thing.” He sets a hand over his chest, placing it over his heart, “that hurts.”

You roll your eyes, “I don’t know why you would do such a stupid thing. You don’t need to change yourself or the way you look to impress me. We’re already together.” You purse your lips and close your eyes.

“YOU’RE WHAT?!” Everyone shouts.

“Are you happy? You told them,” your boyfriend says with a wide smile stretching across his lips.

“Your face and tone don’t match, mate,” James points out.

Sirius pouts, “your face doesn’t match your tone ever.”

“Hey! I was stating the obvious, you’re just being mean.”

You cover your face and groan into your hands.

Marlene and Lily wrap their arms around you.

“I can’t believe I own James three butterbeers,” Marlene complains.

“Send two my way. James owes me two.”

“Why?”

“He lost obviously,” you say, removing your hands from your face.

“Oh, yeah. I can see that being the case,” Marlene nods.

“Why are we making fun of me when we should clearly be focusing on the fact that these two,” James points to you and Sirius, “are finally together.”

“We don’t have to talk about this,” you add.

“We really do,” says Remus.

You gasp, “Remus! I thought you were on my side.”

He shrugs, “I like the gossip.”

“You- I- no- Remus.” Sirius chuckles, pulling you out of the girls grasp and into his arms.

“Don’t be mean to them.”

You turn back to him, removing the glasses off his face, “why are you still wearing these?”

“I thought you’d find me cute.”

“I already do.”

“Ew!”

“James!” Lily smacks her boyfriend’s shoulder.

“What?”

“You’re being rude and interrupting their cute couple moment.”

“They do it to us all the time.”

“That’s because you can’t keep your hands to yourself.”

“Only because you’re adorable.”

“And I’m sure he thinks the same thing about them.”

James doesn’t respond for a moment. He sighs, “fine. You may continue.”

“Oh, thank you so much for your permission, Jamie,” Sirius gives a sarcastic smile.

“Don’t call me that.”

“Why? What’re you gonna do, Jaime?”

“I’m gonna do this.”

“Run!” Your boyfriend yanks on your wrist, pulling you with him.

Yours and his laughter echoes throughout the hallways.

He turns the corner and pulls you into his chest. You cover your mouth to hide your giggles. “Well, that wasn’t how I wanted to tell them.”

“Neither did I,” you reply.

“I’m not upset about it though. I’m happy they finally know.”

You roll your eyes, “of course you are.”

“We don’t have to hide when we want to be together.”

You nod, “Uh huh.”

“And I can do this,” he pinches your chin between his thumb and index finger to pull you closer so he can kiss you.

“Ew!”

“Don’t be a baby, James,” Remus nudges his friend’s side.

“But they’re-” He groans.

“You and Lily do the same thing.”

“And you all groan and make noises when me and Lily are together.”

You pull back from him, “because you maul her.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Okay,” you shrug. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Sirius grabs your hand and has a love-struck smile dancing across his lips.

“Do I look like that?” James asks.

Remus nods, “all the time.”

#Harry Potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #Sirius Black #sirius black imagines #sirius black imagine #sirius imagine #sirius black x fem reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter fanfic #sirius black fanfic #sirius black x you #sirius black x reader #crazyk-imagine

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katesmemes · 10 months

Text

feel free to change any pronouns, etc. || may contain some nsfw!

“I want something that says ‘I’m sorry he’s dead, but not that sorry; he was just a dog, and you shouldn’t have loved him more than me,’.”

“Nobody knows, and nobody cares, so would you for once in your little life just—”

“I have a like-life; it suits me fine.”

“What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object?”

“Did you get the vibes that she likes me?”

“My name is [Name], but you can call me anything you’d like.”

“We fit nice, don’t we, together?”

“They say fairy tales have happy endings even though the passage can be rough.”

“Do you want to come to dinner?”

“I think they’d be perfect for each other; don’t you think they’d be perfect?”

“You know when you’ve just met someone but straight away you feel as if they’re going to be your friend?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying; do you know what I mean?”

“Have you finished work already?”

“I’m busy tonight.”

“Tea dances, reading groups, bridge clubs… tragic attempts by lonely old coffin dodgers to meet someone before they give up and peg out…”

“No, I’m depressed; there’s a difference.”

“I wish you’d get a life… I wish you would.”

“Sorry I’m late, Beautiful Person.”

“You look spectacular.”

“How was work?”

“She’s not really my bag of chips, darling, but yeah, I suppose…”

“Saved by the bell, but you’re in a lot of trouble later…”

“You can’t put a price on comfort.”

“You see? A woman after my own heart…”

“How much better is sex after marriage?”

“I’m not a one person person.”

“Y’know, they teach the birds and the bees about me.”

“I think you know immediately. As soon as your eyes meet... Then everything that happens from then on just proves that you have been right in that first moment. When you suddenly realize that you were incomplete and now you are whole…”

“Later on tonight we are going to fall madly in bed.”

“Well, you’ve got something on your mind, that’s obvious…”

“Have you ever met someone and just… but they’re with someone else, already?”

“You and me…it’s not gonna happen.”

“You have to go, right?”

“Am I glad to see you… The morning I’ve had…”

“I love the smell of hotdog in the evening… Smells like…hotdog…”

“I do believe I will be with one person for the rest of my life, but…that person will be a woman.”

“I feel like dancing.”

“That was fun; wasn’t it fun?”

“Are you gonna talk all the way through this?”

“You make me feel something—something I absolutely cannot feel.”

“I can’t do this—I can’t actually do this, so whatever it is or was, it’s got to stop and it’s got to stop now, do you understand?”

“I just think I’m doing something wrong, is all…”

“I can’t ask [Name] if there’s anything wrong because it’s way too scary…”

“Tell me to go. Tell me that’s what you want and I will walk away and you will never see me again.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I want you…”

“Don’t forget me…”

“I won’t remember anything else…”

“It makes me sick, you just lie—lie…”

“I don’t like my girlfriend; I wanna breakup with her…”

“I met this girl…but she’s with someone else…”

“Y’know when you’re holding a hot cup of coffee and you realize you’re going to sneeze? That’s how I feel.”

“I want to talk to you…”

“I want to talk to you because this thing happened…”

“I wasn’t looking for it, it just happened, and though it’s over, um…you have a right to know…”

“I went crazy for someone and it wasn’t you…”

“I’m sorry… I’m so very sorry, so—please believe me, I…”

“I can’t say this more than once…”

“I’m staying… I couldn’t—wouldn’t—leave you…”

“You’re my best friend… It was enough before; it’ll be enough again, so…”

“Do penguins have knees?”

“It’s not you leaving that’s going to kill me, it’s you loving someone more…”

“No, you’re not walking away—don’t walk away from me!”

“I want you to be happy…”

“More than anything else, I wanted to be the cause of happiness in you…but if I’m not, then…I can’t stand in the way…”

“What you’re feeling now is the unstoppable force which means I’ve got to move…”

“What did [Name] mean when he said you’re in love with someone else…?”

“I’m in love with someone else…”

“So the two of you are…lesbifriends…?”

“It doesn’t matter what you call it, it’s not going to happen…”

“Whatever you choose to do from here, we will support you; we always will…”

“Please, my darling, follow your heart…”

“Y’know what I wish? You wouldn’t grow up so fast…”

“Hey, you did nothing wrong…”

“Why don’t you have pudding after breakfast? You have it after lunch and dinner, so why not in the morning as well…?”

“You’re still sad, aren’t you…?”

“I bought you sweets…”

“Maybe in ten years, if you’re still lonely, we could get married then.”

“You shouldn’t be afraid, [Name], you can do anything…”

“I knew after three seconds…”

“If you could, perhaps…be a little kinder…?”

#rp meme #roleplay meme #rp starter sentences #rp starters #starter sentences #roleplay starters #rp sentence starters #ask meme #sentence starters #ask prompt #movie sentence starters #imagine me and you sentence starters #imagine me and you starter sentences #request

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toasted-valentine · 2 months

Text

Even more Adamandi Things That Got Me Feral

Fair warning, a lot of this is me speculating and nerding out about stage craft, I’ve work set crew for three shows and used to perform when I was younger, so stuff like this scratches my brain in all the right spots. I had to quit cause the new director in my school had the habit of throwing objects at student’s heads when angry. I love theater, wish I could’ve done it more, but I was not willing to risk my own safety for that man. More than one person got hurt, and I took that as a sign to exist stage left.

I’m gonna refer to the actors outside their characters with gender neutral pronouns because I don’t know any of their pronouns, except Vincent’s actor since I follow his Instagram for his art. Dudes got a really cool digital painting style.

•Beatrix mimics The Admin’s hand motions at the end of Read All About It, visually showing how they’re just mimicking what Admin wants, even being a bit freaked out from it. They stumble after The Admin leaves, and look around a tad dazed. These aren’t Beatrix’s own desires, she’s just as much of a puppet as anyone else at Ardess.

•Vincent’s costume patterns clash against each other, stripes, pentagons, and plaid making him stand out. Vincent’s clothing doesn’t even fit in, fighting against itself.

•Vincent’s attempts to join the crowd in Word To The Wise are off sink and off beat, they’re literally being pushed out by the rest.

•Beatrix’s hand movements within Me, Myself, and I cue the others to start singing at the end, a visualization of her pulling the strings. They’re the last one to start singing the “Me, Myself, and I” line when all three groups join in together.

•Vincent completely misses that he could’ve just become a painter, that they’re good at that, and it goes right over their head in Student Body. Like, yes bitch, “as natural as painting” you’re already good at something, don’t gotta go the extra homicidal mile.

•Vincent changes costumes several times within the show and it visually shows his progress into becoming Ambrose. They start not wearing a jacket when freshly in New England, then the long jacket makes him stand out against the rest of the cast so he doesn’t fit in, the yellow cardigan is what Ambrose was wearing at the beginning during Word To The Wise showing Vincent wants to be the Ambrose he remembers from freshman year, later becoming Senior Bassford with the letterman and lashing out to try and bash Beatrix’s head in like Ambrose tried to do to him, and finally settling on no jacket when he’s in his most complete and satisfied form in death.

•Quincy asks if Vincent would kill them, questioning what happens when it’s just the two left, and Vincent holds true that they’d never hurt Quincy. Admin does end up deciding that Vincent wins between the finalist, and Quincy kills Vincent. Vincent keeps to his promise, but Quincy never considers their own potential danger to Vincent in that moment.

•The fact Quincy is too tall to kiss Vincent when standing up, so the actors have to hug when standing, and can only kiss when sitting. It’s so fucking funny to me, cause it would’ve been too awkward a visual to have Quincy’s actor bend down to kiss Vincent’s actor, and due to the height difference they couldn’t do the same staging trick done with Beatrix and Portia’s kiss. The theater kid in me finds this hilarious.

•The red string Beatrix used to remember the lie to Vincent is longer than the rest, allowing the audience to have a constant visual reminder of what Beatrix did. The rest are blue and short, so it’s visually distinct, the bright shade helps it be seen from the seats.

•The actor for Beatrix does a fuck ton of really good visual storytelling, round of applause to them, I like the little bit when they start wrapping the string around their fingers when Portia starts asking about Ambrose’s death and it potentially being motivated by someone wanting to off the other nominees. They do it multiple times, and it’s a great way of showing where the character’s mind is at without saying anything out loud. Plus the little horrified reactions they have during Read All About it, little hesitations throughout the entire show are a nice touch of making it clear the character isn’t very sure about their actions.

•Vincent flipping the typewriter around to face the audience during Oh, Miss Reporter!, showing that he’s imagining the interview and desires one, but can’t really have one due to the nature of his crimes.

•The “fill the fake cigarette with flour” trick to make it look like Beatrix is smoking, really old trick, but such a fun one. When the actor blows into it the flour puffs out, making it look like smoke. I’ve done it a few times in the past for a show my sophomore year, could only do it once tho since we didn’t have time to refill it, so it was up to the actor to decide when it was appropriate to take the puff.

•Roswell hands Beatrix the key to the prize section in Word To The Wise, shoving them out of sight out of mind, and they keep the key on until the end. Roswell and co also give them the jacket and hat. All of it is removed at the end, having them in their best when out of Ardess society.

•You can see how fast each character assimilated based on how long it takes for them to get in step with the ensemble during Word To The Wise, Ambrose first, then Beatrix, then Quincy, and Vincent never manages to join the rest.

•The red strings are taped to the desk, it gives the actor for Beatrix ease to grab it, and there’s multiple incase one falls and they need to grab a new one fast. Plus, good visual storytelling for certain moments, the reminder of what they did is constantly following.

•Quincy gets annoyed when their race is brought up during their interview with Beatrix, and Beatrix doesn’t push any further when told to stop. It’s a nice bit of just clown to clown communication, Beatrix just getting why Quincy wouldn’t want to discuss it any further.

•During Vincent’s interview with Beatrix you can see them getting distracted by everything around them, and in one of the takes he starts carving something into the table. Nice little detail of Vincent having wanted to be a visual artist, but he couldn’t due to his family. They actually starts carving when they brings that fact up.

•The bag that Vincent carries has the different props they need for act one, the scalpel, magnifying glass, and notebook. He takes the magnifying glass during his interview and returns it later in order to bribe Beatrix, whips the scalpel out later on during the Ambrose fight, and is writing in the notebook during the first act. The props are too big to carry in pockets, so the bag is a good way of getting around it. It makes sense character wise, and helps avoid the actor having to rush to find a prop on stage or it having to be positioned within reach of someone.

•During Where Can I Run, Beatrix is following Vincent with a notepad and pencil, nice little show that she’s still interviewing them. Show don’t tell, it tells the audience that he’s still in the interview, but they don’t have to stop to establish what’s happening so they can stay on track for the song.

•When Vincent and Beatrix are smoking on the roof, Vincent’s actor knocks two of the candles over, and you can see him trying to put the candles back in place while faking smoking to make it less noticeable.

•If I were to take a guess, some of the close up shots were done during dress rehearsals so the person recording wouldn’t have to work around an audience and could get better shots, so you can see the costumes change slightly in the recording. It’s a few small things like Beatrix’s actor losing the lapel that they have on during The One Who Pulls The Strings and the tags not having been cut off their gloves at that point. For most of the show they don’t have the tags or lapel, it’s just most noticeable during The One Who Pulls The Strings. If I were to take a shot in the dark, the costume designer bought the gloves that day for the dress rehearsal, but didn’t have time to tie the strings on or cut the tags off.

•Ambrose calls Vincent by his name right before Sound Body Sound Mind, but later on stumbles over calling him Vincent, he stutters halfway through then corrects to calling them Lin. Ambrose remembers Vincent telling him not to call them Vincent, and Ambrose listens when talking to his girlfriend.

•Ambrose’s jacket has multiple A’s on it, he’s obsessed with Ardess’ culture, and has it plastered all over. The other Marmorius member in a letterman also has multiple A’s.

•Vincent being a little shit by silently reading his notebook the first time he’s asked to read it by the Marmorius. That’s just funny.

•Most of Ambrose’s songs are sung in lower notes, but higher ones for I Love You I Swear, even in his songs Ambrose is obsessed with not having anything even slightly femme. It’s only when alone and vulnerable that Ambrose sings how he’s actually feelings. His actor deserves a pat on the back for absolutely carrying, they have really good range and pull off an asshole jock character super well. Ambrose’s character would not work as well as it does if the actor wasn’t as charming with it as they are. 10/10 casting, did it perfectly.

•"I guess I’m married to my work? God that’s depressing.” Is the funniest joke in the show, the delivery of the line made me laugh my ass off first time I saw it, and it makes me smile whenever I watch Adamandi.

•Each of the characters have distinct ways of sitting, which is such a nice way to add personality. You can see these in the different interview scenes, and Beatrix’s conversation with Vincent in the first act.

-Ambrose is lax, seems generally uninterested, he keeps leaning back to avoid making eye contact, and whenever he does look at Beatrix it’s while doing a jackass hand lean.

-Beatrix sits in the gayest way humanly possible during her discussion with Vincent, taking her jacket off and being more casual than she was during the interviews. You can also see them stress smoking throughout the show, during Word To The Wise, when discussing the previous winners with Vincent, when talking about work and Portia with Vincent on the roof, and when trying to convince Portia to not report Vincent for the murders.

-Vincent puts their feet up on the table and Beatrix has to shoo them off, along with that, Vincent continually gets distracted by different objects. He’s not super interested in the interview, just wanting to get it over with fast.

-Quincy tries to keep focused on Beatrix, but keeps flickering their gaze elsewhere nervously, and fidgets with their hands in their lap.

-Portia is the only one whose completely focused on Beatrix instead of having her mind wander someone else. Occasionally she gets shy and will avert her gaze because she catches herself staring at Beatrix, gay panic ensues lol

•The candles are electric, most likely someone backstage has a remote to them, and they flicker in different ways to emphasize different things. It’s such a fun little detail, and whoever was doing it probably had a lot of fun fiddling with the flames. Such a funky little thing. You can see it a lot in Litany of the Martyrs.

•There’s a fucking A on Ambrose’s sweater under his jacket, he’s such a self obsessed jackass, love that lol

•During Me, Myself, and I, when Beatrix is doing their weird little pose while distracted, the way their hands are positioned makes the red string on the side of Vincent and the Marmorius.

•At the beginning of Read All About It, the way Beatrix’s actor lifts the newspaper allows them to wave the newspaper, but also keeps the red string in direct sight of the audience.

•Beatrix takes up Vincent’s green color in the end, their new jacket being a foresty green, I like to think it’s cause they don’t wanna forget him.

•Portia doesn’t get her Ardess jacket until she’s joined the prize section and Beatrix starts teaching her via the mock interview, she has a click to be apart of so fits in. The pink color keeps her visually distinct, most of the other cast wear more earthy or cool tones, a lot of blues, browns, yellows, greens, and grays. Portia’s make her stand out as a more good natured character in comparison. Even the A on her jacket is in a different style, she’s taking advantage of Ardess, but isn’t apart of the culture.

•After the Marmorius die they all gain red trinkets of some kind on their outfit to indicate they’re dead. Ambrose’s is around his neck since Vincent slit his throat. They’re all made out of a shiny material that the lights catch on and make stand out.

•The desk that is brought out in the second act for when Beatrix and Portia are talking has red strings falling out of one of the drawers, Beatrix is running out of space to tie it to on their hands, so it’s just spilling out onto other things.

•Vincent’s bag has a bunch of little sketches on it, some eyes and a few rats are what I could make out, really nice visual that Vincent is an artist. Makes you think “What if he’d just been an artist?” since that probably would’ve fixed a lot of their issues of feeling unfulfilled and like an outcast.

•Portia’s bag has an eye design on it, even tho she’s not fully apart of Ardess culture, she’s still feeling the pressure of being watched.

•When Beatrix and Portia’s actors are exiting the stage after the Vincent pyre scene, you can see Beatrix’s actor begin to fucking book it back stage when the lights go down and they don’t think the audience can see. They need to switch costume really fast and get into position on the scaffolding, so gotta go fast. The hat is actually different, the old one is left with their jacket on the chair in the prize section set, the new one has a different colored ribbon. Old hat’s ribbon was green with a bow, new one is black with no bow.

•I just fucking noticed that the eyepatch Vincent wears in The Other Side Of Failure has the shape of a heart on it. That’s so fucked up.

#adamandi #vincent aurelius lin #beatrix valeria campbell #quincy cynthius martin #portia harper #ambrose bassford

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thepixelelf · 1 year

Text

Bluff and Nonsense - he/him ver.

genres: romance, angst, some fluff, university au, not a fake dating au pairing: male reader x hoshi words: 17.0k (01:08) warnings: cursing, alcohol notes (orig, 2020): "so the title is fluffy and this was a title fic, but then it ran away on me. I really like this one so... yeah. Enjoy!” update, 2023: this is the he/him version of Bluff and Nonsense. other than the pronouns, nothing else has been changed. you can find the original they/them version here, and the she/her version here

Soonyoung never thought one bluff could lead to so much nonsense.

Of his many talents though, lying is not one of them.

It wouldn’t be such a bad lie if you weren’t also sitting a few feet away.

Soonyoung doesn’t know you very well. In fact, he’d almost say he doesn’t know you at all.

Except Soonyoung’s friends, of course. That would be too easy.

Mingyu turns to him with a stupid smile, his cheeks red from both the free opportunity to tease his upperclassman and the light beer he’s been sipping and pretending to get buzzed on all night. He nudges Soonyoung with his shoulder where they sit on the floor, leaning in to speak under the conversations surrounding them. “You didn’t tell me you like him,” he says, the jesting tone in his voice clearer than water.

Mingyu’s smile only widens at Soonyoung’s response, his eyes turning to slits with the rise of his cheeks. “Soonie’s in looove~!”

He doesn’t dare glance your way for the rest of the night.

Soonyoung thinks he’s never seen Seokmin so serious.

Besides, it’s not like he actually likes you. And his real secret is still safe and sound.

•

Of Soonyoung’s many talents, making people sad is also not one of them.

It’s not that he actively tries to cause misery only to fail, it’s that he can’t stand upsetting anyone. He’s a people-pleaser by nature, that’s just how it is.

So he doesn’t say no when you ask him out for coffee.

You ask him if what he said at the party was true, and something in your eyes makes him say yes.

•

You seem brighter, though, every time he sees you again; he can’t bring himself to take that away, to cut the cord, to clean this mess he made.

“You know you’re an idiot, right?”

Minghao leans against the opposite bookshelf, his arms crossed, locked and loaded for judgement. Soonyoung looks around, but of course he’s talking to him. They’re the only ones in the row.

“Um, how do you want me to answer that?” he asks, unsure of exactly what Minghao’s talking about. Yeah, he knows he’s a bit dense sometimes, but not all the time.

It’s not too surprising that Minghao knows — he’s an intuitive guy, but Soonyoung is still caught off guard. He asks first, under his breath, “Does anyone else know?”

Soonyoung’s shoulders fall in relief, though he didn’t even realize they’d tensed up.

“But that’s not the problem here. Why are you playing around with him if you’re into Sehee?”

Minghao cocks an eyebrow at that. “But you could say his?”

“It was a moment of weakness.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“I’m aware.”

“You’re gonna have to tell him,” Minghao says, and he’s probably right. No, he is right, Soonyoung just doesn’t want him to be.

“I can’t do that! I said I like him— twice!”

“Twice?”

“Twice!”

Minghao only drops his head for a second, scoffing at the whole situation. Soonyoung wishes he could do that too, just laugh it off because it’s someone else’s problem.

Soonyoung knows he’s right. But he doesn’t like it.

Before he can come up with a rebuttal, though, Minghao’s hands are on Soonyoung’s shoulders, and he’s pushing him out of the row of bookshelves and straight towards your table.

“You can do it, Soonyoung, just rip the band-aid while you still can,” he whispers in Soonyoung’s ear right before one last push at his back.

“Hi Soonyoung, I didn’t see you come in,” you say, and there’s no way you’re this energized just from studying in a library.

“Uh... hi.”

You’re going to have to say something sooner or later.

Soonyoung picks later.

•

“So when are you gonna ask him out?”

“Oh, you know.” Even when Jihoon says your name, Soonyoung stays still. “Only the guy you’ve been on several “dates” with ever since you confessed to him at Seungcheol’s party. When are you gonna ask him on a real date?”

Tired, Soonyoung groans. “When the time is right, I guess.”

•

The coffee isn’t great, and it’s too expensive, but Soonyoung drinks it anyways. He much prefers the coffee from the cafe he goes to with you. Because the coffee is better. Obviously.

Soonyoung’s feet bring him over before his brain can register what to do. You haven’t seen him yet, he could just walk away, but he doesn’t. Your voice becomes clearer as he approaches.

“Listen, the printing center is for education, art, or business. I can’t print this for you.”

The guy goes off about personal freedoms or whatever, Soonyoung isn’t really listening.

“No, I get that this is a student printing center, but I really don’t think your big tiddie anime gf poster has anything to do with education, art, or business.”

And that’s when the guy grabs your arm. Which results in Soonyoung grabbing his arm. Which results in the accusatory question, “What are you, his boyfriend or something?”

But this isn’t a perfect story.

Soonyoung’s never been good at lying. One would think he’d stop by now.

•

So, it’s official.

It's almost too natural, how easily you bring him into your life and how easily he finds himself fitting. It's all so wrong.

Soonyoung feels like an imposter, like there's someone meant to be by your side, but it's not him.

He smiles it off. Tries to, anyways.

Chan complains that Soonyoung's too harsh that day.

•

Jihoon likes you.

Not in a "Mister Steal Yo' Girl" way, but he laughed at one of your jokes the first time you came over to Soonyoung's apartment, and ever since then, he's been convinced.

"You must feel like the luckiest guy on earth with him around," Jihoon says once you leave for the night.

Soonyoung has no idea how to tell him he's felt nothing but unlucky these past few weeks, so he doesn't.

•

He polishes up on his acting. As awful as it is to think, Soonyoung has gotten really, really good.

His smile looks genuine. It has to — he shows it to Minghao, who says it's "adequate," which basically means perfect to the lowly humans beneath him.

He's gotten good at responding to you too, copying how the male leads do it in dramas and movies. It's sort of easy.

He hates how easy it is.

Soon enough, you try befriending the whole group. Being Seungkwan's friend, you've always wanted to, but apparently this is the push you needed. The boys are quick to warm up to you because, as Soonyoung's new boyfriend, you're now a new teasing target besides Chan. The youngest was always the brunt until you came along.

You say you don't mind — that his friends are amazing despite all the jokes and chaos. He believes you.

Soonyoung's never broken a heart before. He's never planned on it.

Sometimes life makes its own plans.

“No.”

Meeting his gaze, you look at him with shaking eyes, almost as if it takes great strength to keep them on his. He tries to backpedal, but you continue.

Something about your smile haunts him.

It's hollow; feels empty when you flash it at him before going. He thinks fake smiles all look like that — insincere. His smiles at you must be the same way.

He turns and walks to practice.

The routine feels lighter tonight, though Soonyoung can’t pinpoint why. His body almost floats, and while that sounds good, it’s not. The rhythm is off. He’s not landing when he should be.

[❤] Sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to react all... cold? Seungkwan told me you never invite anyone to practice, so it makes total sense why you said no

[❤] If I’m ever crossing any boundaries, let me know, okay?

Of course you’d be understanding. Soonyoung wouldn’t be that lucky.

He tosses his phone haphazardly in his bag, groaning and throwing his head back so it hits the wall with a dampened thud. The pain is dull compared to the thoughts top-spinning in his mind.

He doesn’t text you back. By the time he thinks of something a boyfriend would say, the time to say it has passed.

•

How much longer is he going to let this go on?

Just like last time.

"You okay?" you whisper in his ear at one point.

He turns to see your concerned expression, and it only makes Soonyoung hate this even more. He doesn't deserve your concern.

"I'm fine."

But he's not fine.

Somehow the topic of discussion turns to couples, and suddenly, an entire room of eyes is on you and Soonyoung. He barely catches the question before you're already pondering your answer.

What do the two lovebirds love most about each other?

You look at him. At him, at him. He feels your stare in the dip of his throat because he can't seem to swallow anymore. It's like his soul is being scanned for viruses.

And even when his mind swims with that, Sehee asks again.

"Then Soonyoung, what do you like about him?"

"I like his laugh," he says. It's not about you. "Whenever he laughs, I think to myself, 'What I wouldn't give to see him laugh again'."

He needs a drink.

"I wouldn't, if I were you."

"Wouldn't what?" he snaps.

"I dunno." Minghao shrugs, and it's almost infuriating how nonchalant he is. "Do something you might regret, I guess."

Well, he doesn't know exactly. But he doesn't want to find out.

"You have to end it."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I just—" Soonyoung takes in a breath, too loud for his liking. He lowers his voice. "I can't, okay? I don't want to hurt him."

"So you're just going to date him based on false pretenses because you're too much of a coward to admit your mistakes?" Voice laced with sharpness, Minghao places his palms flat on the counter.

Soonyoung takes a deep breath through his nose, lips twisting in frustration. "Yeah, okay? Yeah," he whispers. "That's exactly what I'm gonna do."

A second passes. Minghao's brow furrows.

"And quite frankly," Soonyoung continues, "I'd rather you keep your nosy ass out of my business from now on."

He nearly storms off right then with the last word, but Minghao's fingers around his elbow stop him.

"You're going to get yourself hurt," Minghao warns through his teeth. He nods towards you. "And him in the process."

"We'll see about that."

When you study his face, no doubt not nearly as cheerful as yours, the expression you held falters to worry.

"You okay?" is once again the question on your lips, quiet, meant for his ears only.

Impulse is a scary thing. Soonyoung hates it almost as much as lying.

Soonyoung thinks this isn’t all too different.

He steals your second first kiss, and later, staring at the water-stained stucco ceiling of his bedroom, he kicks himself so hard it hurts.

•

You show up to movie night. Apparently Jihoon invited you — explained it like this:

“You won’t have to be so clingy with me if he’s here.”

Whatever. You’re a better cuddler than Jihoon anyway.

You absentmindedly play with his fingers for most of the movie. He doesn’t mind.

It’s been about a month now.

Nasty business, it is.

Seems that’s all he’s good for lately.

“You’re unhappy.”

“I’m not,” he tries to deny, but it’s difficult to fool a person like Jihoon. (Especially since Soonyoung can’t even convince himself.)

“I’ve known you since tenth grade. You think I can’t tell when you’re upset?”

Soonyoung finds it hard to read Jihoon’s feelings most of the time. He didn’t realize he was such an open book the other way around.

Sighing, he continues to scrub the bowl, which has probably been clean for a minute already. “I’m just... stressed.”

“About?”

Minghao already knows; already thinks lowly of Soonyoung for it. If Jihoon knew... Soonyoung doesn’t know if he can take that.

So he lies. Again.

“Just the dance showcase.”

It isn’t a whole lie, not really, but he can’t call it the truth either.

Jihoon, the friend that he is, says, “That’s not for three months, though. I’m sure you’ll be perfect by then.”

“I don’t know...”

“Well I do.” Eyes meet eyes, a pair determined, a pair apprehensive. “Everything will work out.”

“...Okay.”

•

Soonyoung measures time in terms of you now.

When he last texted you. When he last saw you. When he last spoke to you.

Soonyoung’s time moves a bit slower now.

Faster, sometimes, but only when he doesn’t want it to.

•

You tell him you might be in love with him.

He says he might be in love with you.

He’s never hated lying more.

•

His eyes widen as it settles in that no, he’s not expecting you. The apartment is a mess.

“Take care of this,” he says. “I’ll clear up the kitchen.”

Right. Can’t have you thinking your boyfriend and his roommate are slobs.

“Uhh... it’s for you.”

Soonyoung can hear your quiet hiccups even though they’re muffled in Jihoon’s shirt. He can’t bear it when people cry.

Yeah, maybe he’s been pretending to like you for a long time now, but he’s not a monster.

Right?

He likes you as a person. As a friend. And there’s no way he’s letting his friend go through pain like this.

“C’mere.”

You practically flail into his embrace, arms wrapping around his torso in a vice grip as you hide your face again. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay — he knows you’re not.

Jihoon stands in the doorway for a few seconds, just looking at you and Soonyoung clutching at each other in the middle of the apartment before he shuts the front door and clears his throat.

“I’ll just, uh, I’ll be — um. Mhm. Yup.”

He escapes to his room.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, though quiet and hesitant.

“What’s that?”

“Just...” Your eyes glisten. His heart beats. “Could you please just hold me?”

And he does.

His arm underneath you wraps around, hand landing on your back so his thumb can rub soothing circles.

It’s quiet.

Funny. Soonyoung used to dislike silence with you — always felt the need to fill it with conversation or jokes or laughter. He wonders when it was last since he felt that way.

His question is answered when your voice, small and unsure, breaks the long-standing silence.

“Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I tell you about it?”

He cranes his neck to look at you, but it doesn’t really work. “Of course,” he says. “Why wouldn’t you be able to?”

You sigh. “I don’t know. I just... I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not.”

“I know, but—”

“You’re not.”

You look up at him finally, and seeing your smile sends warmth through his blood. Your face is still looks wrecked from tears gone by, but your smile pushes all that out of the way.

Soonyoung doesn’t respond to that, just pats your back a few times and encourages you to keep going. You toy with the fabric of his shirt.

“Bad ones?”

A breathy laugh escapes you. “Sure, you could say that.”

The silence comes back, and your brows furrow, almost like you’re trying to solve the problem all on your own. But you don’t have to. Soonyoung is here.

“Do you remember when I told you about my first kiss? Like, my real first kiss?”

Soonyoung hums. Of course he remembers.

“Conniving?”

Soonyoung hugs you tighter.

Your tears come back, brimming at the edge of your eyelids.

“I don’t know, it just — it just made me feel so...”

You take a breath. Exhale.

“...worthless.”

Soonyoung doesn’t fail to see the irony here, at least, but he feels slightly lifted. Whoever this guy is, Soonyoung’s a million times better.

“You’re not worthless,” he says — because he knows it’s true.

“For what?”

“For being here. For being you. For letting me be me.”

“It is my absolute pleasure to serve you, your majesty.”

You wack him with the sleeve of your sweater. “You’re such a dork!”

Your laugh is nice. Soonyoung hopes to hear it again soon.

“You know,” you say, eyes closed as you lie there with him on his bed. “Normally I would’ve gone to Seungkwan with my problems, but tonight...”

“Tonight?”

“You make me feel safe, Soonyoung. Thank you.”

His eyes close. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you breathe out. “That, and if I told Seungkwan, he would’ve found the guy and beat him to a pulp.”

“Why can I see that?”

“Because it’s true.”

You stay the night.

•

But of course, university is university, and it’s inevitable that someone has to bail out. That someone being Soonyoung.

First of all, who signs up for a showcase only four weeks before the performance? Who lets them sign up?

But Soonyoung is a people-pleaser. He doesn’t say no.

What he doesn’t expect is for them to invite you instead.

“It’s a thirteen person reservation,” Seungcheol reasons. “Besides, he’s basically one of us by now.”

Soonyoung can’t exactly argue with that.

You send him a good luck text.

[🍥] Don’t let those kids work you into the ground!

You were the one that sweet-talked you both out of getting banned.

Maybe he can do this.

•

“The trick is to add eggs and use less water,” you say as you scoop more batter onto the waffle iron.

Jihoon snorts from where he sits at the table, still shoveling more whipped cream and strawberry-smothered waffle in his mouth. “Are you sure the trick isn’t to just not be Soonyoung?”

“Hey!” Soonyoung pauses his own eating just to pout. “My waffles are good!”

“Sure, you keep telling yourself that.”

You sit down next to him with your own plate of waffles. There’s flour dusted on your arms, but you don’t seem to mind.

“You’ve got a little...” You point a finger at the corner of your mouth.

He knows. Soonyoung can feel the cool whipped cream right where you say it is.

He smiles wide. “I’m saving it for later.”

“Hmm...”

He wonders if this is what it’s like to be loved.

That thought, though, he pushes back for another time.

“Gross. You guys made me lose my appetite,” Jihoon says. He keeps eating.

•

Oh. He forgot you’re here.

Well, he has been walking you home ever since he hadn’t some time ago. Maybe you were waiting.

After he tucks you under a fluffy throw blanket, he crawls into bed and lies on his side, facing you.

Your other hand is lax, palm up and fingers curled, almost like you’re holding something invisible.

His hand would fit perfectly.

The tips of his fingers graze over the lines on your palm. Slow. Trepidatious.

You shift, fingers unconsciously curling around Soonyoung’s hand.

He closes his eyes.

•

The moves aren’t working.

The moves aren’t working and the music isn’t working and the dance isn’t working and nothing is working.

It’s less than a week until the showcase. Six days, as Chan is apt to remind everyone with his stupid holiday countdown app.

That’s not what has him in such a state right now.

He can’t get the steps right. He can’t get anything right.

What is wrong with him?

He starts the music again at exactly one minute, thirty-eight seconds. The moves are clear in his mind. One step. Two steps. Sweep. Spin. Jump—

He falls.

The music goes on.

Screw the music. He stands; positions himself; tries again.

Again.

He falls.

He yells out at the floor, at his feet, at whatever is holding him back.

His reflection in the mirror stares back at him.

Someone knocks on the door, and for a second, Soonyoung thinks it’s Jun coming to tell him to go home for the night. He doesn’t want to, so he doesn’t look up.

The door opens, he can hear the quiet shuffling of hesitant feet that have removed their shoes just because the sign on the door told them to.

“Soonyoung?”

Your voice is clear — like a single drop of water coalescing into a whole — and it cuts through the sound of blood rushing past Soonyoung’s ears.

“What are you...”

“Minghao called me.”

When Soonyoung says nothing more, you take another step forward. “What’s wrong?”

To anyone else, he might say nothing. Absolutely nothing is wrong.

His voice breaks when he tries to laugh.

“Everything.”

He nods.

“I’m all sweaty,” he tries to argue, but you only squeeze him tighter.

“Yeah, you are.”

He stops resisting. It’s much too hot, what with his hours of constant exercise and your thick layers, but he can’t complain.

“Do you want to talk about it?” This time it’s your turn to ask.

“...Just hold me?”

And you do.

You press a kiss to the back of his neck. Slow, soft, and when your lips leave his searing skin, your forehead replaces them.

That’s when the dam breaks.

It’s ugly, the way he cries, but you let it happen. You hold him.

This is what it’s like.

He’s going to be okay.

For some reason, coming from you, he believes it.

You hold him until the hiccuping stops, until the tears are just dry streaks on his face, until his breath comes out in long streams instead of bursts.

His eyes stay shut as he feels you shift. One of your hands slips out of his grasp, your arm reaching back, and Soonyoung almost whines until he feels its return.

“Look,” you whisper.

Go get ‘em, tiger!

Gingerly, Soonyoung lifts his hands together, and you place the plush in his awaiting palms.

His voice is slow to restart, but he manages to say, “Thank you.”

Hands now free, you wrap yourself around his waist again. “Anything for you.”

Such a simple sentence, that, and yet the confession sends blood to Soonyoung’s ears in the form of an awfully embarrassing blush. He runs his thumbs over the fuzzy fabric of the tiger plush.

“Soonyoung?”

“Hm?”

One of your hands rises to his chin, guiding it up so he looks forward at the studio mirror and meets your gaze in the reflection.

“Whaddya say we do, hm?” You tilt your head, and Soonyoung thinks his pupils may be heart-shaped. “Do you want to practice more? Or can I take you home?”

“Just...” He swallows what’s left in his dry mouth. “Just once more.”

You smile. “Okay.”

“I’ll be outside, okay?”

Soonyoung’s expression tightens, eyebrows shifting in confusion. “Why?”

“Well,” you say. “I know how you feel about audiences during practice.”

“Do you know how I feel about you?”

“Hmm, do I?”

Do you?

“Stay.”

And you do.

•

Here’s the thing about dance showcases:

They’re big, they’re flashy, they take the entire year to plan, and they’re over in one night.

A tap on his shoulder makes him turn his head, and he sees Sehee’s smiling face.

“Nervous?” she asks, her voice hidden beneath the music.

She’s all dolled up, dressed in her costume with a sleek leather jacket to bring everything together. Her eyes glimmer just as much as her eyelids.

“You have no idea,” Soonyoung jokes, but his heart isn’t really in it.

Sehee tilts her head; blinks a few times. “You’ll do amazing. You always do.”

The music ends, applause erupts, and Soonyoung knows it’s his turn. He waits for the group to exit on the opposite side, and when the resounding claps quiet down, he takes the first step onstage.

But he knows you’re there. He knows you’re watching.

Soonyoung stands with his left foot on the spike mark, right where he’s practiced time and time again ever since they transitioned into the space. Music floods his veins, and the world is gone.

The space takes him. He lets it.

And then it’s over.

He thinks he can faintly hear applause, but it’s nothing compared to the heart beating in his chest. Your voice plays in his ears, yet he knows it’s simply his imagination — his recollection.

I like your dance, you’d said that night. I’m no expert, no judge, but I like it. I love it, honestly. Your dancing... I don’t know. I wish I had the words. It’s like... a little box.

A little box?

I thought you said you didn’t have the words?

I don’t. Not enough.

Soonyoung vaguely registers the lights going black, the way his feet drift him offstage, the music of the seniors’ finale.

Another tap on his shoulder; it’s Sehee again.

“Can I talk to you?” she asks.

He follows her to a corner of the stage, where the curtains hang and hide the two — for the most part.

She turns almost too abruptly, causing Soonyoung to stumble over his own two feet to avoid bumping into her.

“This is really hard for me to say,” she starts. “But I have to get it out.”

Maybe Soonyoung has dreamed of this moment. He can’t be sure, not yet, so he lets her continue.

Apparent in the way he knows it will affect much more than he wishes.

He kisses her.

God, this is what he wanted, right? What he’s wanted for so long. He used to toss and turn at night over the thought of Sehee’s eyes; her smile; her lips.

And on his, they were heaven. Plump and soft just like the romance novels say, moving at the exact pace of his heartbeat.

Until, of course, it ends.

Sehee pulls away. “We can’t— I don’t—”

Someone clears their throat.

Soonyoung turns, finding Minghao standing just off from the curtains, arms crossed and face contorted in thinly-veiled anger.

And you.

You’re standing next to Minghao, obviously shocked — over being seen or what you’ve seen, Soonyoung doesn’t know. Hands fisted and hanging loose at your sides, your eyes widen as they meet Soonyoung’s.

It’s not so dramatic as the movies.

He’s never been good at reading lips, but he thinks he knows exactly what Minghao whispers in your ear.

There’s something you should know.

Sehee mutters, “Sorry,” and leaves. She looks guilt-ridden as she does, but even in his half-frozen state, Soonyoung knows all of this is on him.

Slowly, he crouches, picking up the note with his thumb and forefinger.

It’s stupid. It’s not a love letter. It’s laced with love, though, and he hates that he recognizes your handwriting.

It’s over.

When was the last time he thought about how it would end?

He changes out of costume, arms growing stiff, and stuffs everything in his bag without much care for how. His regular clothes itch; he longs to scratch at his skin, but he doesn’t.

He leaves your bouquet on the counter.

His friends stand in a circle in the lobby, brows furrowed and voices hushed as they discuss... something. Soonyoung has a bad feeling he knows exactly the topic. Minghao isn’t there. Nor are you.

Jihoon isn’t around, either, but Soonyoung remembers he had to leave immediately after the performance. Something about an essay. It doesn’t really matter now, not compared to this.

When he approaches his friends, they quiet down further. Half of them look his way with a frown, while the other half choose to avert their eyes. What do they know?

Seungkwan stands out the most. His arms are crossed, his lips are pressed together in a thin line, and anger radiates from his very being. Of course he’s mad. You’re his friend.

The silence consumes Soonyoung as he nearly shrivels under his friends’ gazes. He must have taken his time, the lobby is empty except for them.

“Where’s Minghao?” he asks.

Seungkwan lurches forward, but both Seungcheol and Wonwoo bring up their arms to hold him back.

So they don’t know. Not really.

Soonyoung endures the scolding. The looks. The questions. The noise.

No answers are really given.

The great thing about having best friends is that they know not to pamper you when you’ve done wrong. That’s also the worst thing about having best friends.

Seungkwan would go on and on, surely, but soon enough the boys notice how little Soonyoung is reacting — how his face and expression is slack and dull.

Joshua holds up a finger to quiet down the ones still complaining, then gestures towards the front entrance.

“Minghao left with him a while ago.” The look on his face is one of pity. Soonyoung hates it.

He nods; stuffs his hands in his pockets as he turns to the door.

“Wait! I’m not done—!” Seungkwan struggles against Wonwoo and Seungcheol, but he’s no match.

Soonyoung doesn’t stick around long enough to hear what happens next.

He has no sense of what to do when he walks out that door. Go home, maybe.

He walks — though it feels like wandering — to the parking lot, where he plans to look around for a bus stop.

You’re there.

His held breath escapes him, and you look up.

“You’re here,” you say. The smile on your lips, ever so slight and ever so bitter, causes a ringing in his ears. “I almost thought you forgot about me.”

“I...”

“It’s a lie, right?” Your eyes glisten, but no tears fall. “You wouldn’t— I’m not— I’m not that naive, am I?”

Soonyoung’s lips part, but nothing moves past them. His hands itch to leave his pockets, but with nothing to reach for, they stay still.

“...I see.”

You drop your head again, bringing your hands together to fiddle with your fingernails. He hears your breath, shaky as it is, and his lungs constrict.

“God, it felt so real. I thought— I guess I don’t know what I thought, huh?” A shiver runs through you. “Was any of it real?” you ask the ground.

Soonyoung longs to answer. That’s the thing, though.

He doesn’t know.

Can any of it be real?

You laugh. Before, your laugh was spring strawberries; summer warblers; winter snowdrops. Now, your dry laughter echoes in Soonyoung’s mind like a pebble in a failed attempt of skipping stones.

“Guess not.”

You hop off the concrete barrier, wiping off your pants of dust and dirt. Still, you don’t meet his eyes.

It’s then that when you meet his eyes, he notices the dried tracks lining your cheeks. You have been crying, just in the time it took for him to come across you.

“It’s not your fault—”

Everything?

“I’ll be going now. I’ve got a lot to think about.”

Perhaps he stands there for too long. It’s not until he’s staring down the front of his apartment that he realizes one of his friends must have dropped him off.

•

He hasn’t heard from you in a few days. He hasn’t heard from anyone in just as long.

•

Sehee apologizes. She shouldn’t, but she does.

Soonyoung didn’t really hate what he did at first. He liked her, after all.

But when Sehee chokes on her own words, pleading to whoever will listen that she’s not that kind of girl, Soonyoung regrets kissing her more than he ever wanted to kiss her in the first place.

•

please let me explain

I’m sorry

it’s been a while, but still

I’m sorry

[🍥] Explain what?

[🍥] ...

[🍥] Soonyoung?

sorry I just

I wasn’t expecting you to answer

[🍥] Maybe I shouldn’t have

wait

I’m sorry

[🍥] So I’ve heard

I just want you to know why what happened, happened

[🍥] But I already know why

it’s not that simple

[🍥] You lied because you suck at lying. Because you knew Sehee was there that night and panicked. I was just collateral damage

[🍥] ...

[🍥] No answer, huh?

[🍥] So it really is that simple

please wait

I’m just trying to figure myself out

[🍥] Let me help you

[🍥] You want my forgiveness because you feel guilty. Maybe you don’t know it yet, but you want me to say I forgive you just so you won’t have to carry this around for the rest of your life

[🍥] I know this isn’t some romcom. I know you’re not here to get me back

[🍥] So just let it go

[🍥] Let’s just forget about this. About what happened

what if I can’t

[🍥] I don’t know

[🍥] Figure it out, I guess

[🍥] But do it on your own

•

Soonyoung doesn’t measure his time anymore.

He wakes up. He eats. He goes to class. He skips lunch. He goes home. He eats. He falls asleep.

When was the last time he went out with someone? When was the last time he had a real conversation?

He doesn’t know.

•

[Minghao] You should tell everyone else

why

[Minghao] Would you rather they think you’re a cheater or just an idiot?

I don’t know

[Minghao] I think they deserve an explanation

[Minghao] Want me to do it for you?

does it even matter anymore

[Minghao] It’s your choice

[Minghao] You just have to make it

then tell them

I don’t care

[Minghao] Are you sure?

tell them

•

You were right. He doesn’t want to carry this around.

Where does the time go?

Soonyoung freezes after shutting the door behind him, not wholly sure what to make of the scene before him.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon looks up from his fingers and meets Soonyoung’s gaze.

“Minghao called me today,” he says.

Soonyoung gulps, but doesn’t respond — doesn’t know how to.

“I didn’t want to believe it at first, you know.” His voice is slow, croaky; tired. “But it sort of makes sense, doesn’t it. I don’t know how I didn’t see it from the start.”

Slowly, Soonyoung slips off his shoes and steps further into the apartment. “So now you know. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture right now.”

“I just have a question.”

“If you never loved — never liked him, why are you acting like this now?”

“Acting like what?”

“Like a dead man walking.”

Soonyoung scoffs, a dry, empty sound as he looks away for a moment before meeting Jihoon’s gaze again. “You’re kidding, right?” he asks. “I lied to someone for months. I pretended to love someone I didn’t. I used him because of my own stupidity and pride, and then I used Sehee, too—” Pausing, he closes his eyes; takes a breath. “Isn’t it obvious? It’s guilt. I feel guilty for... for everything.”

“That’s the only reason?”

“Excuse me?”

Jihoon rhythmically taps the pads of his fingers on the table. It’s not loud enough to be heard, but Soonyoung’s eyes train to the sight. “It’s only the guilt?”

“What else would it be?”

This time, it’s Jihoon who sighs. He looks at his hands again for a second. “Do me a favour,” he says without looking up.

“Look, I already—”

“Just do what I say.”

“Stand right there.”

“...What?”

Soonyoung has never been unable to read Jihoon this much, so he asks, “What is this all about—”

This is it, he thinks. This is how he dies.

“Jihoon!” he cries, but his protest is muffled by the pillow. “What the fuck are you—!”

“You fucking idiot! You don’t know shit!”

“I know that!” Soonyoung thrashes to get the pillow off, but Jihoon is way stronger than he looks.

“You miss him you fucking buffoon! You’re all in your doom and gloom because you had a good thing going and had to go fuck it up!”

“I don’t!”

“Don’t try to argue with me, fucker, I know you better than anyone. Now scream!”

The pillows squishes further down, and while Soonyoung can still breathe, it’s far from comfortable. He continues to struggle even though he knows it’s useless.

“What?!”

“Scream into the pillow! You’re mad at yourself and you should be! Let it all out!”

“I—”

“Scream!”

And he does. He lets out a loud bellow that’s nothing but sound roaring from his lungs. He does it mostly to appease Jihoon — so that maybe he’ll finally get off.

But it feels good.

He tries again to scream into the pillow, but his voice cracks and all he knows is to cry.

This is what it’s like.

Soonyoung wraps his arms around the pillow, hiding his face again.

“I don’t know,” he says. He’s never felt less sure of anything. “I don’t know.”

•

Go get ‘em, tiger!

Soonyoung settles down above the covers that night, and the tiger sits on his other pillow.

The one that still smells like you.

•

He cries. (For the second time since you left.)

•

Turns out, it takes a coffee.

He turns to Jihoon, a question on the tip of his tongue.

“He told the bodyguards to back off,” Jihoon explains without needing to be asked. “It’s been a few days.” He nods his chin towards you. “Go on. Talk to him.”

Soonyoung shakes his head, gulping down the words he can’t yet think of. “I don’t... I’m not... ready.”

“If you back out now, you’re going to keep backing out until it’s too late.”

What will it take to see that again?

What will it take to hold you again?

His feet move before his doubts can stop him, and the scene feels awfully familiar. This time though, Soonyoung can’t help but feel like the bad guy.

You don’t notice him until he’s right in front of you, and he doesn’t know what hurts more: the immediate frown, or the fake smile you use to cover it up.

“Hi, what can I do for you today?”

If Soonyoung had to define heartache, he might use this moment. Feigning to forget rather than acknowledging the past... it’s effective, but it hurts.

“Can...” He hesitates and curses himself for it. “Can we talk?”

“But there’s something I need to say.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anymore apologies, Soonyoung.”

“It’s not that,” he argues.

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “It’s not an apology?”

“No— I mean, well, yes I want to apologize. I don’t think I’ll ever stop apologizing, but— but that’s not what I—”

“Soonyoung.”

He stops at your word, knowing that speaking will only get him further into trouble. Around you, his words keep failing. Instead, he meets your eyes, which under more inspection, seem hardened.

Have eyes ever looked so hardened when brimmed with tears?

He barely breathes before saying, “What if I... what if I said I fell in love with you? Somewhere along the way?” A pause. Your eyes waver, but steady themselves. “What if I said I love you?”

“Soonyoung,” you say after a second.

“Yes?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

•

[🍥] Give me a reason to give you a chance

this is real right?

[🍥] It’s not a dream if that’s what you’re asking

all of a sudden??

[🍥] Minghao and Jihoon said I should

[🍥] And I think I should too

[🍥] But it’s hard

[🍥] What you said yesterday... I don’t know if I can believe it just yet

will you meet me?

I want to see you

[🍥] Can you give me some time?

yes

all the time you need

but will you?

will you meet me?

[🍥] I don’t want to

[🍥] But then again, I do

[🍥] Just give me some time

•

A strange thing, time. It passes by much too quickly when you want it to last, and it drags on when all you want is to be there. There; right then; right now.

Soonyoung stays up late turning on and off his phone, waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting.

It’s only been two days.

Jihoon thinks he’s crazy, though he hasn’t said it out loud — Soonyoung can tell.

He also thinks he might be a little crazy, but that’s okay. If it means he’ll get the chance to make it up to you... maybe he’s fine with being crazy.

Fine, whatever.

Soonyoung goes out for some air. And instant ramen.

He’s right at the door when it chimes and slides open. And so are you.

Both of you freeze where you are, you in the doorway and he just in front. His jaw slacks slightly as he takes you in.

It’s your voice that breaks him from his reverie.

He hopes it isn’t just hope.

“Hi.”

You smile again, and it reaches your eyes, however sad.

“Is it time?” he asks.

“It can be.” The plastic bag in your hand crinkles as you sway it back and forth. “Do you want it to be?”

“Yeah.” His voice comes out like a breath. “Please.”

“Then that’s what we’ll make it.”

“So,” you say, scraping the side of the paper cup. Meeting his eyes, you sport a sly smile. “I hear you’re in love with me.”

The ice cream stays unopened in his hands. He finds it so easy to smile back.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

“You think you are?”

“I’ve never loved someone like this before,” he tries to explain, though the words are slow to his tongue. “I can only think.”

“I guess so.”

“But—” he looks at his fingers, fiddling with the plastic lid of the cup, and a small laugh escapes “—I’m thinking really, really hard.”

You laugh too; his heart blooms.

“Is that so?” you tease, smiling around the wooden spoon. “It’s gonna take more than that.”

“I think I can do it.”

“You think?”

“I think really hard.”

“You know...” you say, turning your head to meet his gaze once more. “You know you hurt me, right? You know this won’t be easy?”

“None of what we had was easy.”

A scoff runs past your lips. You bump your shoulder against his. “Speak for yourself. I fell hard and fast for you, asshole.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. I know.” You take the still unopened ice cream from his hands and stuff it right back in the bag it came from. “Say it again, though.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hmmm... maybe it’ll take a few more times.”

“I’m—”

“But not tonight,” you say. “Tonight...”

Your hand beside him closes the distance, grazing over his and pulling it over to your lap.

“...just hold me?”

And he does.

Bonus (gn) epilogue: Fluff and Context Bonus (gn) blurbs: [a fate of my choosing][pick a struggle]

#seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x male reader #hoshi imagines #hoshi scenarios #hoshi x male reader #kwon soonyoung scenarios #kwon soonyoung imagines #kwon soonyoung x male reader #hoshi angst #seventeen angst #svt scenarios #svt imagines #svt x male reader #svt angst #kwon soonyoung angst #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios

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loveronlineee · 2 years

Photo

Willow’s 10k follower fic event! #Willow’sWonderful10kCelebration

Hello hello you wonderful lot. I have reached 10,000 followers whoop whoop! So I wanted to do something to celebrate!

I’ve got a collection of fic prompts below. Sibling! Reader and also song fic prompts. If you wanna participate, chose a prompt (or more than one that’s cool too!) and write a Reader x Eddie Munson fic based off of it!

List of fics people wrote for this event here!

More info below:

This isn’t a competition so there aren’t any prizes or end dates for anything. This is just a way to inspire other writers and for everyone to discover some talented people:)

No rules for writing really! I wrote the prompts as if the Reader is fem using she/her pronouns but feel free to change that! It can be a one shot or a series, any length. If you wanna just write a little drabble or even just some bullet point headcannons that’s all good too!! Whatever you wanna do with the prompts, go for it!

Use the hashtag: #Willow’sWonderful10kCelebration (Cuz who doesn’t like alliteration?) and tag me!

I have no idea if this will be popular or not but do reblog so people see this! Even if you don’t wanna participate, you might be interested in reading some other people’s stuff:)

Any questions you have send em to my inbox!

Tagging some mutuals feel free to ignore guys:

@spiderrrling @uglypastels @sapphireplums @havecourage-darling

Prompts below: (I put a 🧸 on my favourites hehe)

Sibling! Reader prompts

Wheeler! Reader

Eddie’s failing Mrs O’Donnell’s class and is desperate for someone to tutor him. So he goes to the academically smartest person he knows, Nancy. Although she wants to help, she doesn’t have a lot of free time so she gets her older sister Y/N to take over tutoring every now and then, unaware that Eddie’s been crushing on her since they were freshmen. (I’m thinking super nervous like can’t talk at all type Eddie hehe)

Henderson! Reader

Dustin shows Eddie his creation, cerebro, and talks to his sister that lives in another state with it. Eddie doesn’t even know what this girl looks like but he’s fallen for her already. He ends up talking to her way more than Dustin and he’s absolutely ecstatic when she tells him she’s coming to visit her Mom and brother, and now him too.

Sinclair! Reader 🧸

Eddie decides to go to Lucas’ house after he stopped showing up at Hellfire club, unaware that he would meet Lucas’ older sister and immediately fall for her. She’s super friendly and bubbly making Eddie completely forget the reason he was there and instead just focus on her.

Byers! Reader

Y/N and Johnathan started a photography club. Y/N goes into the woods to take some nature pics and finds Eddie there. He’s his usual self and says “let me be your muse” and poses dramatically. He’s surprised when Y/N laughs and actually starts taking pictures of him.

Mayfield! Reader

When Y/N’s car breaks down and her and Max can’t get to school, their neighbour across the street, Eddie, offers to take them whilst Wayne fixes their car. They end up doing car shares a lot and getting to know each other, much to the annoyance of Max.

Hopper! Reader 🧸

El asks her older sister Y/N to help Hopper come around to Mike and her dating. Y/N’s solution to this? Get Eddie to pretend to be her boyfriend and act way worse than Mike. What starts as a joke, ends up being something very real.

Harrington! Reader

Popular golden boy Steve Harrington has a twin sister who’s the complete opposite of him. Sure they were both attractive, but Y/N was quiet and kept to herself. She seemed to enjoy her own company more than anyone else’s. When Steve starts getting worried about her, he asks Eddie to get to know her in the hopes that his crazy personality would help her come out of her shell. What he wasn’t ready for was for them to start dating.

Buckley! Reader

Eddie drops by Family Video to chat with Steve and Robin when Robin’s sister walks in. Something about her makes Eddie’s legs feel like jelly. He’s absolutely smitten. Something that Steve and especially Robin will tease him about mercilessly as soon as Y/N leaves.

Cunningham! Reader

When Eddie gets a glimpse of Chrissy’s older sister dropping her off at school, he absolutely has to talk to her. Being on good terms with their cheerleader, he asks about her. Chrissy let’s him know that she comes to all the games to see her cheer. (Plz write Eddie and Chrissy being friends plz I beg)

Carver! Reader

Jason’s been a dick to Eddie for as long as he could remember. He thought he knew exactly why, he was a freak. A nerdy metalhead who was the exact opposite of him. But when Jason lets it slip one day that he actually hates Eddie because his older sister is crushing on him, he has to make a move on her.

Song Prompts

Playlist for all the songs here! I chose specific lyrics but you don’t have to use those ones if you don’t want to:)

Marlboro Nights by Lonely God

I don't wanna go to school tomorrow, I can't study thinking about you, and you know I always do. I don't wanna go to sleep tonight when I can stay up thinking about you, and you know I always do.

Was it Something I said? by MyKey

Was it something I said? That made you anxious, yeah, it made you upset. Made you call me back at 3 AM.

Twin Size Mattress by The Front Bottoms

I'm sure that we could find something for you to do on stage. Maybe shake a tambourine or when I sing, you sing harmonies.

IDK you yet by Alexander23

How can you miss someone you've never met? Cause I need you now, but I don't know you yet. But can you find me soon because I'm in my head? Yeah, I need you now, but I don't know you yet.

Fluorescent Adolescent by Arctic Monkeys

Oh, the boy's a slag, the best you ever had. The best you ever had is just a memory and those dreams weren't as daft as they seem, not as daft as they seem.

Talk to You by Ricky Montgomery

I wish I could talk to you. Pull my chair right up there next to you and talk to you… You're in my head more often than I want. More often than I wanna tell you.

Touch Tank by Quinnie 🧸

Cause he's so pretty when he goes down on me. Gold-skinned eager baby, blue shirt out the laundry. He tells me he's gentle when he wants to be so I think he wants to be gentle with me.

Are you Bored yet? by Wallows

Cause we could stay at home and watch the sunset but I can't help from asking "Are you bored yet?". And if you're feelin' lonely, you should tell me before this ends up as another memory.

The Night We Met by Lord Huron

I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you. Take me back to the night we met.

Hey Girl by Boy Paulo

Hey girl, do you like me? I guess that's a stupid ass question. I'm asking 'cause I'm nervous. You look so fine, you make me shiver.

Hello? by Clairo

Are you into me, like I'm into you? Do you wanna do the things I wanna do with you? You're so close, and yet so far. I wonder how you look when you're in the dark.

Stuck in the Middle by Tai Verdes

But friends turn into sleepovers, and sleepovers turn into love. Love turns into jealousy, and now we both fucked up.

Like or Like Like by Minature Tigers

I watched you get undressed. I must have turned bright red cause I couldn't stand to face you. Cause I liked what I saw

Can I Call you Tonight? by Dayglow

So can I call you tonight? I'm trying to make up my mind, just how I feel. Could you tell me what's real? I hear your voice on the phone, now I'm no longer alone. Just how I feel. Could you tell me what's real anymore? Cause I wouldn't know.

Photos from When we were Young by Nana Grizol 🧸

I was looking at photos from when we were young. Your hair is light blue and you're smiling in one. And it's a strange remembrance brought on by this semblance. Oh, we were so serious, shy, inexperienced, oh so unsure of ourselves. Making mistakes without anyone's help and I thought of the ways I remember you well.

A Lady by Tally Hall 🧸

I know a lady, Good & Evil, Showed me that I was a gentleman. Wait for the girl to blossom into colours that grow where you can.

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tellthemeerkatsitsfine · 8 months

Text

They’ve put up all the Taskmaster season 16 interviews already, which I like. In recent seasons they’ve been putting them out earlier and earlier into the season, and I always thought they should really just put all of them up before the season starts, as those are meant to be a way to get a feel for the contestants ahead of actually seeing them. The way they’ve split it in earlier seasons has a couple airing before the season starts and then the others airing a few episodes in, so some give you that feel for ones we don’t know about yet and then some are just extra details about people we’ve already seen on the show, and it’s a bit confusing. I much prefer being able to watch them all beforehand.

I watched them all tonight, and quite enjoyed that. Liked the format of this one – finally making them draw a picture of Alex after years of drawing Greg. And God, Alex is good at his job. Sometimes I forget a bit, or just take it for granted, how incredibly funny Alex Horne can be while just really causally, deadpan, fucking with a contestant via simple questions. To answer one of the questions he asked – no, I don’t think anyone else could do that job as well as he does (though Paul Williams is also fucking good at it). I think a lot of other people could do Greg’s job, very few could do Alex’s.

The interviews were fun. I enjoyed how much of an impression Julian Clary made, as I haven’t seen him do much else so that was a nice way to get to know him a bit. Imposing and confident. The only one to not just do everything Alex asked him. Clearly it’s a character, but there may have also been an underlying bit of “I have had a very long and very successful career in showbusiness, I don’t need to be desperate to do well on a panel show.”

Lucy Beaumont’s reminded me of how much I enjoy watching Lucy Beaumont do anything. I’ve seen her do quite a few things by now, and I still don’t have much of a handle on how much of her ditzy persona is real, but I am looking forward to seeing if I can figure it out via Taskmaster. Not even try to figure out “her true hidden self” or whatever – I’d just like to know how much of it we’re supposed to assume is a character. Though the fact that I can’t really tell is definitely part of her charm. Nearly everything about her is part of her charm. She’s got a lot of charm. So much charm.

I liked Sue Perkins’ mix of Julian Cleary’s “I’m too successful to need to be desperate to impress on a panel show” attitude (the exact opposite of Lucy Beaumont, who came off as being full of “desperate to impress on a panel show” attitude, which is what I’d expected from her), and Lucy Beaumont’s struggling and scrambling. She came off as pretty similar to the Sue Perkins I know from other panel shows, which is exactly what I hope she’ll be on Taskmaster. The duality of humanity. The confidence and the scrambling. The cool exterior and the panic. It’s going to be fun.

Susan Wokoma was the one I knew the least well, even including Cleary, so seeing her was fun. It was funny to watch her after someone like Julian Cleary, who was deadpanning right alongside Alex. While Susan was the opposite, breaking into giggles at the absurdity of everything he said, reminding me that way of Desiree Burch or even Katherine Parkinson. Constantly surprised by the revelation of what show she’s on (which might be explained by her answer of “my agents wanted me to” when asked why she did the show). Her laugh is fun to listen to, as is her defensiveness every time Alex changes the rules. I look forward to listening to both those things for ten episodes.

Sam Campbell had me worried for a bit, with my bold claims that I think he will be better at the tasks (not even at the comedy, just at scoring points in the tasks) than anyone else on this season. It doesn’t bode incredibly well toward me being proven right that he couldn’t remember how pronouns worked and tripped over his words on every sentence when asked to make a pretty simple language change. That skill is integral to a lot of tasks. Though my hopes were restored when his picture was revealed at the end, and it was by far the best. That’s a skill I didn’t even know he had when I was listing the skills he’s displayed through his stand-up that I think will make him good at tasks. Turns out Sammy C can draw, add that to the list of reasons for my prediction! (Actually I’ve just realized I did already know that, he drew that picture that James Acaster brought in ages ago.) Anyway, he was huge fun, that was the sort of energy level I've been hoping he'll bring.

I had a friend on Tumblr apologize to me the other day for whether they talk too much about finding a comedian attractive, as though I am too respectable a person for such tawdry things and shouldn’t have to hear them. Which is a ridiculous thing to apologize for, given that I’m well aware that Tumblr.com is very much the talking about famous people you want to fuck website. I mean, I might personally use it for other things, but I’m not here to disrespect its main function. So having said that, I’ve had a crush on Sue Perkins since I first got into Radio 4’s The News Quiz when I was nineteen. I didn’t even know what she looked like until I’d been hearing her voice for years, but just hearing her on the radio was enough to do that (though… when I eventually Googled a picture of her, that certainly didn’t hurt). On the subject of voices, seeing Lucy Beaumont’s video has reminded me that that particular accent is… certainly an impressive accent. That’s a good accent. What's the least creepy way I can say that's a good accent? Because I'd like to do that. And look, I sort of think that everyone, regardless of their gender or usual sexual orientation, who sees Sam Campbell has at least a bit of a crush on him.

So there you go, I thought I’d end my post with something to let people know that no one has to apologize to me for calling comedians hot on Tumblr.com; I can do it too, even if I usually make at least some effort to say these sorts of things slightly less often than I think them. But I’m glad everyone is having a good time.

New season tomorrow! New season tomorrow! Very excited for the new season tomorrow (even though I’m going to see Grace Petrie tomorrow, which I’m incredibly fucking excited about, so I won’t get to watch the episode until Friday after work). Happy early Taskmaster Day to all who celebrate!

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